LI B R.ARY 
 
 OF THL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 

 
 a^^^^u/y A^-^^-^^ 
 
 CENTRAL CIRCULATION BOOKSTACKS 
 
 The person charging this material is re- 
 sponsible for its return to the library from 
 which it was borrowed on or before the 
 Latest Date stamped below. 
 
 Theft, mutilatieiv end underlining of books or* reasons 
 for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from 
 the University. 
 TO RENEW CALL TELEPHONE CENTER, 333-8400 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
 APR 1 8 1993 
 JAN 3 199^ 
 
 When renewing by phone, write new due date below 
 previous due date. L162
 
 YIXEN 
 
 ^ ^obel 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 "LADY AUDLErS SECRET'^ 
 
 ETC, ETC. ETC. 
 
 YOL. I 
 
 LONDON 
 JOHN AND EOBEET MAXWELL 
 
 MILTON HOUSE, SHOE LA^E, FLEET STREET 
 
 1879 
 
 lAll rights reserved]
 
 CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANa, 
 CHYSTAL PALACE PRESS.
 
 V, I 
 
 r<\ 
 
 ;5- 
 
 CONTENTS TO VOL. I. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. A PEETTT HORSEBREAKER 1 
 
 n. Lady Jane Yawdeey 38 
 
 in. "I WAN'T A little sERiors Talk ttith Tou" 57 
 
 IV. EoRiE coiiEs OF Age 70 
 
 V. RORIE MAKES A SpEECH 107 
 
 VI. How She took the Xews 119 
 
 VLi. EoRiE HAS Plans of his own 132 
 
 Vin. GlAS 1ST DER EEDE STOLZ UND GlUCK 143' 
 
 IX. A House op MouRNrN-G 164 
 
 X. Captain Winstanley 180 
 
 XI. "It shall be Measure for LIeasure" ... 195
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XII. "I HAVE NO "Wrong, wheee I can claim no 
 
 Eight" 2ia 
 
 XIII. "He belongs to the Tame-Cat Species" ... 244 
 
 XIV. " He was wouthy to be loved a Lifetime " 265 
 
 XV. Lady Southminster's Ball 278 
 
 XVI. Eobie asks a Question 301 
 
 XVII. Where the Eed King was slain 323
 
 VIXEN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A PEETTT HOESEBEEAKEK. 
 
 The moon liad newly risen, a late October moon, 
 a pale almost imperceptible crescent, above the 
 dark pine spires in the thicket through which 
 Roderick Vawdrey came, gun in hand, after a 
 long day^s rabbit-shooting. It was not his nearest 
 way home, but he liked the broad clearing in 
 the pine wood, which had a ghostly look at 
 dusk, and was so still and lonely that the dart 
 of a squirrel through the fallen leaves seemed a 
 startling event. Here and there a sturdy young 
 oak that had been lately stripped of its bark 
 VOL. r. B
 
 VIXEN. 
 
 lay among the fern, like tlie naked corpse of a 
 giant. Here and there a tree had been cut 
 down and slung across the track, ready for 
 barking. The ground was soft and spongy, 
 slippery with damp dead leaves, and inclined in 
 a general way to bogginess ; but it was ground 
 that Eoderick Vawdrey bad known all bis life, 
 and it seemed more natural to bim tban any otber 
 spot upon mother earth. 
 
 On the edge of this thicket there was a broad 
 ditch, with more mud and dead fern in it than 
 water, a ditch strongly suspected of snakes, and 
 beyond the ditch the fence that enclosed Squire 
 Tempest^ s domain — an old manor house in the 
 heart of the New Forest. It had been an abbey 
 before the Reformation, and was still best known 
 as the Abbey House. 
 
 ^' I wonder whether I'm too late to catch her," 
 speculated Roderick, shifting his bag from one 
 shoulder to the other; " she^s no end of fun.-'-' 
 
 In front of the clearing there was a broad 
 five-barred gate, and beside the gate a keeper^s 
 cottage. The flame of a newly -lighted candle
 
 A PKETTY HOKSEBREAKEK. 6 
 
 flashed out suddenly upon tlie autumn dusk, wldle 
 Koderick stood looking at tlie gate. 
 
 "Til ask at tlie lodge/' lie said; ''I skould 
 like to say good-bye to the little thing before 
 I go back to Oxford/' 
 
 He walked quickly on to the gate. The 
 keeper's noisy children were playing at nothing 
 particular just inside it. 
 
 '''Has Miss Tempest gone for her ride this 
 afternoon ? " he asked. 
 
 ''Ya-ase/' drawled the eldest shock-headed 
 youngster. 
 
 " And not come back yet ? " 
 
 " Noa. If she doant take care her^ll be 
 bogged." 
 
 Roderick hitched his bag on to the top of 
 the gate, and stood at ease waiting. It was late 
 for the little lady of Tempest Manor to be out 
 on her pony : but then it was an understood 
 thine: within a radius of ten miles or so that she 
 
 o 
 
 was a self-willed young person, and even at fifteen 
 years of age had a knack of following her own 
 inclination with that noble disreg:^rd of conse- 
 
 B 2
 
 4 VIXEN. 
 
 quences wliicli characterises the heaven-born 
 ruler. 
 
 Mr. Yawdrey had not waited more than ten 
 minutes when there came the thud of hoofs upon 
 the soft track, a flash of gray in the distance, some- 
 thing flying over those forky branches sprawling 
 across the way, then a half-sweet, half-shrill call, 
 like a bird^s, at which the keeper's children scat- 
 tered themselves like a brood of scared chickens, 
 and now a rush, and a gray pony shooting suddenly 
 into the air and coming down on the other side of 
 the gate, as if he were a new kind of skyrocket. 
 
 '' What do you think of that, Rorie ? '' cried the 
 shrill sweet voice of the gray pony's rider ! " Tit- 
 mouse took the gate in pretty good style, didn't 
 he ? " 
 
 "I'm ashamed of you. Vixen," said Roderick^ 
 " you'll come to a bad end some of these days." 
 
 " I don't care if I do, as long as I get my fling 
 first," replied Vixen, tossing her tawny mane. 
 
 She was a slim young thing, in a short Lincoln- 
 green habit. She had a small pale face, brown 
 eyes that sparkled with life and mischief, and a
 
 A PEETTY HOESEBREAKEE. 6 
 
 rippling mass of reddisli-auburn hair falling down 
 Iter back under a coquettisli little felt hat. 
 
 ^' Hasn't your mamma forbidden jumping. 
 Vixen ? " remonstrated Roderick, opening the 
 gate and coming in. 
 
 " Yes, that she has, sir,^^ said the old groom, 
 riding up at a jog-trot on his thickset brown cob. 
 " It^s quite against Mrs. Tempest^s orders, and 
 it^s a great responsibility to go out with Miss 
 Violet. She will do it.^' 
 
 ^^Tou mean the pony will do it. Bates, '^ cried 
 Vixen. '' I don't jtimp. How can I help it if papa 
 has given me a jumping pony. If I didn^t let 
 Titmouse take a gate when he was in the humour, 
 heM kick like old boots, and pitch me a cropper. 
 It^s an instinct of self-preservation that makes me 
 let him jump. And as for poor dear, pretty little 
 mamma/' continued Vixen, addressing herself to 
 Roderick, and changing her tone to one of patron- 
 ising tenderness, "if she had her way, I should be 
 brought up in a little box wrapped in jewellery's 
 wool, to keep me safe. But you see I take after 
 papa, Rorie ; and it comes as natural to me to fly
 
 VIXEN, 
 
 over gates as it does to you to get plougiied for 
 smalls. There^ Bates/ ^ jumping off the pony, 
 "you may take Titmouse home, and Fll come 
 presently and give him some apples, for he has 
 been a dear, darling, precious treasure of a 
 ponykins/' 
 
 She emphasised this commendation with a kiss 
 on Titmouse^s gray nose, and handed the bridle to 
 Bates. 
 
 " Vm going to walk home with Mr. Vawdrey,^^ 
 she said. 
 
 " But, Vixen, I can't really,'^ said Roderick ; 
 '' I'm due at home at this moment, only I couldn't 
 leave without saying good-bye to little Yix."" 
 
 "And you're over due at Oxford, too, aren't 
 you ? " cried Vixen, laughing ; " you're always 
 due somewhere — never in the right place. But 
 whether you are due or not, you're coming up to 
 the stables with me to give Titmouse his apples, 
 and then you're coming to dine with us on your 
 last night at home. I insist upon it ; papa insists ; 
 mamma insists — we all insist." 
 
 " My mother will be as angry as ^"
 
 A PEETTY HORSEBREAKEE. 7 
 
 " Old boots ! " interjected Vixen. '' That's the 
 best comparison I know/' 
 
 " Awfully vulgar for a young lady." 
 
 "You taught it me. How can I help being 
 vulgar when I associate with you ? You should 
 hear Miss McCroke preach at me — sermons so 
 long" — here Vixen extended her arms to the 
 uttermost — " and Fm afraid they'd make as much 
 impression on Titmouse as they do upon me. But 
 she's a dear old thing*, and I love her immensely." 
 
 This was Vixen's usual way_, making up for 
 all shortcomings with the abundance of her love. 
 The heart was always atoning for the errors of 
 the head. 
 
 ^'I wouldn't be Miss McCroke for anything. 
 She must have a bad time of it with you." 
 
 *^ She has," assented Vixen, with a remorseful 
 sigh ; " I fear I'm bringing her sandy hairs with 
 sorrow to the grave. That hair of hers never 
 could be gray, you know, it^s too self-opinionated 
 in its sandiness. Now come along, Rorie, do. 
 Titmouse will be stamping about his box like a 
 maniac if he doesn't get those apples."
 
 8 VIXEN. 
 
 She gave a little tug with both her small doe- 
 skin-covered hands at E-oderick^s arm. He was 
 still standing by the gate irresolute, inclination 
 drawing him to the Abbey House, duty calling 
 him home to Briarwood, seven miles off, where his 
 widowed mother was expecting his return. 
 
 ^' My last night at home, Vix/^ he said re- 
 monstrantly ; '' I really ought to dine with my 
 mother.^ ^ 
 
 " Of course you ought, and that^s the very 
 reason why you^ll dine with us. So ^ Kim over 
 now,^ as Bates says to the horses ; I don't know 
 what there is for dinner," she added confidentially, 
 '^ but I feel sure it's something nice. Dinner is 
 papa's particular vanity, you know. He's very 
 weak about dinner." 
 
 "Not so weak as he is about you, Vixen." 
 
 " Do you really think papa is as fond of me as 
 he is of his dinner ? " 
 
 " I'm sure of it ! " 
 
 " Then he must be very fond of me,^' exclaimed 
 Vixen, with conviction. " Now, are you coming ? " 
 
 Who could resist those little soft hands in doe-
 
 A PRETTY HORSEBREAKER. 9 
 
 skin ? Certainly not Eorie. He resigned liimself 
 to tlie endurance of his mother^s anger in tlie 
 future as a price to be paid for tlie indulgence of 
 his inclination in the present_, gave Vixen his arm, 
 and turned his face towards the Abbey House. 
 
 They walked through shrubberies that would 
 have seemed a pathless wilderness to a stranger, 
 but every turn in which was familiar to these two. 
 The ground was undulating, and vast thickets of 
 rhododendron and azalea rose high above them, or 
 sank in green valleys below their path. Here and 
 there a group of tall firs towered skyward above 
 the dark entanglement of shrubs, or a great beech 
 spread its wide limbs over the hollows; here and 
 there a pool of water reflected the pale moonshine. 
 
 The house lay low, sheltered and shut in by 
 those rhododendron thickets, a long rambling pile 
 of building, which had been added to, and altered, 
 and taken away from, and added to again, like 
 that well-known puzzle in mental arithmetic which 
 used to amuse us in our childhood. It was all 
 gables, and chimney-stacks, and odd angles, and 
 ivy-mantled wall, and richly-mullioned windows, or
 
 1 VIXEN. 
 
 quaint little diamond-paned lattices^, peeping like a 
 watcliful eye from under tlie sliaddw of a jutting 
 cornice. The stables liad been added in Queen 
 Elizabeths time, after tlie monks had been routed 
 from their snug quarters, and the Abbey had been 
 bestowed upon one of the Tudor favourites. These 
 Elizabethan stables formed the four sides of a 
 quadrangle, stone paved, with an old marble basin 
 in the centre — a basin which the Vicar pronounced 
 to be an early Saxon font, but which Squire Tempest 
 refused to have removed from the place it had 
 occupied ever since the stables were built. There 
 were curious carvings upon the six sides, but so 
 covered with mosses and lichens that nobody could 
 tell what they meant; and the Squire forbade any 
 scraping process by officious antiquarians, which 
 might lead to somebody^s forcible appropriation of 
 the ancient basin. 
 
 The Squire was not so modern in his ideas as 
 to set up his own gasometer, so the stables were 
 lighted by lanterns, with an oil-lamp fixed here 
 and there against the wall. Into this dim un- 
 certain light came Roderick and Yixen, through
 
 A PRETTY HOESEBREAKER. 11 
 
 the deep stone archwaj wldcli opened from tlie 
 shrubbery into the stable-yard, and which was 
 solid enough for the gate of a fortified town. 
 
 Titmouse's stable was lighted better than the 
 rest. The door stood open, and there was Titmouse, 
 with the neat little quilted doeskin saddle still on 
 his back, waiting to be fed and petted by his young- 
 mistress. It was a pretty picture, the old low- 
 ceiled stable, with its wide stalls and roomy loose- 
 boxes, and carpet of plaited straw, golden against 
 the deep brown of the woodwork. 
 
 Yixen ran into the box, and took off Titmouse's 
 bridle, he holding down his head, like a child 
 submitting to be undressed. Then, with many 
 vigorous tugs at straps and buckles, and a good 
 deal of screwing up of her rosy lips in the course of 
 the effort, Yixen took off her pony's saddle. 
 
 '^ I like to do everything I can for him," she 
 explained, as Eorie watched her with an amused 
 smile ; " I'd wisp him down if they'd let me." 
 
 She left the leather panel on Titmouse's back, 
 hung up saddle and bridle, and skipped off to a 
 corn-chest to hunt for apples. Of these she
 
 12 VIXEN. 
 
 brought half-a-dozen or so in the skirt of her 
 habit, and then, swinging herself lightly into a 
 comfortable corner of the manger, began to carry- 
 out her system of reward for good conduct, with 
 much coquetry on her part and Titmouse^s, Rorie 
 watching it all from the empty stall adjoining, 
 his folded arms resting on the top of the partition. 
 He said not another word about his mother, or the 
 duty that called him home to Briarwood, but stood 
 and watched this pretty horsebreaker in a dreamy 
 contentment. 
 
 What was Violet Tempest, otherwise Vixen, 
 like, this October evening, just three months before 
 her fifteenth birthday ? She made a lovely picture 
 in this dim light, as she sat in the corner of the old 
 manger, holding a rosy-cheeked apple at a tanta- 
 lising distance from Titmouse's nose : yet she was 
 perhaps not altogether lovely. She was brilliant 
 rather than absolutely beautiful. The white skin 
 was powdered with freckles. The rippling hair 
 was too warm an auburn to escape an occasional 
 unfriendly remark from captious critics ; but it was 
 not red hair for all that. The eyes were brownest
 
 A PRETTY HORSEBREAKEE. 13 
 
 of the brown, large,, bright, and full of expression. 
 The mouth was a thought too wide, but it was a 
 lovely mouth notwithstanding. The lips were full 
 and firmly moulded — lips that could mean anything, 
 from melting tenderness to sternest resolve. Such 
 lips, a little parted to show the whitest, evenest 
 teeth in Hampshire, seemed to Rorie lovely enough 
 to please the most critical connoisseur of feminine 
 beauty. The nose was short and straight, but 
 had a trick of tilting itself upward with a little 
 impatient jerk that made it seem retrousse; the 
 chin was round and full and dimpled ; the throat 
 was full and round also, a white column supporting 
 the tawny head, and indicated that Vixen was 
 meant to be a powerful woman, and not one 
 of those ethereal nymphs who lend themselves 
 most readily to the decorative art of a court 
 milliner. 
 
 '' I'm afraid Violet will be a dreadfully large 
 creature," Mrs. Tempest murmured plaintively, as 
 the girl grew and flourished ; that lady herself 
 being ethereal, and considering her own appearance 
 a strictly correct standard of beauty. How could
 
 14 VIXEN. 
 
 it be otherwise, when she had been known before 
 her marriage as " the pretty Miss Calthorpe ^' ? 
 
 ^' This is very nice, you know, Vixen,^^ said 
 Roderick critically, as Titmouse made a greedy 
 snap at an apple, and was repulsed with a gentle 
 pat on his nose, " but it canH go on for ever. 
 What^ll you do when you are grown up ? '^ 
 
 " Have a horse instead of a pony,^' answered 
 Vixen unhesitatingly. 
 
 " And will that be all the difference ? ^' 
 
 ^^I don't see what other difference there can 
 be. I shall always love papa, I shall always love 
 hunting, I shall always love mamma — as much as 
 she^ll let me. I shall always have a corner in my 
 heart for dear old Crokey ; and, perhaps,^^ looking 
 at him mischievously, ^''even an odd corner for 
 you. What difference -can a few more birthdays 
 make in me ? I shall ,be too big for Titmouse, 
 that^s the only misfortune ; but I shall always keep 
 him for my pet; and Til have a basket-carriage 
 and drive him when I go to see my poor people. 
 Sitting behind a pony is an awful bore when one's 
 natural place is on his back, but Fd sooner
 
 A PRETTY HOESEBEEAKER. 15 
 
 endure it than let Titmouse fancy liimself super- 
 annuated.^^ 
 
 "But wlien you're grown up you'll liave to 
 come out. Vixen. You'll be obliged to go to 
 London for a season, and be presented, and go to 
 no end of balls, and ride in tlie Eow, and make a 
 grand marriage, and have a page all to yourself 
 in the Court Journal." 
 
 " Catch me — going to London ! " exclaimed 
 Vixen, ignoring the latter part of the sentence. 
 " Papa hates London, and so do I. And as to 
 riding in Rotten Row, je voudrais hien me voir 
 faisant cela/' added Vixen, whose study of the 
 French language chiefly resulted in the endeavour 
 to translate English slang into that tongue. "Xo, 
 when I grow up I shall take papa the tour of 
 Europe. We'll see all those places I'm worried 
 about at lessons — Marathon, Egypt, Naples, the 
 Peloponnesus, tout le tremhlement — and I shall say 
 to each of them, ' Oh, this is you, is it ? What a 
 nuisance you've been to me on the map.' W^e 
 shall go up Mount Vesuvius, and the Pyramids, 
 and do all sorts of wild things ; and by the time I
 
 16 VIXEN. 
 
 come home I shall have forgotten the whole of 
 my education/^ 
 
 " If Miss McCroke could hear you ! '' 
 
 " She does, often. You can^t imagine the 
 wild things I say to her. But I love her — fondly. ■" 
 
 A great bell claimed out with a vigorous peal, 
 that seemed to shake the old stable. 
 
 " There's the first bell. I must run and dress. 
 Come to the drawing-room and see mamma.'' 
 
 ^^ But, Vixen, how can I sit down to dinner in 
 such a costume," remonstrated Rorie, looking down 
 at his brown shooting-suit, leather gaiters, and 
 tremendous boots — boots, which, instead of being 
 beautified with blacking, were suppled with tallow ; 
 " I can't do it, really." 
 
 '^Nonsense," cried Vixen, ''^what does it matter? 
 Papa seldom dresses for dinner. I believe he con- 
 siders it a sacrifice to mamma's sense of propriety 
 when he washes his hands after coming in from the 
 home farm. And you are only a boy — I beg pardon 
 — an undergraduate. So come along." 
 
 ^' But upon my word. Vixen, I feel too much 
 ashamed of myself."
 
 A PRETTY HORSEBREAKER. 17 
 
 "Pye asked you to dinner^ and you^^e ac- 
 cepted/' cried Yixen^ pulling him out of the stable 
 by the lapel of bis shooting-jacket. 
 
 He seemed to relish that mode of locomotion, 
 for he allowed himself to be pulled all the way to 
 the hall-door_, and into the glow of the great beech- 
 wood fire ; a ruddy light which shone upon many a 
 sporting trophy _, and reflected itself on many a 
 gleaming pike and cuirass^ belonging to days of 
 old^ when gentlemanly sport for the most part meant 
 man-hunting. 
 
 It was a fine old vaulted hall, a place to love 
 and remember lovingly when far away. The walls 
 were all of darkly bright oak panelling, save 
 where here and there a square of tapestry hung 
 before a door, or a painted window let in the 
 moonlight. At one end there was a great arched 
 fireplace, the arch surmounted with Squire Tempest's 
 armorial bearings, roughly cut in freestone. A 
 mailed figure of the usual stumpy build, in helm 
 and hauberk, stood on each side of the hearth ; a 
 large three-cornered chair covered with stamped 
 and gilded leather was drawn up to the fireside, 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 VIXEN. 
 
 the Squire^s favourite seat on an autumn or winter 
 afternoon. The chair was empty now, but, stretched 
 at full length before the blazing logs, lay the 
 Squire's chosen companion, Nip, a powerful liver- 
 coloured pointer; and beside him, in equally 
 luxurious rest, reclined Argus, Vixen's mastiff. 
 There was a story about Vixen and the mastiff, 
 involving the only incident in that young lady's 
 life the recollection whereof could make her blush. 
 
 The dog, apparently coiled in deepest slumber, 
 heard the light footsteps on the hall floor, pricked 
 up his tawny ears, sprang to his feet, and bounded 
 over to his young mistress, whom he nearly knocked 
 down in the warmth of his welcome. Nip, the 
 pointer, blinked at the intruders, yawned desper- 
 ately, stretched himself a trifle longer, and relapsed 
 into slumber. 
 
 " How fond that brute is of you," said Eorie ; 
 " but it's no wonder, when one considers what you 
 did for him." 
 
 "If you say another word I shall hate you," 
 cried Vixen savagely. 
 
 "Well, but you know when a fellow fights
 
 A PEETTY HOESEBREAKER. 19 
 
 another fellow^s battles, tlie otlier fellow's bound 
 to be fond of liim ; and when a young lady pitches 
 into a bird-boy with., her riding-whip to save a 
 mastiff pup from ill-usage, that mastiff pup is 
 bound '' 
 
 " ]\Iamma/ * cried Vixen, flinging aside a tapestry 
 poi^tiere, and bouncing into the drawing-room, 
 "here's Roderick, and he^s come to dinner, and 
 you must excuse his shooting-dress, please. Tm 
 sure pa will.-'' 
 
 '"'' Certainly, my dear Violet,'' replied a gentle 
 trainante voice from the fire-ht dimness near the 
 velvet-curtained hearth. '^ Of course I am always 
 glad to see Mr. Vawdrey when your papa asks 
 him. Where did you meet the Squire, Roderick V 
 
 " Upon my word, !Mrs. Tempest," faltered 
 Rorie, coming slowly forward into the ruddy glow, 
 " I feel quite awfully ashamed of myself ; I've 
 been rabbit-shooting, and I'm a most horrid object. 
 It wasn't the Squire asked me to stay. It was 
 Vixen." 
 
 Vixen made a ferocious grimace at him — he 
 could just see her distorted countenance in the 
 
 c 2
 
 20 VIXEN. 
 
 firelight — and further expressed her aggravation 
 by a smart crack of her whip. 
 
 "Violet^ my love^ you have such startling 
 ways/^ exclaimed Mrs. Tempest, with a long- 
 suffering air. " Keally, Miss McCroke, you ought 
 to try and correct her of those startling ways.^^ 
 
 On this Roderick became aware of a stout 
 figure in a tartan dress, knitting industriously 
 on the side of the hearth opposite Mrs. Tempest^s 
 sofa. He could just see the flash of those active 
 needles, and could just hear Miss McCroke murmur 
 placidly that she had corrected Violet, and that 
 it was no use. 
 
 Rorie remembered that plaid poplin dress when 
 he was at Eton. It was a royal Stuart, too bril- 
 liant to be forgotten. He used to wonder whether 
 it would ever wear out, or whether it was not 
 made of some indestructible tissue, like asbestos 
 — a fabric that neither time nor fire could 
 destroy. 
 
 ^'It was Rorie's last night, you see, mamma,^^ 
 apologised Vixen, '^ and I knew you and papa 
 would like him to come, and that you wouldn't
 
 A PEETTY HOESEBEEAKER. 21 
 
 mind liis sliooting-clotlies a bit,, tliougli they do 
 make liim look like the under-keeper, except that 
 the under-keeper^s better looking than Rorie, and 
 has finished growing his whiskers, instead of living 
 in the expectation of them/^ 
 
 And, with this Parthian shot. Vixen made a 
 pirouette on her neat little morocco-shod toes, 
 and whisked herself out of the room ; leaving 
 Roderick Yawdrej to make the best of his exist- 
 ence for the next twenty minutes with the two 
 women he always found it most difficult to get 
 on with, Mrs. Tempest and Miss McCroke. 
 
 The logs broke into a crackling blaze just at 
 this moment, and lighted up that luxurious hearth 
 and the two figures beside it. 
 
 It was the prettiest thing imaginable in the 
 way of a drawing-room, that spacious low-ceiled 
 chamber in the Abbey House. 
 
 The oak panelling was painted white, a bar- 
 barity on the part of those modern Goths the 
 West End decorators, but a charming background 
 for quaint Venetian mirrors, hanging shelves of 
 curious old china, dainty little groups of richly-
 
 22 VIXEN. 
 
 bound duodecimos^ brackets^ bronzes, freshest 
 flowers in majolica jars ; water-colour draw- 
 ings by Hunt, Prout, Cattermole, and Edward 
 Duncan ; sage-green silk curtains ; black and gold 
 furniture, and all tlie latest prettinesses of tlie new 
 Jacobean scliool. Tlie mixture of real mediEevalism 
 and modern quaintness was deligbtful. One kardly 
 knew where the rococo began or the medieval left 
 off. The good old square fireplace, with its pro- 
 jectiug canopy, and columns in white and coloured 
 marbles, was as old as the days of Inigo Jones; 
 but the painted tiles, with their designs from the 
 Iliad and Odyssey after Dante Rossetti, were the 
 newest thing from Minton's factory. 
 
 Even Rorie felt that the room was pretty, 
 though he did above all things abhor to be trapped 
 in it, as he found himself this October evening. 
 
 " There^s a great lot of rubbish in it,^"* he used 
 to say of Mrs. Tempest^s drawing-room, '^ but it^s 
 rather nice altogether.'''' 
 
 Mrs. Tempest, at five-and-thirty, still retained 
 the good looks wdiich had distinguished Miss 
 Calthorpe at nineteen. She was small and slim.
 
 A PRETTY HORSEBEEAKEE. 23 
 
 with a delicate complexion. Slie had large soft 
 eyes of a limpid innocent azure, regular features, 
 rosebud lips, hands after Velasquez, and an unexcep- 
 tionable taste in dress, the selection of which formed 
 one of the most onerous occupations of her life. 
 To attire herself becomingly, and to give the Squire 
 the dinners he best liked, in an order of succession 
 so dexterously arranged as never to provoke 
 satiety, were Mrs. Tempest's cardinal duties. In 
 the intervals of her life she read modern poetry, 
 unobjectionable French novels, and reviews. She 
 did a little high-art needle-work, played Mendels- 
 sohn-'s lieder, sang three French chansons which 
 her husband liked, slept, and drank orange pekoe. 
 In the consumption of this last article Mrs. 
 Tempest was as bad as a dram-drinker. She 
 declared her inability to support life without that 
 gentle stimulant, and required to be wound up at 
 various hours of her languid day with a dose of her 
 favourite beverage. 
 
 " I think 1^11 take a cup of tea,^^ was Mrs. 
 Tempest's inevitable remark at every crisis of her 
 existence.
 
 24 VIXEN. 
 
 "And so you are going back to Oxford^ 
 Roderick ? '"' the lady began with a languid 
 kindness. 
 
 Mrs. Tempest had never been known to be 
 unkind to anyone. She regarded all her fellow- 
 creatures with a gentle tolerance. They were 
 there;, a necessary element of the universe, and she 
 bore with them. But she had never attached her- 
 self particularly to anybody except the Squire. 
 Him she adored. He took all the trouble of life 
 off her hands, and gave her all good things. She 
 had been poor, and he had made her rich ; nobody^ 
 and he had elevated her into somebody. She loved 
 him with a canine fidelity, and felt towards him as 
 a dog feels towards his master — that in him this 
 round world begins and ends. 
 
 " Yes,^^ assented Rorie, with a sigh, " I'm going 
 up to-morrow.''^ 
 
 " Why up ? '' inquired Miss McCroke, without 
 lifting her eyes from her needles. "It isn^t up on 
 the map.''^ 
 
 "I hope you are going to get a grand de- 
 gree,^^ continued Mrs. Tempest, in that soft con-
 
 A PRETTY HORSEBREAKEE. 25 
 
 ciliatorj voice of liers ; ^' Senior ^Yrarlgler^ or 
 something/' 
 
 ^' That's the other shop/' exclaimed Eorie; 
 *^they grow that sort of timber at Cambridge. 
 However_, I hope to pull myself through somehow 
 or other this time^ for my mother's sake. She 
 attaches a good deal of importance to it^ though 
 for my own part I can't see what good it can do 
 me. It won't make me farm my own land better, 
 or ride straighter to hounds, or do my duty better 
 to my tenants." 
 
 " Education," said Miss McCroke senten- 
 tiously, ^^is always a good, and we cannot too 
 highly estimate its influence upon " 
 
 " Oh yes, I know," answered Eorie quickly, for 
 he knew that when the floodgates of Miss McCroke's 
 eloquence were once loosened the tide ran strong, 
 " when house and lands are gone and spent a man 
 may turn usher in an academy, and earn fifty 
 pounds a year and his laundress's bill by grinding 
 Caesar's Commentaries into small boys. But I 
 shouldn't lay in a stock of learning with that view. 
 When my house and lands are gone I'll go after
 
 26 VIXEN. 
 
 them — emigrate^ and go into the lumber trade 
 in Canada." 
 
 ^^ What a dreadful idea/^ said Mrs. Tempest; 
 "but you are not going to lose house and lands, 
 Roderick — such a nice place as Briarwood." 
 
 " To my mind it's rather a commonplace hole," 
 answered the young man carelessly,, " but the land 
 is some of the best in the county.^^ 
 
 It must be nearly seven by this time, he 
 thought. He was getting through this period of 
 probation better than he had expected. Mrs. 
 Tempest gave a little stifled yawn behind her huge 
 black fan, upon which Cupids and Graces, lightly 
 sketched in French gray, were depicted dancing 
 in the airiest attitudes, after Boucher. Boderick 
 would have liked to yawn in concert, but at this 
 juncture a sudden ray of light flashed upon him 
 and showed him a way of escape. 
 
 " I think I'll go to the gentleman^s room, and 
 make myself decent before the second bell rings," 
 he said. 
 
 "Do," assented Mrs. Tempest, with another 
 yawn ; and the young man fled.
 
 A PKETTY HOESEBEEAKEE. 27 
 
 He liad only time to scramble tlirougli a hurried 
 toilet, and was still feeling very doubtful as to tlie 
 parting of his short crisp liair, when the gong 
 boomed out its friendly summons. The gentleman's 
 room opened from the hall^ and Eorie heard the 
 Squire^s loud and jovial voice uplifted as he raised 
 the tapestry curtain. 
 
 Mr. Tempest was standing in front of the log 
 fire_, pulling Yixen^s auburn hair. The girl had put 
 on a picturesque brown velvet frock. A scarlet 
 sash was tied loosely round her willowy waist_, and 
 a scarlet ribbon held back the rippling masses of 
 her bright hair. 
 
 ^^A study in red and brown/-' thought Rorie, 
 as the fire-glow lit up the picture of the Squire in 
 his hunting- dress, and the girl in her warm velvet 
 gown. 
 
 "Such a run, Rorie/^ cried the Squire; "we 
 dawdled about among the furze from twelve till 
 four doing nothing, and just as it was getting dark 
 started a stag up on the high ground this side of 
 Pickett^s Post, and ran him nearly into Ringwood. 
 Go in and fetch my wife, Rorie. Oh, here she is^^
 
 28 vixE^f. 
 
 — as the imrtiere was lifted by a white hand, all 
 a-glitter with diamonds — "you must excuse me 
 sitting down in pink to day, Pamela ; I only got 
 in as the gong began to sound, and Fm as hungry 
 as the proverbial hunter." 
 
 ^''You know I always think you handsomest 
 in your scarlet coat, Edward," replied the sub- 
 missive wife, " but I hope you^re not very muddy." 
 
 "I won^t answer for myself; but I haven't 
 been actually up to my neck in a bog." 
 
 Rorie offered his arm to Mrs. Tempest, and they 
 all went in to dinner, the Squire still playing 
 with his daughter's hair, and Miss McCroke 
 solemnly bringing up the rear. 
 
 The dining-room at the Abbey House was the 
 ancient refectory, large enough for a mess-room; 
 so, when there were no visitors, the Tempests 
 dined in the library — a handsome square room, in 
 which old family portraits looked down from the 
 oak panelling above the dwarf bookcases, and 
 where the literary element was not obtrusively 
 conspicuous. You felt that it was a room quite as 
 well adapted for conviviality as for study. There
 
 A PRETTY H0R3EBREAKER. 29 
 
 was a cottage piano in a snug corner by the fire- 
 place. Tlie Squire's capacious arm-cliair stood on 
 the other side of the hearth, Mrs. Tempest's low 
 chair and gipsy table facing it. The old oak buffet 
 opposite the chimney-piece was a splendid specimen 
 of Elizabethan carving_, and made a rich back- 
 ground for the Squire's racing -cups, and a paii' 
 of Oliver Cromwell tankards, battered and dinted 
 with much service, and unornamental as that 
 illustrious Roundhead himself. 
 
 It was a dehghtful room on a chill October 
 evening like this ; the logs roaring up the wide 
 chimney, a pair of bronze candelabra lighting 
 buffet and table, Mrs. Tempest smiling pleasantly 
 at her unbidden guest, and the Squire stooping, 
 red-faced and plethoric, over his mulligatawny; 
 while Yixen, who was at an age when dinner is a 
 secondary consideration, was amusing herself with 
 the dogs, gentlemanly animals, too well bred to 
 be importunate in their demands for an occasional 
 tit -bit, and content to lie in superb attitudes, 
 looking up at the eaters patiently, with supplication 
 in their great pathetic brown eyes.
 
 30 VIXEN. 
 
 '^Rorie is going up to-morrow — not in a balloon, 
 but to Magdalen College, Oxford — so, as this was 
 bis last nigbt, I made bim come to dinner,^' 
 explained Vixen presently. "I bope I didn^t do 
 wrong.^' 
 
 ^''Rorie knows be's always welcome. Have 
 some more of tliat mulligatawny, my lad, it's 
 uncommonly good.'^ 
 
 Rorie declined tbe mulligatawny, being at tbis 
 moment deeply engaged in watcbing Vixen and 
 tbe dogs. Nip, tbe liver-coloured pointer, was 
 performing bis celebrated statue feat. Witli bis 
 forelegs stiffly extended, and bis bead proudly 
 poised, be simulated a dog of marble ; and if it bad 
 not been for tbe occasional bumping of bis tail 
 upon tbe Persian carpet, in an irresistible wag of 
 self- approbation, tbe simulation would bave been 
 perfect. 
 
 " Look, papa ! isn't it beautiful ? I went out 
 of tbe room tbe otber day, wbile Nip was doing tbe 
 statue, after Fd told bim not to move a paw, and I 
 stayed away quite five minutes, and tben stole 
 quietly back ; and tbere be was, lying as still as
 
 A PRETTY HOESEBREAKEE. 31 
 
 if lie^d been carved out of stone. Wasn^t tliat 
 fidelity ? '' 
 
 " Nonsense ! '' cried the Squire. '' How do you 
 know that Nip didnH wind you as you opened the 
 door_, and get himself into position ? TVhat are 
 these ? " as .the old silver entree dishes came round. 
 ^^ Stewed eels ? You never forget my tastes, Pamela.^' 
 
 ^' Stewed eels, sir ; sole maitre d'hotel/' said the 
 butler, in the usual suppressed and deferential tone. 
 
 Rorie helped himself automatically, and went 
 on looking at Vixen. 
 
 Her praises of Nip had kindled jealous fires in 
 the breast of Argus, her own particular favourite ; 
 and the blunt black muzzle had been thrust 
 vehemently under her velvet sleeve. 
 
 '^ Argus is angry,^^ said Rorie. 
 
 '' He^s a dear old foolish thing to be jealous,^' 
 answered Vixen, '^ when he knows I^d go through 
 fire and water for him.'^ 
 
 " Or even fight a big boy,^' cried the Squire, 
 throwing himself back in his chair with the 
 unctuous laughter of a man who is dining well, and 
 knows it.
 
 32 VIXEN. 
 
 Vixen bluslied rosiest red at tlie allusion. 
 
 " Papa^ you oughtn^t to say sucli things/^ she 
 cried; " I was a little bit of a child tlien.'^ 
 
 '^Yes, and flew at a great boy of fourteen 
 and licked liim/^ exclaimed the Squire rap- 
 turously. ''''You know the story, don^t you^ 
 Korie?^^ 
 
 Eorie had heard it twenty times^ but looked the 
 picture of ignorant expectancy. 
 
 " You know how Vixen came by Argus ? What, 
 you don^t ? Well, I'll tell you. This httle yellow- 
 haired lass of mine was barely nine years old, and 
 she was riding through the village on her pony, 
 with young Stubbs behind her on the sorrel mare — 
 and, you know, to her dying day, that sorrel would 
 never let anyone dismount her quietly. Now what 
 does Vixen spy but a lubberly lad and a lot of 
 small children ill-using a mastiff pup. They'd tied 
 a tin-kettle to the brute's tail, and were doing their 
 best to drown him. There's a pond just beyond 
 Mrs. Farley's cottage, you know, and into that 
 pond they'd pelted the puppy, and wouldn't let him 
 get out of it. As fast as the poor little brute
 
 A PRETTY HORSEBREAKER. 33 
 
 scrambled up tlie muddy bank they drove bim back 
 into the water/' 
 
 "Papa darling/' pleaded Vixen despairingly, 
 '^Rorie has beard it all a thousand times before. 
 Haven't you now, Eorie ? " 
 
 " It's as new to me as to-morrow's Times/' said 
 Roderick with effrontery. 
 
 "Vixen was off the pony before you could say 
 'Jack Robinson.' She flew into the midst of the 
 dirty little ragamuffins, seized the biggest ruffian 
 by the collar, and trundled him backwards 
 into the pond. Then she laid about her right 
 and left with her whip till the little wretches 
 scampered off, leaving Vixen and the puppy masters 
 of the situation ; and by this time the sorrel mare 
 had allowed Stubbs to get off her, and Stubbs rushed 
 to the rescue. The young ringleader had been 
 too much surprised by his ducking to pull himself 
 together again before this, but he came up to time 
 now, and had it out with Stubbs, while the sorrel 
 was doing as much damage as she conveni&ntly 
 could to Mrs. Farley's palings. ' Don't quite kill 
 him, please, Stubbs,' cried Vixen, 'although he 
 
 VOL I. D
 
 34 VIXEN. 
 
 riclily deserves it ; ' and fhen slie took the muddy- 
 little beast up in lier arms and ran home^ leaving 
 her pony to fate and Stubbs. Stubbs told me tbe 
 wbole story, witb tears in liis eyes. ' Who^d ba' 
 tliougbt, Squire, tlie little lady would ba' been sucb 
 a game 'un ? ' said Stubbs.^' 
 
 "It's very borrid of you, papa, to tell sucb 
 silly old stories,^' remonstrated Vixen. "That 
 was nearly seven years ago, and Dr. Dewsnap 
 told us the other day that everybody undergoes 
 a complete change of — what is it ? — all the tissues 
 — in seven years. I'm not the same Vixen that 
 pushed the boy into the pond. There's not a bit of 
 her left in me." 
 
 And so the dinner went on and ended, with 
 a good deal of distraction, caused by the dogs, 
 and a mild little remark now and then from 
 Mrs. Tempest, or an occasional wise interjection 
 from Miss McCroke, who in a manner represented 
 the Goddess of Wisdom in this somewhat frivolous 
 family, and came in with a corrective and severely 
 rational observation when the talk was drifting 
 towards idiocy.
 
 A PRETTY HORSEBREAKER. 35 
 
 The filberts^ bloomy purple grapes, and ruddy 
 pippins, and yellow William pears bad gone tlieir 
 rounds — all borne produce — and bad been admired 
 and praised, and tbe Squire^s full voice was mellow- 
 ing after bis second glass of port, wben tbe butler 
 came in witb a letter on a salver, and carried it, 
 witb muffled footfall and solemn visage, as of one 
 entrusted witb tbe delivery of a deatb-warrant, 
 straight to Roderick Vawdrey. 
 
 Tbe young man looked at it as if be bad 
 encountered an unexpected visitor of tbe adder 
 tribe. 
 
 '^ My motber,^^ be faltered. 
 
 It was a large and handsome letter with a big 
 red seal. 
 
 " May IV asked Rorie, witb a troubled visage, 
 and having received bis host and hostesses assent, 
 broke the seal. 
 
 *^Dear Roderick, — Is it quite kind of you to 
 absent yourself on this your last night at home ? 
 I feel very sure that this will find you at tbe 
 Abbey House, and I send the brougham at a 
 
 D 2
 
 36 VIXEN. 
 
 venture. Be good enougli to come liome at once. 
 The Dovedales arrived at Ashbourne quite unex- 
 pectedly this afternoon, and are dining with me on 
 purpose to see you before you go back to Oxford. 
 If your own good feeling did not urge you to spend 
 this last evening with me, I wonder that Mr. and 
 Mrs. Tempest were not kind enough to suggest to 
 joxx which way your duty lay. — Yours anxiously, 
 
 '^ Jane Yawdrey.'' 
 
 Hoderick crumpled the letter with an angry 
 "look. That fling at the Tempests hit him hard. 
 Why was it that his mother was always so ready to 
 find fault with these chosen friends of his ? 
 
 '^ Anything wrong, Korie ? '' asked the Squire. 
 
 "Nothing; except that the Dovedales are 
 •dining with my mother, and Fm to go home 
 directly.-'^ 
 
 "If you please, ma^am. Master Vawdrey's 
 servant has come for him," said Yixen, mimicking 
 the style of announcement at a juvenile party. 
 " It's quite too bad, Rorie,'' she went on, " I had 
 made up my mind to beat you at pyramids. How-
 
 A PEETTY HOESEEEEAKER. 37 
 
 ever, I daresay you're very glad to have the chance 
 of seeing your pretty cousin before you leave 
 Hampshire/^ 
 
 But Korie shook his head dolefully^ made his 
 adieuxj and departed.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LADY JANE VAWDEEY. 
 
 *'It is not dogs only that are jealous ! ^^ thouglit 
 Roderick^ as lie went home in the brougham, with 
 the windows down, and the cool night breeze 
 blowing' his cigar smoke away into the forest, to 
 mix with the mist wreaths that were curling up 
 from the soft ground. It was an offence of the 
 highest grade to smoke in his mother^s carriage; 
 but Rorie was in an evil temper just now, and 
 found a kind of bitter pleasure in disobedience. 
 
 The carriage bowled swiftly along the straight, 
 well-made road, but Rorie hated riding in a 
 brougham. The soft padded confinement galled 
 him. 
 
 " Why couldn^t she send me my dog-cart ? '^ 
 he asked himself indignantly. 
 
 Briarwood was a large white house in a small 
 park. It stood on much higher ground than the
 
 LADY JAXE VAWDEEY. 39 
 
 Abbey House, and was altogetber different from 
 that good old relic of a bygone civilisation. Briar- 
 wood was distinctly modern. Its decorations 
 savoured of the Eegency; its fm-niture was old- 
 fashioned, without being antique. The classic 
 stiffness and straightness of the First French 
 Empire distinguished the gilded chairs and tables 
 in the drawing-room. There were statues by 
 Chantrey and Canova in the spacious lofty hall ; 
 portraits by Lawrence and Eomney in the dining- 
 room ; a historical picture by Copley over the 
 elephantine mahogany sideboard; a Greek sarco- 
 phagus for wines under it. 
 
 At its best, the Briarwood house was common- 
 place; but to the mind of Lady Jane Vawdrey, 
 the gardens and hot-houses made amends. She 
 was a profound horticulturist, and spent half her 
 income on orchids and rare newly-imported flowers ; 
 and by this means she had made Briarwood one 
 of the show places of the neighbourhood. 
 
 " A woman must be distinguished for some- 
 thing, or she is no better than her scullery-maid,^^ 
 said Lady Jane to her son, excusing herself for
 
 40 VIXEN. 
 
 these extravagances. " I have no talent for music, 
 paintings or poetry, so I devote myself to orchids ; 
 and perhaps my orchids turn out better than many 
 people^s music and poetry.-*^ 
 
 Lady Jane was not a pleasant-tempered woman, 
 and enjoyed the privilege of being more feared 
 than liked ; a privilege of which she made the 
 most, and which secured her immunity from many 
 annoyances to which good-natured people are 
 subject. She did good to her poor neighbours, 
 in her own cold set way, but the poor people 
 about Briarwood did not send to her for wine 
 and brandy as if she kept a public-house, and was 
 benefited by their liberal patronage ; the curate 
 at the little Gothic church, down in the tiny village 
 in a hollow of the wooded hills, did not appeal 
 to Lady Jane in his necessities for church or parish. 
 She subscribed handsomely to all orthodox well- 
 established charities, but was not prone to accidental 
 benevolence. Nobody ever disappointed her when 
 she gave a dinner, or omitted the duty- call after- 
 wards; but she had no unceremonious gatherings, 
 no gossipy kettle-drums, no hastily-arranged pic-
 
 LADY JANE YAWDREY. 41 
 
 nics or garden-parties. When people in the 
 neighbourhood wanted to take their friends to see 
 the orchids, they wrote to Lady Jane first, and 
 made it quite a state affair; and on an appointed 
 afternoon, the lady of Briarwood received them, 
 richly clad in a dark velvet gown and a point- 
 lace cap, as if she had just walked out of an old 
 picture, and there were three or four gardeners in 
 attendance to open doors, and cut specimen blossoms 
 for the guests. 
 
 " She's a splendid woman, admirable in every 
 way,^^ said Roderick to an Oxford chum, with whom 
 he had been discussing Lady Jane's virtues ; ^' but 
 if a fellow could have a voice in the matter, she's 
 not the mother I should have chosen for myself/' 
 
 Ambition was the leading characteristic of Lady 
 Jane's mind. As a girl, she had been ambitious 
 for herself, and that ambition had been disappointed; 
 as a woman, her ambition transferred itself to her 
 son. She was the eldest daughter of the Earl 
 of Lodway, a nobleman who had been considerably 
 overweighted in the handicap of life, having nine 
 children, seats in three counties, a huge old house
 
 42 VIXEK. 
 
 in St. Jameses Square^ and a small income — his 
 tliree estates consisting of some of tlie barrenest 
 and most unprofitable land in Great Britain. Of 
 Lord Lodway^s nine children, five were daughters, 
 and of these Lady Jane was the eldest and the 
 handsomest. Even in her nursery she had a very 
 distinct notion that, for her, marriage meant pro- 
 motion. She used to play at being married at 
 St. George's, Hanover Square, and would never 
 consent to have the ceremony performed by less 
 than tv/o bishops; even though the part of one 
 hierarch had to be represented by the nursery 
 hearth-broom. In due course Lady Jane Umleigh 
 made her debut in society, in all the bloom and 
 freshness of her stately Saxon beauty. She* was 
 admired and talked about, and acknowledged as 
 one of the belles of that season ; her portrait was 
 engraved in the Book of Beauty, and her ball 
 programmes were always filled with the very best 
 names ; but at the end of the season. Lady Lodway 
 went back to the Yorkshire Wolds with a biting 
 sense of failure and mortification. Her handsome 
 daughter had not sent her arrow home to the gold.
 
 LADY JAUE VAWDEET. 43 
 
 Lady Jane liad not received a single offer worth 
 talking about. 
 
 '^Don^t you think you could consent to be 
 married by one bishop and a dean^ Jenny, if the 
 Marquis comes to the scratch soon after the 
 twelfth?^'' asked Lady Janets youngest brother 
 derisively. 
 
 He had been made to do bishop in those play- 
 weddings of Lady Janets, very often when the 
 function went against the grain. 
 
 The Marquis thus familiarly spoken about was 
 Lord Strishfogel; the richest nobleman in L^eland, 
 and a great sea-rover, famous for his steam yachts, 
 and his importance generally. He had admired 
 Lady Janets statuesque beauty, and had been more 
 particular in his attentions than the rest of her 
 satellites, who for the most part merely worshipped 
 her because it was the right thing to "do. Lord 
 Strishfogel had promised to come to Heron's Nest, 
 Lord Lodway's place in the Wolds, for the grouse- 
 shooting; but instead of keeping his promise, this 
 erratic young peer went off to the Golden Horn, to 
 race his yacht against the vessel of a great Turkish
 
 44 VIXEN. 
 
 official. This was Lady Jane Umleigli^s first dis- 
 appointment. She had liked Lord Strishfogel 
 just well enough to fancy herself deeply in love 
 with him^ and she was unconscious of the influence 
 his rank and wealth had exercised upon her feel- 
 ings. She had thought of herself so often as the 
 Marchioness of Strishfogel, had so completely 
 projected her mind into that brilliant future, that 
 to descend from this giddy height to the insignifi- 
 cance of unwedded girlhood was as sharp a fall as 
 if she had worn a crown and lost it. 
 
 Her second season began, and Lord Strishfogel 
 was still a rover. He was in the South Seas by 
 this time, writing a book, and enjoying halcyon 
 days among the friendly natives, swimming like a 
 dolphin in those summery seas, and indulging in 
 harmless flirtations with dusky princesses, whose 
 chief attire was made of shells and flowers, and 
 whose untutored dancing was more vigorous than 
 refined. At the end of that second season, Jane 
 Umleigh had serious thoughts of turning philan- 
 thropist, and taking a shipload of destitute young 
 women to Australia. Anything would be better
 
 LADY JANE VAWDEEY. 45 
 
 tban this sense of a wasted life and ignominious 
 failure. 
 
 She Tvas in this frame of mind when Mr. 
 Vawdrey came to Heron^s Xest for the shooting. 
 He was a commoner, but his family was one of the 
 oldest in Hampshire, and he had lately distinguished 
 himself by some rather clever speeches in the 
 House of Commons. His estate was worth fifteen 
 thousand a year, and he was altogether a man of 
 some mark. Above all, he was handsome, manly, 
 and a gentleman to the marrow of his bones, and 
 he was the first man who ever fell over head and 
 ears in love with Jane Umleigh. 
 
 The charms that had repelled more frivolous 
 admirers attracted John Yawdrey. That proud, 
 calm beauty of Lady Janets seemed to his mind the 
 perfection of womanly grace. Here was a wife for 
 a man to adore upon his knees, a wife to be proud 
 of, a wife to rule her vassals like a queen, and to 
 lead him, John Vawdrey, on to greatness. 
 
 He was romantic, chivalrous, aspiring, and Lady 
 Jane Umleigh was the first woman he had met who 
 embodied the heroine of his vouthful dreams.
 
 46 VIXEN. 
 
 He proposed and was refused, and went away 
 despairing. It would have been a good matcli, 
 undoubtedly — a truth which Lord and Lady Lodway 
 urged with some iteration upon their daughter — 
 but it would have been a terrible descent from the 
 ideal marriage which Lady Jane had set up in her 
 own mind; as the proper prize for so fair a 
 runner in life's race. She had imagined herself a 
 marchioness, with a vast territory of mountain, 
 vale, and lake, and an influence in the sister island 
 second only to that of royalty. She could not 
 descend all at once to behold herself the wife of a 
 plain country gentleman, whose proudest privilege 
 it was to write M.P. after his name. 
 
 The Earl and Countess were urgent, for they had 
 another daughter ready for the matrimonial market, 
 and were inclined to regard Lady Jane as an '' old 
 shopkeeper,^' but they knew their eldest daughter's 
 temper, and did not press the matter too warmly. 
 
 Another season. Lady Jane's fourth, and Lady 
 Sophia's first, began and ended. Lady Sophia was 
 piquant and witty, with a snub nose and a playful 
 disposition. She was a first-rate horsewoman, an
 
 LADY JAXE YAWDEEY. 47 
 
 exquisite waltzer, good at croquet, arclieiy, billiards, 
 and all gaines requiring accuracy of eye and aim, 
 and Lady Sopliia brought down her bird in a sino-le 
 season. She went home to Heron's Nest a duchess 
 in embryo. The Duke of Dovedale, a bulky, middle- 
 aged nobleman, with a passion for field sports and 
 high farming, had seen Lady Sophia ridino- a 
 dangerous horse in Eotten Row, and had been so 
 charmed by her management of the brute, as to 
 become from that hour her slaYe. A prettv girl, with 
 such a seat in her saddle, and such a light hand for a 
 horse^s mouth, was the next best thing to a goddess. 
 Before the season was over the Duke had proposed, 
 and had been graciously accepted by the young 
 lady, who felt an inward glow of pride at having 
 done so much better than the family beauty. 
 
 " Can I ever forget how that girl Jane has 
 snubbed me ? '^ said Lady Sophia to her favourite 
 brother. " And to think that I shall be sitting in 
 ermine robes in the House of Lords, while she is 
 peeping through the nasty iron fretwork in the 
 Ladies^ Gallery to catch a glimpse of the top of 
 her husband's head in the House of Commons."
 
 48 VIXEN. 
 
 This splendid engagement of Lady Sophia's 
 turned tlie tide for the faithful John Vawdrey. 
 Lady Jane met her rejected lover at Trouville, and 
 was so gracious to him that he ventured to renew 
 his suit, and, to his delighted surprise, was accepted. 
 Anything was better than standing out in the cold 
 while the ducal engagement was absorbing every- 
 body's thoughts and conversation. Lady Sophia 
 had boasted, in that playful way of hers, of having 
 her beauty-sister for chief bridesmaid ; and the 
 beauty-sister had made up her mind that this thing- 
 should not be. Perhaps she would have married a 
 worse man than John Vawdrey to escape such 
 infamy. 
 
 And John Yawdrey was by no means dis- 
 agreeable to her ; nay, it had been pride, and 
 not any disinclination" for the man himself that 
 had bidden her reject him. He was clever, dis- 
 tinguished, and he loved her with a romantic 
 devotion which flattered and pleased her. Yes, 
 she would marry John Vawdrey. 
 
 Everybody was delighted at this concession, 
 the lady's parents and belongings most especially
 
 LADY JAXE VAWDREY. 49 
 
 SO. Here were two daughters disposed of ; and if 
 tlie beauty had made the inferior match, it was 
 only one of those capricious turns of fortune that 
 are more to be expected than the common order 
 of things. 
 
 So there was a double marriage the following 
 spring at St. George's, and Lady Jane's childish 
 desire was gratified. There were two bishops at 
 the ceremony. True that one was only colonial, 
 and hardly ranked higher than the nursery hearth- 
 brush. 
 
 Fate was not altogether unkind to Lady Jane. 
 Her humble marriage was much happier than her 
 sister's loftier union. The Duke, who had been 
 so good-natured as a lover, proved stupid and 
 somewhat tiresome as a husband. He gave his 
 mind to hunting and farming, and cared for 
 nothing else. His chief conversation was about 
 cattle and manure, guano and composts, the famous 
 white Chillingham oxen, or the last thing in straw- 
 berry roans. He spent a small fortune — a fortune 
 that would have been large for a small man — in the 
 attempt to acclimatise strange animals in his park 
 VOL. I. "E
 
 50 VIXEN. 
 
 in tlie Midlands. Sophia, Ducliess of Dovedale, 
 liad seven country seats, and no home. Her 
 children were pnny and feeble. They sickened in 
 the feudal Scotch castle, they languished in the 
 Buckinghamshire Eden — a freestone palace set 
 among the woods that overhang the valley of the 
 Thames. No breezes that blow could waft strength 
 or vitality to those feeble lungs. At thirty the 
 Duchess of Dovedale had lost all her babies, save 
 one frail sapling, a girl of two years old, who 
 promised to have a somewhat better constitution 
 than her perished brothers and sisters. On this 
 small paragon the Duchess concentrated her cares 
 alid hopes. She gave up hunting — much to the 
 disgust of that Nimrod, her husband — in order 
 to superintend her nursery. From the most plea- 
 sure-loving of matrons, she became the most 
 domestic. Lady Mabel Ashbourne was to grow 
 up the perfection of health, wisdom, and beauty, 
 under the mother's loving care. She would have 
 a great fortune, for there was a considerable portion 
 of the Duke's property which he was free to be- 
 queath to his daughter. He had coal-pits in the
 
 LADY JANE VAWDKEY. -51 
 
 Nortli, and a tin-mitie in the West. He had a 
 house at Kensington which he had built for himself, 
 a model Queen Anne mansion, with every article of 
 furniture made on the strictest aesthetic principles, 
 and not an anachronism from the garrets to the 
 cellars. You might have expected to meet Marl- 
 borough on the stairs, and to find Addison reading 
 in the librarv. The Scottish castle and the Buckinsf- 
 hamshire Paradise would go with the title ; but the 
 Duke, delighted with the easy-going sjDort of the 
 New Forest, had bought six hundred acres between 
 Stony Cross and Romsey — a wide stretch of those 
 low level pastures across which you see the distant 
 roofs and spires of the good old market town — and 
 had made for himself an archetypal home-farm, and 
 had built himself a hunting-box, with stables and 
 kennels of the most perfect kind; and this estate, 
 together with the Queen Anne house, and the pits 
 and the mine, was his very own to dispose of as he 
 pleased. 
 
 Lady Jane's marriage had proved happy. Her 
 husband, always egged on by her ambitious prompt- 
 ings, had made himself an important figure in the 
 
 E 2 
 
 LIBRARY ^aiitiOIS 
 
 UNlVERSrPf
 
 52 VIXEN. 
 
 senate, and had been on the eve of entering the 
 Cabinet as Colonial Secretary, when death cut short 
 his career. A hard winter and a sharp attack of 
 bronchitis nipped the aspiring senator in the bud. 
 
 Lady Jane was as nearly broken-hearted as so 
 cold a woman could be. She had loved her 
 husband better than anything in this life, except 
 herself. He left her with one son and a handsome 
 jointure, with the full possession of Briarwood until 
 her son^s majority. Upon that only child Lady 
 Jane lavished all her care, but did not squander the 
 wealth of her affection. Perhaps her capacity for 
 loving had died with her husband. She had been 
 proud and fond of him, but she was not proud of 
 the little boy in velvet knickerbockers, whose good 
 looks were his only merit, and who was continually 
 being guilty of some new piece of mischief ; laming 
 ponies, smashing orchids, glass, china, and gene- 
 rally disturbing the perfect order which was 
 Briarwood^ s first law. 
 
 When the boy was old enough to go to Eton, 
 he seemed still more remote from his mother's 
 love and sympathy. He was passionately fond of
 
 LADY JANE YAWDEEY. 53 
 
 field sports_, and those Lady Jane Yawdrej detested. 
 He was backward in all his studies^ despite the 
 careful coaching he had received from the mild 
 Anglican curate of Briarwood village. He was 
 intensely pugilistic, and rarely came home for the 
 holidays without bringing a black eye or a swollen 
 nose as the result of his latest fight. He spent a 
 good deal of money, and in a manner that to his 
 mother^s calm sense appeared simply idiotic. His 
 hands were always gi'ubby, his nails wore almost 
 perpetual mourning, his boots were an outrage 
 upon good taste, and he generally left a track of 
 muddy footmarks behind him along the crimson- 
 carpeted corridors. What could any mother do for 
 such a boy, except tolerate him ? Love was out 
 of the question. How could a delicate, high-bred 
 woman, soft-handed, velvet-robed, care to have 
 such a lad about her ? a boy who smelt of stables 
 and wore hob-nailed boots, whose pockets were 
 always sticky with toffee, and his handkerchiefs a 
 disgrace to humanity, who gave his profoundest 
 thoughts to pigeon-fancying, and his warmest affec- 
 tions to ratting terriers, nay, who was capable of
 
 54 VIXEN. 
 
 having a live rat in his pocket at any moment of 
 his life. 
 
 But while all these habits made the lad abomi- 
 nable in the eyes of his mother, the Duke and 
 Duchess of Dovedale admired the young Hercules 
 with a fond and envious admiration. The Duke 
 would have given coal-pits and tin-mine_, all the 
 disposable property he held, and deemed it but a 
 small price for such a son. The Duchess thought 
 of her feeble boy-babies who had been whooping- 
 coughed or scarlet-fevered out of the world, and 
 sighed, and loved her nephew better than ever his 
 mother had loved him since his babyhood. When 
 the Dovedales were at their place in the Forest, 
 Eoderick almost lived with them; or, at any rate, 
 divided his time between Ashbourne Park and the 
 Abbey House, and spent as little of his life at 
 home as he could. He patronised Lady Mabel, 
 who was his junior by five years, rode her thorough- 
 bred pony for her, under the pretence of improving 
 its manners, until he took a header with it into 
 a bog, out of which pony and boy rolled and 
 struggled indiscriminately, boy none the worse.
 
 LADY JAXE TAWDEEY. 55 
 
 pony lamed for life. He played billiards with the 
 Duke, and told the Duchess all his school adven- 
 tures, practical jokes, fights, apple-pie beds, booby- 
 traps, surreptitious fried sausages, and other 
 misdemeanours. 
 
 Out of this friendship arose a brilliant vision 
 which reconciled Lady Jane Vawdrey to her son^s 
 preference for his aunt^s house and his aunt's 
 society. ^Yhy should he not marry Mabel by-and- 
 by, and unite the two estates of Ashbourne and 
 Briarwood, and become owner of the pits and the 
 mine, and distinguish himself in the senate, and 
 be created a peer ? As the husband of Lady Mabel 
 Ashbourne, he would be rich enough to command a 
 peerage, almost as a right ; but his mother would 
 have had him deserve it. With this idea Lady Jane 
 urged on her son's education. All his Hampshire 
 friends called him clever, but he won no laurels at 
 school. Lady Jane sent for grinders and had the 
 boy ground ; but all the grinding could not grind 
 a love of classics or metaphysics into this free son 
 of the forest. He went to Oxford, and got himself 
 ploughed for his Little Go, with a wonderful
 
 56 VIXEN. 
 
 facility. For politics lie cared not a jot, but lie 
 could drive tandem better tban any other under- 
 graduate of his year. He never spoke at tlie 
 Union, but be pulled stroke in the ^Varsity boat. 
 He was famous for bis biceps, bis good-nature, and 
 bis good looks ; but so far be bad distinguished 
 himself for nothing else, and to this stage of non- 
 performance had he come when the reader first 
 beheld him.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " I WANT A LITTLE SEEIOUS TALK WITH YOU/' 
 
 It was only half-past nine when the brougham 
 drove up to the pillared porch at Briarwood. The 
 lighted drawing-room windows shone out upon the 
 vaporous autumn darkness — a row of five tall 
 French casements — and the sound of a piano 
 caught Roderick's ear as he tossed the end of his 
 cigar into the shubbery, and mounted the wide 
 stone door-steps. 
 
 " At it again," muttered Rorie with a shrug of 
 disgust, as he entered the hall, and heard, through 
 the half -open drawing-room door, an interlacement 
 of pearly runs. At this stage of his existence, 
 Rorie had no appreciation of brilliant pianoforte 
 playing. The music he liked best was of the 
 simplest, most inartificial order. 
 
 " Are the Duke and Duchess here ? " he asked 
 the butler.
 
 58 VIXEN. 
 
 " Her Grace and Lady Mabel is here, sir ; not 
 ttie Dook/' 
 
 "I suppose I must dress before I face tlie 
 quality/' muttered Korie sulkily, and lie went 
 leaping upstairs — three steps at a time — to 
 exchange his brown shooting - clothes and leather 
 gaiters for that dress-suit of his which was con- 
 tinually getting too small for him. Rorie detested 
 himself in a dress-suit and a w^hite tie. 
 
 " You beast/' he cried, addressing his reflection 
 in the tall glass door of his armoire, " you are the 
 image of a waiter at The Clarendon."" 
 
 The Briarwood drawing-room looked a great 
 deal too vast and too lofty for the three women 
 who were occupying it this evening. It was a 
 finely-proportioned room, and its amber satin 
 hangings made a pleasing background for the 
 white and gold furniture. White, gold, and 
 amber made up the prevailing tone of colour. 
 Clusters of wax lights against the walls, and a 
 crystal chandelier with many candles, filled the 
 room with a soft radiance. It was a room without 
 shadow. There were no recesses, no deep-set
 
 '^I WAXT A LITTLE SERIOUS TALK WITH YOU." 59 
 
 windows or doors. All was coldly bright, fault- 
 lessly elegant. Rorie detested his mother's draw- 
 ing-room almost as much as he detested himself in 
 a dress-coat that was too short in the sleeves. 
 
 The matrons were seated on each side of the 
 shining -gold and steel fii-eplace, before which there 
 stretched an island of silky white fur. Lady Jane 
 Vawdrey's younger sister was a stout, comfortable- 
 looking woman in gray silk^ who hardly realised 
 one's preconceived notion of a duchess. Lady 
 Jane herself had dignity enough for the highest 
 rank in the ^'' Almanach de Gotha.'' She wore dark 
 green velvet and old rose-pointy and looked like a 
 portrait of an Austrian princess by A'elasquez. 
 Years had not impaired the purity of her blonde 
 complexion. Her aquiline nose^ thin lips, small 
 firm chin, were the features of one born to rule. 
 Her light brown hair showed no streak of gray. 
 An admirable woman, no doubt, for anybody else's 
 mother, as Rorie so often said to himself. 
 
 The young lady was still sitting at the piano, 
 remote from the two elders, her slim white fiugers 
 running in and out and to and fro in those
 
 60 VIXEN. 
 
 wondrous intricacies and involutions wliich dis- 
 tinguisli modern classical music. Rorie hated all 
 that running about the piano to no purpose, and 
 could not perceive his cousin^s merit in having 
 devoted three or four hours of her daily life for 
 the last seven years to the accomplishment of this 
 melodious meandering. She left off playing, and 
 held out her small white hand to him as he came to 
 the piano, after shaking hands with his aunt. 
 
 What was she like, this paragon formed by 
 a mother^s worshipping love and ceaseless care, 
 this one last pearl in the crown of domestic life, 
 this child of so many prayers, and hopes, and fears, 
 and deep pathetic rejoicings ? 
 
 She was very fair to look upon — complete and 
 beautiful as a pearl — with that outward purity, 
 that perfect delicacy of tint and harmony of detail 
 which is in itself a charm. Study her as captiously 
 as you would, you could find no flaw in this jewel. 
 The small regular features were so delicately 
 chiselled, the fair fine skin was so transparent, 
 the fragile figure so exquisitely moulded, the ivory 
 hand and arm were so perfect — no, you could
 
 '■I WANT A LITTLE SERIOUS TALK WITH YOU.'"' 61 
 
 discover no bad drawing or crude colouring in tliis 
 human picture. Slie lifted her clear blue eves to 
 Rorie's face^ and smiled at him in gentle welcome ; 
 and though he felt intensely savage at having been 
 summoned home like a school-boy, he could not 
 refuse her a responsive smile_, or a gentle pressure 
 of the taper fingers. 
 
 " And so you have been diuing with those 
 horrid people ! ^' she exclaimed with au air of 
 playful reproach, ^' and on your last night in Hamp- 
 shire — quite too unkind to Aunt Jane." 
 
 " I don't know whom you mean by horrid 
 people, Mabel," answered Rorie, chilled back into 
 sulkiness all at once ; " the people I was with are 
 all that is good and pleasant. '^ 
 
 ^' Then youVe not been at the Tempests' after 
 all ? " 
 
 " I have been at the Tempests'. What have 
 you to say against the Tempests?" 
 
 '^ Oh, I have nothing to say against them," said 
 Lady Mabel, shrugging her pretty shoulders in her 
 fawn-coloured silk gown. ^'' There are some things 
 that do not require to be said."
 
 62 VIXEN. 
 
 '^ Mr. Tempest is tlie best and kindest of men ; 
 liis wife is — well^ a nonentity^ perliaps^ but not a 
 disagreeable one ; and liis daughter ^' 
 
 Here Rorie came to a sudden, stop., wliicli Lady 
 Mabel accentuated witli a silvery little laugh. 
 
 ^^His daughter is charming/' she cried, when 
 she had done laughing ; " red hair, and a green 
 habit with brass buttons, a yellow waistcoat like 
 her papa's, and a rose in her button-hole. How I 
 should like to see her in Rotten Row ! " 
 
 " I'll warrant there wouldn't be a better horse- 
 woman or a prettier girl there," cried Rorie, scarlet 
 with indignation. 
 
 His mother looked daggers. His cousin gave 
 another silvery laugh, clear as those pearly treble 
 runs upon the Erard; but that pretty artificial 
 laugh had a ring which betrayed her mortification. 
 
 "Rorie is thorough," she said; "when he likes 
 people he thinks them perfection. You do think 
 that little red-haired girl quite perfection, now 
 don't you, Rorie ? " pursued Lady Mabel, sitting 
 down before the piano again, and touching the 
 notes silently as she seemed to admire the slender
 
 diamond hoops upon her white fingers — old- 
 fashioned rings that had belonged to a patrician 
 great-grandmother. " You think her quite a model 
 young lady, though they say she can hardly read, 
 and makes her mark — like "William the Conqueror 
 — instead of signing her name, and spends her 
 life in the stables, and occasionally, when the fox 
 gets back to earth — swears/' 
 
 " I don't know who they may be,'' cried 
 Roderick, savagely, ^^ but they say a pack of lies. 
 Violet Tempest is as well educated as — any girl 
 need be. All girls can't be paragons ; or, if they 
 could, this earth would be intolerable for the rest 
 of humanity. Lord deliver us from a world overrun 
 with paragons. Violet Tempest is little more than 
 a child, a spoiled child, if you like, but she has a 
 heart of gold, and a firmer seat in her saddle than 
 any other woman in Hampshire." 
 
 Eoderick had turned from scarlet to pale by 
 the time he finished this speech. His mother had 
 paled at the first mention of poor Vixen. That 
 young lady's name acted upon Lady Jane's feelings 
 very much as a red rag acts on a bull.
 
 64 VIXEN. 
 
 "I think after keeping you. away from your 
 motker on the last nigkt of your vacation, Mr. 
 Tempest might at least have had the good taste 
 to let you come home sober/^ said Lady Jane^ with 
 suppressed rage. 
 
 '^1 drank a couple of glasses of still hock at 
 dinner, and not a drop of anything else from the 
 time I entered the Abbey House till I left it ; and 
 I don^t think, considering how Fve seasoned myself 
 with Bass at Oxford, that two glasses of Rudes- 
 heimer would floor me,^^ explained Rorie, with 
 recovered calmness. 
 
 " Oh, but you were drinking deep of a more 
 intoxicating nectar,^' cried Lady Mabel, with that 
 provokingly distinct utterance of hers. She had 
 been taught to speak as carefully as girls of inferior 
 rank are taught to play Beethoven — every syllable 
 studied, every tone trained and ripened to the right 
 quality. " You were with Violet Tempest. ^^ 
 
 " How you children quarrel ! " exclaimed the 
 Duchess; '^you could hardly be worse if you were 
 lovers. Come here, Rorie, and tell me all that 
 has happened to you since we saw you at Lord's
 
 in July. Never mind these Tempest people. They 
 are of the smallest possible importance. Of course, 
 Rorie must have somebody to amuse himself with 
 while we are away.^^ 
 
 " And now we are come back, he is off to 
 Oxford/^ said Mabel with an aggrieved air. 
 
 "You shouldn^t have stayed so long in Switzer- 
 land then/' retorted Rorie. 
 
 " Oh, but it was my first visit, and everything 
 is so lovely. After all the Swiss landscapes I have 
 done in chalk, and pencil, and water-colours, I was 
 astonished to find what a stranger I was to the 
 scenery. I blushed when I remembered those 
 dreadful landscapes of mine. I was ashamed to 
 look at Mont Blanc. I felt as if the Matterhorn 
 would fall and crush me.'' 
 
 " I think I shall do Switzerland next lonsr," 
 said Rorie patronisingly, as if it would be a good 
 thing for Switzerland. 
 
 " You might have come this year while we were 
 there," said Lady Mabel. 
 
 '' No, I mightn't. Fve been grinding. If you 
 knew what a dose of Aristotle I've had, you'd pity 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 6Q YIXEN. 
 
 me. That's -where you girls have the best of it. 
 You leam to read a story-book in two or three 
 modem languages, to meander up and down the 
 piano^ and spoil Bristol boards or Whatman^s hot- 
 pressed imperial,, and then you call yourselves 
 educated ; while we have to go back to the beginning 
 of civilisation^ and find out what a lot of old Greek 
 duffers were driving at when they sat in the sun- 
 shine and prosed like old boots.''^ 
 
 Lady Mabel looked at him with a serene smile. 
 
 " Would you be surprised to hear that I know a 
 little Greek/^ she said, " just enough to struggle 
 through the Socratic dialogues with the aid of my 
 master ? '' 
 
 Roderick started as if he had been stung. 
 
 "What a shame/^ he cried. "Aunt Sophia, 
 what do you mean by making a Lady Jane Grey 
 or an Elizabeth Barrett Browning of her ? " 
 
 " A woman who has to occupy a leading position 
 c^n hardly know too much/^ answered the Duchess 
 sententiously. 
 
 "Ah, to be sure, Mabel will marry some 
 diplomatic swell, and be entertaining ambassadors
 
 by-and-by. And when some modern Greek envoy 
 comes simpering up to her witb a remark about the 
 weather, it will be an advantage for her to know 
 Plato. I understand. Wheels within wheels. ''■' 
 
 *^ The Duchess of Dovedale's carriage/'' an- 
 nounced the butler, rolling out the syllables as if 
 it were a personal gratification to pronounce them. 
 
 Mabel rose at once from the piano, and came to 
 say good-night to her aunt. 
 
 "My dear child, it^s quite early/^ said Lady 
 Jane ; " Roderick's last night, too. And your 
 mamma is in no hurry.''^ 
 
 Mabel looked at Roderick, but that young 
 gentleman was airing himself on the hearth-rug, 
 and gazing absently up at the ceiling. It evidently 
 signified very little to him whether his aunt and 
 cousin went or stayed. 
 
 " You know you told papa you would be home 
 soon after ten,^^ said Lady Mabel, and the Duchess 
 rose immediately. 
 
 She had a way of yielding to her only daughter 
 which her stronger-minded sister highly disap- 
 proved. The first duty of a mother, in Lady
 
 68 VIXEN. 
 
 Jane's opinion, was to rule lier cliild, tlie second, 
 to love it. The idea was no doubt correct in tlie 
 abstract; but tlie practice was not succeeding too. 
 well witb Eoderick. 
 
 " Good-niglit and good-bye/^ said Lady Mabel, 
 when tbe maid liad brought her wraps, and Rorie 
 had put them on. 
 
 "Not good-bye,^' said the good-natured Duchess ; 
 " Rorie must come to breakfast to-morrow, and see 
 the Duke. He has just bought some wonderful 
 shorthorns, and I am sure he would like to show 
 them to you, Rorie, because you can appreciate 
 them. He was too tired to come out to-night, but 
 I know he wants to see you.^' 
 
 " Thanks. Til be there,'' answered Rorie, and 
 he escorted the ladies to their carriage; but not 
 another word did Mabel speak till the brougham 
 had driven away from Briarwood. 
 
 " What a horrid young man Roderick has 
 grown, mamma/' she remarked decisively, when 
 they were outside the park-gates. 
 
 " My love, I never saw him look handsomer." 
 " I don't mean his looks. Good looks in a man
 
 are a superfluity. But liis manners — I never saw 
 anything so underbred. Those Tempest people are 
 spoiling him.^^ 
 
 "Eoderick/^ said Lady Jane_, just as Rorie 
 was contemplating an escape to the billiard-room 
 and his cigar_, " I want a little serious talk with 
 
 you." 
 
 Eorie shivered in his shoes. He knew too well 
 what his mother^s serious talk meant. He shrugged 
 his shoulders with a movement that indicated a 
 dormant resistance, and went quietly into the 
 drawino'-room.
 
 CHAPTER TV. 
 
 EORIE COMES OP AGE. 
 
 ^' Bless my soul!" cried the Squire; ''it's a 
 vixen, after all/' 
 
 This is how Squire Tempest greeted the family 
 doctor's announcement of his first baby's sex. He 
 had been particularly anxious for a son to inherit 
 the Abbey House estate, succeed to his father's 
 dignities as master of the fox-hounds, and in a 
 general way sustain the pride and glory of the 
 family name ; and, behold ! Providence had given 
 him a daughter. 
 
 *' The deuce is in it," ejaculated the Squire ; 
 '' to think that it should be a vixen ! " 
 
 This is how Violet Tempest came by her curious 
 pet name. Before she was short-coated, she had 
 contrived to exhibit a very spirited, and even 
 vixenish temper, and the family doctor, who loved 
 a small joke, used to ask after Miss Vixen when
 
 EORIE COMES OF AGE. 71 
 
 he paid his professional visits. As slie grew older, 
 her tawny hair was not unlike a red fox^s brush 
 in its bright jigolden -brown hue, and her temper 
 proved decidedly vixenish. 
 
 " I wish you wouldn^t call Violet by that 
 dreadful nickname, dear/^ Mrs. Tempest remon- 
 strated mildly. 
 
 "My darling, it suits her to a nicety,^^ replied 
 the Squire, and he took his own way in this as 
 in most things. 
 
 The earth rolled round, and the revolving years 
 brought no second baby to the Abbey House. 
 Every year made the Squire fonder of his little 
 golden-haired girl. He put her on a soft white 
 ball of a pony as soon as she could sit up straight, 
 and took her about the Forest with a leading-rein. 
 No one else was allowed to teach Vixen to ride. 
 Young as she was, she soon learnt to do without 
 the leading-rein, and the gentle white pony was 
 discarded as too quiet for little Miss Tempest. 
 Before her eleventh birthday she rode to hounds, 
 rose before the sun to hunt the young fox-cubs 
 in early autumn, and saw the stag at bay on the
 
 72 VIXEN. 
 
 wild heathery downs above the wooded valleys 
 that sink and fall below Boldrewood with almost 
 Alpine grandeur. She was a creature full of life^ 
 and courage,, and generous impulses^ and spon- 
 taneous leanings to all good thoughts ; but she was 
 a spoiled child, liked her own way, and had no idea 
 of being guided by anybody else^s will — unless it 
 had been her father^s, and he never thwarted her. 
 
 Him she adored with the fondest love that 
 child ever gave to parent : a blind worshipping 
 love, that saw in him the perfection of manhood, 
 the beginning and end of earthly good. If anyone 
 had dared to say in Vixen's hearing that her 
 father could, by any possible combination of cir- 
 cumstances, do wrong, act unjustly, or ungene- 
 rously, it would have been better for that man to 
 have come to handy grips with a tiger-cat than 
 with Violet Tempest. Her reverence for her father, 
 and her belief in him, were boundless. 
 
 There never, perhaps, was a happier childhood 
 than Violet's. She was daughter and heiress to 
 one of the most popular men in that part of the 
 country, and everybody loved her. She was not
 
 EOEIE COMES OF AGE. 73 
 
 mucli given to visiting in a methodical way among 
 tlie pooi% and it had never entered into her young 
 mind that it was her mission to teach older people 
 the way to heaven ; but if there was trouble in 
 the village — a sick child^ a husband in prison for 
 rabbit snaring^ a dead baby^ a little boy^s pinafore 
 set on fire — Yixen and her pony were always to 
 the fore ; and it was an axiom in the village that^ 
 where Miss Tempest did " take/^ it was very good 
 for those she took to. Violet never withdrevr 
 her hand when she had put it to the plough. If 
 she made a promise^ she always kept it. However 
 long the sickness, however dire the poverty, Yixen^s 
 patience and benevolence lasted to the end. 
 
 The famous princess in the story, whose sleep 
 was broken because there was a pea under her 
 seven feather-beds, had scarcely a more untroubled 
 life than Yixen. She had her own way in every- 
 thing. She did exactly what she liked with her 
 comfortable, middle-aged governess. Miss McCroke, 
 learnt what she pleased, and left what she disliked 
 unlearned. She had the prettiest ponies in Hamp- 
 shire to ride, the prettiest dresses to wear. Her
 
 74 
 
 VIXEN. 
 
 mother was not a woman to bestow mental culture 
 upon lier only child, but slie racked lier small 
 brain to devise becoming costumes for Yiolet : the 
 coloured stockings wMch harmonised best with 
 each particular gown, the neat little buckled shoes, 
 the fascinating Hessian boots. Nothing was too 
 beautiful or too costly for Violet. She was the one 
 thing her parents possessed in the world, and they 
 lavished much love upon her ; but it never occurred 
 to Mr. and Mrs. Tempest, as it had occurred to the 
 Duchess of Dovedale — to make their daughter a 
 paragon. 
 
 In this perpetual sunshine Violet grew up, fair 
 as most things are that grow in the sunshine. She 
 loved her father with all her heart, and mind, and 
 soul ; she loved her mother with a lesser love ; she 
 had a tolerant affection for Miss McCroke; she 
 loved her ponies, and the dog Argus ; she loved the 
 hounds in the kennels; she loved every honest 
 familiar face of nurse, servant, and stable-man, 
 gardener, keeper, and huntsman, that had looked 
 upon her with friendly, admiring eyes, ever since 
 she could remember.
 
 EOEIE COMES OF AGE. /O 
 
 Not to be loved and admired would have been 
 tlie strangest tiling to Violet. Slie would hardly 
 have recognised herseK in an unappreciative circle. 
 If sbe could have heard Lady Mabel talking about 
 her, it would have been like the sudden revela- 
 tion of an unknown world — a world in which it 
 was possible for people to dislike and misjudge 
 her. 
 
 This is one of the disadvantages of being reared 
 in a little heaven of domestic love. The outside 
 world seems so hard,, and bleak, and dreary after- 
 wards, and the inhabitants thereof passing crueL 
 
 Miss Tempest looked upon Roderick Yawdrey 
 as her own particular property — a person whom she 
 had the right to order about as she pleased. Eorie 
 had been her playfellow and companion in his 
 holiday-time for the last five years. All their 
 tastes were in common. They had the same love 
 for the brute creation, the same wild delight in 
 rushing madly through the air on the backs of 
 unreasoning animals ; widely different in their 
 tastes from Lady Mabel, who had once been run 
 away with in a pony-carriage, and looked upon all
 
 76 VIXEN. 
 
 horses as incipient murderers. They had the same 
 love of nature,, the same indifference to books^ and 
 the same careless scorn of all the state and ceremony 
 of life. 
 
 Vixen was '' rising fifteen/^ as her father called 
 it, and Korie was just five years her senior. The 
 Squire saw them gay and happy together without 
 one serious thought of what might come of their 
 childish friendship in the growth of years. That 
 his Vixen could ever care for anyone but her '' old 
 dad/^ was a notion that had not yet found its way 
 into the Squire^s brain. She seemed to him quite 
 as much his own property, his own to do what he 
 liked with, singly and simply attached to him, as 
 his favourite horse or his favourite dog. So there 
 were no shadowings forth in the paternal mind as 
 to any growth and development which the mutual 
 affection of these two young people might take in 
 the future. 
 
 It was very different with Lady Jane Vawdrey, 
 who never saw her son and his cousin Mabel 
 together without telling herself how exactly they 
 were suited to each other, and what a nice thing it
 
 EOEIE COMES OF AGE. 77 
 
 would be for the Briarwood and Aslibourne estates 
 to be united by tlieir marriage. 
 
 Rorie went back to college, and contrived to 
 struggle tlirough liis next examinations witb an 
 avoidance of actual discredit ; but wben Christmas 
 came lie did not return to tlie Forest, thougli Violet 
 had counted on his coming, and had thought that 
 it would be good fun to have his heljD in the decora- 
 tions for the little Gothic church in the valley — a 
 pretty little new church, like a toy, which the 
 Squire had built and paid for, and endowed with a 
 perpetual seventy pounds a year out of his own 
 pocket. It would have been fun to see poor Rorie 
 prick his clumsy fingers with the holly. Vixen 
 laughed at his awkwardness in advance^ when she 
 talked to Miss McCroke about him, and drew upon 
 herself that lady^s mild reproval. 
 
 But Christmas came and brought no Rorie. 
 He had gone off to spend his Christmas at the 
 Duke of Dovedale^s Scotch castle. Easter came, 
 but still no Rorie. He was at Putney, with the 
 ^Varsity crew, or in London with the Dovedales, 
 riding in the Row^ and forgetting dear old Hamp-
 
 78 VIXEN. 
 
 shire and the last of the hunting, for which he 
 would have been just in time. 
 
 Even the long vacation came without Rorie. 
 He had gone for that promised tour in Switzerland, 
 at his mother^s instigation, and was only to come 
 home late in the year to keep his twenty-first 
 birthday, which was to be honoured in a very 
 subdued and unhilarious fashion at Briarwood. 
 
 "Mamma/^ said Violet at breakfast -time one 
 August morning, with her nose scornfully tilted, 
 ^^ what is Mr. Vawdrey like — dark or fair ? '' 
 
 '''Why Violet, you can^t have forgotten him,^^ 
 protested her mother, with languid astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " I think he has been away long enough for me 
 to forget even the colour of his hair, mamma ; and 
 as he hasn't written to anybody, we may fairly 
 suppose he has forgotten us.'^ 
 
 "Vixen misses her old playfellow,^' said the 
 Squire, busy with the demolition of a grouse. 
 "But Rorie is a young man now, you know, dear, 
 and has work to do in the world — duties, my pet — 
 duties.'^
 
 EOEIE COiTES OF AGE. 79 
 
 '^ And is a young man^s first duty to forget liis 
 old friends ? '' inquired Vixen naively. 
 
 " My petj you can^t expect a lad of that kind to 
 write letters. I am a deuced bad hand at letter- 
 writing myself^ and always was. I don't think a 
 man's hand was ever made to pinch a pen. 
 Nature has given us a broad strong grasp^ to 
 grip a sword or a gun. Your mother writes most 
 of my letters, Vixen, you know, and I shall expect 
 you to help her in a year or two. Let me see ; 
 Korie will be one-and-twenty in October, and there 
 are to be high jinks at Briarwood, I believe, so 
 there's something for you to look forward to, my 
 dear.'' 
 
 " Edward ! '' exclaimed Mrs. Tempest reproach- 
 fully ; " you forget that Violet is not out. She will 
 not be sixteen till next February." 
 
 "Bless her!" cried the Squire, with a tender 
 look at his only child, "she has grown up like 
 a green bay-tree. But if this were to be quite 
 a friendly affair at Briarwood, she might go, 
 surely.'' 
 
 "It will not be a friendly affair," said Mrs.
 
 80 VIXEN. 
 
 Tempest ; " Lady Jane never gives friendly parties. 
 There is nothing friendly in lier nature, and I 
 don^t think she likes us — much. But I daresay 
 we shall be asked, and if we go I must have a 
 new dress/' added the gentle lady with a sigh 
 of resignation. "It will be a dinner, no doubt; 
 and the Duke and the Duchess will be there, of 
 course.'^ 
 
 The card of invitation came in ' due course, 
 three weeks before the birthday. It was to be a 
 dinner, as Mrs. Tempest had opined. She wrote 
 •off to her milliner at once, and there was a passage 
 of letters and fashion-plates and patterns of silk 
 to and fro, and some of Mrs. Tempest's finest lace 
 came out of the perfumed chest in which she 
 kept her treasures, and was sent off to Madame 
 Theodore. 
 
 Poor Vixen beheld these preparations with an 
 aching heart. She did not care about dinner- 
 parties in the least, but she would have liked 
 to be with Roderick on his birthday. She would 
 have liked it to have been a hunting- day, and to 
 have ridden for a wild scamper across the hills
 
 EORIE COMES OF AGE. 81 
 
 with liim — to have seen the rolling downs of the 
 Wight blue in the distance — to have felt the soft 
 south wind blowing in her face^ and to have ridden 
 by his side,, neck and neck, all day long ; and then 
 to have gone home to the Abbey House to dinner, 
 to the snug round table in the library, and the 
 dogs, and papa in his happiest mood, expanding 
 over his port and walnuts. That would have 
 been a happy birthday for all of them, in Violet's 
 opinion. 
 
 The Squire and his daughter had plenty of 
 hunting in this merry month of October, but there 
 had been no sign of Eorie and his big raking 
 chestnut in the field, nor had anyone in the Forest 
 heard of or seen the young Oxonian. 
 
 '^ I daresay he is only coming home in time 
 for the birthday,' ' Mrs. Tempest remarked placidly, 
 and went on with her preparations for that 
 event. 
 
 She wanted to make a strong impression on 
 the Duchess, who had not behaved too well to 
 her, only sending her invitations for indiscriminate 
 afternoon assemblies, which Mrs. Tempest had 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 VIXEN. 
 
 graciously declined, pleading her feeble liealtli 
 as a reason for not going to garden-parties. 
 
 Vixen was in a peculiar temper during those 
 three weeks, and poor Miss McCroke had hard 
 work with her. 
 
 '' JDer, die, das," cried Vixen, throwing down her 
 German grammar in a rage one morning, when she 
 had been making a muddle of the definite article in 
 her exercise, and the patient governess had declared 
 that they really must go back to the very beginning 
 of things. '' What stupid people the Germans are ! 
 Why can't they have one little word for everything, 
 as we have ? T, h, e, the. Any child can learn 
 that. What do they mean by chopping up their 
 language into little bits, like the pieces in a puzzle ? 
 Why, even the French are more reasonable — though 
 they're bad enough, goodness knows, with their 
 hes and shes — feminine tables, and masculine beds. 
 Why should I be bothered to learn all this rubbish ? 
 Fm not going to be a governess, and it will never 
 be any nse to me. Papa doesn't know a single 
 sentence in French or German, and he's quite 
 happy."
 
 EOEIE COMES OF AGE. 83 
 
 '''But if your papa were travelling on the 
 Continent, Violet, he would find liis ignorance of 
 the language a great deprivation.''^ 
 
 ^^No, he wouldn^t. HeM have a courier.-'-' 
 ^^ Are you aware, my dear^ that we have wasted 
 five minutes already in this discursive conver- 
 sation ? '' remarked Miss McCroke^ looking at a 
 fat useful watch, which she wore at her side in the 
 good old fashion. " We will leave the grammar for 
 the present, and you can repeat the first part of 
 Schiller's Song of the Bell.'' 
 
 'Td rather say the Fight with the Dragon/' 
 said Vixen, " there's more fire and life in it. I do 
 like Schiller, Crokey dear. But isn't it a pity he 
 didn't write in English ? " 
 
 And Vixen put her hands behind her, and began 
 to recite the wonderful story of the knight who 
 slew the dragon, and very soon her eyes kindled 
 and her cheeks were aflame, and the grand verses 
 were rolled out rapidly, with a more or less faulty 
 pronunciation, but plenty of life and vehemence. 
 This exercise of mind and memory suited Vixen a 
 great deal better than dull plodding at the first 
 
 G 2
 
 84 VIXEN. 
 
 principles of grammar^, and the perpetual der, die, 
 das. 
 
 This day was the last of October, and Eoderick 
 Yawdrey's birthday. He had not been seen at the 
 Abbey House yet. He had returned to Briarwood 
 before this, no doubt, but had not taken the trouble 
 to come and see his old friends. 
 
 " He^s a man now, and has duties, and has done 
 with us,^^ thought Vixen savagely. 
 
 She was very glad that it was such a wretched 
 day — a hideous day for anyone^s twenty-first birth- 
 day, ominous of all bad things, she thought. 
 There was not a rift in the dull gray sky; the 
 straight fine rain came down persistently, soaking 
 into the sodden earth, and sending up an odour of 
 dead leaves. The smooth shining laurels in the 
 shrubbery were the only things in nature that 
 seemed no worse for the perpetual downpour. The 
 gravel drives were spongy and sloppy. There was 
 no hunting, or Yixen would have been riding her 
 pony through rain and foul weather, and would 
 have been comparatively independent of the ele- 
 ments. But to be at home all day, watching the
 
 EORIE COMES OF AGE. 85 
 
 rain, and thinking wliat a liorrid, ungrateful young 
 man Rorie was ! That was dreary. 
 
 Mrs. Tempest went to her room to lie down 
 directly after luncheon. She wanted to keep her- 
 self fresh for the evening. She made quite a solemn 
 business of this particular dinner-party. At five 
 precisely, Pauline was to bring her a cup of tea. 
 At half-past five she was to begin to dress. This 
 would give her an hour and a half for her toilet, 
 as Briarwood was an hoar^s drive from the Abbey 
 House. So for the rest of that day — until she burst 
 upon their astonished view in her new gown — 
 Mrs. Tempest would be invisible to her family. 
 
 "What a disgusting birthday/^ cried Vixen, 
 sitting in the deep embrasure of the hall window, 
 with Argus at her side, dog and girl looking out 
 at the glistening shrubbery. 
 
 Miss McCroke had gone to her room to write 
 letters, or Vixen would have hardly been allowed to 
 remain peacefully in such an inelegant position, her 
 knees drawn up to her chin, her arms embracing 
 her legs, her back against the stout oak shutter. 
 Yet the girl and dog made rather a pretty picture,
 
 86 VIXEN. 
 
 despite tlie inelegance of Yixen^s attitude. The 
 tawny liair, black velvet frock, and careless amber 
 sash, amber stockings, and broad-toed Cromwell 
 shoes ; the tawny mastiff curled in the opposite 
 corner of the deep recess ; the old armorial bearings, 
 sending pale shafts of parti-coloured light across 
 Vixen^s young head ; — these things made a picture 
 full of light and colour, framed in the dark brown 
 oak. 
 
 ^^What an abominable birthday ! ^^ ejaculated 
 Yixen ; " if it were such weather as this on my 
 twenty-first birthday I should think Nature had 
 taken a dislike to me. But I don^t suppose Rorie 
 cares. He is playing billiards with a lot of his 
 friends, and smoking, and making a horror of him- 
 self, I daresay, and hardly knows whether it rains 
 or shines.^ ^ 
 
 Drip, drip, drip, came the rain on the glistening 
 leaves, berberis and laurel, bay and holly, American 
 oaks of richest red and bronze, copper beeches, tall 
 rhododendrons, cypress of every kind, and behind 
 them a dense black screen of yew. The late roses 
 looked miserable. Vixen would have liked to have
 
 EOEIE COMES OF AGE. 87 
 
 brouglit tliem in and put them by the hall fire — the 
 good old hearth with its pile of blazing logs^ before 
 which Nip the pointer was stretched at ease^ his 
 muscular toes stiffening themselves occasionally, 
 as if he were standing at a bird in his dreams. 
 
 Vixen went on watching the rain. It was rather 
 a lazy way of spending the afternoon certainly, but 
 Miss Tempest was out of humour with her little 
 world, and did not feel equal to groping out the 
 difficulties, the ine'xorable double sharps and odious 
 double flats, in a waltz of Chopin^s. She watched 
 the straight thin rain, and thought about Korie — 
 chiefly to the effect that she hated him, and never 
 could, by any possibility, like him again. 
 
 Gradually the trickle of the rain from an 
 overflowing waterpipe took the sound of a tune. 
 No berceuse by Gounod was ever more rest- com- 
 pelling. The full white lids drooped over the big 
 brown eyes, the little locked hands loosened, the 
 soft round chin fell forward on the knees, Argus 
 gave a snort of satisfaction, and laid his heavy head 
 on the velvet gown. Girl and dog were asleep. 
 There was no sound in the wide old hall except the
 
 88 VIXEN. 
 
 soft falling of wood ashes, the gentle breathing of 
 girl and dogs. 
 
 Too pretty a picture assuredly to be lost to the 
 eye of mankind. 
 
 Whose footstep was this sounding on the wet 
 gravel half an hour later ? Too quick and light 
 for the Squire's. Who was this coming in softly 
 out of the rain, all dripping like a water god ? 
 Who was this whose falcon eye took in the picture 
 at a glance, and who stole cat-like to the window, 
 and bending down his dark wet head, gave Violet's 
 sleeping lips the first lover's kiss that had ever 
 saluted them ? 
 
 Violet awoke with a faint shiver of surprise and 
 joy. Instinct told her from whom that kiss came, 
 though it was the first time Roderick had kissed 
 her since he went to Eton. The lovely brown eyes 
 opened and looked into the dark gray ones. The 
 ruddy brown head rested on Rorie's shoulder. The 
 girl — half child, half woman, and all loving trust- 
 fulness, looked up at him with a glad smile. His 
 heart was stirred with a new feeling as those softly 
 bright eyes looked into his. It was the early dawn
 
 EOEIE COMES OF AGE. 89 
 
 of a passionate love. The liead lying on liis breast 
 seemed to him the fairest thing on earth. 
 
 " Rorie_, how disgracefully you have behaved^ 
 and how utterly I detest you ! '^ exclaimed Vixen_, 
 giving him a vigorous push^ and scrambling down 
 from the window seat. ^^To be all this time in 
 Hampshire and never come near us.^^ 
 
 A moment ago, in that first instant of a newly 
 awakened delight, she was almost betrayed into 
 tellino^ him that she loved him dearly, and had 
 found life empty without him. But having had 
 just time enough to recover herself, she drew her- 
 self up as straight as a dart, and looked at him as 
 Kate may have looked at Petruchio during that 
 remarkably unpleasant interview in which they 
 made each other's acquaintance. 
 
 " All this time ! " cried Rorie. '' Do you know 
 how long I have been in Hampshire ? " 
 
 " Haven^t the least idea,^^ retorted Vixen 
 haughtily. 
 
 " Just half an hour — or, at least it is exactly 
 half an hour since I was deposited with all my 
 goods and chattels at the Lyndhurst Road Station.''^
 
 90 VIXEX. 
 
 '^ You are only just home from Switzerland?^^ 
 
 '^Witliin this hour!'' 
 
 "And you have not even been to Briarwood ? '' 
 
 " My honoured mother still awaits my duteous 
 greetings."" 
 
 " And this is your twenty-first birthday, and 
 you came here first of all.'" 
 
 And, almost uninvited, the tawny head dropped 
 on to his shoulder again, and the sweet childish lips 
 allowed themselves to be kissed. 
 
 " Rorie, how brown you have grown.'' 
 
 " Have I ! " 
 
 The gray eyes were looking into the brown 
 ones admiringly, and the conversation was getting 
 a trifle desultory. 
 
 Swift as a flash Violet recollected herself. It 
 dawned upon her that it was not quite the right 
 thing for a young lady " rising sixteen " to let 
 herself be kissed so tamely. Besides, Rorie never 
 used to do it. The thing was a new development, 
 a curious outcome of his Swiss tour. Perhaps 
 people did it in Switzerland, and Eorie had acquired 
 the habit.
 
 EOEIE COMES OF AGE. 91 
 
 " How dare you do sncli a thing ? ^' exclaimed 
 Vixen^ shaking herself free fi'om the traveller's 
 encircling arm. 
 
 '' I didn't think you minded/' said Rorie in- 
 nocently; "and when a fellow comes home from 
 a long journey he expects a warm welcome ! ■" 
 
 "And I am glad to see you/' cried Vixen, 
 giving him both her hands with a glorious frank- 
 ness; "but you don't know how I have been hating 
 you lately." 
 
 "Why, Vixen?" 
 
 " For being always away. I thought you had 
 forgotten us all — that you did not care a jot for 
 any of us." 
 
 " I had not forgotten any of you, and I did 
 care — very much — for some of you." 
 
 This, though vague, was consoling. 
 
 The brown became Roderick. Dark of visage 
 always, he was now tanned to a bronze, as of one 
 bom under southern skies. Those deep gray eyes 
 of his looked black under their black lashes. His 
 dark hair was cut close to his well- shaped head. 
 An incipient moustache shaded his upper lip.
 
 92 VIXEN. 
 
 and gave manliood to the strong, firm moutli. A 
 manly face altogetlier_, Roderick's, and handsome 
 witlial. Vixen's short life had shown her none 
 handsomer. 
 
 He was tall and strongly built, with a frame 
 that had been developed by many an athletic 
 exercise — from throwing the hammer to pugilism. 
 Vixen thought him the image of Richard Coeur 
 de Lion. She had been reading " The Talisman " 
 lately, and the Plantagenet was her ideal of manly 
 excellence. 
 
 '''Many happy returns of the day, Rorie/' she 
 said softly. '' To think that you are of age to-day. 
 Your own master." 
 
 "Yes, my infancy ceased and determined at 
 the last stroke of midnight yesterday. I wonder 
 whether my anxious mother will recognise that 
 fact?'' 
 
 " Of course you know what is going to happen 
 at Briarwood. There is to be a grand dinner- 
 party." 
 
 '^ And you are coming ? How jolly ! " 
 
 "Oh, no, Rorie. I'm not out yet^ you know.
 
 EOEIE COMES OP AGE. 93 
 
 I shan^t be for two years. Papa means to give 
 me a season in town. He calls it having me 
 broken to harness. He^ll take a furnished house,, 
 and we shall have the horses up, and I shall ride 
 in the Eow. You^ll be with us part of the time, 
 won^t you, Eorie ? '^ 
 
 " Ga se ijeut. If papa will invite me." 
 
 "Oh, he will, if I wish it. It^s to be my first 
 season, you know, and Tm to have everything my 
 own way.^^ 
 
 " Will that be a novelty ? " demanded Eoderick, 
 with intention. 
 
 *^I don't know. I haven't had my own way 
 in anything lately." 
 
 "How is that?" 
 
 " You have been away ? " 
 
 At this naive flattery, Eoderick almost blushed. 
 
 " How you've grown, Vixen," he remarked 
 presently. 
 
 " Have I really ? Yes, I suppose I do grow. 
 My frocks are always getting too short." 
 
 " Like the sleeves of my dress-coats a year or 
 two ago."
 
 V4 VIXEN. 
 
 '^ But now you are of age, and can^t grow any 
 more. What are you going to be, Eorie ? What 
 are you going to do with your liberty ? Are you 
 going into Parliament ? '^ 
 
 Mr. Yawdrey indulged in a suppressed yawn. 
 
 '^ My mother would like it,^^ he said, ^^ but upon 
 my word I don^t care about it. I don't take enough 
 interest in my fellow-creatures.^' 
 
 " If they were foxes you'd be anxious to legislate 
 for them," suggested Vixen. 
 
 "I would certainly try to protect them from 
 indiscriminate slaughter. And in fact, when one 
 considers the looseness of existing game-laws, I 
 think every country gentleman ought to be in 
 Parliament." 
 
 '^And there is the Forest for you to take care 
 of." 
 
 " Yes, forestry is a subject on which I should 
 like to have my say. I suppose I shall be obliged 
 to turn senator. But I mean to take life easily — 
 you may be sure of that. Vixen; and I intend to 
 have the best stud of hunters in Hampshire. And 
 now I think I must be oif."
 
 EOEIE COMES OF AGE. 95 
 
 " No, you mustn't/' cried Yiolet. " The dinner 
 is not till eiglit. If you leave liere at six you will 
 have no end of time for getting home to dress. 
 How did you come ? '' 
 '^ On these two legs.-" 
 
 ^' You shall have four to take you to Briarwood. 
 West shall drive you home in papa's dog-cart, with 
 the new mare. You don't know her, do you ? Papa 
 only bought her last spring. She is such a beauty, 
 and goes — goes — oh, like a skyrocket. She bolts 
 occasionally; and there are a good many things 
 she doesn't like; but you don't mind that, do 
 you?" 
 
 " Not in the least. It would be rather romantic 
 to be smashed on one's twenty-first birthday. Will 
 you tell them to order West to get ready at once." 
 
 '^ Oh, but you are to stop to tea with Miss 
 McCroke and me — that's part of our bargain. No 
 kettledrum, no Starhght Bess ! And you'd scarcely 
 care about walking to Briarwood under such rain 
 as that ! " 
 
 " So be it, then ; kettledrum and Starlight 
 Bess, at any hazard of maternal wrath. But reaUy
 
 96 VIXEN. 
 
 now, Fm doing a most ungentlemanly tliing_, Vixen, 
 to oblige you ! " 
 
 '''Always be ungentlemanly tlien for my sake 
 — if it^s ungentlemanly to come and see me/' said 
 Vixen coaxingly. 
 
 They were standing side by side in the big 
 window looking out at the straight thin rain. The 
 two pairs of lips were not very far away from 
 each other, and Eorie might have been tempted 
 to commit a third offence against the proprieties, 
 if Miss McCroke had not fortunately entered at 
 this very moment. She was wonderfully surprised 
 at seeing Mr. Vawdrey, congratulated him cere- 
 moniously upon his majority, and infused an element 
 of stiffness into the small assembly. 
 
 '''Rorie is going to stay to tea,^' said Vixen. 
 " We'll have it here by the fire, please, Crokey 
 dear. One can't have too much of a good fire 
 this weather. Or shall we go to my den ? Which 
 would you like best, Rorie ? '' 
 
 '' I think we had better have tea here, Violet,'' 
 interjected Miss McCroke, ringing the bell. 
 
 Her pupil's sanctum sanctorum — that pretty
 
 EOEIE COMES OP AGE. 97 
 
 upstairs room^ half sclioolroom, half boudoir,, and 
 wholly untidy — was not, in Miss McCroke's opinion, 
 an apartment to be violated by the presence of a 
 young man. 
 
 ''^And as Eorie hasn't had any luncheon, and 
 has come ever so far out of his way to see me, 
 please order something substantial for him,^^ said 
 Yixen. 
 
 Her governess obeyed. The gipsy table was 
 wheeled up to the broad hearth, and presently the 
 old silver tea-pot and kettle, and the yellow cups 
 and saucers, were shining in the cheery firelight. 
 The old butler put a sirloin and a game-pie on the 
 sideboard, and then left the little party to shift for 
 themselves, in pleasant picnic fashion. 
 
 Yixen sat down before the hissing tea-kettle 
 with a pretty important air, like a child making 
 tea out of toy tea-things. Eorie brought a low 
 square stool to a corner close to her, and seated 
 himself with his chin a little above the tea-table. 
 
 " You csm't eat roast beef in that position,^^ said 
 Yixen. 
 
 " Oh yes I can — I can do anything that's mad 
 
 YOL. I. H
 
 98 VIXEN. 
 
 or merry this evening. But I^m not at all sure 
 tliat I want beef^ though it is nearly three months 
 since Fve seen an honest bit of ox beef. I think 
 thin bread and butter — or roses and dew even — 
 quite substantial enough for me this evening.-'^ 
 
 '^ YouVe afraid of spoiling your appetite for the 
 grand dinner/^ said Vixen. 
 
 "No, Fm not. I hate grand dinners. Fancy 
 making a fine art of eating, and studying one's 
 menu beforehand to see what combination of dishes 
 will harmonise best with one's internal economy. 
 And then the names of the things are always 
 better than the things themselves. It's like a 
 show at a fair, all the best outside. Give me a 
 slice of English beef or mutton, and a bird that 
 my gun has shot, and let all the fine-art dinners go 
 hang." 
 
 " Cut him a slice of beef, dear Miss McCroke," 
 said Vixen. 
 
 " Not now, thanks ; I can't eat now. Fm going 
 to drink orange pekoe.'-' 
 
 Argus had taken up his position between Violet 
 and her visitor. He sat bolt upright, like a
 
 EOKIE COMES OF AGE. 99 
 
 sentinel keeping guard over Ms mistress ; save tliat 
 a liuman sentinel, unless idiotic or intoxicated, 
 would hardly sit with his jaws wide apart, and his 
 tongue hanging out of one side of his mouth, as 
 Argus did. But this lolloping attitude of the 
 canine tongue was supposed to indicate a mind at 
 peace with creation. 
 
 '^ Are you very glad to come of age, Eorie ? '^ 
 asked Vixen, turning her bright brown eyes upon 
 him, full of curiosity. 
 
 " Well, it will be rather nice to have as much 
 money as I want without asking my mother for it. 
 She was my only guardian, you know. My father 
 had such confidence in her rectitude and capacity 
 that he left everything in her hands.'' 
 
 " Do you find Briarwood much improved ? '^ 
 inquired Miss McCroke. 
 
 Lady Jane had been doing a good deal to her 
 orchid-houses lately. 
 
 '' I havenH found Briarwood at all yet,'' answered 
 Eorie, " and Vixen seems determined I shan't find 
 it." 
 
 '^ What, have you only just returned ? " 
 
 H 2
 
 100 VIXEN. 
 
 " Only just/' 
 
 '^ And you have not seen Lady Jane yet ? '' 
 exclaimed Miss McCroke with a horrified look. 
 
 ''It sounds rather undutiful, doesn't it? I was 
 awfully tired, after travelling all night ; and I made 
 this a kind of halfway house." 
 
 ''Two sides of a triangle are invariably longer 
 than any one side/' remarked Vixen, gravely. 
 " At least that's what Miss McCroke has taught 
 me." 
 
 " It was rather out of my way, of course. But 
 I wanted to see whether Vixen had grown. And I 
 wanted to see the Squire." 
 
 " Papa has gone to Eingwood, to look at a 
 horse ; but you'll see him at the grand dinner. 
 He'll be coming home to dress presently." 
 
 " I hope you had an agreeable tour, Mr. 
 Vawdrey," said Miss McCroke. 
 
 " Oh, uncommonly jolly." 
 " And you like Switzerland ? " 
 " Yes ; it's nice and hilly." 
 
 And then Roderick favoured them with a sketch 
 of his travels, while they sipped their tea, and while
 
 EOPJE COMES OF AGE. 101 
 
 Vixen made the dogs balance pieces of cake on their 
 big blunt noses. 
 
 It was all very nice — the Tete Xoire, and ]Mont 
 BlanCj and the Matterhom. Rorie jumbled them 
 all together, without the least regard to geography. 
 He had done a good deal of climbing, had worn out 
 and lost dozens of alpenstocks, and had brought 
 home a case of Swiss carved work for his friends. 
 
 '' There^s a clock for your den, A'ixen — I shall 
 bring it to-morrow — with a little cock-robin that 
 comes out of his nest and sings — no end of jolly.''^ 
 
 *' How lovely ! " cried Violet. 
 
 The tall eight-day clock in a corner of the hall 
 chimed the half -hour. 
 
 " Half -past five, and Starlight Bess not ordered,^^ 
 exclaimed Roderick. 
 
 " Let^s go out to the stables and see about her,^^ 
 suggested Vixen. " And then I can show you my 
 pony. You remember Titmouse, the one that vjoidd 
 3ump? 
 
 '' Violet ! '' ejaculated the aggrieved governess. 
 " Do you suppose I would permit you to go out of 
 doors in such weather ? ''
 
 102 VIXEN. 
 
 " Do you think it^s still raining ? ^' asked Vixen 
 innocently. " It may have cleared up. Well^ we^d 
 better order tiie cart/^ slie added meekly, as ske 
 rang the bell. '' Vtq. not of age yet, you see, Rorie. 
 Please, Peters, tell West to get papa^s dog- cart 
 ready for Mr. Vawdrey, and to drive Starligkt 
 Bess.'' 
 
 Rorie looked at tke bright face admiringly. 
 The shadows had deepened ; there was no light 
 in the great oak-panelled room except the ruddy 
 fire-glow, and in this light Violet Tempest looked 
 her loveliest. The figures in the tapestry seemed 
 to move in the" flickering light — appeared and 
 vanished, vanished and appeared, like the phantoms 
 of a dream. The carved bosses of the ceiling were 
 reflected grotesquely on the oaken wall above the 
 tapestry. The stags' heads had a goblin look. It 
 was like a scene of enchantment, and Violet, in 
 her black frock and amber sash, looked like 
 the enchantress — Circe, Vivien, Melusine, or some- 
 body of equally dubious antecedents. 
 
 It was Miss McCroke's sleepiest hour. Orange 
 pekoe, which has an awakening influence upon
 
 EORIE COMES OF AGE. 103 
 
 most people, acted as an opiate upon Ler. SLe 
 sat blinking owlisUy at the two young figures. 
 
 Rorie roused himself with a great effort. 
 
 " Unless Starlight Bess spins me along the road 
 pretty quickly, I shall hardly get to Briarwood by 
 dinner-time/^ he said ; '' and upon my honour, I 
 don^t feel the least inchnation to go.''^ 
 
 ^^ Oh, what fun if you were absent at your 
 coming-of-age dinner ! '' cried Vixen, with her 
 brown eyes dancing mischievously. ^' They would 
 have to put an empty chair for you, like 
 Banquets. ^^ 
 
 " It would be a lark,^^ acquiesced Rorie, " but it 
 wouldnH do; I should hear too much about it 
 afterwards. A fellow's mother has some kind of 
 claim upon him, you know. !Xow for StarHght 
 Bess." 
 
 They went into the vestibule, and Rorie 
 opened the door, letting in a gust of wind and 
 rain, and the scent of autumn's last ill-used 
 flowers. 
 
 " Oh, I so nearly forgot,'' said Violet, as they 
 stood on the threshold, side by side, waiting for
 
 104 VIXEN. 
 
 tlie dog- cart to appear. " IVe got a little present 
 for you — quite a humble one for a grand young 
 landowner like you — but I never could save mucli 
 of my pocket-money ; tbere are so many poor 
 cbildren always having scarlet-fever^ or tumbling 
 into the fire, or drinking out of boiling tea-kettles. 
 But here it is, Eorie. I hope you wonH bate it 
 very mucb.''^ 
 
 She put a little square packet into bis band, 
 wbicb be proceeded instantly to open. 
 
 '^ I shall love it_, whatever it is.^^ 
 
 '' It's a portrait." 
 
 '^ You darling ! The very thing I should have 
 asked for.'' 
 
 *' The portrait of someone you're fond of.'' 
 
 '^ Someone I adore/' said Rorie. 
 
 He had extracted the locket from its box by 
 this time. It was a thick oblong locket of dead 
 gold, plain and massive; the handsomest of its 
 kind that a Southampton jeweller could supply. 
 
 Rorie opened it eagerly, to look at the por- 
 trait.
 
 EOEIE COMES OF AGE. 105 
 
 There was just light enongli from the newly- 
 kindled vestibule lamp to show it to him. 
 
 '''Why it^s a dog/' cried Eorie^ with deep- 
 toned disgust. '^ It^s old Argus. ^^ 
 
 '■^ Who did you think it was ? '' 
 
 '' YoUj of course.^^ 
 
 '' What an idea ! As if I should give anyone 
 my portrait. I knew you were fond of Argus. 
 Doesn^t his head come out beautifully ? The 
 photographer said he was the best sitter he had 
 had for ever so long. I hope you don^t quite 
 detest the locket^ Rorie/^ 
 
 " I admire it intensely, and I^m deeply grateful. 
 But I feel inexpressibly sold, all the same. And 
 I am to go about the world with Argus dangling at 
 my breast. Well, for your sake, Vixen, 1^11 submit 
 even to that degradation.''^ 
 
 Here came the cart, with two flaming lamps, 
 like angry eyes flashing through the shrubberies. 
 It pulled up at the steps. Eorie and Vixen clasped 
 hands and bade good-night, and then the young 
 man swung himself lightly into the seat beside the
 
 106 VIXEN. 
 
 driver, and away went Starlight Bess_, making just 
 that sort of dashing and spirited start whicli 
 inspires the timorous beholder with the idea that 
 the next proceeding will be the bringing home 
 of the driver and his companion upon a brace of 
 shutters.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ROEIE MAE3:S A SPEECH. 
 
 Somewhat to his surprise, and mucli to his deliglit^ 
 Roderick Vawdrey escaped tlie maternal lecture 
 whicli he was wont undutifully to describe as a 
 "wigging/^ When he entered the drawing-room 
 in full dress just about ten minutes before the 
 first of the guests was announced_, Lady Jane 
 received him with a calm affectionateness_, and 
 asked him no questions about his disposal of the 
 afternoon. Perhaps this unusual clemency was in 
 honour of his twenty-first birthday, Rorie thought. 
 A man could not come of age more than once in 
 his life. He was entitled to some favour. 
 
 The dinner-party was as other dinners at Briar- 
 wood ; all the arrangements perfect ; the menu 
 commendable, if not new ; tbe general result a 
 little dull. 
 
 The Ashbourne party were among the first to
 
 108 VIXEN. 
 
 arrive ; the Duke portly and Affable ; the Duchess 
 delighted to welcome her favourite nephew; Lady 
 Mabel looking very fragile, flower-like, and grace- 
 ful in her pale blue gauze dinner-dress. Lady 
 Mabel affected the palest tints, half- colours which 
 were more like the shadows in a sunset sky than 
 any earthly hues. 
 
 She took possession of Korie at once, treating 
 him with a calm superiority, as if he had been 
 a younger brother. 
 
 "Tell me all about Switzerland,^^ she said, as 
 they sat side by side on one of the amber ottomans. 
 "What was it that you liked best ? '' 
 
 " The climbing, of course/^ he answered. 
 
 " But which of all the landscapes ? What 
 struck you most ? What impressed you most 
 vividly ? Your first view of Mont Blanc, or that 
 marvellous gorge below the Tete Noire — or ? '' 
 
 " It was all uncommonly jolly. But there^s a 
 family resemblance in Swiss mountains, don^t you 
 know ? They^re all white — and they're all peaky. 
 There's a likeness in Swiss lakes, too, if you come 
 to think of it. They're all blue, and they're all
 
 ROEIE MAKES A SPEECH. 109 
 
 wet. And Swiss villages, now — don^t you tMnk 
 they are ratlier disappointing ? — such a cruel 
 plagiarism of those plaster chalets the image-men 
 carry about the London streets, and no candle-ends 
 burning inside to make ^em look pretty. But I 
 liked Lucerne uncommonly, there was such a 
 capital billiard-table at the hotel.^^ 
 
 " Eoderick ! ^^ cried Lady Mabel, with a dis- 
 gusted look. " I don^t think you have a vestige 
 of poetry in your nature. ^^ 
 
 ^' I hope I haven^t,^^ replied Rorie devoutly. 
 " You could see those sublime scenes, and never 
 once feel your heart thrilled or your mind exalted — 
 you can come home from your first Swiss tour and 
 talk about billiard-tables ! ^^ 
 
 ''^The scenery was very nice,^^ said Rorie 
 thoughtfully. ^' Yes ; there were times, perhaps, 
 when I was a trifle stunned by all that grand calm 
 beauty, the silence, the solitude, the awfulness of it 
 all -J but I had hardly time to feel the thrill when I 
 came bump up against a party of tourists, English 
 or American, all talking the same twaddle, and all 
 patronising the scenery. That took the charm out
 
 110 VIXEN. 
 
 of the landscape somelioWj and I coiled up, as tlie 
 Yankees say. And now you want me to go into 
 second-liand raptures, and repeat my emotions, as if 
 I were writing a tourist's article for a magazine. I 
 can't do it, Mabel.'' 
 
 '^ Well, I won't bore you any more about it," 
 said Lady Mabel, "but I confess my disappoint- 
 ment. I tbought we should have such nice long 
 talks about Switzerland." 
 
 '' What^s the use of talking of a place ? If it's 
 so lovely that one can't live without it, one had 
 better go back there." 
 
 This was a practical way of putting things 
 which was too much for Lady Mabel. She fanned 
 herself gently with a great fan of blue cloudy 
 looking feathers, such as Titania might have used 
 that midsummer night near Athens. She relapsed 
 into a placid silence, looking at Rorie thoughtfully 
 with her calm blue eyes. 
 
 His travels had improved him. That bronze 
 hue suited him wonderfully well. He looked more 
 manly. He was no longer a beardless boy, to be 
 patronised with that gracious elder- sister air of
 
 EOPJE MAKES A SPEECH. Ill 
 
 Lady Mabel's. She felt tliat lie was farther off 
 from lier than he had been last season in London. 
 
 " How late you arrived this evening/^ she said 
 after a pause. ^' I came to five-o^ clock tea with my 
 aunt^ and found her quite anxious about you. If 
 it hadn^t been for your telegram from South- 
 ampton, she would have fancied there was 
 somethinof wrono'/^ 
 
 '^She neednH have fidgeted herself after three 
 o^clock/-' answered Rorie coolly ; ^^ my luggage 
 must have come home by that time.''^ 
 
 "I see. You sent the luggage on before, and 
 came by a later train ? ^' 
 
 ^'Xo, I didn^t. I stopped halfway between 
 here and Lyndhurst to see some old friends." 
 
 "Flattering for my aunt," said Mabel. "I 
 should have thought she was your oldest friend." 
 
 " Of course she has the prior claim. But as I 
 was going to hand myself over to her bodily at 
 seven o^clock, to be speechified about and ren- 
 dered generally ridiculous, after the manner of 
 young men who come of age, I felt I was entitled 
 to do what I liked in the interval."
 
 112 VIXEN. 
 
 '' And therefore you went to the Tempests^/' 
 said Mabel_, with her blue eyes sparkling. '' I see. 
 That is what you do when you do what you like." 
 
 " Precisely. I am very fond of Squire Tempest. 
 When I first rode to hounds it was under his wing. 
 There^s my mother beckoning me ; I am to go and 
 do the civil to people." 
 
 And Roderick walked away from the ottoman 
 to the spot where his mother stood, with the Duke 
 of Dovedale at her side, receiving her guests. 
 
 It was a very grand party, in the way of blue 
 blood, landed estate, diamonds, lace, satin and 
 velvet, and self-importance. All the magnates of 
 the soil, within accessible distance of Briarwood, 
 had assembled to do honour to Rorie^s coming of 
 age. The dining-tables had been arranged in a 
 horse-shoe, so as to accommodate fifty people in 
 a room which, in its every- day condition, would 
 not have been too large for thirty. The orchids 
 and ferns upon this horse-shoe table made the 
 finest floricultural show that had been seen for 
 a long time. There were rare specimens from 
 New Granada and the Philippine Islands; won-
 
 EOEIE XAKES A SPEECH. 113 
 
 drous flowers lately discovered in tlie Sierra Madre ; 
 blossoms of every shape and colour from the Cor- 
 dilleras; richest varieties of hue — golden yellow^ 
 glowing crimson^ creamy white ; rare eccentricities 
 of form and colour beside which any other flower 
 would have looked vulgar; butterfly flowers and 
 pitcher-shaped flowers_, that had cost as much 
 money as prize pigeons, and seemed as worthless, 
 save to the connoisseur in the article. The Yaw- 
 drey racing-plate, won by Eoderick's grandfather, 
 was nowhere by comparison with those marvellous 
 tropical blossoms, that fairy forest of fern. Every- 
 body talked about the orchids, confessed his or her 
 comparative ignorance of the subject, and comph- 
 mented Lady Jane. 
 
 "The orchids made the hit of the evening/^ 
 Rorie said afterwards. " It was their coming of 
 age, not mine.''^ 
 
 There was a moderate and endurable amount of 
 speechifying by-and-by, when the monster double- 
 crowned pines had been cut, and the purple grapes, 
 almost as big as pigeons^ ^ggs, liad gone round. 
 
 The Duke of Dovedale assured his friends that 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 VIXEN. 
 
 this was one of the proudest moments of liis life^ 
 and that if Providence had permitted a son of his 
 own to attain his majority, he, the Duke, could 
 have hardly felt a deeper interest in the occasion 
 than he felt to-day. He had — arra — arra — ^known 
 this young man from childhood, and — ^had — er — um 
 • — never found him guilty of a mean action — or — 
 arra — discovered in him a thought unworthy of an 
 English gentleman. 
 
 This last was felt to be a strong point, as it 
 implied that an English gentleman must needs be 
 much better than any other gentleman. 
 
 A continental gentleman might, of course, be 
 guilty of an unworthy thought and yet pass cur- 
 rent, according to the loose morality of his nation. 
 But the English article must be flawless. 
 
 And thus the Duke meandered on for five 
 minutes or so, and there was a subdued gush of 
 approval, and then an uncomfortable little pause, 
 and then Rorie rose in his place, next the Duchess, 
 and returned thanks. 
 
 He told them all how fond he was of them and 
 the soil that bred them. How he meant to be
 
 ROEIE MAKES A SPEECH. 115 
 
 a Hampsliire squire^ pure and simple^ if lie could. 
 How lie had no higlier ambition tlian to be useful 
 and to do good in this little spot of England Yrbicli 
 Providence bad given bim for bis inheritance. 
 How^ if be should go into Parbament by-and-by, 
 as be bad some thoughts of attempting to do, it 
 would be in their interests that he would join that 
 noble body of legislators; that it would be they 
 and their benefit he would have always nearest bis 
 heart. 
 
 '^ There is not a tree in the Forest that I do not 
 love/^ cried Eorie, fired with his theme, and for- 
 getting to stammer ; " and I believe there is not a 
 tree, from the Twelve Apostles to the Knightwood 
 Oak, or a patch of gorse from Picket Post to 
 Stony Cross,. that I do not know as well as I know 
 the friends round me to-night. I was born in the 
 Forest, and may I live and die and be buried here. 
 I have just come back from seeing some of the 
 finest scenery in Europe; yet, without blushing 
 for my want of poetry, I will confess that the 
 awful grandeur of those snow-clad mountains did 
 not touch my heart so deeply as our beechen 
 
 I 2
 
 116 VIXEN. 
 
 glades and primrose - carpeted bottoms close at 
 
 home/^ 
 
 There was a burst of applause after Eorie^s 
 speecli that made all the orchids shiver, and nearly- 
 annihilated a thirty - guinea Odontoglossum Vexil- 
 larium. His talk about the Forest, irrelevant as 
 it might be, went home to the hearts of the neigh- 
 bouring landowners. But, by -and -by, in the 
 drawing-room, when he rejoined his cousin, he 
 found that fastidious young lady by no means 
 complimentary. 
 
 ^^Your speech would have been capital half a 
 century ago, Eorie,^^ she said, " and you don^t arra 
 — arra — as poor papa does, which is something to 
 be thankful for ; but all that talk about the Forest 
 seemed to me an anachronism. People are not 
 rooted in their native soil nowadays, as they used 
 to be in the old stage-coach times, when it was a 
 long day's journey to London. One might as well 
 be a vegetable at once if one is to be pinned down 
 to one particular spot of earth. Why, the Twelve 
 Apostles,^' exclaimed Mabel, innocent of irreverence, 
 for she meant certain ancient and fast-decaying oaks
 
 EOEIE MAKES A SPEECH. 117 
 
 SO named, ''see as mucli of life as your fine old 
 English gentleman. Men have wider ideas nowa- 
 days. The world is hardly big enough for their 
 ambition. ^^ 
 
 '' I would rather live in a field, and strike my 
 roots deep down like one of those trees, than be 
 a homeless nomad with a world-wide ambition,^' 
 answered Eorie. " I have a passion for home." 
 " Then I wonder you spend so little time in it." 
 " Oh, I don^t mean a home inside four walls. 
 The Forest is my home, and Briarwood is no dearer 
 to me than any other spot in it.'''' 
 
 " Not so dear as the Abbey House, perhaps ? ''^ 
 '' Well, no. I confess that fine old Tudor 
 mansion pleases me better than this abode of 
 straight lines and French windows, plate glass and 
 gilt mouldings. ^^ 
 
 They sat side by side upon the amber ottoman, 
 Eorie with MabeFs blue feather fan in his hand, 
 twirling and twisting it as he talked, and doing 
 more damage to that elegant article in a quarter 
 of an hour than a twelvemonth^s legitimate usage 
 would have done. People, looking at the pretty
 
 118 VIXEN. 
 
 pair^ smiled significantly^ and concluded tliat it 
 would be a matcli, and went liome and told less 
 privileged people about tbe evident attacliment 
 between tbe Duke^s daughter and tlie young 
 commoner. But Rorie was not strongly drawn 
 towards bis cousin tbis evening. It seemed to bim 
 tbat sbe was growing more and more of a paragon ; 
 and be bated paragons. 
 
 Sbe played presently _, and afterwards sang some 
 Frencb chansons. Botb playing and singing were 
 perfect of tbeir kind. Rorie did not understand 
 Obopin^ and tbougbt tbere was a good deal of 
 unnecessary bopping about tbe piano in tbat sort 
 of tbing — notbing concrete_, or tbat came to a focus ; 
 a succession of airy meanderings, a fairy dance in 
 tbe treble, a goblin bunt in tbe bass. But tbe 
 Frencb chansons, tbe dainty little melodies witb 
 words of infantine innocence, all about leaves and 
 buds, and birds'-nests and butterflies, pleased bim 
 infinitely. He bung over tbe piano witb an en- 
 raptured air; and again bis friends made note of 
 bis subjugation, and registered tbe fact for future 
 discussion.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HOW SHE TOOK THE XEWS. 
 
 It was past midniglit when the Tempest carriage 
 drove through the dark rhododendron shrubberies 
 up to the old Tudor porch. There was a great pile 
 of logs burning in the hall^ giving the home-comers 
 cheery welcome. There was an antique silver spirit 
 stand with its accompaniments on one little table 
 for the Squire, and there was another little table on 
 the opposite side of the hearth for Mrs. Tempest, 
 with a dainty tea-service sparkling and shining in 
 the red glow. 
 
 A orlance at these arranofements would have told 
 you that there were old servants at the Abbey 
 House, servants who knew their master^s and 
 mistresses ways, and for whom service was more 
 or less a labour of love. 
 
 '^How nice/e said the lady, with a contented 
 sigh. '^ Pauline has thought of my cup of tea."^
 
 120 VIXEN. 
 
 " And Forbes lias not forgotten my soda-water/' 
 remarked tlie Squire. 
 
 He said nothing about the brandy, wliicli lie was 
 pouring into the tall glass with a liberal hand. 
 
 Pauline came to take off her mistress's cloak, 
 and was praised for her though tf nines s about the 
 tea, and then dismissed for the night. 
 
 The Squire liked to stretch his legs before his 
 own fireside after dining out ; and with the Squire, 
 as with Mr. S queers, the leg- stretching process 
 involved the leisurely consumption of a good deal 
 of brandy and water. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Tempest talked over the Briarwood 
 dinner-party, and arrived — with perfect good 
 nature — at the conclusion that it had been a failure. 
 
 '^The dinner was excellent,'^ said the Squire, 
 '^but the wine went round too slow; my glasses 
 were empty half the time. That's always the way 
 where youVe a woman at the helm. She never 
 fills her cellars properly, or trusts her butler 
 thoroughly.'^ 
 
 " The dresses were lovely," said Mrs. Tempest, 
 f^but everyone looked bored. How did you like
 
 HOW SHE TOOK THE XEW3. 121 
 
 my dress, Edward ? I tliink it^s rather good style. 
 Theodore will charge me horribly for it, I daresay." 
 
 " I don't know much about your dress, Pam, 
 but you were the prettiest woman in the room/^ 
 
 " Oh Edward, at my age ! '^ exclaimed Mrs. 
 Tempest, with a pleased look, '^ when there was that 
 lovely Lady Mabel Ashbourne/'' 
 
 "Do you call her lovely? — I don't. Lips too 
 thin ; waist too slim ;" too much blood, and too little 
 flesh.'^ 
 
 " Oh, but surely, Edward, she is grace itself ; 
 quite an ethereal creature. If Violet had more of 
 that refined air '' 
 
 "Heaven forbid. Vixen is worth twenty such 
 fine-drawn misses. Lady Mabel has been spoiled 
 by over-training." 
 
 " Eoderick is evidently in love with her," sug- 
 gested Mrs. Tempest, pouring out another cup of 
 tea. 
 
 The clocks had just struck two, the household 
 was at rest, the logs blazed and cracked merrily, 
 the red light shining on those mail-clad effigies in 
 the comers, lighting up helm and hauberk, glancing
 
 122 VIXEN. 
 
 on greaves and gauntlets. It was an hour of repose 
 and gossip wliicli tlie Squire dearly loved. 
 
 Husli ! wliat is this creeping softly down the 
 old oak staircase ? A slender white figure with 
 cloudy hair ; a small pale face, and two dark eyes 
 shining with excitement ; little feet in black velvet 
 slippers tripping lightly upon the polished oak. 
 
 Is it a ghost ? No ; ghosts are noiseless^ and 
 those little slippers descend from stair to stair with 
 a gentle pit-a-pit. 
 
 ^' Bless my soul and body ! '' cried the Squire; 
 '' what^s this ? '' 
 
 A gush of girlish laughter was his only answer. 
 ^^ Vixen !^^ 
 
 " Did you take me for a ghost_, papa ? '^ cried 
 Violet,, descending the last five stairs with a flying 
 leap, and then, bounding across the hall to perch, 
 light as a bird, upon her father^s knee. '^ Did I 
 really frighten you? Did you think the good 
 old Abbey House was going to set up a family 
 ghost; a white lady^ with a dismal history of a 
 broken heart ? You darling papa ! I hope you 
 took me for a ghost ! "'^
 
 HOW SHE TOOK THE NEWS. 123 
 
 " Well^ upon my word;, you know_, Yixen^ I was 
 just the least bit staggered. Your little white 
 figure looked like sometliing uncauny against the 
 black oak balustrades, half in light, half in shadow/^ 
 '*■ How nice/' exclaimed Violet. 
 " But, my dear Yiolet, what can have induced 
 you to come downstairs at such an hour ? " 
 ejaculated Mrs. Tempest in an aggrieved voice. 
 
 " I want to hear all about the party, mamma,'' 
 answered Yixen coaxingly. " Do you think I could 
 sleep a wink on the night of Rorie's coming of age ? 
 I heard the joy-bells ringing in my ears all 
 night." 
 
 " That was very ridiculous," said Mrs. Tempest, 
 "for there were no joy -bells after eleven o'clock 
 yesterday." 
 
 " But they rang all the same, mamma. It was 
 no use burying my head in the pillows ; those bells 
 only rang the louder. Dicg-dong, ding-dong, delL 
 Eorie's come of age; ding-dong, dell, Eorie's 
 twenty-one. Then I thought of the speeches that 
 would be made, and I fancied I could hear Eorie 
 speaking. Did he make a good speech, papa ? "
 
 124 VIXEN. 
 
 ^' Capital, Vix ; the only one tliat was worth 
 hearing ! " 
 
 " I am so glad ! And did he look handsome 
 while he was speaking ? I think the Swiss sun- 
 shine has rather over-cooked him, you know ; but 
 he is not unbecomingly brown/^ 
 
 '^ He looked as handsome a young fellow as you 
 need wish to set eyes on/^ 
 
 '^ My dear Edward/' remonstrated Mrs. Tempest, 
 languidly, too thoroughly contented with herself 
 to be seriously vexed about anything, "do you 
 think it is quite wise of you to encourage Violet 
 in that kind of talk ? '' 
 
 " Why should she not talk of him ? She never 
 had a brother, and he stands in the place of one 
 to her. IsnH Eorie the same to you as an elder 
 brother, Vix ? '' 
 
 The girFs head was on her father's shoulder, 
 one slim arm round his neck, her face hidden 
 against the Squire's coat-collar. He could not see 
 the deep warm blush that dyed his daughter's 
 cheek at this home question. 
 
 "I don't quite know what an elder brother
 
 HOW SHE TOOK THE NEWS. 125 
 
 would be like^ papa. But Vm. very fond of Eorie — 
 wlieu iie^s nice^ and comes to see us before anyone 
 else^ as lie did to-day.''"' 
 
 A 
 
 '^ And when lie stays away ? '' 
 
 '' Oh, then I hate him awfully/^ exclaimed Vixen, 
 with such energy that the slender figure trembled 
 faintly as she spoke. "But tell me all about the 
 party, mamma. Your dress was quite the prettiest, 
 I am sure ? '' 
 
 "Fm not certain of that, Violet," answered 
 Mrs. Tempest with grave deliberation, as if the 
 question were far too serious to be answered lightlv. 
 " There was a cream-coloured silk, with silver bul- 
 lion fringe, that was very striking. As a rule, I 
 detest gold or silver trimmings ; but this was really 
 elegant. It had an effect like moonlight.^^ 
 
 " Was that Lady Mabel Ashbourne^s dress ? " 
 asked Vixen eagerly. 
 
 " No j Lady Mabel wore blue gauze — the very 
 palest blue, all puffings and ruchings — like a cloud." 
 
 '^ Oh mamma ! the clouds have no puffings and 
 ruchings.'^ 
 
 " My dear, I mean the general effect — a sort of
 
 126 VIXEN. 
 
 shadowiness wliicli suits Lady Mabers ethereal 
 style." 
 
 " Etliereal !^^ repeated Violet tliouglitfully : "you 
 seem to admire lier very mucli, mamma." 
 
 ^^ Everybody admires lier_, my dear." 
 
 " Because she is a duke^s only daughter." 
 
 " No ; because slie is very lovely, and extremely 
 elegant, and most accomplisbed. She played and 
 sang beautifully to-night." 
 
 " What did she play, mamma ? " 
 
 " Chopin ! " 
 
 " Did she ! " cried Vixen. " Then I pity her. 
 Yes, even if she were my worst enemy I should still 
 pity her." 
 
 " People who are fond of music don^t mind 
 difficulties," said Mrs. Tempest. 
 
 " Don^t they ? Then I suppose Vm. not fond 
 of it, because I shirk my practice. But I should 
 be very fond of music if I could grind it on a 
 barrel organ." 
 
 " Oh, Violet, when VA^ill you be like Lady Mabel 
 Ashbourne ? " 
 • "Never, I devoutly hope," said the Squire.
 
 HOW SHE TOOK THE NEWS. 127 
 
 Here the Squire gave his daughter a hug which 
 might mean anything. 
 
 ''^ Never, mamma," answered Violet with con- 
 viction. " First and foremost, I never can be 
 lovely, because I have red hair and a wide mouth. 
 Secondly, I can never be elegant — much less 
 ethereal — because it isn^t in me. Thirdly, I shall 
 never be accomplished, for poor Miss McCroke is 
 always giving me up as the baddest lot in the shape 
 of pupils that ever came in her way." 
 
 ''^If you persist in talking in that horrible 
 manner, Violet " 
 
 '' Let her talk as she likes, Pam," said the fond 
 father. '' I won^t have her bitted too heavily." 
 
 Mrs. Tempest breathed a gentle sigh of resigna- 
 tion. The Squire was all that is dear and good as 
 husband and father, but refinement was out of his 
 line. 
 
 "Do go on about the party, mamma. Did 
 Eorie seem to enjoy himself very much ?" 
 
 " I think so. He was very devoted to his 
 cousin all the evening. I believe they are engaged 
 to be married."
 
 128 VIXEN. 
 
 '' Mamma ! '^ exclaimed Vixen, starting up from 
 her reclining attitude upon her father^ s shoulder, 
 and looking intently at the speaker ; *''' Rorie 
 engaged to Lady Mabel Ashbourne ! '^ 
 
 ''So I am told/' replied Mrs. Tempest. ''It 
 will be a splendid match for him.'' 
 
 The pretty chestnut head dropped back into its 
 old place upon the Squire's shoulder, and Violet 
 answered never a word. 
 
 " Past two o'clock," cried her mother. " This 
 is really too dreadful. Come, Violet, you and I 
 must go upstairs at any rate." 
 
 "We'll all go," said the Squire, finishing his 
 second brandy and soda. 
 
 So they all three went upstairs together. Vixen 
 had grown suddenly silent and sleepy. She yawned 
 dolefully, and kissed her mother and father at the 
 end of the gallery, without a word ; and then 
 scudded off, swift as a scared rabbit, to her own 
 room. 
 
 '' God bless her ! " exclaimed the Squirp ; 
 " she grows prettier and more winning every 
 day."
 
 HOW SHE TOOK THE NEWS. 129 
 
 "If hev moutli were only a little smaller/^ 
 sighed Mrs. Tempest. 
 
 " It's tlie prettiest moutli I ever saw upon 
 woman — bar one/' said the Squire. 
 
 What was Vixen doing while the fond father 
 was praising her ? 
 
 She had locked her door^ and thrown herself 
 face downwards on the carpet, and was sobbing 
 as if her heart would break. 
 
 Eorie was o^oins: to be married. Her little 
 kingdom had been overturned by a revolution : 
 her little world had crumbled all to pieces. Till 
 to-night she had been a queen in her own mind ; 
 and her kingdom had been Rorie, her subjects 
 had begun and ended in Rorie. All was over. 
 He belonged to someone else. She could never 
 tyrannise over him again — never scold him and 
 abuse him and patronise him and ridicule him any 
 more. He was her Rorie no longer. 
 
 Had she ever thought that a time might come 
 when he would be something more to her than 
 playfellow and friend ? Xo, never. The young 
 bright mind was too childishly simple for any such 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 VIXEN. 
 
 foresigM or calculation. She had only thought 
 that he was in somewise her property, and would 
 be so till the end of both their lives. He was 
 hers, and he was very fond of her; and she 
 thought him a rather absurd young fellow, and 
 looked down upon him with airs of ineffable 
 superiority from the altitude of her childish 
 womanliness. 
 
 And now he was gone. The earth had opened 
 all at once and swallowed him, like that prophetic 
 gentleman in the Greek play, whose name Vixen 
 could never remember — chariot and horses and all. 
 He belonged henceforth to Lady Mabel Ashbourne. 
 She could never be rude to him any more. She 
 could not take such a liberty with another young 
 lady's lover. 
 
 ^' And to think that he should never have told 
 me he was going to be engaged to her,'' she said. 
 *^ He must have been fond of her from the very 
 beginning ; and he never said a word ; and he let 
 me think he rather liked me — or at least tolerated 
 me. And how could he like two people who are 
 the very antipodes of each other ? If he is fond
 
 HOTV SHE TOOK THE NEW3. 131 
 
 of lieFj he mast detest me. If lie respects lier, lie 
 must despise me/^ 
 
 The thought of such treachery rankled deep 
 in the young warm heart. Vixen started up to 
 her feet, and stood in the midst of the firelit room, 
 with clenched fists, like a young fury. The light 
 chestnut tresses should have been Medusa's snakes 
 to have harmonised with that set white face. God 
 had given Violet Tempest a heart to feel deeply, 
 too deeply for perfect peace, or that angelic soft- 
 ness which seems to us most worthy in woman — 
 the power to suffer and be patient. 
 
 K 2
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 EORIE HAS PLANS OF HIS OWN. 
 
 RoDEEiCK Vawdrey^s ideas of wliat was due to a 
 young man who attains his majority were in no 
 wise satisfied by Lis birthday dinner-party. It 
 had been pleasant enough in its way, but far too 
 much after the pattern of all other dinner-parties' 
 to please a young man who hated all common and 
 hackneyed things, and all the beaten tracks of life 
 — ^or who, at any rate, fancied he did, which comes 
 to nearly the same thing, 
 
 " Mother,'^ he began at breakfast next morning, 
 in his loud cheery voice, ^^we must have some- 
 thing for the small tenants, and shopkeepers, and 
 cottagers." 
 
 " What do you mean, Roderick ? " 
 
 ^^ Some kind of entertainment to celebrate my^ 
 majority. The people will expect it. Last night
 
 ROEIE HAS PLAXS OF HIS OWX. 133 
 
 polished off tlie swells very nicely. Tlie wliole 
 tiling did you credit_, motlier/^ 
 
 "Thank you/^ said Lady Jane^ with a slight 
 contraction of her thin lips. 
 
 This Xovember morning, so pleasant for Eorie, 
 was rather a bitter day for his mother. She had 
 been reigning sovereign at Briarwood hitherto; 
 henceforth she could only live there on sufferance. 
 The house was Rorie^s. Even the orchid-houses 
 were his. He might take her to task if he pleased 
 for having spent so much money on glass. 
 
 "But I must have my humble friends round 
 me/' continued Eorie. " The young people, too — 
 the boys and girls. 1^11 tell you what^ mother. 
 We must have a lawn meet. The hounds have 
 never, met here since my grandfather^s time — fifty 
 years ago. The Duke^s stud-groom was telling me 
 about it last year. He^s a Hampshire man, you 
 know, born and bred in the Forest. We'll have 
 a lawn meet and a hunting breakfast ; and it shall 
 be open house for everyone — high and low, rich 
 and poor, gentle and simple. Don't be frightened, 
 mother,'' interjected Eorie, seeing Lady Jane's
 
 134 VIXEN. 
 
 look of horror ; " we won't do any miscliief . Your 
 gardens shall be respected/^ 
 
 ^'^Tliey are your gardens now, Roderick. You 
 are sole master here, and can do what you 
 please.^' 
 
 " My dear mother, how can you talk like that ? 
 Do yon suppose I shall ever forget who made the 
 place what it is ? The gardens have been your 
 particular hobby, and they shall be your gardens to 
 the end of time." 
 
 ^^That is very generous of you, my dear 
 Roderick; but you are promising too much. 
 When you marry, yonr wife will be mistress of 
 Briarwood, and it will be necessary for me to find 
 a new home." 
 
 " I am in no hurry to get married. It will be 
 half-a-dozen years before I shall even think of any- 
 thing so desperate." 
 
 ^^I hope not, Roderick. With your position 
 and your responsibilities you ought to marry 
 young. Marriage — a suitable marriage, that is to 
 say — would give you an incentive to earnestness 
 and ambition. I want to see you follow in your
 
 EORIE HAS PLAN'S OF HIS OWN. 135 
 
 father's footsteps; I want you to make a name 
 by-and-by/' 
 
 "Fm afraid it will be a distant by-and-by/' 
 said Eorie, with a yawn. " I donH feel at all 
 drawn towards the senate. I love the country, my 
 dogs, my horses, the free fresh air, the stir and 
 movement of life too well to pen myself up in a 
 study and pore over blue-books^ or to waste the 
 summer evenings hstening to the member for Little 
 Peddlington laying down the law about combina- 
 tion drainage, or the proposed loop-line that is 
 intended to connect his borough with the world in 
 general. Fm afraid it isn't in me, mother, and that 
 you^ll be sorely disappointed if you set your heart 
 upon my making a figure as a senator.'^ 
 
 "I should like to see you worthy of your 
 father's name,'' Lady Jane said, with a regretful 
 sigh. 
 
 '' Providence hasn't made me after the same 
 pattern," answered Rorie. " Look at my grand- 
 father's portrait over the mantelpiece, in pink and 
 mahogany tops. What a glorious fellow he must 
 have been. You should hear how the old people
 
 136 VIXEN. 
 
 talk of Mm. I think I inlierit his tastes, instead 
 of my father^s. Hereditary genius crops up in 
 curious ways, you know. Perhaps, if I have a son, 
 he will be a heaven-born statesman, and you may 
 have your ambition gratified by a grandson. And 
 now about the hunting breakfast. Would this day 
 week suit you ? ^^ 
 
 " This is your house, Koderick. It is for you to 
 give your orders.^^ 
 
 " Bosh ! '' exclaimed the son impatiently. 
 ''Don't I tell you that you are mistress here, and 
 will be mistress '' 
 
 "My dear Eoderick, let us look things straight 
 ,in the face," said Lady Jane. " If I were sole 
 mistress here there would be no hunting breakfast. 
 It is just the very last kind of entertainment I 
 should ever dream of giving. I am not complain- 
 ing, mind. It is natural enough for you to like 
 that kind of thing ; and, as master of this house, it 
 is your right to invite whomsoever you please. I 
 am quite happy that it should be so, but let there 
 be no more talk about my being mistress of this 
 house. That is too absurd."
 
 EORIE HAS PLANS OF HIS OWN. 137 
 
 Eorie felt all Ms most generous impulses turned 
 to a sense of constraint and bitterness. He could 
 say no more. 
 
 " Will you give me a list of the people you 
 would like to be asked/^ said liis mother^ after 
 rather an uncomfortable silence. 
 
 "Til go and talk it over with the Duke/' 
 answered Rorie. ^^ He'll enter into the spirit of 
 the thing.'' 
 
 Rorie found the Duke going the round of his 
 loose-boxes, and uncle and nephew spent an hour 
 together pleasantly, overhauling the fine stud of 
 hunters which the Duke kept at Ashbourne, and 
 going round the paddocks to look at the brood- 
 mares and their foals ; these latter being eccentric 
 little animals, all head and legs, which nestled close 
 to the mother's side for a minute, and then took 
 fright at the whisking of their own tails, and shot 
 off across the field, like a skyrocket travelling 
 horizontally, or suddenly stood up on end, and 
 executed a wild waltz in mid air. 
 
 The Duke and Roderick decided which among 
 these leggy little beasts possessed the elements of
 
 138 VIXEN. 
 
 future excellence ; and after an hour's perambulation 
 of tlie paddocks they went to the house, where 
 they found the Duchess and Lady Mabel in the 
 morning-room; the Duchess busy making scarlet 
 cloth cloaks for her school- children, Lady Mabel 
 reading a German critic on Shakespeare. 
 
 Here the hunt breakfast was fully discussed. 
 Everybody was to be asked. The Duchess put in a 
 plea for her school-children. It would be such a 
 treat for the little things to see the hounds, and 
 their red cloaks and hoods would look so pretty 
 on the lawn. 
 
 " Let them come, by all means,'' said Roderick ; 
 '^your school — half-a-dozen schools. Til have 
 three or four tents rigged up for refreshments. 
 There shall be plenty to eat and drink for every- 
 body. And now Fm off to the Tempests' to 
 arrange about the hounds. The Squire will be 
 pleased, I know.'' 
 
 " Of course,'' said Lady Mabel, ^^ and the 
 Squire's daughter." 
 
 " Dear little thing," exclaimed Rorie, with 
 an elder brother's tenderness ; " she'll be as
 
 EOEIE HAS PLAX3 OF HIS OWN. 139 
 
 pleased as Puncli. You'll hunt, of course, 
 Mabel ?'^ 
 
 "I don't know. I don't shine in the field, as 
 Miss Tempest does." 
 
 " Oh, but you must come, Mab. The Duke 
 will find you a safe mount." 
 
 " She has a hunter I bred on purpose for her,'^ 
 said the Duke ; ^' but she'll never be such a horse- 
 woman as her mother." 
 
 ^^ She looks lovely on Mazeppa," said Rorie ; 
 " and she must come to my hunting break- 
 fast." 
 
 " Of course, Rorie, if you really wish it I shall 
 come." 
 
 Rorie stayed to luncheon, and then went back 
 to Briarwood to mount his horse and ride to the 
 Abbey House. 
 
 The afternoon was drawing in when Rorie rode 
 up to the old Tudor porch — a soft, sunless, gray 
 afternoon. The door stood open, and he saw the 
 glow of the logs on the wide hearth, and the Squire's 
 stalwart figure sitting in the great arm-chair, lean- 
 ing forward with a newspaper across his knee, and
 
 140 VIXEN. 
 
 Vixen on a stool at liis feet, the dogs grouped 
 about them. 
 
 ^^ Sliall I send my horse round to the stables, 
 Sqmre ? " asked Eorie. 
 
 '^^Do, my lad/^ answered Mr. Tempest, ringing 
 the bell, at which summons a man appeared and 
 took charge of Roderick's big chestnut. 
 
 "Been hunting to-day, Squire ? '^ asked Rorie, 
 when he had shaken hands with Mr. Tempest and 
 his daughter, and seated himself on the opposite 
 side of the hearth. 
 
 "IS^Oj" answered the Squire, in a voice that 
 had a duller sound than usual. " We had the 
 hounds out this morning at Hilberry Green, and 
 there was a good muster, Jack Purdy says ; but I 
 felt out of sorts, and neither Yixen nor I went. It 
 was a loss for Vixen, poor little girl.'' 
 
 " It was a grief to see you ill, papa," said Violet, 
 nestling closer to him. 
 
 She had hardly taken any notice of Roderick 
 to-day, shaking hands with him in an absent-minded 
 way, evidently full of anxiety about her father. 
 She was very pale, and looked older and more
 
 EORIE HAS PLANS OF HIS OWN. 141 
 
 womanly than wlien lie saw lier yesterday, Roderick 
 thou^lit. 
 
 "■ Fm not ill_, my dear," said tlie Squire, "only 
 a Uttle muddled and queer in my head ; been riding 
 too hard lately, perhaps. I don^t get lighter, you 
 know, Rorie, and a quick run shakes me more than 
 it used. Old Martin, our family doctor, has been 
 against my hunting for a long time ; but I should 
 like to know what kind of life men of my age would 
 lead if they listened to the doctors. They wouldn't 
 let us have a decent dinner." 
 
 " I^m so sorry,^' said Rorie ; '^ I came to ask 
 you a favour, and now I feel as if I hardly ought 
 to say anything about it." 
 
 And then Roderick proceeded to tell the Squu^e 
 his views about a lawn meet at Briarwood, and a 
 hunting breakfast for rich and poor. 
 
 " It shall be done, my boy," answered the 
 Squire heartily. " It^s just the sort of thing you 
 ought to do to make yourself popular. Lady Jane 
 is a charming woman, you know, thoroughbred to 
 the finger-nails ; but she has kept herself a little 
 too much to herself. There are people old enough
 
 142 VIXEN. 
 
 to remember what Briarwood was in your grand- 
 father's time. This day week you say? Til arrange 
 everything. We^U have such a gathering as hasn't 
 been seen for the last twenty years.'' 
 
 "Vixen must come with you/' said Eorie. 
 
 '' Of course." 
 
 " If papa is well and strong enough to hunt." 
 
 " My love, there is nothing amiss with me — 
 nothing that need trouble me this day week. A 
 man may have a headache, mayn't he, child, without 
 people making any fuss about it ? " 
 
 "I should like you to see Dr. Martin, papa. 
 Don't you think he ought to see the doctor, Eorie ? 
 It's not natural for him to be ill." 
 
 " I'm not going to be put upon half -rations. 
 Vixen. Martin would starve me. That's his only 
 idea of medical treatment. Yes, Vixen shall come, 
 Eorie."
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 GLAS 1ST DER EEDE STOLZ UXD GLUCK. 
 
 The morning of the Briarwood Meet dawned faii'lj. 
 Roderick watched the first lifting of the darkness 
 from his bed-room window, and rejoiced in the 
 promise of fine weather. The heavens, which had 
 been so unpropitious upon his birthday, seemed to 
 promise better things to-day. He did not desire 
 the traditional hunting morning — a southerly wind 
 and a ■ cloudy sky. He cared very little about the 
 scent lying well, or the actual result of the day^s 
 sport. He wanted rather to see the kind familiar 
 faces round him, the autumn sunshine lighting up 
 all the glow and colour of the picture, the scarlet 
 coats, the rich bay and brown of the horses, the 
 verdant background of lawn and shrubberies. Two 
 huge marquees had been erected for the com- 
 monalty — one for the school-children, the other 
 for the villagers. There were long tables in the
 
 144 VIXEN. 
 
 billiard-room for tlie farming class ; and for the 
 quality there was the horse-shoe table in the dining- 
 room, as at Roderick's birthday dimmer. But on 
 this occasion the table was decorated only with 
 hardy ferns and flowers. The orchids were not 
 allowed to appear. 
 
 Roderick noticed the omission. 
 
 " Why, where are the thing-um-tites, mother V' 
 he asked, with some surprise ; '' the pitcher-plants, 
 and tropical what's-its-names ? '^ 
 
 " I did not think there was any occasion to 
 have them brought out of the houses, Roderick,^' 
 Lady Jane answered quietly ; " there is always 
 a risk of their being killed, or some of your 
 sporting friends might be picking my prize 
 blossoms to put in their button-holes. Men who 
 give their minds to horses would hardly appreciate 
 orchids. '^ 
 
 " All right, mother. As long as there is plenty 
 to eat, I don't suppose it much matters,'' answered 
 Rorie. 
 
 He had certainly no cause for complaint upon 
 this score. Briarwood had been amply provisioned
 
 GLAS I8T DEPw EEDE STOLZ UXD GLUCK. 145 
 
 for an unlimited hospitality. The red coats and 
 green coats^ and blue coats and brown coats, came 
 in and out, slashed away at boar's head and truffled 
 turkey, sent champagne corks flying, and added 
 more dead men to the formidable corps of tall 
 hock bottles, dressed in uniform brown, which the 
 astonished butler ranged rank and file in a lobby 
 outside the dining-room. He had never seen this 
 kind of thing at Briarwood since he had kept 
 the keys of the cellars; and he looked upon 
 this promiscuous hospitality with a disapproving 
 eye. 
 
 The Duke supported his nephew admirably, and 
 was hail-fellow-well-met with everybody. He 
 had always been popular at Ashbourne. It was 
 his own place, his particular selection, bought 
 with his own money, improved under his own eye, 
 and he liked it better than any of his hereditary 
 seats. 
 
 '' If I had only had a son like you, Eorie,'' he 
 
 said, as he stood beside the young man, on the 
 
 gravel sweep before the hall-door, welcoming the 
 
 new-comers, ^^ I should have been a happy man. 
 
 VOL. I. i«
 
 146 VIXEN. 
 
 Well, I suppose I must be satisfied with a grand- 
 son ; but it^s a bard tbing tbat tbe title and estates 
 are to go to tbat scamp of a cousin of mine/' 
 
 Roderick^ on tbis particular morning, was a 
 nepbew wbom any uncle migbt be proud to own. 
 His red coat and buckskins became bim ; so did 
 bis position as bost and master at Briarwood. His 
 tall erect figure sbowed to advantage amidst tbe 
 crowd. His smile lit up tbe dark sunburnt face 
 like sunsbine. He bad a kind word, a friendly- 
 band- clasp for everybody — even for gaffers and 
 goodies wbo bad bobbled from tbeir village sbanties 
 to see tbe sport, and to get tbeir sbare of cold 
 sirloin and old October. He took tbe feeble old 
 creatures into tbe tent, and saw tbat tbey found 
 a place at tbe board. 
 
 Squire Tempest and bis daughter were among 
 tbe later arrivals. Tbe meet was to be at one, and 
 tbey only rode into tbe grounds at balf-past twelve, 
 wben everyone else bad breakfasted. Mrs. Tempest 
 bad not come. Tbe entertainment was mucb toa 
 early for a lady wbo never left ber rooms till after 
 noon.
 
 GLA3 1ST DEE EEDE STOLZ UND GLUCK. 147 
 
 Yixen looked lovely in tier smart little liabit. It 
 was not the Lincoln gi^een with the brass buttons, 
 which Lady Mabel had laughed at a year ago. To-day 
 Miss Tempest wore a dark brown habit, moulded to 
 the full erect figure, with a narrow rim of white at 
 the throat, a little felt hat of the same dark brown 
 with a brown feather, long white gauntlets, and a 
 whip with a massive ivory handle. 
 
 The golden bay's shining coat matched Violet's 
 shining hair. It was the prettiest picture in the 
 world, the rider in dark brown on the bright bay 
 horse, the daintily quilted saddle, the gauntleted 
 hands playing so lightly with the horse's velvet 
 mouth — horse and rider devotedly attached to each 
 other. 
 
 ^' How do you like him ? " asked Yixen, directly 
 she and Rorie had shaken hands. "Isn't he 
 absolutely lovely ? " 
 
 "Absolutely lovely," said Rorie, patting the 
 horse's shoulder and looking at the rider. 
 
 " Papa gave him to me on my last birthday. I 
 was to have ridden Titmouse another year; but I 
 got the brush one day after a hard run when almost 
 
 L 2
 
 148 VIXEN. 
 
 everybody else was left behind, and papa said I 
 sbould liave a liorse. Poor Titmouse is put into a 
 basket- chaise. Isn^t it sad for him ? '' 
 
 '' Awfully humiliating.''^ 
 
 Lady Mabel was close by on her chestnut 
 thoroughbred, severely costumed in darkest blue 
 and chimney-pot hat. 
 
 "I don^t think you've ever met my cousin?'' 
 said Rorie. ^' Mabel, this is Miss Tempest, whom 
 you've heard me talk about. Miss Tempest, Lady 
 Mabel Ashbourne.'' 
 
 Violet Tempest gave a startled look, and blushed 
 crimson. Then the two girls bowed and smiled : 
 a constrained smile on Vixen's part, a prim and 
 chilly smile from Lady Mabel. 
 
 "I want you two to be awful good friends,'' 
 said Rorie ; " and when you come out, Vixen, Lady 
 Mabel will take you under her wing. She knows 
 everybody, and the right thing to be done on every 
 occasion." 
 
 Vixen turned from red to pale, and said nothing. 
 Lady Mabel looked at the distant blue line of the 
 Wight, and murmured that she would be happy to
 
 GLAS 1ST DER ERDE STOLZ UXD GLUCK. 149 
 
 be of use to Miss Tempest if ever they met iu 
 London. Eorie felt^ someliow, that it was not 
 encouraging. Vixen stole a glance at her rival. 
 Yes, she was very pretty — a dehcate patrician 
 beauty which Vixen had never seen before. No 
 wonder Eorie was in love with her. Vv^here else 
 could he have seen anything so exquisite ? It was 
 the most natural thing in the world that these 
 cousins should be fond of each other_, and engaged 
 to be married. Vixen wondered that the thing 
 had never occurred to her as inevitable — that it 
 should have come upon her as a blow at the 
 last. 
 
 " I think Eorie ought to have told me/' she 
 said to herself. " He is like my brother ; and a 
 brother would not hide his love affairs from his 
 sister. It was rather mean of Eorie.'"' 
 
 The business of the day began presently. 
 Neither Vixen nor the Squire dismounted. They 
 had breakfasted at home ; and Vixen, who did not 
 care much for Lady Jane Vawdrey, was glad to 
 escape with no further communication than a smile 
 and a bow. At a quarter-past one they were all
 
 150 VIXEN. 
 
 riding away towards the Forest, and presently the 
 serious business began. 
 
 Vixen and her father were riding side by side. 
 '^You are so pale, papa. Is your head bad 
 again to-day ? " 
 
 ''Yes, my dear. Tm afraid Tve started a 
 chronic headache. But the fresh air will blow it 
 away presently, I daresay. You're not looking 
 over- well yourself. Vixen. What have you done 
 with your roses ? '' 
 
 " I — I — donH care much about hunting to-day, 
 papa,'^ said Violet, sudden tears rushing into her 
 eyes. " Shall we go home together ? You're not 
 well, and I'm not enjoying myself. Nobody wants 
 us, either ; so why should we stay ? " 
 
 Eorie was a little way behind them, taking care 
 of Lady Mabel, whose slim-legged chestnut went 
 through as many manoeuvres as if he had been 
 doing the manege business in a circus, and got over 
 the ground very slowly. 
 
 " Nonsense, child ! Go back ! I should think 
 not ! Jack Purdy may do all the work, but people 
 like to see me to the fore. We shall find down
 
 GLAS 1ST DER ERDE STOLZ UND GLUCK. 151 
 
 in Dingley Bottom^ I daresay, and get a capital 
 run across the hills to Beaulieu.^^ 
 
 They found just as the Squire had anticipated, 
 and after that there was a hard run for the next 
 hour and a quarter. Eoderick was at the heel of 
 the hunt all the time, opening gates, and keeping 
 his cousin out of bogs and dangers of all kinds. 
 They killed at last on a wild bit of common near 
 Beaulieu, and there were only a few in at the 
 death, amongst them Vixen on her fast young bay, 
 flushed with excitement and triumph by this time, 
 and forgetting all her troubles in the delight of 
 winning one of the pads. Mrs. Millington, the 
 famous huntress from the shires, was there to claim 
 the brush. 
 
 "How tired you look, papa," said Vixen, as 
 they rode quietly homewards. 
 
 " A little done up, my dear, but a good dinner 
 will set me all right again. It was a capital run, 
 and your horse behaved beautifully. I don't think 
 I made a bad choice for you. Korie and his cousin 
 were miles behind, I daresay. Pretty girl, and
 
 152 VIXEN. 
 
 sits Iier horse like a picture — but sTie canH ride. 
 No hands. We shall meet them going home, 
 perhaps.^-' 
 
 A mile or two farther on they met Roderick 
 alone. His cousin had gone home with her father. 
 
 " It was rather a bore losing the run/^ he said, 
 as he turned his horse^s head and rode by Vixen, 
 " but I was obliged to take care of my cousin.''^ 
 
 One of the Squire's tenants,, a seventeen-stone 
 farmer, on a stout gray cob, overtook them 
 presently, and Mr. Tempest rode on by his side, 
 talking agricultural talk about over-fed beasts and 
 cattle shows,, the last popular form of cruelty to 
 animals. 
 
 Roderick and Violet were alone, riding slowly 
 side by sidfe in the darkening gray, between woods 
 where solitary robins carolled sweetly, or the rare 
 gargle of the thrush sounded now and then from 
 thickets of beech and holly. 
 
 A faint colour came back to Vixen^s cheek. 
 She was very angry with her playfellow for his 
 want of confidence, for his unfriendly reserve. 
 Yet this was the one happy hour of her day
 
 GLAS 1ST DEE EEDE STOLZ UXD GLUCK. loS 
 
 There had been a flavour of desolateness and 
 abandonment in all tbe rest. 
 
 *^ I hope yon enjoyed the run/' said Eorie. 
 
 '^I dcn^t think you can care much whether 
 we did or didn^t/' retorted Vixen, shrouding her 
 personality in a vague plural. " If you had cared 
 you would have been with us. Sultan/' meaning 
 the chestnut, "must have felt cruelly humiliated 
 by being kept so far behind.'' 
 
 " If a man could be in two places at once, 
 half of me, the better half of me, would have 
 been with you. Vixen ; but I was bound to take 
 care of my cousin. I had insisted upon her 
 coming.^' 
 
 " Of course," answered Vixen, with a httle toss 
 of her head ; " it would have been quite wrong if 
 she had been absent." 
 
 They rode on in silence for a little while after 
 this. Vixen was longing to say : "Eorie, you have 
 treated me very badly. Tou ought to have told 
 me you were going to be married." But some- 
 thing restrained her. She patted her horse's neck, 
 listened to the lonely robins, and said not a word.
 
 154 VIXEN. 
 
 The Squire and his tenant were a hundred yards 
 ahead_, talking loudly. 
 
 Presently they came to a point at which their 
 roads parted, but Rorie still rode on by Vixen. 
 
 " Isn^t that your nearest way ? '^ asked Vixen, 
 pointing down the cross-road with the ivory handle 
 of her whip. 
 
 ^' I am not going the nearest way. I am going 
 to the Abbey House with you.^^ 
 
 " I wouldn^t be so rude as to say Don^t, but I 
 think poor Sultan must be tired.^^ . 
 
 ^' Sultan shall have a by-day to-morrow.^' 
 
 They went into an oak plantation, where a 
 broad open alley led from one side of the enclosure 
 to the other. The wood had a mysterious look in 
 the late afternoon, when the shadows were thicken- 
 ing under the tall thin trees. There was an all- 
 pervading ghostly grayness as in a shadowy under- 
 world. They rode silently over the thick wet 
 carpet of fallen leaves, the horses starting a little 
 now and then at the aspect of a newly-barked 
 trunk lying white across the track. They were 
 silent, having, in sooth, very little to say to each
 
 GLAS 1ST DER EEDE STOLZ UND GLUCK. 155 
 
 other just at this time. Vixen was nursing lier 
 wrathful feelings ; Rorie felt that his future was 
 confused and obscure. He ought to do something 
 with his hfe, perhaps, as his mother had so warmly 
 urged. But his soul was stirred by no ambitious 
 promptings. 
 
 They were within two hundred yards of the 
 gate at the end of the enclosure, when Vixen gave 
 a sudden cry : 
 
 " Did papa's horse stumble V she asked; " look 
 how he sways in his saddle. '^ 
 
 Another instant, and the Squire reeled forward, 
 and fell headforemost across his horse's shoulder. 
 The fall was so sudden and so heavy, that the horse 
 fell with him, and then scrambled up on to his feet 
 again affrighted, swung himself round, and rushed 
 past Roderick and Vixen along the plashy track. 
 
 Vixen was off her horse in a moment, and had 
 flown to her father's side. He lay like a log, face 
 downwards upon the sodden leaves just inside the 
 gate. The farmer had dismounted and was stoop- 
 ing over him, bridle in hand, with a frightened 
 face.
 
 156 VIXEN. 
 
 '^ Oh, what is it ? ^' cried Violet frantically. 
 ^' Did the horse throw him ? — Bullfinch^ his favourite 
 horse. Is he much hurt ? Oh^ help me to lift him 
 up — help me — help me ! " 
 
 Eorie was by her side by this time, kneeling 
 down with her beside the prostrate Squire, trying 
 to raise the heavy figure which lay hke lead across 
 his arm. 
 
 " It wasn^t the horse, miss,^^ said the farmer. 
 '^Fm afraid it's a seizure.^' 
 
 '^ A fit ! '' cried Vixen. ^' Oh, papa, papa — 
 — darling — darling —' 
 
 She was sobbing, clinging to him, trembling 
 like a leaf, and turning a white stricken face up 
 towards Eoderick. 
 
 ^' Do something to help him — for God's sake — 
 do something,'' she cried ; ^' you won't let him lie 
 there and die for want of help. Some brandy — 
 something," she gasped, stretching out her trembling 
 hand." 
 
 The farmer had anticipated her thought. He 
 had taken his flask from the saddle pocket, and 
 was kneeling down by the Squire. Roderick had
 
 GLAS 1ST DER ERDE STOLZ UXD GLUCK. 157 
 
 lifted the heavy head, and turned the ghastly face 
 to the wanino- liorht. He tried to force a little 
 brandy between the livid lips — but vainly. 
 
 '^For God's sake get her away/' he whispered 
 to John Wimble, the farmer. ^' It's all over with 
 him." 
 
 " Come away with me, my dear Miss Tempest/' 
 said Wimble, trying to raise Violet from her knees 
 beside the Squire. She was gazing into that awful 
 face distractedly — half divining its solemn meaning 
 — yet watching for the kind eyes to open and look 
 at her again. " Come away with me, and we'll 
 get a doctor. Mr. Yawdrey will take care of your 
 father." 
 
 " You go for the doctor," she answered firmly. 
 '' I'll stay with papa. Take my horse, he's- faster 
 than yours. Oh, he'll carry you well enough. You 
 don't know how strong he is — go, quick — quick — 
 Dr. ]\Iartin, at Lyndhurst — it's a long way, but you 
 must get him. Papa will recover, and be able to 
 ride home, perhaps, before you can get back to us, 
 but go, go." 
 
 " You go for the doctor, miss ; your horse will
 
 158 VIXEN. 
 
 carry you fast enough. He^d never carry such, a 
 heavy weight as me^ and my cob is dead beat. 
 You go^ and Mr. Vawdrey will go with you. Til 
 take care of the Squire.^^ 
 
 Violet looked from ojie to the other helplessly. 
 
 "Fd rather stay with papa/^ she said. "You 
 go^ Rorie — yes — go^ go. Fll stay with papa.'^ 
 
 She crouched down beside the prostrate figure 
 on the damp marshy ground_, took the heavy head 
 on her lap, and looked up at the two men wdth a 
 pale set face which indicated a resolve that neither 
 of them was strong enough to overrule. They tried 
 their utmost to persuade her, but in vain. She was 
 fixed as a new Niobe — a stony image of young 
 despair. So Roderick, mounted his horse and rode 
 off towards Lyndhurst, and honest Jack Wimble tied 
 the other two horses to the gate, and took his 
 stand beside them, a few paces from those two 
 motionless figures on the ground, patiently waiting 
 for the issue of this bitter hour. 
 
 It was one of the longest, weariest, saddest 
 hours that ever youth and hope lived through. 
 There was an awful heart- sickening fear in Yiolet^s
 
 GLAS 1ST DER ERDE STOLZ UXD GLUCK. 159 
 
 mind, but she gave it no definite shape. Slie 
 would not say to herself, "Mj father is dead/^ The 
 position in which he was lying hampered her arms 
 so that she could not reach out her hand to lay it 
 upon his heart. She bent her face down to his 
 lips. 
 
 Oh God ! not a flutter stirred upon her soft 
 cheek as she laid it against those pallid lips. The 
 lower jaw had fallen in an awful-looking way ; but 
 Violet had seen her father look like that sometimes 
 as he slept, with open mouth, before the hall fire. 
 It might be only a long swoon, a suspension of 
 consciousness. Dr. Martin would come presently — 
 oh, how long, how long the time seemed — and 
 make all things right. 
 
 The crescent moon shone silver pale above that 
 dim gray wood. The barked trunks gleamed white 
 and spectral in the gathering dark. Owls began to 
 hoot in the distance, frogs were awaking near at 
 hand, belated rabbits flitted ghost-like across the 
 track. All nature seemed of one gray shadowy 
 hue — silvery where the moonbeams fell. 
 
 The November air was chill and penetrating.
 
 160 VIXEN. 
 
 There was a dull acliing in Violet^ s limbs from tlie 
 weight of lier burden^ but she was hardly conscious 
 of physical pain. It seemed to her that she had 
 been sitting there for hours waiting for the doctor^s 
 help. She thought the night must have nearly 
 worn itself out. 
 
 " Dr. Martin could not have been at home/' 
 she said, speaking for the first time since Roderick 
 rode away. '' Mr. Vawdrey would fetch someone 
 else, surely.''^ 
 
 ^''My dear young lady, he hasn't had time to 
 ride to Lyndhurst yet.-" 
 
 " Not yet,'' cried Vixen despairingly, " not yet ! 
 And it has been so long. Papa is getting so cold. 
 The chill will be so bad for him." 
 
 '' Worse for you, miss ; I do wish you'd let me 
 take you home." 
 
 "And leave papa here — alone — unconscious ! 
 How can you be so cruel as to think of such a 
 thing ? " 
 
 " Dear Miss Tempest, we're not doing him any 
 good, and you may be getting a chill that will be 
 nigh your death. If you would only go home to
 
 GLAS 1ST DEE EEDE STOLZ UXD GLUCK. 161 
 
 your mamma^ now — it^s hard upon her not to know 
 — she^U be fretting about you, I daresay/^ 
 
 " Don't waste your breath talking to me/' cried 
 Yixen indignantly ; " I shall not leave this spot tiU 
 papa goes with me.'' 
 
 They waited for another quarter of an hour in 
 dismal silence. The horses gnawed the lower 
 branches of the trees, and gave occasional evidence 
 of their impatience. Bullfinch had gone home to 
 his stable no doubt. They were only about a mile- 
 and-a-half from the Abbey House. 
 
 Hark ! what was that ? The splish-splash of 
 horses' hoofs on the soft turf. Another minute 
 and Korie rode up to the gate with a stranger. 
 
 ^'1 was lucky enough to meet this gentleman," 
 he said, "a doctor from Southampton, who was 
 at the hunt to-day. Violet dear, will you let me 
 take you home now, and leave the doctor and 
 Mr. Wimble with your father ? '' 
 
 " No," answered Vixen decisively. 
 
 The strange doctor knelt down and looked at 
 his patient. He was a middle-aged man, grave- 
 looking, with iron-gray hair — a man who impressed 
 
 VOL. I. - M
 
 162 VIXEN. 
 
 Vixen with a sense of power and authority. Slie 
 looked at him silently, with a despairing appealing 
 look that thrilled him, familiar as he was with such 
 looks. He made his examination quietly, saying 
 not a word^ and keeping his face hidden. Then he 
 turned to the two men who were standing close by, 
 watching him anxiously. 
 
 ^^ You must get some kind of litter to carry him 
 home," he whispered. 
 
 And then with gentle firmness, with strong 
 irresistible hands, he separated the living from the 
 dead, lifted Violet from the ground and led her 
 towards her horse. 
 
 " You must let Mr. Vawdrey take you home, 
 my dear young lady," he said. ^' You can do 
 nothing here." 
 
 " But you — you can do something," sobbed 
 Violet, ^^ you will bring him back to life — 
 you " 
 
 '' I will do all that can be done," answered the 
 doctor gently. 
 
 His tone told her more than his words. She 
 gave one wild shriek, and threw herself down
 
 GLAS 1ST DER ERDE STOLZ UXD GLUCK. 163 
 
 beside her dead father. A cloud came over the 
 distracted brain, and she lay there senseless. The 
 doctor and Rorie lifted her up and carried her to 
 the gate where her horse was waiting. The doctor 
 forced a little brandy through her locked lips, and 
 between them Rorie and he placed her in the 
 saddle. She had just consciousness enough by this 
 time to hold the bridle mechanically^ and to sit 
 upright on her horse ; and thus led by Roderick^ 
 she rode slowly back to the home that was never 
 any more to be the same home that she had known 
 and lived in through the joyous sixteen years of 
 her life. All things were to be different to her 
 henceforward. The joy of Hfe was broken short 
 off, like a flower snapped from its stem.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A HOUSE OF MOURNING. 
 
 There was sorrow at tlie Abbey House deeper 
 and wilder tliaii had entered witbin those doors for 
 many a year. To Mrs. Tempest the shock of her 
 husband^s death was overwhelming. Her easy^ 
 luxurious, monotonous life had been very sweet 
 to her, but her husband had been the dearest part 
 of life. She had taken little trouble to express her 
 love for him, quite willing that he should take it 
 for granted. She had been self-indulgent and vain ; 
 seeking her own ease, spending money and care 
 on her own adornment ; but she had not forgotten 
 to make the Squire's life pleasant to him also. 
 Newly-wedded lovers in the fair honeymoon-stage 
 of existence could not have been fonder of each 
 other than the middle-aged Squire and his some- 
 what faded wife. His loving eyes had never seen 
 Timers changes in Pamela Tempest^s pretty face.
 
 A HOUSE OF MOURNING. 165 
 
 the lessening brightness of tlie eyes, the duller 
 tints of the complexion, the loss of youth's glow 
 and glory. To him she had always appeared the 
 most beautiful woman in the world. 
 
 And now the fondly-indulged wife could do 
 nothing but lie on her sofa and shed a rain of 
 incessant tears, and drink strong tea, which had 
 lost its power to comfort or exhilarate. She would 
 see no one. She could not even be roused to 
 interest herself in her mourning, though, with a 
 handsome widow, Pauline thought that ought to be 
 all important. 
 
 '' There are so many styles of widows' caps now, 
 ma'am. You really ought to see them, and choose 
 for yourself,'' urged Pauline, an honest young 
 Englishwoman, who had begun life as Polly, but 
 whom Mrs. Tempest had elevated into Pauline. 
 
 " What does it matter, Pauline ? Take any- 
 thing you like. Ee will not be there to see." 
 
 Here the ready tears flowed afresh. That was 
 the bitterest of all. That she should look nice in 
 her mourning, and Edward not be there to praise her. 
 In her feebleness she could not imaoiue life without
 
 166 VIXEN. 
 
 Mm. She would hear Ms step at her door surely, 
 his manly voice in the corridor. She would awake 
 from this awful dream^ in which he was not, and 
 find him, and fall into his arms, and sob out her 
 grief upon his breast, and tell him all she had 
 suffered. 
 
 That was the dominant feeling in this weak 
 soul. He could not be gone for ever. 
 
 Yet the truth came back upon her in hideous 
 distinctness every now and then — came back sud- 
 denly and awfully, like the swift revelation of a 
 desolate plague-stricken scene under a lightning 
 flash. He was gone. He was lying in his coffin, 
 in the dear old Tudor hall where they had sat so 
 cosily. Those dismal reiterated strokes of the 
 funeral-bell meant that his burial was at hand. 
 They were moving the coffin already, perhaps. 
 His place knew him no more. 
 
 She tottered to the darkened window, lifted the 
 edge of the blind, and looked out. The funeral 
 train was moving slowly along the carriage sweep, 
 through the winding shrubberied road. How long, 
 and black, and solemnly splendid the procession
 
 A HOUSE or MorRxixG. 167 
 
 looked. Everybody had loved and respected him. 
 
 It was a grand funeral. The thought of this 
 
 general homage gave a faint thrill of comfort to 
 
 the widow's heart. 
 
 ''My noble husband/' she ejaculated. ''Who 
 
 could help loving you ? " 
 
 It seemed to her only a little while ago that she 
 
 had driven up to the Tudor porch for the first time 
 
 after her happy honeymoon^ when she was in the 
 
 bloom of youth and beauty^ and hfe was like a 
 
 schoolgirrs happy dream. 
 
 "How short hfe is/' she sobbed; "how cruelly 
 
 short for those who are happy ! " 
 
 With Yiolet grief was no less passionate ; but it 
 did not find its sole vent in tears. The stronger 
 soul was in rebellion against Providence. She kept 
 aloof from her mother in the time of sorrow. What 
 could they say to each other? They could only 
 cry together. Violet shut herseH in her room, 
 and refused to see anyone, except patient Miss 
 McCroke, who was always bringing her cups of 
 tea, or basins of arrowroot, trying to coax her to 
 take some kind of nourishment, dabbing her hot
 
 168 VIXEN. 
 
 forehead witL. eau-de-cologne — doing all tliose 
 fussy little kindnesses wMcli are so acutely aggra- 
 vating in a great sorrow. 
 
 " Let me lie on the ground alone, and think of 
 him, and wail for him/-' 
 
 That is what Yiolet Tempest would have said, 
 if she could have expressed her desire clearly. 
 
 Roderick Vawdrey went back to the Abbey 
 House after the funeral, and contrived to see Miss 
 McCroke, who was full of sympathy for everybody. 
 
 " Do let me see Yiolet, that^s a dear creature,'^ 
 he said. " I can't tell you how unhappy I am 
 about her. I can't get her face out of my thoughts, 
 as I saw it that dreadful night when I led her horse 
 home — the wild sad eyes, the white lips.'' 
 
 '^ She is not fit to see anyone," said Miss 
 McCroke ; ^^ but perhaps it might rouse her a little 
 to see you." 
 
 Miss McCroke had an idea that all mourners 
 ought to be roused ; that much indulgence in grief 
 for the dead was reprehensible. 
 
 '* Yes," answered Rorie eagerly, " she would see 
 me, I know. We are like brother and sister."
 
 A HOUSE OF MOUEXIXG. 169 
 
 ^' Come into tlie sclioolroom/^ said tlie governess^ 
 " and ril see wliat I can do/^ 
 
 The sclioolroom was Yixen^s own particular den, 
 and was not a bit like tlie popular idea of a 
 sclioolroom. 
 
 It was a pretty little room, witli a liigli wooden 
 dado, painted olive green, and a higli-art paper of 
 amazing ugliness, whereon brown and red storks 
 disported themselves on a dull green ground. The 
 high-art paper was enlivened with horsey caricatures 
 by Leech, and a menagerie of pottery animals on 
 various brackets. 
 
 A pot or a pan had been stuck into every corner 
 that would hold one. There were desks, and boxes, 
 and wickerwork baskets of every shape and kind, a 
 dwarf oak bookcase on either side of the fireplace, 
 with the books all at sixes and sevens, leaning 
 against each other as if they were intoxicated. The 
 broad mantelpiece presented a confusion of photo- 
 graphs, cups and saucers, violet jars, and Dresden 
 shepherdesses. Over the quaint old Venetian glass 
 dangled Vixen's first trophy, the fox's brush, tied 
 with a scarlet ribbon. There were no birds, or
 
 170 VIXEN. 
 
 squirrels^ or dormice^ for Vixen was too fond of tlie 
 animal creation to shut her favourites up in cages ; 
 but there was a black bearskin spread in a corner 
 for Argus to lie upon. In the wide low windows 
 there were two banks of bright autumn flowers, 
 pompons and dwarf roses, mignonette and veronica. 
 Miss McOroke drew up the blind,, and stirred 
 the fire. 
 
 ^^ ni go and ask her to come/^ she said. 
 " Do, like a dear/'' said Eorie. 
 He paced the room while she was gone, full 
 of sadness. He had been very fond of the Squire, 
 and that awfully sudden death, an apoplectic seizure, 
 instantaneous as a thunderbolt, had impressed him 
 very painfully. It was his first experience of the 
 kind, and it was infinitely terrible to him. It 
 seemed to him a long time before Vixen appeared, 
 and then the door opened, and a slim black figure 
 came in, a white fixed face looked at him piteously, 
 with tearless eyes made big by a great grief. She 
 came leaning on Miss McOroke, as if she could 
 hardly walk unaided. The face was stranger to 
 him than an altogether unknown face. It was
 
 A HOUSE OF MOURNING. 171 
 
 Violet Tempest witb. all the vivid joyous life gone 
 out of ]iei% like a lamp tliat is extinguished. 
 
 He took her cold trembling hands and drew her 
 gently to a chair^ and sat down beside her. 
 
 '^ I wanted so much to see you, dear/' he said, 
 ^' to tell you how sorry we all are for you — my 
 mother, my aunt, and cousin" — Violet gave a faint 
 shiver—" all of us. The Duke liked your dear father 
 so much. It was quite a shock to him." 
 
 " You are very good," Violet said mechanically. 
 
 She sat by him, pale and still as marble, looking 
 at the ground. His voice and presence impressed 
 her but faintly, like something a long way off. 
 She was thinking of her dead father. She saw 
 nothing but that one awful figure. They had laid 
 him in his grave by this time. The cold cruel 
 earth had fallen upon him and hidden him for ever 
 from the light ; he was shut away for ever from the 
 fair glad world; he who had been so bright and 
 cheerful, whose presence had carried gladness 
 everywhere. 
 
 " Is the funeral quite over ? " she asked pre- 
 sently, without lifting her heavy eyelids.
 
 172 VIXEN. 
 
 ^^Yes^ dear. It was a noble funeral. Every- 
 body was there — ricb and poor. Everybody loved 
 
 ^' The poor most of all_," she said. " I know 
 how good he was to them.'^ 
 
 Somebody knocked at the door and asked some- 
 thing of Miss McCroke, which obliged the gover- 
 ness to leave her pupil. Koderick was glad at her 
 departure. That substantial figure in its new black 
 dress had been a hindrance to freedom of conver- 
 sation. 
 
 Miss McCroke^s absence did not loosen Violet's 
 tongue. She sat looking at the ground, and was 
 dumb. That silent grief was very awful to 
 Koderick. 
 
 "Violet, why don't you talk to me about your 
 sorrow/' he said. " Surely you can trust me — 
 your friend — your brother ! " 
 
 That last word stung her into speech. The 
 hazel eyes shot a swift angry glance at him. 
 
 " You have no right to call yourself that/' she 
 said, " you have not treated me like a sister." 
 
 "How not, dear?"
 
 A HOUSE OP MOURNING. 173 
 
 "You should have told me about your engage- 
 ment — that you were going to marry Lady Mabel 
 Ashbourne/^ 
 
 " Should I ? ■'^ exclaimed Korie, amazed. " If I 
 had I should have told you an arrant falsehood. I 
 am not engaged to my cousin Mabel. I am not 
 going to marry her.'^ 
 
 ^^ Oh, it doesn^t matter in the least whether you 
 are or not/^ returned Yixen, with a weary air. 
 " Papa is dead, and trifles Kke that can^t affect 
 me now. But I felt it unkind of you at the time I 
 heard it.^^ 
 
 " And where and how did you hear this wonder- 
 ful news^ Vixen ? ''' asked Eorie, very pleased to 
 get her thoughts away from her grief , were it only 
 for a minute. 
 
 " Mamma told me that everybody said you were 
 engaged, and that the fact was quite obvious." 
 
 "What everybody says, and what is quite 
 obvious, is very seldom true, Violet. You may 
 take that for a first principle in social science. I 
 am not engaged to anyone. I have no thought of 
 getting married — for the next three years. '^
 
 174 VIXEN. 
 
 Vixen received this information with chilling 
 silence. She would have been very glad to hear 
 it_, perhaps, a week ago — at which time she had 
 found it a sore thing to think of her old playfellow 
 as Lady MabeVs affianced husband — but it mattered 
 nothing now. The larger grief had swallowed up 
 all smaller grievances. Eoderick Yawdrey had re- 
 ceded into remote distance. He was no one, nothing, 
 in a world that was suddenly emptied of all delight. 
 
 ^^ What are you going to do, dear ? " asked 
 Eoderick presently. '^ If you shut yourself up in 
 your room and abandon yourself to grief, you will 
 make yourself very ill. You ought to go away 
 somewhere for a little while."'^ 
 
 " For ever ! ^^ exclaimed Yixen passionately. 
 '^ Do you think I can ever endure this dear home 
 without papa ? There is not a thing I look at that 
 doesn^t speak to me of him. The dogs, the horses. 
 I almost hate them for reminding me so cruelly. 
 Yes, we are going away at once, I believe. Mamma 
 said so when I saw her this morning." 
 
 " Your poor mamma ! How does she bear her 
 grief?"
 
 A HOUSE OF irouRNrs-G. 175 
 
 " Oh, she cries,, and cries^ and cries,'^ said Vixen, 
 rather contemptuously. "I think it comforts her 
 to cry. I can^t cry. I am hke the dogs. If I did 
 not restrain myself with all my might I should 
 howl. I should like to lie on the ground outside 
 his door — just as his dog does — and to refuse to eat 
 or drink till I died.^^ 
 
 "But, dear Violet, you are not alone in the 
 world. You have your poor mamma to think 
 of.^^ 
 
 " Mamma — yes. I am sorry for her, of coui'se. 
 But she is only like a lay-figure in my life. Papa 
 was everything.^ ^ 
 
 " Do you know where your mamma is going to 
 take you ? '^ 
 
 "No ; I neither know nor care. It wiU be to a 
 house with four walls and a roof, I suppose. It will 
 be all the same to me wherever it is.'''' 
 
 What could Roderick say ? It was too soon to 
 talk about hope or comfort. His heart was rent by 
 this dull silent grief; but he could do nothing 
 except sit there silently by Vixen^s side with her 
 cold unresponsive hands held in his.
 
 1 76 VIXEN. 
 
 Miss McCroke came back presently^ followed by 
 a maid carrying a pretty Japanese tea-tray. 
 
 "I have just been giving your poor mamma a 
 cup of tea, Yiolet/^ said tke governess. "Mr. 
 Clements lias been telling ber about tbe will, and it 
 has been quite too much for ber. Sbe was almost 
 bysterical. But sbe^s better now^ poor dear. And 
 now we^ll all have some tea. Bring tbe table to 
 tbe fire, Mr. Vawdrey, please, and let us make 
 ourselves comfortable/^ concluded Miss McCroke 
 with an assumption of mild cbeerfulness. 
 
 Perhaps there is not in all nature so cbeerful a 
 tbing as a good sea-coal fire, witb a log of beecb- 
 wood on tbe top of tbe coals. It will be cbeerful in 
 tbe face of affliction. It sends out its gusbes of 
 warmth and brightness, its gay little arrowy flames 
 that appear and disappear like elves dancing their 
 midnight waltzes on a barren moor. It seems^to 
 say : " Look at me and be comforted ! Look at me 
 and hope ! So from the dull blackness of sorrow 
 rise the many coloured lights of new-born 
 
 ioy." 
 
 Vixen suffered her chair to be brought near
 
 A HOUSE OF MOUEXIXG. 177 
 
 that cheery fire, and just tlien Argus crept into tlie 
 room and nestled at her knee. Eoderick seated 
 himself at the other side of the hearth — a brio-ht 
 little fireplace with its border of high-art tiles, 
 illuminated with the story of " Mary, Mary, quite 
 contrary," after quaintly medieval designs, by 
 Mr. Stacey Marks. Miss McCroke poured out 
 the tea in the quaint old red and blue Worcester 
 cups, and valiantly sustained that assumption of 
 cheerfulness. She would not have permitted her- 
 self to smile yesterday ; but now the funeral was 
 over, the blinds were drawn up, and a mild cheer- 
 fulness was allowable. 
 
 " If you would condescend to tell me where you 
 are going, Yixen, I might contrive to come there 
 too, by-and-by. We could have some rides to- 
 gether. You'll take Arion, of course.^'' 
 
 ''1 don^t know that I shall ever ride again," 
 answered Violet with a shudder. 
 
 Could she ever forget that awful ride ? Roderick 
 hated himself for his foolish speech. 
 
 "Violet will have to devote herself to her 
 studies very assiduously for the next two years," 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 VIXEN. 
 
 said Miss McCroke. " She is mucli more backward 
 than I like a pupil of mine to be at sixteen." 
 
 " Yes^ I am going to grind at three or four 
 foreign grammars^ and to give my mind to latitude 
 and longitude,, and fractions, and decimals," said 
 Vixen, with a bitter laugh. '^ Isn^t that cheering ?" 
 
 " Whatever you do. Vixen," cried Roderick 
 earnestly, '^ don^t be a paradigm." 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 " An example, a model, a paragon, a perfect 
 woman, nobly planned, &c. Be anything but that. 
 Vixen, if you love me." 
 
 " I don^t think there is much fear of any of us 
 being perfect," said Miss McCroke severely. " Im- 
 perfection is more in the line of humanity." 
 
 ^' Do you think so ? " interrogated Rorie. " I 
 find there is a great deal too much perfection in 
 this world, too many faultless people — I hate them." 
 
 "Isn^t that a confession of faultiness on your 
 side?" suggested Miss McCroke. 
 
 " It may be. But it's the truth." 
 
 Vixen sat with dry hollow eyes staring at the 
 fire. She had heard their talk as if it had been the
 
 A HOUSE OF MOURXING. 179 
 
 idle voices of strangers sounding in the distance,, 
 ever so far away. Argus nestled closer and closer 
 at her knee, and she patted his big blunt head 
 absently, with a dim sense of comfort in this brute 
 love, which she had not derived from human 
 sympathy. 
 
 Miss McCroke went on talking and arguinsr 
 with Rorie, with a view to sustaining that fictitious 
 cheerfulness which might beguile Yixen into brief 
 oblivion of her griefs. But Yixen was not so to be 
 beguiled. She was with them, but not of them. 
 Her haggard eyes stared at the fire, and her 
 thoughts were with the dear dead father, over 
 whose newly-filled grave the evening shadows were 
 closing. - 
 
 Nit
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CAPTAIN WINSTANLEY. 
 
 Two years later, and Vixen was sitting with tlie 
 same faithful Argus nestling beside her, by the 
 fireside of a spacious Brighton drawing-room, a 
 large, lofty, commonplace room, with tall windows 
 facing seawards. Miss McCroke was there too, 
 standing at one of the windows taking up a dropped 
 stitch in her knitting, while Mrs. Tempest walked 
 slowly up and down tLe expanse of Brussels carpet, 
 •stopping now and then at a window to look idly out 
 at the red sunset beyond the low-lying roofs and 
 spars of Shoreham. Those two years had changed 
 Yiolet Tempest from a slender girl to a nobly- 
 iormed woman ; a woman whom a sculptor would 
 have worshipped as his dream of perfection, whom 
 a painter would have reverenced for her glow and 
 splendour of colouring; but about whose beauty 
 the common run of mankind, and more especially
 
 CAPTAIN WIXSTAXLEY. 181 
 
 Tromankmd_, had not quite made up their minds. 
 The pretty little women with eighteen-inch waists 
 opined that Miss Tempest was too big. 
 
 " She's very handsome, you know, and all that/' 
 they said deprecatingly, ^' and her figure is quite 
 splendid; but she's on such a very large scale. 
 She ought to be painted in fresco, you know, on a 
 high cornice. As Autumn, or Plenty, or Ceres, or 
 something of that kind, carrying a cornucopia. 
 But in a drawing-room she looks so very mas- 
 sive." 
 
 The amber-haii-ed women — palpably indebted to 
 auricomous fluids for the colour of their tresses — 
 objected to the dark burnished gold of Violet 
 Tempest's hair. There was too much red in 
 the gold, they said, and a colour so obviously 
 natural was very unfashionable. That cream- 
 white skin of hers, too, found objectors, on the 
 score of a slight powdering of freckles ; spots 
 which the kindly sun leaves on the fruit he best 
 loves. In fact, there were many reservations made 
 by Miss Tempest's pretended admirers when they 
 summed up her good looks ; but when she rode her
 
 182 VIXEN. 
 
 pretty bay horse along tlie King's Eoad_, strangers 
 turned to look at her admiringly; when she entered 
 a crowded room she threw all paler beauties in the 
 shade. The cabbage-rose is a vulgar flower 
 perhaps, but she is queen of the garden notwith- 
 standing. 
 
 Lest it should be supposed, after this, that 
 Yixen was a giantess, it may be as well to state that 
 her height was five feet six, her waist twenty-two 
 inches at most, her shoulders broad but finely 
 sloping, her arms full and somewhat muscular, her 
 hands not small, but exquisitely tapering, her foot 
 long and narrow, her instep arched like an Arab's, 
 and all her movements instinct with an untutored 
 grace and dignity. She held her head higher than 
 is common to women, and on that score was found 
 guilty of pride. 
 
 '' I think we ought to go back before Christmas, 
 Violet,'' said Mrs. Tempest, continuing a discussion 
 that had been dragging itself slowly along for the 
 last half -hour. 
 
 " I am ready, mamma," answered Vixen sub- 
 missively. " It will break our hearts afresh when
 
 CAPTAIN WIXSTAXLEY. 183 
 
 we go home^ but I suppose we must go home some 
 day." 
 
 ^^ But you would like to see tlie dear old house 
 again, surely, Violet ? '' 
 
 " Like to see the frame without the picture ? 
 No, no, no, mamma. The frame was very dear 
 while the picture was in it — but — yes,^^ cried Vixen 
 passionately, " I should like to go back. I should 
 like to see papa^s grave, and carry fresh flowers 
 there every day. It has been too much neglected.^^ 
 
 " Neglected, Violet ! How can you say such 
 a thing ? AYhen Manotti^s bill for the monument 
 was over six hundred pounds.^^ 
 
 " Oh mamma, there is more love in a bunch of 
 primroses that my own hand gathers and carries to 
 the grave than in all the marble or granite in 
 Westminster Abbey .^^ 
 
 " My dear, for poor people wild flowers are very 
 nice, and show good feeling — but the rich must 
 have monuments. There could be nothing too 
 splendid for your dear papa," added the widow 
 tearfully. 
 
 She was always tearful when she spoke of her
 
 184 YIXEN. 
 
 dear Edward^ even now; tliougli she was be- 
 ginning to find that life liad some savour without 
 him. 
 
 " No/^ said Vixen, ^^ but I think papa will like 
 the flowers best/^ 
 
 "Then if all is well, Miss McCroke/^ pursued 
 Mrs. Tempest, "we will go back at the end of 
 November. It would be a pity to lose the season 
 here.^^ 
 
 Vixen yawned despondently. 
 
 " What do we care about the season, mamma ? '' 
 she exclaimed. " Can it matter to us whether there 
 are two or three thousand extra people in the place? 
 It only makes the King^s Eoad a little more 
 uncomfortable.''^ 
 
 " My dear Violet, at your age gaiety is good for 
 you,^' said Mrs. Tempest. 
 
 " Yes, and, like most other things that are 
 good, it^s very disagreeable,^^ retorted Vixen. 
 
 "And now, about this ball," pursued Mrs. 
 Tempest, taking up a dropped stitch in the previous 
 argument; "I really think we ought to go, if it 
 were only on Violet^s account. Don^t you, Maria ? ''
 
 CAPTAIN WINSTANLEY. 185 
 
 Mrs. Tempest always called her governess Maria 
 when she was anxious to conciliate her. 
 
 "Yiolet is old enough to enter society^ cer- 
 tainly/'' said Miss McCroke, with some deliberation; 
 " but whether a public ball '' 
 
 '^ If it's on my account^ mamma, pi'ay don^t 
 think of goiug/^ protested Yixen earnestly ; ^^ I 
 hate the idea of a ball — I hate " 
 
 ^' Captain Winstanley/' announced Forbes, in 
 the dusky end of the drawing-room by the 
 door. 
 
 " He has saved me the trouble of finishing my 
 sentence/^ muttered Yixen. 
 
 The visitor came smiling through the dusk 
 into the friendly glow of the fire. He shook hands 
 with Mrs. Tempest with the air of an old friend, 
 went over to the window to shake hands with 
 Miss McCroke, and then came back to Yixen, who 
 gave him a limp cold hand, with an indifference 
 that was almost insolent, while Ai'gus lifted his 
 head an inch or so from the carpet and saluted 
 him with a suppressed growl. Whether this arose 
 from a wise instinct in the animal, or from a know-
 
 186 VIXEN. 
 
 ledge tliat Ms mistress disliked the -gentleman, 
 would be too nice a point to decide. 
 
 '^ I was that moment thinking of you, Captain 
 Winstanley/^ said the widow. 
 
 " An honour and a happiness for me/' murmured 
 the Captain. 
 
 Mrs. Tempest seated herself in her own par- 
 ticular chair, beside which was her own particular 
 table Yv^ith one of those pretty tea-services which 
 were her chief delight — a miniature silver tea-kettle 
 with a spirit-lamp, a cosy little ball-shaped teapot, 
 cups and saucers of old Battersea. 
 
 " You'll take a cap of tea ? '' she said insinu- 
 atingly. 
 
 "I shall be delighted. I feel as if I ought to 
 go home and write verses or smart paragraphs tor 
 the society papers after drinking your tea, it is 
 so inspiring. Addison ought to have drunk just 
 such tea before writing one of his Spectators, but 
 unfortunately his muse required old port.-" 
 
 ^'If the Spectator came out nowadays Fm 
 afraid we should think it stupid,'' suggested 
 Mrs. Tempest.
 
 CAPTAIN WIX3TANLEY. 187 
 
 ^^ Simply because tlie slipshod writers of tlie 
 present day have spoiled our taste for fine English," 
 interjected Miss McCroke severely. 
 
 '^Wellj I fear we should find Addison a little 
 thin/ ^ said Captain Winstanley ; "I can^t imagine 
 London society existing for a week on such 
 literary pabulum as *" The Vision of Mirza/ We 
 want something stronger than that. A little scandal 
 about our neighbours, a racy article on field sports, 
 some sharpish hits at the City, a libel or two upon 
 men we know, a social article sailing very near the 
 wind, and one of Addison's papers on cherry- 
 coloured hoods, or breast-knots, patches or powder, 
 thrown in by way of padding. Our dear Joseph is 
 too purely literary for the present age." 
 
 "What monsters newspapers have grown,'' 
 remarked Mrs. Tempest. "It's almost impossible 
 to get through them." 
 
 " Not if you read anything else," answered the 
 Captain. "The majority do not." 
 
 "We were talking about the ball just as you 
 came in," said Mrs. Tempest. "I really think 
 Violet ought to go."
 
 188 VIXEN. 
 
 ^' I am sure slie ought/^ said the Captain. 
 
 Vixen sat looking at the fire and patting Argus. 
 She did not favour the Captain with so much as a 
 glance ; and yet he was a man upon whom the 
 eyes of women were apt to dwell favourably. He 
 was not essentially handsome. The most attractive 
 men rarely are. He was tall and thin^ with a waist 
 as small as a woman's, small hands, small feet — a 
 general delicacy of mould that was accounted 
 thoroughbred. He had a long nose, a darkly- 
 pale complexion, keen gray eyes under dark brows, 
 dark hair, cropped close to his small head; thin 
 lips, white teeth, a neat black moustache, and a 
 strictly military appearance, though he had sold out 
 of a line regiment three years ago, and was now 
 a gentleman at large, doing nothing, and living in 
 a gentleman-like manner on a very small income. 
 He was not in debt, and was altogether respectable. 
 Nothing could be said against him, unless it were 
 some dark hint of a gambling transaction at a fast 
 and furious club, some vague whisper about the 
 mysterious appearance of a king at ecarte — the 
 kind of rumour which is apt to pursue a man who.
 
 CAPTAIN WIXSTAXLEY. 189 
 
 like Bulwer's Dudley Smooth, does not clieat but 
 always wins. 
 
 Despite those vague slanders, wliicli are generally 
 baseless — tlie mere expression of society^s floating 
 malice, the scum of ill-nature on the ocean of talk 
 — Captain Winstanley was a universal favourite. He 
 went everywhere, and was liked wherever he went. 
 He was gifted with that adaptability and handi- 
 ness which is, of all cleverness, most valuable in 
 polite society. Of him, as of Goldsmith, it might 
 be said that he touched nothino- he did not adorn. 
 
 o 
 
 True, that the things he touched were for the most 
 part small things ; but they were things that kept 
 him before the eye of society, and found favour in 
 that eye. 
 
 He was a good horseman, a good oarsman, a 
 good swimmer, a good cricketer. He played and 
 sang; he was a first-rate amateur actor; he was 
 great at billiards and all games of skill ; he could 
 talk any language society wanted him to talk — 
 society not requiring a man to excel in Coptic or 
 Chinese, or calling upon him suddenly for Japanese 
 or Persian ; he dressed with perfect taste, and
 
 190 VIXEN. 
 
 without tlie slightest pretence of dandyism ; lie 
 could write a first-rate letter, and caricature his 
 dearest friends of last year in pen and ink for the 
 entertainment of his dearest friends of this year ; 
 he was known to have contributed occasionally to 
 fashionable periodicals, and was supposed to have a 
 reserve of wit and satire which would quite have 
 annihilated the hack writers of the day had he cared 
 to devote himself to literature. 
 
 Mrs. Tempest and her daughter had met the 
 Captain early in the previous spring among Swiss 
 mountains. He knew some of Mrs. Tempest's 
 Hampshire friends, and with no other credentials 
 had contrived to win her friendship. Vixen took 
 it into her obstinate young head to detest him. But 
 then, Vixen, at seventeen and a half, was full of 
 ridiculous dislikes and irrational caprices. Mrs. 
 Tempest, in her lonely and somewhat depressed 
 condition, considered the Captain a particularly 
 useful acquaintance. Miss McCroke was dubious, 
 but finding any expression of her doubts un- 
 graciously received, took the safer line of silence. 
 
 The ball in question was a charity ball at the
 
 CAPTAIX WIXSTAXLEY. 191 
 
 Pavilion_, a perfectly unobjectionable ball. The 
 list of patronesses bristled witL. noble names. 
 There was nothing to be said against Yixen^s 
 appearance there, except Miss McCroke^s objection, 
 that Squire Tempest^s daughter and heiress ought 
 not to make her debut in society at any public 
 ball whatever; ought, in a manner, hardly to be 
 seen by the human eye as a grown-up young lady, 
 until she had been presented to her gracious 
 sovereign. But Mrs. Tempest had set her heart 
 upon Vixen^s going to the ball ; or, in other words, 
 she had set her heart upon going herself. On 
 her way through Paris, in September, she had 
 gone to Worth^s — out of curiosity, just to see 
 what the great man's salons were like — and there 
 she had been tempted into the purchase of an 
 artistic arrangement in black silk and jet, velvet 
 and passementerie. She did not require the 
 costume, but the thing in itself was so beautiful 
 that she could not help buying it. And haviDo- 
 spent a hundred guineas upon this masterpiece, 
 there arose in her mind a natural craving to exhibit 
 it; to feel that she was being pointed out as one
 
 1 92 VIXEN. 
 
 of tlie best-dressed women in tlie crowded room ; 
 to know tliat women were whispering to each, other 
 significantly, ^'' Worth/^ as the nocturne in velvet 
 and silk and glimmering jet swept by them. 
 
 There was a good deal more discussion, and 
 it was ultimately settled that Vixen should go to 
 the ball. She had no positive objection. She 
 would have liked the idea of the ball well enough 
 perhaps, if it had not been for Captain Winstanley. 
 It was his advocacy that made the subject odious. 
 
 " How very rudely you behaved to Captain 
 Winstanley, Violet/' said Mrs. Tempest, when her 
 visitor had departed. 
 
 " Did I, mamma ? ^^ inquired Vixen listlessly. 
 '^1 thought I was extraordinarily civil. If you 
 knew how I should have liked to behave to him, 
 you would think so too.''^ 
 
 ^^ I cannot imagine why you are so prejudiced 
 against him,^^ pursued Mrs. Tempest fretfully. 
 
 "It is not prejudice, mamma, but instinct, 
 like Arguses. That man is destined to do us some 
 great wrong, if we do not escape out of his 
 clutches. ^^
 
 CAPTAIN WIXSTAXLEY. 193 
 
 ^' It is sliameful of you to say sucli things/^ 
 cried the widow^ pale with anger. ''What have 
 you to say against him ? What fault can you find 
 with him? You cannot deny that he is most 
 gentlemanlike/^ 
 
 "No, mamma; he is a little too gentlemanlike. 
 He makes a trade of his gentlemanliness. He is 
 too highly polished for me." 
 
 "You prefer a rough young fellow, like 
 Eoderick Yawdrey^ who talks slangs and smells 
 of the stables.-'^ 
 
 " I prefer anyone who is good and true," re- 
 torted Yixen. " Eoderick is a man^ and not to 
 be named in the same breath with your fine 
 gentleman." 
 
 " I admit that the comparison would be vastly 
 to his disadvantage," said the widow. "But it^s 
 time to dress for dinner." 
 
 "And we are to dine with the Mortimers," 
 yawned Yixen. " \Yhat a bore ! " 
 
 This young lady had not that natural bent for 
 society which is symptomatic of her age. The 
 wound that pierced her young heart two years 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 VIXEN. 
 
 ago had not healed so completely that she could 
 find pleasure in inane conversation across a primeval 
 forest of sixpenny ferns, and all the factitious 
 liveliness of a fashionable dinner-table.
 
 CHAPTEE XT. 
 
 The niglit of tlie ball came, and^ in spite of lier 
 aversion for Captain Winstanley and general 
 dislike of the whole things Violet Tempest began 
 the evening by enjoying herself. She was young 
 and energetic, and had an immense reserve of 
 animal spirits after her two years of sadness and 
 mourning. She danced with the partners her 
 friends brought her — some of the most eligible 
 men in the room — and was full of hfe and gaiety ; 
 yet the festival seemed to her in somewise horrible 
 all the time. 
 
 ^' If papa could know that we are dancing and 
 smiling at each other, as if all life was made up 
 of gladness, when he is lying in his cold grave! " 
 thought Vixen, after joining hands with her mother 
 in the ladies^ chain. 
 
 2
 
 196 VIXEN. 
 
 The widow looked as if she had never known a 
 care. She was conscious that Worth^s chef-cV oeuvre 
 was not thrown away. She saw herself in the great 
 mirrors which once reflected George and his lovely 
 Fitzherbert in their days of gladness — which re- 
 flected the same George later, old, and sick, and 
 weary. 
 
 '^ That French grande dame was right, ^^ thought 
 Mrs. Tempest, " who said, ' Le noir est si flattant 
 pour les blondes.' " 
 
 Black was flattering for Vixen's auburn hair 
 also. Though her indifferent eye rarely glanced 
 at the mirrored walls, she had never looked lovelier. 
 A tall graceful figure, in billowy black tulle, 
 wreathed with white chrysanthemums ; a queen- 
 like head, with a red-gold coronal ; a throat like 
 an ivory pillar, spanned with a broad black ribbon, 
 fastened with a diamond clasp ; diamond stars in 
 her ears, and a narrow belt of diamonds round each 
 white arm. 
 
 '' How many waltzes have you kept for me ? '^ 
 Captain Winstanley asked presently, coming up to 
 Vixen.
 
 ^'IT SHALL BE MEASURE FOR MEASURE/^ 197 
 
 '^I hsiYe not kept waltzes for anyone/^ she 
 answered indifferently. 
 
 '^ But surely you were under a promise to keep 
 some for me ? I asked you a week ago/^ 
 
 " Did you ? I am sure I never promised any- 
 tliinof of tlie kind." 
 
 '^ Here is only one little shabby waltz left/' 
 said the Captain, looking at her programme. " May 
 I put my name down for that ? '' 
 
 " If you like/' answered Vixen indifferently ; 
 and then^ with the faintest suspicion of malice, she 
 added, '^ as mamma does not dance round dances."" 
 
 She was standing up for the Lancers presently,, 
 and her partner had just led her to her place, when 
 she saw that she had her mother and Captain 
 Winstanley again for her vis-ct-vis. She grew 
 suddenly pale, and turned away. 
 
 "Will you let me sit this out ?'' she said. " 1 
 feel awfully ill." 
 
 Her partner was full of concern, and carried her 
 off at once to a cooler room. 
 
 " It is too bad ! " she muttered to herself. "The 
 Lancers ! To go romping round with a lot of wild
 
 198 YIXEN. 
 
 young men and women. It is as bad as tlie Queen 
 in Hamlet/^ 
 
 This was tlie last dance before supper. Vixen 
 went in to the supper-room presently with her 
 attentive partner, who had kept by her side 
 devotedly while the lively scramble to the good 
 old English tunes was going on in the dancing- 
 room. 
 
 '^ Are you better ? ^' he asked tenderly_, fanning 
 her with her big black fan, painted with violets and 
 white chrysanthemums. " The room is abominably 
 hot.^^ 
 
 " Thanks. I^m quite well now. It v/as only 
 a momentary faintness. But I rather hate the 
 Lancers, don't you ? '' 
 
 " Well, I donH know. I think, sometimes, you 
 know, with a nice partner, they^re good fun. Only 
 one can^t help treading on the ladies^ trains, and 
 they wind themselves round one's legs like snakes. 
 I've seen fellows come awful croppers, and the lady 
 who has done it look so sweetly unconcerned. But 
 if one tears a lace flounce, you know, they look 
 daggers. It^s something too dreadful to feel one-
 
 "it shall be measure foe measure/^ 199 
 
 self walking into honiton at ten guineas a yard, and 
 the more one tries to extricate oneself the more 
 harm one does/^ 
 
 Yixen^s supper was the merest pretence. Her 
 mother sat opposite her, with Captain Winstanley 
 still in attendance. Vixen gave them one scathing 
 look, and then sat like an image of scorn. Her 
 partner could not get a word from her, and when 
 he offered her the fringed end of a cracker bonbon, 
 she positively refused to have anything to do 
 with it. 
 
 " Please donH,^' she said. " It's too inane. I 
 couldn't positively pretend to be interested in the 
 motto.'' 
 
 When she went back to the ball-room Captain 
 Winstanley followed her and claimed his waltz. 
 The band was just striking up the latest love-sick 
 German melody, " Weit von dir ! " a strain of 
 drawling tenderness. 
 
 " You had better go and secure your supper/' 
 said Vixen coldly. 
 
 " I despise all ball-suppers. This one most 
 particularly, if it were to deprive me of my waltz."
 
 200 VIXEN. 
 
 Vixen shrugged lier shoulders, and submitted to 
 take those few preliminary steps which are like the 
 strong swimmer^s shiverings on the bank ere he 
 plunges in the stream. And then she was whirling 
 round to the legato strains, '' Weit von dir ! Weit 
 von dir ! Wo ist mein Lehen's Lust ? — Weit von 
 dir — weit von dir ! '' 
 
 Captain Winstanley's waltzing was simple per- 
 fection. It was not the Liverpool Lurch, or the 
 Scarborough Scramble, the Bermondsey Bounce, or 
 the Whitechapel Wiggle ; it was waltzing pure and 
 simple, unaffected, graceful ; the waltzing of a man 
 with a musical ear, and an athlete^s mastery of the 
 art of motion. Vixen hated the Captain, but she 
 enjoyed the waltz. They danced till the last bar 
 died away in a tender diminuendo. 
 
 " You look pale,^^ said the Captain, " let us go 
 into the garden.^^ He brought her cloak and 
 wrapped it round her, and she took his offered arm 
 without a word. It was one of those rare nights in 
 late October, when the wind is not cold. There 
 was hardly the flutter of a leaf in the Pavilion 
 garden. The neighbouring sea made the gentlest
 
 music — a melanclioly ebb and flow of sounds like 
 tlie murmuring of some great imprisoned spirit. 
 
 In the searching light of day, when its adjacent 
 cab-stands and commonnesses are visible, and its 
 gravelled walks are peopled with nursemaids and 
 small children, the Pavilion garden can hardly be 
 called romantic. But by this tender moonlight, in 
 this cool stillness of a placid autumn midnight, 
 even the Pavilion garden had its air of romance 
 and mystery. And, after all, this part of Brighton 
 has a peculiar charm which all the rest of Brighton 
 lacks. It speaks of the past, it tells its story of 
 the dead. They were not great or heroic, perhaps, 
 those departed figures, whose ghosts haunt us in 
 the red and yellow rooms, and in the stiS town 
 garden ; but they had their histories. They hved, 
 and loved, and suffered; and, being dead so long, 
 come back to us in the softened light of vanished 
 days, and take hold of our fancy with their quaint 
 garments and antique head-gear, their powder, and 
 court-swords, and diamond shoe-buckles, and little 
 loves and little sorrows. 
 
 Yixen walked slowly along the shining gravel-
 
 202 VIXEN 
 
 pathj with her black and gold mantle folded round 
 her, looking altogether statuesque and unapproach- 
 able. They took one turn in absolute silence, and 
 then Captain Winstanley, who was not inclined to 
 beat about the bush when he had something par- 
 ticular to say, and a good opportunity for saying it, 
 broke the spell. 
 
 This was perhaps the first time, in an acquaint- 
 ance of more than six months, that he had ever 
 found himself alone with Violet Tempest, without 
 hazard of immediate interruption. 
 
 "Miss Tempest,^^ he began, with a firmness of 
 tone that startled her, " I want to know why you 
 are so unkind to me ? ^' 
 
 "I hardly know what you mean by unkind- 
 ness. I hope I have never said anything 
 uncivil ? " 
 
 " No ; but you have let me see very plainly that 
 you dislike me.^' 
 
 " I am sorry nature has given me an unplea- 
 santly candid disposition.'^ 
 
 Those keen gray eyes of the Captain's were 
 watching her intently. An angry look shot at her
 
 from under the straigM dark brows — swift as an 
 arrow. 
 
 " You admit then that you do not like me ? ^^ he 
 said. 
 
 Vixen paused before replying. The position 
 was embarrassing. 
 
 "I suppose if I were ladylike and proper, I 
 should protest that I like you immensely; that 
 there is no one in the world, my mother excepted, 
 whom I like better. But I never was particularly 
 proper or polite. Captain WiQstanley, and I must 
 confess there are very few people I do like, 
 and '' 
 
 '*" And I am not one of them,'^ said the Captain. 
 
 " You have finished my sentence for me.^^ 
 
 "That is hard upon me— no, Yiolet, you can 
 never know how hard. Why should you dislike 
 me ? You are the first woman who ever told me 
 so '^ (flushing with an indignant recollection of all 
 his victories), "I have done nothing to offend you. 
 I have not been obtrusive. I have worshipped at a 
 distance — but the Persian^s homage of the sun is 
 not more reverent "
 
 204 VIXEN. 
 
 ^' Oh^ pray don^t talk about Persians and the 
 sun/^ cried Violet. '^ I am not worthy that you 
 should be so concerned about my likes and dislikes. 
 Please think of me as an untaught inexperienced 
 girl. Two years ago I was a spoiled child. You 
 don^t know how my dearest father spoiled me. It 
 is no wonder I am rude. Remember this^ and 
 forgive me if I am too truthful.^^ 
 
 "You are all that is lovely/^ he exclaimed 
 passionately^ stung by her scorn and fired by her 
 beauty^ almost beside himself as they stood there in 
 the magical moonlight — for once in his life forget- 
 ting to calculate every move on lifers chessboard. 
 " You are too lovely for me. From the very first, 
 
 in Switzerland, when I was so happy no, I will 
 
 not tell you. I will not lay down my heart to be 
 trampled under your feet.''^ 
 
 "^ DonH/'' cried Vixen, transfixing him with the 
 angry fire of her eyes, "for Pm afraid I should 
 trample on it. I am not one of those gentle 
 creatures who go out of their way to avoid treading 
 on worms— or other reptiles.^^ 
 
 " You are as cruel as you are lovely,'^ he said,
 
 ''it shall be measure FOPt measuke/'' 205 
 
 " and your cruelty is sweeter than anotlier woman^s 
 kindness. Violet, I laugli at your dislike. Yes, 
 such aversion as that is often the besfinnino; of 
 closest Hking. I will not be disheartened. I 
 will not be put off by your scornful candour. What 
 if I were to tell you that you are the only woman 
 I ever loved ? '' 
 
 "Pray do not. It would transform passive 
 dislike into active hatred. I should be sorry for 
 that, because,''^ looking at him deliberately, with a 
 slow scorn, " I think my mother likes you.-'^ 
 
 " She has honoured me with her confidence, and 
 I hope I shall not prove unworthy of the trust. I 
 rarely fail to repay any benefit that is bestowed 
 upon me.^^ 
 
 '^ October nights are treacherous,^^ said Vixen, 
 drawing her cloak closer round her. " I think we 
 had better go back to the ball-room .^^ 
 
 She was shivering a little with agitated feeling, 
 in spite of that mantle of scorn in which she had 
 wrapped herself. This was the first man who had 
 ever called her lovely, who had ever talked to her 
 of love with manhood^s strong passion.
 
 206 VIXEN. 
 
 The Captain gave her his arm_, and they went 
 back to the glare and heat of the yellow dragons 
 and scarlet griffins. Another Lancer scramble was 
 in fnll progress^ to the old-fashioned jigging tunes, 
 but Mrs. Tempest was sitting among the matrons 
 in a corner by an open window. 
 
 ^^ Are we ever -going home any more^ mamma ? ^* 
 inquired Yixen. 
 
 '^ My dear Violet, I have been waiting for you 
 ever so long.''^ 
 
 '^ Why should you leave so early ? '^ exclaimed 
 Captain Winstanley. "There are half-a-dozen 
 more dances, and you are engaged for them all, I 
 believe, Miss Tempest.^' 
 
 " Then I will show mercy to my partners by 
 going away,^^ said Violet. "Are all balls as long 
 as this ? We seem to have been here ages ; I 
 expect to find my hair gray to-morrow morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "I really think we had better go,^^ said Mrs. 
 Tempest, in her undecided way. 
 
 She was a person who never quite made up her 
 mind about anything, but balanced every question
 
 '^IT SHALL BE MEASURE FOR MEASURE/' 207 
 
 gently, letting somebody else turn tlie scale for her 
 — ^her maid, her governess, her daughter ; she was 
 always trying to have her own way, but never quite 
 knew what her own way was, and just managed 
 things skilfully enough to prevent other people 
 having theirs. 
 
 " If you are determined, I will see you to your 
 carriage, and then the ball is over for me,'' said the 
 Captain gallantly. 
 
 He offered Mrs. Tempest his arm, and they 
 went out into the vestibule, where the Captain left 
 them for a few minutes, while he went into the 
 porch to hasten the arrival of the carriage. 
 
 '^ Where were you and Captain Winstanley all 
 that time, Violet ? " asked Mrs. Tempest. 
 
 *^ In the garden." 
 
 " How imprudent ! '' 
 
 '^ Indeed, dear mamma, it wasn't cold." 
 
 " But you were out there so long. What could 
 you find to talk about all that time ? " 
 
 " We were not talking all the time, only enjoying 
 the cool air and the moonlight." 
 
 " Mrs. Tempest's carriage ! " roared one of the
 
 208 VIXEN. 
 
 door-keepers, as if it had been his doing that the 
 carriage had appeared so quickly. 
 
 Captain Winstanley was ready to hand them to 
 their brougham. 
 
 '' Come and take a cup of tea to-morrow 
 afternoon, and let us talk over the ball," said the 
 widow. 
 
 " With infinite pleasure.''^ 
 " Shall we drop you at your house ? ^^ 
 '■''A thousand thanks — no — my rooilis are so 
 close, I''ll walk home.^^ 
 
 He went back for his overcoat, and then walked 
 slowly away, without another glance at the crowded 
 ball-room, or the corridors where the ladies who 
 were waiting for their carriages were contriving to 
 improve the time by a good deal of quiet, or even 
 noisy, flirtation. His lodgings were on the Old 
 Steine, close by. But he did not go home im- 
 mediately. There are times in a man^s life when 
 four walls are too small to hold the bigness of his 
 thoughts. Captain Winstanley paced the Marine 
 Parade for half an hour or so before he went 
 home.
 
 ''' Va loour la mcrep he said to himself^ at tlie 
 close of that half -hour's meditations ; " she is really 
 very nice, and the position altogether advantageous, 
 perhaps as much as one has the right to expect 
 in the general decadence of things. But, good 
 heavens, how lovely that girl is ! She is the first 
 woman who ever looked me in the face and told me 
 she disliked me ; the first woman who ever gave me 
 contemptuous looks and scornful words. And yet 
 — for that very reason perhaps — I '' 
 
 The dark brows contracted over the keen eyes, 
 which seemed closer than usual to the hawk 
 nose. 
 
 " Look to yourself, my queen, in the time to 
 come,'' he said, as he turned his back on the silvery 
 sea and moonlight sky. " You have been hard to 
 me and I will be hard to you. It shall be measure 
 for measure." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 '^ I HAVE NO WEONa^ WHERE I CAN CLAIM XO EIGHT.''^ 
 
 Going liome again. That was hard to bear. It 
 reopened all the old wounds. Violet Tempest felt 
 as if her heart must really break, as if this new 
 grief were sharper than the old one, when the 
 carriage drove in through the familiar gates, in 
 the December dusk, and along the winding shrub- 
 beried drive, and up to the Tudor porch, where 
 the lion of the Tempests stood, passant regardant, 
 with lifted paw and backward gaze, above the 
 stone shield. The ruddy firelight was shining 
 across the wide doorway. The old hearth looked 
 as cheerful as of old. And there stood the empty 
 chair beside it. That had been yixen^s particular 
 wish. 
 
 ^'^Let nothing be disturbed, dear mamma,^^ she 
 had said ever so many times, when her mother 
 was writing her orders to the housekeeper. " Beg
 
 "l HATE XO WROXG, WHEEE I CAN CLAIM XO EICtHT.''^ 211 
 
 them to keep everjtiiing just as it was in papa^s 
 time/' 
 
 ^' My dear, it will only make you grieve more." 
 
 '*" Yes ; but I had rather grieve for him than 
 forget him. I am more afraid of forgetting him 
 than of grieving too much for him/' said Vixen. 
 
 And now, as she stood on the hearth after her 
 journey, wrapped in black furs, a little black fur 
 toque crowning her ruddy gold hair, fancy filled 
 the empty chair as she gazed at it. Yes, she could 
 see her father sitting there in his hunting-clothes, 
 his whip across his knee. 
 
 The old pointer, the Squire's favoui-ite, came 
 whining to her feet. How old he looked ! Old, 
 and broken, and infirm, as if from much sorrow. 
 
 " Poor Nip ! poor Nip ! " she said, patting him. 
 "The joy of your life went with papa, didn't 
 it?" 
 
 "It's all very sad," murmured Mrs. Tempest, 
 loosening her wraps. "A sad, sad home-coming. 
 And it seems only yesterday that I came here as a 
 bride. Did I ever tjH you about my travelling- 
 dress, Violet? It was a shot-silk — they were 
 
 p 2
 
 212 VIXEN. 
 
 fastiouable then, you know — bronze and blue — tbe 
 loveliest combination of colour ! ^^ 
 
 " I can^t imagine a sbot-silk being anything 
 but detestable/' said Vixen curtly. '' Poor Nip ! 
 How f aitMul dogs are ! The dear thing is actually 
 crying ! '^ 
 
 Tears were indeed running from the poor old 
 eyes, as the pointer's head lay in Vixen's lap; as if 
 memory, kindled by her image, brought back the 
 past too keenly for that honest canine heart. 
 
 '^It is very mournful," said Mrs. Tempest. 
 '' Pauline, let us have a cup of tea." 
 
 She sank into an arm-chair opposite the fire. 
 iNot the Squire's old carved oak-chair, with its 
 tawny leather cushions. That must needs be sacred 
 evermore — a memento of the dead, standing beside 
 the hearth, revered as the image of an honoured 
 ancestor in a Roman citizen's home. 
 
 "I wonder if anyone is alive that we knew 
 here ? " said Vixen, lying back in her low chair, 
 and idly caressing the dogs. 
 
 " My dear Violet, why should people be dead ? 
 We have only been away two years."
 
 "l HAVE NO WRONG, WHERE I CAN CLADI XO EIGHT." 213 
 
 *' No ; but it seems so long. I liardly expect to 
 see any of tlie old faces. He is not here/" with a 
 sudden choking sob. ^^ Why should all be left — 
 except him ? " 
 
 '^ The workings of Providence are full of 
 mystery/" sighed the widow. " Dear Edward ! 
 How handsome he looked that day he brought me 
 home. And he was a noble-looking man to the 
 last. Not more than two spoonfuls of pekoe_, 
 Pauline. You ought to know how I like it by this 
 time."" 
 
 This to the handmaiden, who was making tea 
 at the gipsy table in front of the fire — the table at 
 which Vixen and Rorie had drunk tea so merrily on 
 that young man"s birthday. 
 
 After tea mother and daughter went the round 
 of the house. How familiar, how dear, how strange, 
 how sad all things looked ! The faithful servants 
 had done their duty. Everything was in its place. 
 The last room they entered was the Squire"s study. 
 Here were all his favourite books. The " Sporting 
 Magazine"" from its commencement, in crimson 
 
 Assheton
 
 214 VIXEN. 
 
 Smitli^s ^' Memoirs/^ and many others of tlie same 
 class. Books on farming and farriery, on dogs and 
 guns. Here were tlie Squire^s guns and whips, a 
 motley collection, all neatly arranged by his own 
 hands. The servants had done nothing but keep them 
 free from dust. There, by the low and cosy fireplace, 
 with its tiled hearth, stood the capacious crimson 
 morocco chair, in which the master of the Abbey 
 House had been wont to sit when he held audience 
 with his kennel -huntsman, or gamekeeper, his farm- 
 bailiff, or stud-groom. 
 
 " Mamma, I should like you to lock the door 
 of this room and keep the key, so that no one may 
 ever come liere,^^ said Vixen. 
 
 " My dear, that is just the way to prolong your 
 grief ; but I will do it if you like.^^ 
 
 ^^ Do, dear mamma. Or, if you will let me keep 
 the key, I will come in and dust the room every 
 day. It would be a pleasure for me, a mournful one, 
 perhaps, but still a pleasure.^' 
 
 Mrs. Tempest made no objection, and, when they 
 left the room. Vixen locked the door and put the 
 key in her pocket.
 
 "l HAVE XO WRONG, WHERE I CAN CLAIM XO RIGHT.'^ 215 
 
 Christmas was close at hand. The saddest time 
 for such a home-coming, Vixen thought. The 
 gardeners brought in their barrows of holly, and fir, 
 and laurel ; but Yixen would take no part in the 
 decoration of hall and corridors, staircase and 
 gallery — she who in former years had been so 
 active in the labour. The humble inhabitants of 
 the village rejoiced in the return of the family at the 
 great house, and Yixen was pleased to see the kind 
 faces again, the old men and women, the rosy- 
 cheeked children, and careworn mothers, withered 
 and wrinkled before their time with manifold 
 anxieties. She had a friendly word for every- 
 one, and gifts for all. Home was sweet to 
 her after her two years^ absence, despite the cloud 
 of sadness that overhung all things. She went 
 out to the stables and made friends with the old 
 horses, which had been out at grass all through 
 the summer, and had enjoyed a paradise of rest 
 for the last two years. Slug and Crawler, Mrs. 
 Tempest's carriage horses, sleek even-minded bays, 
 had been at Brighton, and so had Vixen's beautiful 
 thoroughbred, and a handsome brown for the
 
 216 VIXEN. 
 
 groom ; but all the rest had stayed in Hampshire. 
 Not one had been sold^ though the stud was a 
 wasteful and useless one for a widow and her 
 daughter. There was Bullfinch, the hunter Squire 
 Tempest had ridden in his last hour of life. Violet 
 went into his box_, and caressed him, and fed him, 
 and cried over him with bitterest tears. This 
 home-coming brought back the old sorrow with 
 overwhelming force. She ran out of the stables 
 to hide her tears, and ran up to her own room, 
 and abandoned herself to her grief, almost as 
 utterly as she had done on those dark days when 
 her father^s corpse was lying in the house. 
 
 There was no friendly Miss McCroke now to 
 be fussy and anxious, and to interpose herself 
 between Violet Tempest and her grief. Violet 
 was supposed to be " finished,^^ or, in other words, 
 to know everything under the sun which a young- 
 lady of good birth and ample fortune can be 
 required to know. Everything, in this case, con- 
 sisted of a smattering of French, Italian, and 
 German, a dubious recollection of the main facts 
 in modern history, hazy images of Sennacherib,
 
 *'l HAVE NO WEOXG, WHEEE I CAN CLAIM NO EIGHT." 217 
 
 Helen of Troy, Semiramis, Cyrus, the Battle of 
 Marathon, Eomulus and Remus, the murder of 
 JuHus Caesar, and the loves of Antony and Cleo- 
 patra flitting dimly athwart the cloudy back- 
 ground of an unmapped ancient world, a few 
 vague notions about astronomy, some foggy ideas 
 upon the constitution of plants and flowers, sea- 
 weeds and shells, rocks and hills — and a general 
 indifference for all literature except poetry and 
 novels. 
 
 Miss McCroke, having done her duty con- 
 scientiously after her hghts, had now gone to 
 finish three other young ladies, the motherless 
 daughters of an Anglo-Indian colonel, over whom 
 she was to exercise maternal authority and guidance, 
 in a tall narrow house in Maida Yale. She had 
 left Mrs. Tempest with all honours, and Yiolet 
 had lavished gifts upon her at parting, feeling 
 fonder of her governess in the last week of their 
 association than at any other period of her tute- 
 lage. To-day, in her sorrow, it was a relief to 
 Violet to find herself free from the futile con- 
 solations of friendship. She flung herself into
 
 218 VIXEN. 
 
 tlie arm-chair hj tlie fire^ and sobbed out lier 
 grief. 
 
 "Ob, kindest, dearest, best of fathers," she 
 cried, " wbat is borne without you ! " 
 
 And then she remembered that awful day of the 
 funeral when Roderick Vawdrey had sat with her 
 beside this hearth, trying to comfort her, and 
 remembered how she had heard his voice as a sound 
 far away, a sound that had no meaning. That was 
 the last time she had seen him. 
 
 " I don^t suppose I thanked him for his pity or 
 his kindness," she thought. " He must have gone 
 away thinking me cold and ungrateful ; but I was 
 like a creature at the bottom of some dark dismal 
 pit. How could I feel thankful to someone looking 
 down at me and talking to me from the free happy 
 world at the top ? " 
 
 Her sobs ceased gradually, she dried her tears, 
 and that unconscious pleasure in life which is a part 
 of innocent youth came slowly back. She looked 
 round the room in which so much of her childhood 
 had been spent, a room full of her own fancies 
 and caprices, a room whose prettiness had been
 
 "l HAVE NO WRONG, WHEEE I CAN CLAIM XO EIGHT." 219 
 
 bought with, her own money^ and was for the 
 most part the work of her own hands. 
 
 In spite of homers sorrowful association she was 
 glad to find herself at home. Mountains^, and lakes, 
 and sunny bays, and dark pathless forests, may be 
 ever so good to see, but there is something sweet in 
 our return to the famiHar rooms of home; some 
 pleasure in being shut snugly within four walls, 
 surrounded by one^s own belongings. 
 
 The wood-fire burnt merrily, and sparkled on 
 the many- coloured pots and pans upon the panelled 
 wall ; here an Etruscan vase of Indian red, there a 
 Moorish water-jar of vivid amber. Outside the deep 
 mullioned windows the winter blast was blowing, 
 with occasional spurts of flying snow. Argus crept 
 in presently, and stretched himself at full length 
 upon the fleecy rug. Vixen lay back in her low 
 chair, musing idly in the glow of the fire, and by- 
 and-by the lips which had been convulsed with grief 
 parted in a smile, the lovely brown eyes shone with 
 happy memories. 
 
 She was thinking of her old playfellow and 
 friend, Eorie.
 
 220 VIXEN, 
 
 '^ I wonder if lie will come to-day ?^^ she mused. 
 " I think lie will. He is sure to be at home for the 
 hunting. Yes, he will come to-day. What will he 
 be like, I wonder ? Handsomer than he was two 
 years ago ? Ko, that could hardly be. He is quite 
 a man now. Three-and-twenty ! I must not laugh 
 at him any more.^' 
 
 The thought of his coming thrilled her with a 
 new joy. She seemed to have been living an 
 artificial life in the two years of her absence, to 
 have been changed in her very self by change of 
 surroundings. It was almost as if the old Vixen 
 had been sent into an enchanted sleep, while some 
 other young lady, a model of propriety and good 
 manners, went about the world in Vixen's shape. 
 Her life had been made up, more or less, of 
 trifles and foolishness, with a background of grand 
 scenery. Tepid little friendships with agreeable 
 fellow-travellers at Nice; tepid little friendships 
 of the same order in Switzerland ; well-dressed 
 young people smiling at each other, and delight- 
 ing in each other^s company ; and parting, probably 
 for ever, without a pang.
 
 "l HAVE NO WRONG, WHERE I CAN CLAIM NO RIGHT." 221 
 
 But now she had come back to the friends, 
 the horses, the dogs, the rooms, the gardens, the 
 fields, the forests of youth, and was going to be 
 the real Yixen again ; the wild, thoughtless, high- 
 spirited girl whom Squire Tempest and all the 
 peasantry round about had loved. 
 
 " I have been ridiculously well-behaved," she 
 said to herself, '^ quite a second edition of mamma. 
 But now I am back in the Forest my good manners 
 may go hang. ^ My foot^s on my native heath, and 
 my name is McGregor.^ " 
 
 Somehow in all her thoughts of home — after 
 that burst of grief for her dead father — Roderick 
 Vawdrey was the central figure. He filled the 
 gap cruel death had made. 
 
 Would Eorie come soon to see her? Would 
 he be very glad to have her at home again ? 
 What would he think of her? Would he fancy 
 her changed ? For the worse ? For the better ? 
 
 ^^I wonder whether he would like my good 
 manners, or the original Yixen best ? " she 
 speculated. 
 
 The morning wore on, and still Violet Tempest
 
 222 VIXEN. 
 
 sat idly by tlie fire. She had made up lier mind 
 tliat Koderick would come to see her at once. She 
 was sufiiciently aware of her own importance to 
 feel sure that the fact of her return had been duly 
 chronicled in the local papers. He would come 
 to-day — before luncheon, perhaps, and they three, 
 mamma, Eorie, and herself, would sit at the round 
 table in the library — the snug warm room where 
 they had so often sat with papa. This thought 
 brought back the bitterness of her loss. 
 
 '^ I can bear it better if Eorie is with us,^^ she 
 thought, '^and he is almost sure to come. He 
 would not be so unkind as to delay bidding 
 welcome to such poor lonely creatures as mamma 
 and I.^^ 
 
 She looked at her little watch — a miniature 
 hunter in a case of black enamel, with a monogram 
 in diamonds, one of her father's last gifts. It was 
 one o'clock already, and luncheon would be at 
 half-past. 
 
 '^ Only half an hour for Rorie/' she thought. 
 
 The minute-hand crept slowly to the half-hour,
 
 '^I HAVE NO WEOXG, WHERE I CAX CLAIM XO EIGHT/^ 223 
 
 the lunclieon-gong sounded below_, and there had 
 been no announcement of Mr. Vawdrey. 
 
 *' He may be downstairs with mamma all this 
 time/^ thought Vixen. "Forbes would not tell me, 
 unless he were sent/^ 
 
 She went downstairs and met Forbes in the 
 hall. 
 
 ^' Oh, if you please, ma^am, Mrs. Tempest does 
 not feel equal to coming down to luncheon. She 
 will take a wing of chicken in her own room.''^ 
 
 " And I don't feel equal to sitting in the Hbrary 
 alone, Forbes,^^ said Violet ; ^' so you may tell 
 Phoebe to bring me a cup of tea and a biscuit. 
 Has nobody called this morning ? " 
 
 '' No, ma'am." 
 
 Vixen went back to her room, out of spirits 
 and out of temper. It was unkind of Eorie, cold, 
 neglectful, heartless. 
 
 '^ If he had come home after an absence of 
 two years — absence under such sad circumstances 
 — how anxious I should be to see him," she 
 thought. '' But I don^t suppose there is frost
 
 224 VIXEN. 
 
 enough to stop tlie hunting, and I daresay lie is 
 tearing across the heather on some big raw-boned 
 horse, and not giving me a thought. Or perhaps 
 he is dancing attendance upon Lady Mabel. But 
 no, I don^t think he cares much for that kind of 
 thing.'^ 
 
 She moved about the room a little, rearranging 
 things that were already arranged exactly as she 
 had left them two years ago. She opened a book 
 and flung it aside ; tried the piano, which sounded 
 muffled and woolly. 
 
 ^^My poor little Broadwood is no better for 
 being out at grass," she said. 
 
 She went to one of the windows, and stood 
 there looking out, expecting every instant to see 
 a dog-cart with a rakish horse, a wasp-like body, 
 and high red wheels, spin round the curve of the 
 shrubbery. She stood thus for a long time, as she 
 had done on that wet October afternoon of Korie's 
 home-coming ; but no rakish horse came swinging 
 round the curve of the carriage -drive. The flying 
 snow drifted past the window, the winter sky 
 looked blue and clear between the brief showers.
 
 **I HAVE NO WEOXa, WHERE I CAN CLAIM NO RIGHT." 225 
 
 the tall feathery fir-trees and straight slim cypresses 
 stood up against the afternoon light, and Vixen 
 gazed at them with angry eyes, full of resentment 
 against Eoderick Yawdrey. 
 
 '^The ground is too hard for the scent to 
 lie well, that^s one comfort,'^ she reflected 
 savagely. 
 
 And then she thought of the dear old kennels 
 given over to a new master ; the hounds whose 
 names and idiosyncrasies she had known as well 
 as if they had been human acquaintance. She had 
 lost all interest in them now. Ponto and Gellert, 
 Lightfoot, Juno, Ringlet, Lord Dundreary — they 
 had forgotten her, no doubt. 
 
 Here was someone at last, but not the one for 
 whom she was watching. A figure clothed in a 
 long loose black coat and slouched felt hat, and 
 carrying a weedy umbrella, trudged sturdily round 
 the curve, and came briskly towards the porch. 
 It was Mr. Scobel, the incumbent of the pretty 
 little Gothic church in the village — a church like 
 a toy. 
 
 He was a good man and a benevolent, this 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 VIXEN. 
 
 Mr. Scobel ; a hard-worker, and a blessing in 
 tlie neigbbourliood. But just at tliis moment 
 Violet Tempest did not feel grateful to him for 
 coming. 
 
 "What does he want ? ' ' she thought. "Blankets 
 and coals and things, I suppose.^' 
 
 She turned sullenly from the window, and 
 went back to her seat beside the fire, and threw 
 on a log, and gave herself up to disappointment. 
 The blue winter sky had changed to gray ; 
 the light was fading behind the feathery fir- 
 tops. 
 
 "Perhaps he will come to afternoon tea,^ she 
 thought; and then, with a discontented shrug of 
 her shoulders : " No, he is not coming at all. If 
 he cared about us he would have been the first 
 to bid us welcome; knowing, as he must, how 
 miserable it was for me to come home at all — 
 without papa ! '' 
 
 She sat looking at the fire. 
 
 " How idle I am ! ^^ she mused ; " and poor 
 Crokey did so implore me to go on with my 
 education, and read good useful books and enlarge
 
 "l HAVE NO WEONQ, WHERE I CAN CLAlil NO RIGHT." 227 
 
 my mind. I don^t think my poor little mind 
 would bear any more stretcLing, or that I should 
 be much happier if I knew all about Central 
 Africa, and the nearest way from Hindostan 
 to China, or old red sandstone, and tertiary, 
 and the rest of them. What does it matter 
 to me what the earth is made of, if I can 
 but be happy upon it ? No, I shall never try to be 
 a highly cultivated young woman. I shall read 
 Byron, and Tennyson, and Wordsworth, and Keats, 
 and Bulwer, and Dickens, and Thackeray, and 
 remain an ignoramus all the days of my life. I 
 think that would be quite enough for Eorie, if he 
 and I were to be much together ; for I don^t beheve 
 he ever opens a book at all. And what would be 
 the use of my talking to him about old red sand- 
 stone or the centre of Africa ? '' 
 
 Phoebe, Miss Tempest's fresh-faced Hampshire 
 maid, appeared at this moment. 
 
 " Oh, if you please, miss, your ma says would 
 you go to the drawing-room ? Mr. Scobel is with 
 her, and would like to see you.'' 
 
 Violet rose with a sigh. 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 VIXEN. 
 
 '^ Is my liair awfully untidy, Phoebe ? '^ 
 " I think I had better arrange the plaits, miss." 
 "That means that Fm an object. It^s four 
 o'clock ; I may as well change my dress for dinner. 
 I suppose I must go down to dinner ? '' 
 
 " Lor' yes, miss ; it will never do to shut your- 
 self up in your own room and fret. You're as pale 
 as them there Christmas roses already." 
 
 Ten minutes later Vixen went down to the 
 drawing-room, looking very stately in her black 
 Irish poplin, whose heavy folds became the tall full 
 figure, and whose dense blackness set off the ivory 
 skin and warm auburn hair. She had given just 
 one passing glance at herself in the cheval-glass, 
 and Vanity had whispered : 
 
 " Perhaps Korie would have thought me im- 
 proved ; but he has not taken the trouble to come 
 and see. I might be honeycombed by the small- 
 pox or bald from the effects of typhus, for aught 
 he cares." 
 
 The drawing-room was all aglow with blazing 
 logs, and the sky outside the windows looking pale 
 and gray, when Violet went in. Mrs. Tempest was
 
 "l HAVE NO WEONG, WHERE I CAN CLAIM NO EIGHT." 229 
 
 in her favourite arm- chair by the fire^ Tennyson's 
 latest poem on the velvet -covered gipsy table at 
 her side, in company with a large black fan and 
 a smelling-bottle. Mr. Scobel was sitting in a 
 low chair on the other side of the hearth, with his 
 knees almost up to his chin and his trousers 
 wrinkled up ever so far above his stout Oxford 
 shoes, leaving a considerable interval of gray 
 stocking. He was a man of about thirty, pale, and 
 unpretending of aspect, who fortified his native 
 modesty with a pair of large binoculars, which 
 interposed a kind of barrier between himself and 
 the outer world. 
 
 He rose as Violet came towards him, and turned 
 the binoculars upon her, glittering in the glow of 
 the fire. 
 
 "How tall you have grown,^' he cried, when 
 
 they had shaken hands. " And how '' here he 
 
 stopped, with a httle nervous laugh; "I really 
 don't think I should have known you if we had met 
 elsewhere/' 
 
 " Perhaps Rorie would hardly know me," thought 
 Vixen.
 
 230 VIXEN. 
 
 "HoY*^ are all the poor people ?^^ slie asked, 
 when Mr. Scobel had resumed his seat, and was 
 placidly caressing his knees, and blinking, or seem- 
 ing to blink, at the fire with his binoculars. 
 
 " Oh, poor souls ! '''' he sighed. " There has been 
 a great deal of sickness and distress, and want of 
 work. Yes, a very great deal. The winter began 
 early, and we have had some severe weather. James 
 Parsons is in prison again for rabbit- snaring. I'm 
 really afraid James is incorrigible. Mrs. Eoper's 
 eldest son, Tom — I daresay you remember Tom, an 
 idle little rufiian, who was always birdnesting — has 
 managed to get himself run over by a pair of Lord 
 EUangowan's waggon - horses, and now Lady 
 EUangowan is keeping the whole family. An aunt 
 came from Salisbury to sit up with the boy, and 
 was quite angry because Lady EUangowan did not 
 pay her for nursing him.^' 
 
 "That's the worst of the poor,'' said Mrs. 
 Tempest languidly, the firelight playing upon her 
 diamond rings, as she took her fan from the velvet 
 table and slowly unfolded it, to protect her cheek 
 from the glare, " they are never satisfied."
 
 •'l HAVE XO WROXG, WHERE I CAN CLAIM NO EIGHT." 231 
 
 '^ Isn^t it odd they are not/^ cried Vixen, coming 
 suddenly out of a deep reverie, "wlien they tave 
 everytliing tliat can make life delightful ?'^ 
 
 "I don't know about everytliing, Violet; but 
 really, when they have such nice cottages as your 
 papa built for them, so well- drained and ventilated, 
 they ought to be more contented/^ 
 
 '' What a comfort good drainage and ventilation 
 must be, when there is no bread in the larder ! ^' 
 said Violet. 
 
 " My dear, it is ridiculous to talk in that way ; 
 ]*ust in the style of horrid Eadical newspapers. I 
 am sure the poor have an immense deal done for 
 them. Look at Mr. Scobel, is he not always trying 
 to help them?'' 
 
 '^ I do what I can,'' said the clergyman modestly; 
 ''but I only wish it were more. An income o£ 
 sixteen shillings a week for a family of seven 
 requires a good deal of ekeing out. If it were not 
 for the assistance I get here, and in one or two 
 other directions, things would be very bad in 
 Beechdale." 
 
 Beechdale was the name of the village nearest
 
 232 VIXEN. 
 
 the Abbey House, tbe village to wbicb belonged 
 Mr. ScobeFs toy-cburcli. 
 
 '^ Of course, we must have tbe usual distribution 
 of blankets and wearing apparel on Christmas Eve/^ 
 said Mrs. Tempest. "It will seem very sad without 
 my dear husband. But we came home before 
 Christmas on purpose." 
 
 '^ How good of you ! It was very sad last year 
 when the poor people came up to the Hall to 
 receive your gifts, and there were no familiar faces, 
 except the servants\ There were a good many 
 tears shed over last year's blankets, I assure you.^^ 
 
 "Poor dear things ! '' sighed Mrs. Tempest, not 
 making it too clear whether she meant the blankets^ 
 or the recipients thereof. 
 
 Violet said nothing after her little ironical 
 protest about the poor. She sat opposite the fire, 
 between her mother and Mr. Scobel, but at some 
 distance from both. The ruddy light glowed on 
 her ruddy hair, and lit up her pale cheeks, and shone 
 in her brilliant eyes. The incumbent of Beechdale 
 thought he had never seen anything so lovely. She 
 was like a painted window ; a Madonna, with the
 
 "l HAVE NO WRONG, WHERE I CAN CLAIM NO RIGHT." 233 
 
 glowing colour of Rubens^ tlie divine grace of 
 Raffaelle. And those little speeches about the poor 
 had warmed his heart. He was Yiolet^s friend and 
 champion from that moment. 
 
 Mrs. Tempest fanned herself listlessly. 
 
 " I wish Forbes would bring the tea/^ she 
 said. 
 
 " ShaU I ring^ mamma ? '' 
 
 " No, dear. They have not finished tea in the 
 housekeeper's room, perhaps. Forbes doesnH like 
 to be disturbed. Is there any news, Mr. Scobel ? 
 We only came home yesterday evening, and have 
 seen no one.'"' 
 
 " News ! Well, no, I think not much. Lady 
 EUangowan has got a new orchid.' ' 
 
 " And there has been a new baby too, hasn't 
 there ?" 
 
 ^'Oh yes. But nobody talks about the baby, 
 and everybody is in raptures with the orchid." 
 
 ^' What is it like?" 
 
 " Rather a fine boy. I christened him last week." 
 
 '^ I mean the orchid." 
 
 '^ Oh, something really magnificent ; a brilliant
 
 234 VIXEN. 
 
 blue, a butterfly -shaped blossom tbat positively 
 looks as if it were alive. They say Lord Ellangowan 
 gave five hundred guineas for it. People come 
 from the other side of the county to see it.''^ 
 
 ^'1 think you are all orchid mad/^ exclaimed 
 Mrs. Tempest. ^^ Oh, here comes the tea ! '' as 
 Forbes entered with the old silver tray and Swansea 
 cups and saucers. " You'll take some, of course, 
 Mr. Scobel. I cannot understand this rage for 
 orchids — old china, or silver, or lace, I can under- 
 stand, but orchids — things that require no end of 
 trouble to keep them alive, and which I daresay are 
 as common as buttercups and daisies in the savage 
 places where they grow. There is Lady Jane 
 Vawdrey now, a perfect slave to her orchid- 
 houses.'^ 
 
 Violet's pale face flamed crimson at this mention 
 of Lady Jane. Not for worlds would she have 
 asked a question about her old playfellow, though 
 she was dying to hear about him. Happily no one 
 saw that sudden blush,^ or it passed for a reflection 
 of the fire-glow. 
 
 " Poor Lady Jane ! '' sighed the incumbent of
 
 "l HA.VE NO WEONG, WHERE I CAN CLAIM NO EIGHT." 235 
 
 Beectdale; looking very solemn, ^^ slie lias gone to 
 a land in wiiicli there are fairer flowers than ever 
 grew on tlie banks of tlie Amazon/' 
 
 '' Wliat do you mean ? '' 
 
 " Surely you liave heard '^ 
 
 " Xotliing/' exclaimed Mrs. Tempest. " I have 
 corresponded with nobody but my housekeeper 
 while I have been away. I am a wretched corres- 
 pondent at the best of times, and, after dear 
 Edward's death, I was too weary, too depressed 
 to write letters. What is the matter with Lady 
 Jane Vawdrey ? '' 
 
 '^ She died at Florence last November of bron- 
 chitis. She was very ill last winter, and had to be 
 taken to Cannes for the early part of the year; 
 but she came back in April quite well and strong, 
 as everyone supposed, and spent the summer at 
 Briarwood. Her doctors told her, however, that 
 she was not to risk another winter in England, so 
 in September she went to Italy, taking Lady Mabel 
 with her." 
 
 '' And Roderick ? " inquired Vixen. " He went 
 with them of course.''
 
 236 VIXEN. 
 
 "Naturally," replied Mr. Scobel. "Mr. 
 Vawdrey was with, his mother till the last.^^ 
 
 " Very nice of him/^ murmured Mrs. Tempest 
 approvingly ; " for, in a general way, I don^t think 
 they got on too well together. Lady Jane was 
 rather dictatorial. And now, I suppose, Roderick 
 will marry his cousin as soon as he is out of 
 mourning.'^ 
 
 "Why should you suppose so, mamma?" 
 exclaimed Violet. " It was quite a mistake of 
 yours about their being engaged. Roderick told 
 me so himself. He was not engaged to Lady 
 Mabel. He had not the least idea of marrying 
 her." 
 
 " He has altered his mind since then, I con- 
 clude," said Mr. Scobel cheerily — those binoculars 
 of his could never have seen through a stone-wall, 
 and were not much good at seeing things under 
 his nose — "for it is quite a settled thing that 
 Mr. Vawdrey and Lady Mabel are to be married. 
 It will be a splendid match for him, and will 
 make him the largest landowner in the Forest, 
 for Ashbourne is settled on Lady Mabel. The
 
 "l HAVE NO WEONG, WHERE I CAN CLAIM XO EIGHT." 237 
 
 Duke bouglit it himself, you know, and it is not 
 in tlie entail/^ added tke incumbent, explaining 
 a fact that was as familiar as the church catechism 
 to Violet, who sat looking straight at the fire, 
 holding her head as high as Queen Guinevere after 
 she had thrown the diamonds out of window. 
 
 '^I always knew that it would be so,^^ said 
 Mrs. Tempest, with the air of a sage. " Lady Jane 
 had set her heart upon it. Worldly greatness was 
 her idol, poor thing ! It is sad to think of her 
 being snatched away from everything. What has 
 become of the orchids ? " 
 
 " Lady Jane left them to her niece. They are 
 building houses to receive them at Ashbourne. ^^ 
 
 ^' Rather a waste of money, isn^t it ? "'^ suggested 
 Violet, in a cold hard voice. " Why not let them 
 stay at Briarwood till Lady Mabel is mistress 
 there ? '' 
 
 Mr. Scobel did not enter into this discussion. 
 He sat serenely gazing at the fire, and sipping his 
 tea, enjoying this hour of rest and warmth after 
 a long day^s fatigue and hard weather. He had 
 an Advent service at seven o'clock that evening,
 
 238 VIXEN. 
 
 and would but just have time to tramp liome 
 througli the winter dark^ and take a hurried meal^ 
 before he ran across to his neat little vestry and 
 shuffled on his surplice, while Mrs. Scobel played 
 her plaintive voluntary on the twenty - guinea 
 harmonium. 
 
 " And where is young Yawdrey now ? '' inquired 
 Mrs. Tempest blandly. 
 
 She could only think of the Squire of Briar- 
 wood as the lad from Eton — clumsy, shy, given 
 to breaking teacups, and leaving the track of his 
 footsteps in clay or mud upon the Aubusson 
 carpets. 
 
 " He has not come home yet. The Duke and 
 Duchess went to Florence just before Lady Janets 
 death, and I believe Mr. Yawdrey is with them 
 in Rome. Briarwood has been shut up since 
 September.^^ 
 
 "Didn^t I tell you, mamma, that somebody 
 would be dead,^^ cried Yiolet. '^I felt when we 
 came into this house yesterday evening, that every- 
 thing in our lives was changed." 
 
 '^ I should hardly think mourning can be very
 
 "l HAVE NO WEOXG, WHERE I CAN CLAIM NO RIGHT." 239 
 
 becoming to Lady Mabel/' ruminated Mrs. Tempest. 
 ^^ Tliose small sylpb-like figures rarely look well in 
 black.'' 
 
 Mr. Scobel rose with an effort to make his 
 adieux. The delicious warmth of the wood-fire, 
 the perfume of arbutus logs, had made him sleepy. 
 
 '' You'll come and see our new school, I hope," 
 he said to Violet, as they shook hands. '^ You and 
 your dear mamma have contributed so largely to 
 its erection that you have a right to be critical; 
 but I really think you will be pleased." 
 
 '^ We'll come to-morrow afternoon, if it's fine, 
 said Mrs. Tempest graciously. " You must bring 
 Mrs. Scobel to dinner at seven, and then we can 
 talk over all we have seen." 
 
 '^ You are very kind. I've my young women's 
 scripture-class at a quarter-past eight ; but if you 
 will let me run away for an hour " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 '^I can come back for Mrs. Scobel. Thanks. 
 We shall be delighted." 
 
 When he was gone, Violet walked towards the 
 door without a word to her mother.
 
 240 VIXEN. 
 
 '^ Violet^ are you going away again ? Pray 
 stop, cliildj and let us have a chat/' 
 
 " I have nothing to talk about, mamma." 
 
 " Nonsense. You have quite deserted me since 
 we came home. And do you suppose I don't feel 
 dull and depressed as well as you? It is not 
 dutiful conduct, Violet. I shall really have to 
 engage a companion if you go on so. Miss 
 McCroke was dreary, but she was not altogether 
 uncompanionable. One could talk to her.'' 
 
 " You had better have a companion, mamma. 
 Someone who will be lively, and talk pleasantly 
 about nothing particular all day long. No doubt a 
 well-trained companion can do that. She has an 
 inexhaustible well-spring of twaddle in her own 
 mind. I feel as if I could never be cheerful 
 again." 
 
 " We had better have stopped at Brighton '^ 
 
 '^ hate Brighton ! " 
 
 " Where we knew so many nice people " 
 
 ^' I detest nice people ! " 
 
 " Yiolet, do you know that you have an abomin- 
 able temper ? "
 
 "l HAVE NO WRONG, WHERE I CAN CLAIM NO RIGHT." 241 
 
 " I know that I am made up of wickedness ! '' 
 answered Vixen vehemently. 
 
 Ske left tke room without another word, and 
 went straight to her den upstairs, not to throw her- 
 self on the ground, and abandon herself to a 
 childish unreasoning grief, as she had done on the 
 night of Koderick^s coming of age, but to face the 
 situation boldly. She walked up and down the 
 dim fire-lit room, thinking of what she had just 
 heard. 
 
 " What does it matter to me ? Why should I 
 be so angry ? '' she asked herself. " We were 
 never more than friends and playfellows. And I 
 think that, on the whole, I rather dishked him. 1 
 know I was seldom civil to him. He was papa's 
 favourite. I should hardly have tolerated him but 
 for that.'' 
 
 She felt reheved at having settled this point 
 in her mind. Yet there was a dull blank sense of 
 loss, a vague aching in her troubled heart, which 
 she coald not get rid of easily. She walked to and 
 fro, to and fro, while the fire faded out and the 
 pale windows darkened. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 242 vixEisr. 
 
 " I hate myself for being so vexed about this," 
 she said, clasping her hands above her head with 
 a vehemence that showed the intensity of her 
 vexation. '^ Could I — I — Violet Tempest — ever be 
 so despicable a creature as to care for a man who 
 does not care for me ; to be angry, sorry, broken- 
 hearted, because a man does not want me for his 
 wife ? Such a thing is not possible j if it were, I 
 think I would kill myself. I should be ashamed to 
 live. I could not look human beings in the face. 
 I should take poison, or turn Eoman Catholic and 
 go into a convent, where I should never see the face 
 of a man again. No ; I am not such an odious 
 creature. I have no regard for Korie except as my 
 old playfellow, and when he comes home I will 
 walk straight up to him and give him my hand, 
 and congratulate him heartily on his approaching 
 marriage. Perhaps Lady Mabel will ask me to be 
 one of her bridesmaids. She will have a round 
 dozen, I daresay. Six in pink, and six in blue, 
 no doubt, like wax dolls at a charity-fair. Why 
 can^t people be married without making idiots of 
 themselves ? ^^
 
 **I HAVE NO WRONG, WHEEE I CAN CLAIM NO EIGHT." 243 
 
 The half-hour gong sounded at this moment, 
 and Vixen ran down to the drawing-room, where 
 the candles and lamps were lighted, and where 
 there was plenty of light literature lying about to 
 distract the troubled mind. Violet went to her 
 mother^s chair and knelt beside it. 
 
 " Dear mamma, forgive me for being cross just 
 now,^' she said gently ; ^^ I was out of spirits. I 
 will try to be better company in future — so that 
 you may not be obliged to engage a companion." 
 
 " My dear, I don^t wonder at your feeling low- 
 spirited," replied Mrs. Tempest graciously. '^ This 
 place is horribly duU. How we ever endured it, 
 even in your dear papa^s time, is more than I can 
 understand. It is like living on the ground-floor 
 of one of the Egyptian pyramids. We must really 
 get some nice people about us, or we shall both go 
 melancholy mad." 
 
 B 2
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Life went on smootlily enougli at tlie Abbey House 
 after that evening. Violet tried to make herself 
 happy among the surroundings of her childhood, 
 petted the horses, drove her basket-carriage with 
 the favourite old pony, went among the villagers, 
 rode her thoroughbred bay for long wild explora- 
 tions of the Forest and neighbouring country, 
 looked with longing eyes, sometimes, at the merry 
 groups riding to the meet, and went her lonely way 
 with a heavy heart. No more hunting for her. 
 She could not hunt alone, and she had declined all 
 friendly offers of escort. It would have seemed a 
 treason against her beloved dead to ride across 
 country by anyone else's side. 
 
 Everyone had called at the Abbey House and 
 welcomed Mrs. Tempest and her daughter back to 
 Hampshire. They had been asked to five-o'clock
 
 "he belongs to the tame-cat species." 245 
 
 tea at EUangowan Park, to see ttie marvellous 
 orcliid. They liad been invited to half-a-dozen 
 dinner-parties. 
 
 Violet tried lier utmost to persuade her mother 
 that it "was much too soon after her father^s death 
 to think of visiting. 
 
 " My dear Violet/' cried the widow, '^ after 
 going to that ball at Brighton, we could not 
 possibly decline invitations here. It would be an 
 insult to our friends. If we had not gone to the 
 baU '' 
 
 '^ We ought not to have gone,'' exclaimed 
 Vixen. 
 
 " My love, you should have said so at the 
 time." 
 
 " Mamma, you know I was strongly against it." 
 
 Mrs. Tempest shrugged her shoulders as who 
 should say : '' This is too much ! " 
 
 ^' I know your dress cost a small fortune, 
 and that you danced every waltz, Violet," she 
 answered, ^^ that is about all I do know." 
 
 " Very well, mamma, let us accept aU the 
 invitations. Let us be merry as grigs. Perhaps
 
 246 VIXEN. 
 
 it will make papa more comfortable in Paradise 
 to know how happy we are without him. He won^t 
 be troubled by any uneasy thoughts about our 
 grief, at all events/^ added Vixen, with a stifled 
 sob. 
 
 " How irreverently you talk. Mr. Scobel would 
 be dreadfully shocked to hear you/' said Mrs. 
 Tempest. 
 
 The invitations were all accepted, and Mrs. 
 Tempest for the rest of the winter was in a flutter 
 about her dresses. She was very particular as to 
 the exact shade of silver-gray or lavender which 
 might be allowed to relieve the sombre mass of 
 black; and would spend a whole morning in dis- 
 cussing the propriety of a knot of scarlet ribbon, 
 or a border of gold passementerie. 
 
 They went to Ellangowan Park and did homage 
 to the wonderful orchid, and discussed Roderick's 
 engagement to the Duke's only daughter. Every- 
 body said that it was Lady Jane's doing, and there 
 were some who almost implied that she had died on 
 purpose to bring about the happy conjuncture. 
 Violet was able to talk quite pleasantly about the
 
 marriage^ and to agree with everybody's praises 
 of Lady Mabel's beauty,, elegance, good style, and 
 general perfection. 
 
 Cliristmas and tlie New Year went by, not 
 altogether sadly. It is not easy for youtb to 
 be full of sorrow. The clouds come and go, there 
 are always glimpses of sunshine. Violet was grate- 
 ful for the kindness that greeted her everywhere 
 among her old friends, and perhaps a little glad of 
 the evident admiration accorded to her beauty in 
 all circles. Life was just tolerable, after all. She 
 thought of Eoderick Vawdrey as of something 
 belonging to the past; something which had no 
 part, never would have any part, in her future 
 life. He too was dead and passed away, like her 
 father. Lady Mabel's husband, the master of 
 Briarwood in esse, and of Ashbourne in posse, was 
 quite a different being from the rough lad with 
 whom she had played at battledore and shuttle- 
 cock, bilHards, croquet, and rounders. 
 
 Early in February Mrs. Tempest informed her 
 daughter that she was going to give a dinner. 
 
 "It wiU seem very dreadful without dearest
 
 248 VIXEN. 
 
 Edward/^ slie said ; '' but of course having accepted 
 hospitalities^ we are bound to return them.''' 
 
 '^Do you really think we ought to burst out 
 into dinner-parties so soon^ mamma ? ^^ 
 
 "Yes, dear, as we accepted the dinners. If we 
 had not gone it would have been different.'^ 
 
 " Ah/^ sighed Vixen, " I suppose it all began 
 with that ball at Brighton, like ^ Man^s first dis- 
 obedience, and the fruit ^ '^ 
 
 '^I shall miss poor McCroke to fill in the 
 invitation cards."*^ 
 
 " Let me do it, mamma. I can write a decent 
 hand. That is one of the few ladylike ac- 
 complishments I have been able to master; and 
 even that is open to objection as being too 
 masculine.^' 
 
 " If you would slope more, Violet, and make 
 your up-strokes finer, and not cross your T^s so 
 undeviatingly,^^ Mrs. Tempest murmured amiably. 
 " A lady^s T ought to be less pronounced. There 
 is something too assertive in your consonants.^^ 
 
 Violet wrote the cards. The dinner was to be 
 quite a grand affair, three weeks' notice, and a
 
 "he belongs to the tame-cat species." 249 
 
 French cook from The Dolphin at Southampton to 
 take the conduct of affairs in the kitchen ; whereby 
 the Abbey House cook declared afterwards that 
 there was nothing that Frenchman did which she 
 could not have done quite as well, and that his 
 wastefulness was enough to make a Christian 
 woman^s hair stand on end. 
 
 Three days before the dinner, Yixen, riding 
 Arion home through the shrubbery, after a long 
 morning in the Forest, was startled by the vision of 
 a dog-cart a few yards in front of her, a cart which, 
 at the first glance, she concluded must belong to 
 
 Koderick Yawdrey. The wheels were red, the 
 
 horse had a rakish air, the light vehicle swung from 
 side to side as it spun round the curve. 
 
 No ; that slim figure, that neat waist, that 
 
 military air did not belong to Eoderick Yawdrey. 
 " He here ! ^' ejaculated Yixen inwardly, with 
 
 infinite disgust. *' I thought we had seen the last 
 
 of him.^^ 
 
 She had been out for two hours and a half, and 
 
 felt that Arion had done quite enough, or she 
 
 would have turned her horse^s head and gone back
 
 250 VIXEN. 
 
 to tlie Forest, in order to avoid this unwelcome 
 visitor. 
 
 " I only hope mamma won't encourage tim to 
 come here/' slie thought ; ^' but I'm afraid that 
 smooth tongue of his has too much influence over 
 her. And I haven't even poor Crokey to stand by 
 me. I shall feel like a bird transfixed by the 
 wicked green eyes of a velvet-pawed murdering 
 cat." 
 
 '^And I have not a friend in the world/' she 
 thought. ^^ Plenty of pleasant acquaintance, ready 
 to simper at me and pay me compliments, because 
 I am Miss Tempest of the Abbey House, but not 
 one honest friend to stand by me, and turn that 
 man out of doors. How dare he come here ? I 
 thought I spoke plainly enough that night at 
 Brighton." 
 
 She rode slowly up to the house, slipped lightly 
 out of her saddle, and led her horse round to the 
 stables, just as she had led the pony in her happy 
 childish days. The bright thoroughbred bay was 
 as fond of her as if he had been a dog, and as tame. 
 She stood by his manger caressing him while he
 
 "he belongs to the tame-cat species." 251 
 
 ate kis corn, and feeling very safe from Captain 
 Winstanley^s society in the warm clover-scented 
 stable. 
 
 Slie dawdled away lialf-an-hour in this manner, 
 before she went back to the house, and ran up to 
 her dressing-room. 
 
 " If mamma sends for me now, I shan't be able 
 to go down,-'' she thought. " He can hardly stay 
 more than an hour. Oh, horror ! he is a tea- 
 drinker ; mamma will persuade him to stop till five 
 o'clock.'' 
 
 Violet dawdled over her change of dress as she 
 had dawdled in the stable. She had never been 
 more particular about her hair. 
 
 *^ rU have it all taken down, Phoebe," she told 
 her Abigail ; " I'm in no hurry." 
 
 " But really, miss, it's beautiful " 
 
 " Nonsense, after a windy ride ; don't be lazy, 
 Phoebe. You may give my hair a good brushing 
 while I read." 
 
 A tap at the door came at this moment, and 
 Phoebe ran to open it. 
 
 ^' Mrs. Tempest wishes Miss Tempest to come
 
 252 VIXEN. 
 
 down to tlie drawing-room directly/^ said a voice in 
 tlie corridor. 
 
 " Tliere now, miss/^ cried Phoebe, " how lucky 
 I didn^t take your hair down. It never was 
 nicer.''' 
 
 Violet put on her black dress, costly and simple 
 as the attire Polonius recommended to Ms son. 
 Mrs. Tempest might relieve her costume with what 
 bright or delicate hues she liked. Violet had worn 
 nothing but black since her father's death. Her 
 sole ornaments were a pair of black earrings, and 
 a large black enamel locket, with one big diamond 
 shining in the middle of it, like an eye. This locket 
 held the Squire's portrait, and his daughter wore it 
 constantly. 
 
 The Louis Quatorze clock on the staircase struck 
 five as Violet went down. 
 
 " Of course he is staying for tea," she thought, 
 with an impatient shrug of her shoulders. " He 
 belongs to the tame-cat species, and has an in- 
 exhaustible flow of gossip, spiced with mild male- 
 volence. The kind of frivolous ill-nature which 
 says : ' I would not do anyone harm for the
 
 "he BEIiONGS TO THE TAME-CAT SPECIES." 253 
 
 world, but one may as well think the worst of 
 everybody/ ^' 
 
 YeSj kettledrum was in full swing. Mrs. Scobel 
 had come over from her tiny vicarage for half-an- 
 hour's chat, and was sitting opposite her hostess's 
 fire, while Captain Winstanley lounged with his 
 back to the canopied chimneypiece, and looked 
 benignantly down upon the two ladies. The Queen 
 Anne kettle was hissing merrily over its spirit- 
 lamp, the perfume of the pekoe was delicious, the 
 logs blazed cheerily in the low fireplace, with its 
 shining brass andirons. Not a repulsive picture, 
 assuredly; yet Vixen came slowly towards this 
 charmed circle, looking black as thunder. 
 
 Captain Winstanley hurried forward to receive 
 her. 
 
 "How do you do?'' she said, as stiffly as a 
 child brought down to the drawing-room, bristling 
 in newly-brushed hair and a best frock, and then 
 turning to her mother, she asked curtly : '^ \VTiat 
 did you want with me, mamma ? '' 
 
 " It was Captain Winstanley who asked to see 
 you, my dear. Won't you have some tea ? '^
 
 254 VIXEN. 
 
 "Thanks, no/' said Vixen, seating herself in 
 a corner between Mrs. Scobel and the mantelpiece, 
 and beginning to talk about the schools. 
 
 Conrad Winstanley gave her a curious look from 
 under his dark brows, and then went on talking to 
 her mother. He seemed hardly disconcerted by 
 her rudeness. 
 
 " Yes, I assure you, if it hadn't been for the 
 harriers, Brighton would have been unbearable 
 after you left,'' he said. '^ I ran across to Paris 
 directly the frost set in. But I don't wonder you 
 were anxious to come back to such a lovely old 
 place as this." 
 
 "I felt it a duty to come back," said Mrs. 
 Tempest, with a pious air. . " But it was very sad 
 at first. I never felt so unhappy in my life. I 
 am getting more reconciled now. Time softens all 
 griefs." 
 
 " Yes," said the Captain, in a louder tone than 
 before, " Time is a clever horse. There is nothing 
 he won't beat if you know how to ride him." 
 
 " You'll take some tea ? " insinuated Mrs. 
 Tempest, her attention absorbed by the silver
 
 "he belongs to the TAME-CA.T SPECIES." 255 
 
 kettle, wMcli was just now conducting itself as 
 spitfireisHj as any blackened block-tin on a 
 kitcben bob. 
 
 " I can never resist it. And perbaps after tea 
 you will be so good as to give me tbe treat you 
 talked about just now." 
 
 '^To sbow you tbe bouse/' said Mrs. Tempest. 
 " Do you tbink we sball bave ligbt enougb ? " 
 
 " Abundance. An old bouse like tbis is seen 
 at its best in tbe twibgbt. Don't you tbink so, 
 Mrs. Scobel?'^ 
 
 ^' Ob, yes," exclaimed Mrs. Scobel, witb a 
 lively recollection of ber album. " ^ Tbey wbo 
 would see Melrose arigbt sbould see it ' — I tbink, 
 by-tbe-bye. Sir Walter Scott says, 'by moon- 
 ligbt.' " 
 
 '^ Yes, for an ancient Gotbic abbey ; but twiligbt 
 is better for a Tudor manor-bouse. Are you sure 
 it will not fatigue you ? " inquired tbe Captain, 
 witb an air of solicitude, as Mrs. Tempest rose 
 languidly. 
 
 " No ; I sball be very pleased to sbow you tbe 
 dear old placa. It is full of sad associations, of
 
 256 VIXEN. 
 
 course^ but I do not allow my mind to dwell upon 
 them more tlian I can help/' 
 
 " No/' cried Vixen bitterly. " We go to dinner- 
 parties, and kettledrums, and go into raptures 
 about orcliids and old cbina, and try to cure our 
 broken hearts that way.'' 
 
 " Are you coming, Violet ? " asked her mother 
 sweetly. 
 
 "No, thanks, mamma. I am tired after my 
 ride. Mrs. Scobel will help you to play cicerone ?" 
 
 Captain Winstanley left the room without so 
 much as a look at Violet Tempest. Yet her rude 
 reception had galled him more than any cross that 
 fate had lately inflicted upon him. He had fancied 
 that time would have softened her feelings towards 
 him, that rural seclusion and the society of rustic 
 nobodies would have made him appear at an ad- 
 vantage, that she would have welcomed the bright- 
 ness and culture of metropolitan life in his person. 
 He had hoped a great deal from the lapse of time 
 since their last meeting. But this sullen reception, 
 this silent expression of dislike, told him that 
 Violet Tempest's aversion was a plant of deep root.
 
 " The first woman wlio ever disliked me/^ lie 
 thought. " No wonder tliat slie interests me more 
 tlian other women. She is like that cliestnut mare 
 that tlirew me six times before I got the better 
 of her. Yet slie proved the best horse I ever bad, 
 and I rode her till sbe badn^t a leg to stand upon, 
 and tben sold ber for twice the money she cost 
 me. There are two conquests a man can make 
 over a woman, one to make ber love bim, the 
 other '' 
 
 " That suit of chain-armour was worn bj Sir 
 Gilbert Tempest at Acre/^ said tbe widow. '' The 
 plat^-armour belonged to Sir Percy, who was killed 
 at Bamet. Each of them was knighted before he 
 was five- and- twenty years old, for prowess in the 
 field. The portrait over tbe chimneypiece is the 
 
 celebrated Judge Tempest, wbo was famous for 
 
 Well, he did something wonderful, I know. Perhaps 
 Mrs. Scobel remembers,-" concluded Mrs. Tempest 
 feebly. 
 
 "It was at the trial of the seven bishops,^' 
 suggested the Yicar's wife. 
 
 "In tbe time of Queen Elizabeth,'^ assented 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 VIXEN. 
 
 Mrs. Tempest. ''^Tliat one witb. tlie lace cravat 
 and steel breastplate was an admiral in Charles 
 the Second's reign, and was made a baronet for 
 bis valiant behaviour when the Dutch fleet were at 
 Chatham. The baronetcy died with his son, who left 
 only daughters. The eldest married a Mr. Percival, 
 who took the name of Tempest, and sat for the 
 
 borough of Perhaps Mrs. Scobel knows. I have 
 
 such a bad memory for these things ; though I have 
 heard my dear husband talk about them often.'' 
 
 Captain Winstanley looked round the great 
 oak-panelled hall dreamily, and heard very little 
 of Mrs. Tempest's vague prattling about her hus- 
 band's ancestors. 
 
 What a lovely old place, he was thinking. A 
 house that would give a man importance in the 
 land, supported, as it was, by an estate bringing in 
 something between five and six thousand a year. 
 How much military distinction, how many battles 
 must a soldier win before he could make himself 
 master of such a fortune ? 
 
 "And it needed but for that girl to like me, 
 and a little gold ring would have given me the
 
 "he belongs to the tame-cat species." 259 
 
 freehold of it all/^ thouglit Conrad Winstanley 
 bitterly. 
 
 How many penniless girls^ or girls with, fortunes 
 so far beneath the measure of a fine gentleman's 
 needs as to be useless, had been over head and ears 
 in love with the elegant Captain ; how many pretty 
 girls had tempted him by their beauty and winsome- 
 ness to be false to his grand principle that marriage 
 meant promotion. And here was an obstinate minx 
 who could have realised all his aims, and whom he 
 felt himself able to love to distraction into the 
 bargain; and, behold, some adverse devil had 
 entered into her mind, and made Conrad Winstanley 
 hateful to her. 
 
 " It's like witchcraft,'' he said to himself. 
 '^ Why should this one woman be different from 
 all other women ? Perhaps it's the colour. That 
 ruddy auburn hair, the loveliest I ever saw, means 
 temper. But I conquered the chestnut, and I'll 
 conquer Miss Tempest— or make her smart for it." 
 
 '' A handsome music-gallery, is it not ? " said 
 the widow. "The carved balustrade is generally 
 admired." 
 
 s 2
 
 260 VIXEN. 
 
 Tlien they went into tlie dining-room^ and looked 
 cursorily at about a dozen large dingy pictures of 
 tlie Italian school, whicli a man who knew anything 
 about art would have condemned at a glance. Fine 
 examples of brown varnish^ all of them. Thence 
 to the library, with its carved- oak dwarf bookcases, 
 containing books which nobody had opened for a 
 generation — Livy, Gibbon, Hume, Burke, Smollett, 
 Plutarch, Thompson. These sages, clad in shiny 
 brown leather and gilding, made as good a lining 
 for the walls as anything else, and gave an air of 
 snugness to the room in which the family dined 
 when there was no company. 
 
 They came presently to the Squire's den, at the 
 end of a corridor. 
 
 ^'That was my dear husband's study,'' sighed 
 Mrs. Tempest. " It looks south, into the rose 
 garden, and is one of the prettiest rooms in the 
 house. But we keep it locked, and I think Violet 
 has the key." 
 
 '^Pray don't let Miss Tempest be disturbed," 
 said Captain Winstanley. '^ 1 have seen quite 
 enough to know what a delightful house you have
 
 " HE BELONGS TO THE TAME-CAT SPECIES." 261 
 
 — all the interest of days that are gone, all tlie 
 luxuries of to-day. I tldnk that blending of 
 past and present is most fascinating. I shonld 
 never be a severe restorer of antiquity, or re- 
 fuse to sit in a chair that wasn't undeniably 
 Gothic.'^ 
 
 *' Xh/' sighed the Vicar's vriie, Tvho was an 
 advanced disciple in the school of Eastlake, "but 
 don't you think that everything should be in 
 harmony ? If I were as rich as Mrs. Tempest, I 
 wouldn't have so much as a teapot that was not 
 strictly Tudor/' 
 
 " Then I'm afraid you'd have to go without a 
 teapot, and drink your tea out of a tankard," 
 retorted Captain Winstanley. 
 
 " At any rate, I would be as Tudor as I could 
 be." 
 
 "And not have a brass bedstead, a spring 
 mattress, a moderator lamp, or a coal-scuttle in 
 your house," said the Captain. " My dear madam, 
 it is all very well to be mediaeval in matters 
 ecclesiastic, but home comforts must not be sacri- 
 ficed to the pursuit of the aesthetic, or a modem
 
 262 
 
 VIXEN. 
 
 luxury discarded because it looks like an ana- 
 chronism. ''' 
 
 Mrs. Scobel was delighted with Captain Win- 
 stanley. He was just the kind of man to succeed 
 in a rustic community. His quiet self-assurance set 
 other people at their ease. He carried with him an 
 air of life and movement, as if he were the patentee 
 of a new pleasure. 
 
 " My husband would be so pleased to see you at 
 the vicarage, if you are staying any time in the 
 neighbourhood," she said. 
 
 But after the little gush of friendliness, she 
 reflected that there could not be much sympathy 
 between the man of society and her Anglican 
 parson ; and that it was she, and not Ignatius 
 Scobel, who would be glad to see Captain Win- 
 stanley at the vicarage. 
 
 ^^ I shall be charmed,^ ^ he replied. " I never 
 was so delighted with any place as your Forest. 
 It is a new world to me. I hate myself for 
 having lived in England so long without 
 knowing this beautiful corner of the land. I
 
 "he belongs to the tame-cat species." 263 
 
 am staying with my old chief, Colonel Pryke, at 
 Warham Courts and I am only here for a few 
 days/' 
 
 "But you are coming to my dinner-party?'"' 
 said Mrs. Tempest. 
 
 " That is a pleasure I cannot deny myself." 
 
 " And you will come and see our church and 
 schools ? '' said Mrs. S cob el. 
 
 " I shall be more than pleased. I passed your 
 pretty little churchy I think^ on my way here. There 
 was a tin tea-ket — a bell ringing '' 
 
 " For vespers/' exclaimed Mrs. Scobel. 
 
 The exploration of the house took a long time, 
 conducted in this somewhat desultory and dawdling 
 manner; but the closing in of night and the 
 sound of the dinner-gong gave the signal for 
 Captain Winstanley's departure. 
 
 Mrs. Tempest would have liked to ask him to 
 dinner; but she had an idea that Violet might 
 make herself objectionable, and refrained from this 
 exercise of hospitality. He was coming to the great 
 dinner. He would see her dress with the feather
 
 264 VIXEN. 
 
 trimming, which, was really prettier that Worth's 
 masterpiece,, or, at any rate, newer ; though it only 
 came from Madame Theodore, of Bruton Street. 
 Sustained by this comforting reflection, she parted 
 with him quite cheerfully.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 '''he was woethy to be loyed a lifetime/' 
 
 Conrad Winstanley had. come to ttie New Forest 
 with Ids mind resolved upon one of two things. He 
 meant to marry Violet Tempest or her mother. If 
 the case was quite hopeless with the daughter, he 
 would content himself with winning the lesser prize ; 
 and though Vanity whispered that there was no 
 woman living he might not win for himself if he 
 chose to be sufficiently patient and persevering, 
 instinct told him that Violet frankly detested him. 
 
 "After all/' argued Worldly Wisdom, "the 
 alternative is not to be despised. The widow is 
 somewhat rococo ; an old-fashioned jewel kept in 
 cotton-wool, and brought out on occasions, to shine 
 with a factitious brilliancy, like old Dutch garnets 
 backed with tinfoil ; but she is still pretty. She is 
 ductile, amiable, and weak to a degree that promises 
 a husband the sovereign dominion. Why break
 
 266 VIXEN. 
 
 your lieart for this fair devil of a daughter, wlio 
 looks capable, if offended, of anything in the way of 
 revenge, from a horsewhip to slow poison ? Are a 
 pair of brown eyes and a coronal of red gold hair 
 worth all this wasted passion ? " 
 
 " But the daughter is the greater catch,^^ urged 
 Ambition. '' The dowager^s jointure is well enough, 
 and she has the Abbey House and gardens for her 
 life, but Violet will be sole mistress of the estate 
 when she comes of age. As Violet^s husband, your 
 position would be infinitely better than it could be 
 as her stepfather. Unhappily, the cantankerous 
 minx has taken it into her head to dislike you.'' 
 
 " Stay,'' interjected the bland voice of Vanity, 
 '^may not this dislike be only an assumption, a 
 mask for some deeper feeling ? There are girls who 
 show their love in that way. Do not be in a hurry 
 to commit yourself to the mother until you have 
 made yourself quite sure about the daughter." 
 
 Mrs. Tempest's dinner-party was a success. It 
 introduced Captain Winstanley to all that was best 
 in the surrounding society ; for although in Switzer- 
 land he had seemed very familiar with the best
 
 " HE WAS WOETHY TO BE LOVED A LIFETIME." 267 
 
 people in the Forest, in Hampshire he appeared 
 almost a stranger to them. It was generally 
 admitted, however, that the Captain was an acquisi- 
 tion, and a person to be cultivated. He sang a 
 French comic song almost as well as IMonsieur de 
 Eoseau, recited a short Yankee poem, which none 
 of his audience had ever heard before, with telling 
 force. He was at home upon every subject, from 
 orchids to steam-ploughs, from ordnance to light 
 literature. A man who sang so well, talked so 
 well, looked so well, and behaved so well, 
 could not be otherwise than welcome in county 
 society. Before the evening was over, Captaia 
 Winstanley had been offered three hunters for the 
 next day^s run, and had been asked to write his 
 name in four birthday-books. 
 
 Violet did not honour him with so much as a 
 look, after her one cold recognition of his fii'st 
 appearance in the drawing-room. It was a party 
 of more than twenty people, and she was able to 
 keep out of his way without obvious avoidance of 
 him. He was stung, but had no right to be 
 offended.
 
 268 VIXEN. 
 
 He took Mrs. Scobel in to dinner, and Mrs. 
 Scobel played the accompaniment of his song, 
 being a clever little woman, able to turn her band 
 to anything. He would have preferred to be told 
 off to some more important matron, but was not 
 sorry to be taken under Mrs. ScobeVs wing. She 
 could give him the carte du pays, and would be 
 useful to him, no doubt, in the future ; a social Iris, 
 to fetch and carry for him between Beechdale and 
 the Abbey House. 
 
 " Do you know that I am quite in love with 
 your Forest ?^^ he said to Mrs. Tempest, standing in 
 front of the ottoman where that lady sat with two 
 of her particular friends ; " so much so, that I am 
 actually in treaty for Captain Hawbuck's cottage, 
 and mean to stay here till the end of the hunting.-'^ 
 
 Everybody knew Captain Hawbuck's cottage, a 
 verandahed box of a house, on the slope of the hill 
 above Beechdale. 
 
 " Tm afraid you'll find the drawing-room 
 chimney smoke," said a matter-of-fact lady in 
 sea-green ; " poor Mrs. Hawbuck was a martyr to 
 that chimney."
 
 ^''HE was WOETHT to be LOYED a LIFETniE." 269 
 
 "What does a bachelor want with a drawing- 
 room ? If there is one sitting-room in which I can 
 burn a good fire^ I shall be satisfied. The stable is 
 in very fair order/^ 
 
 '' The Hawbucks kept a pony - carriage/^ 
 assented the sea-green lady. 
 
 '*" If Mrs. Hawbuck accepts my offer, I shall 
 send for my horses next week/^ said the Captain. 
 
 Mrs. Tempest blushed. Her life had flowed in 
 so gentle and placid a current, that the freshness 
 of her soul had not worn off, and at nine-and-thirty 
 she was able to blush. There was somethino- so 
 significant in Captain Winstanley's desire to 
 establish himself at Beechdale, that she could not 
 help feeling fluttered by the fact. It might be on 
 Yiolet^s account, of course, that he came ; yet 
 Yiolet and he had never got on very well together. 
 
 "Poor fellow \'' she thought blandly, "if he 
 for a moment supposes that anything would tempt 
 me to marry again, he is egregiously mistaken.'' 
 
 And then she looked round the lovely old room, 
 brightened by a crowd of well-dressed people, and 
 thought that next to being Edward Tempest's wife,
 
 270 VIXEN. 
 
 tiie best thing in life was to be Edward Tempest's 
 widow. 
 
 '^ Dear Edward ! '' site mused^ '' how strange 
 that we should miss him so little to-night.'' ' 
 
 It had been with everyone as if the Squire 
 had never lived. Politeness exacted this ignoring 
 of the past,, no doubt; but the thing had been 
 so easily done. The noble presence^ the jovial 
 laugh, the friendly smile were gone, and no one 
 seemed conscious of the void — no one but Violet, 
 who looked round the room once when conversation 
 was liveliest, with a pale indignant face, resenting 
 this forgetfulness. 
 
 '^I wish papa's ghost would come in at that 
 door and scare his hollow-hearted friends,'' she 
 said to herself ; and she felt as if it would hardly 
 have been a surprise to her to see the door open 
 slowly and that familiar figure appear. 
 
 "Well, Violet," Mrs. Tempest said sweetly, 
 when the guests were gone, " how do you think 
 it all went off?" 
 
 '^ It," of course, meant the dinner-party. 
 
 '^I suppose, according to the nature of such
 
 "he was woethy to be loted a lifetime." 271 
 
 things, it was all riglit and proper/^ Yixen answered 
 coldly ; " but I should tLink it must have been 
 intensely painful to you, mamma/' 
 
 Mrs. Tempest sighed. She had always a large 
 selection of sighs in stock, suitable to every 
 occasion. 
 
 ^'I should have felt it much worse if I had 
 sat in my old place at dinner/' she said ; " but 
 sitting at the middle of the table instead of at the 
 end made things less painful. And I really think 
 it's better style. How did you like the new 
 arrangement of the glasses ? '' 
 
 '' I didn't notice anything new." 
 
 "My dear Violet, you are frightfully un- 
 observant." 
 
 "No, I am not/' answered Yixen quickly. 
 "My eyes are keen enough, beheve me." 
 
 Mrs. Tempest felt uncomfortable. She began 
 to think that, after aU, it might be a comfortable 
 thing to have a companion — as a fender between 
 herself and Violet. A perpetually present Miss 
 Jones or Smith would ward off these unpleasant- 
 nesses.
 
 272 VIXEN. 
 
 There are occasions, however^ on wMch. a 
 position must be faced boldly — in proverbial 
 phrase, the bull must be taken by tlie horns. 
 And here, Mrs. Tempest felt, was a bull which 
 must be so encountered. She knew that her 
 poor little hands were too feeble for the office; 
 but she told herself that she must make the 
 heroic attempt. 
 
 ^^ Violet, why have you such a rooted dislike 
 to Captain Winstanley ? " 
 
 '^Why is my hair the colour it is, mamma, or 
 why are my eyes brown instead of blue ? If you 
 could answer my question, I might be able to 
 answer yours. Nature made me what I am, and 
 nature has implanted a hatred of Captain Win- 
 stanley in my mind.'^ 
 
 " Do you not think it wrong to hate anyone — 
 the very word hate was considered unladylike when 
 I was a girl — without cause ? ^' 
 
 " I have cause to hate him, good cause, sufficient 
 cause. I hate all self-seekers and adventurers.^^ 
 
 "You have no right to call him one or the 
 other."
 
 "he was worthy to be loved a lifetiaie." 273 
 
 " Have I not ? What brings him here, but the 
 pursuit of his own interest ? Why does he plant 
 himself at our door as if he were come to besieo'e a 
 
 o 
 
 town ? Do you mean to say^ mamma, that you can 
 be so blind as not to see what he wants ? '' 
 
 " He has come for the hunting." 
 
 "Yes, but not to hunt our foxes or our stacks. 
 He wants a rich wife, mamma. And he thinks 
 that you or I will be foolish enough to marry him.''' 
 
 "There would be nothino^ unnatural in his 
 
 entertaininof some idea of that kind about 
 
 o 
 
 J^^\ 
 
 replied Mrs. Tempest, with a sudden assertion of 
 matronly dignity. " But for him to think of me 
 in that light would be too absurd. I must be some 
 years, perhaps four or five years, his senior, to 
 begin with.'' 
 
 " Oh, he would forgive you that ; he would not 
 mind that." 
 
 "And he ought to know that I should never 
 dream of marrying again." 
 
 " He ought, if he had any idea of what is right 
 and noble in a woman," answered Vixen. " But he 
 has not. He has no ideas that do not begin and 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 VIXEN. 
 
 end in himself and his own advantage. He sees 
 you here with a handsome house, a good income, 
 and he thinks that he can persuade you to marry 
 Mm." 
 
 "Violet, you must know that I shall never 
 marry/' 
 
 " I hope I do know it. But the world ought to 
 know it too. People ought not to be allowed to 
 whisper, and smile, and look significant ; as I saw 
 some of your friends do to-night when Captain 
 Winstanley was hanging over your chair. You 
 ought not to encourage him, mamma. It is a 
 treason against my father to have that man 
 here.'' 
 
 Here was a bull that required prompt and 
 severe handling, but Mrs. Tempest felt her powers 
 inadequate to the effort. 
 
 " I am surprised at you, Violet ! " she ex- 
 claimed ; " as if I did not know, as well as you, 
 what is due to my poor Edward; as if I should do 
 anything to compromise my own dignity. Is it to 
 encourage a man to ask him to a dinner-party, 
 when he happens to be visiting in the neighbour-
 
 *'hE was WOETHY to be loved a LIPETmE." 275 
 
 hood ? Can I forbid Captain Winstanley to take 
 the Hawbucks' cottage ? '^ 
 
 ^^'No, you have gone too far already. You 
 gave him too much encouragement in Switzerland, 
 and at Brighton. He has attached himself to us 
 like a limpet to a rock. You will not easily get rid 
 of him ; unless you let him see that you understand 
 and despise him.'' 
 
 '^ I see nothing despicable in him, and I am not 
 going to insult him at your bidding/'' answered the 
 widow, tremulous with anger. " I do not believe 
 him to be a schemer or an adventurer. He is a 
 gentleman by birth, education, profession. It is a 
 supreme insolence on your part to speak of him as 
 you do. What can you know of the world ? How 
 can you judge and measure a man like Captain 
 Winstanley? A girl like you, hardly out of the 
 nursery! It is too absurd. And understand at 
 once and for ever, Violet, that I will not be hec- 
 tored or lectured in this manner, that I will not be 
 dictated to, or taught what is good taste, in my 
 own house. This is to be my own house^ you 
 know, as long as I live." 
 
 T 2
 
 276 VIXEN. 
 
 " Yes ; unless you give it a new master/^ said 
 Violet gravely. "Forgive me if I have been too 
 vehement, mamma. It is my love that is bold. 
 Whom have I in this world to love now, except 
 you ? And when I see you in danger — when I see 
 the softness of your nature — — Dear mother, 
 there are some instincts that are stronger than 
 reason. There are some antipathies which are 
 implanted in us for warnings. Eemember what a 
 happy life you led with my dear father — his good- 
 ness, his overflowing generosity, his noble heart. 
 There is no man worthy to succeed him, to live in 
 his house. Dear mother, for pity's sake ■'' 
 
 She was kneeling at her mother's feet, clinging 
 to her hands, her voice half- choked with sobs. 
 Mrs. Tempest began to cry too. 
 
 " My dearest Violet, how can you be so foolish ? 
 My love, don't cry. I tell you that I shall never 
 marry again — never. Not if I were asked to be- 
 come a countess. My heart is true to your dear 
 father ; it always will be. I am almost sorry that 
 I consented to these scarlet bows on my dress, but 
 the feather trimming looked so heavy without them.
 
 277 
 
 and Theodore's eye for colour is perfect. Mj dear 
 child, be assured I shall carry his image with me 
 to my grave/' 
 
 "Dear mother, that is all I ask. Be as happy 
 as you can ; but be true to him. He was worthy 
 to be loved for a lifetime ; not to be put off with 
 half a hfe, half a heart.-''
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LADY SOUTHMINSTEE^S BALL. 
 
 Captain Winstanley closed with Mrs. Hawbuck 
 for tlie pretty little verandali-surrounded cottage 
 on tlie slope of tlie liill above Beechdale.' Captain 
 Hawbuck^ a retired naval man,, to whom the place 
 had been very dear, was in his grave, and his wife 
 was anxious to try if she and her hungry children 
 could not live on less money in Belgium than they 
 could in England. The good old post-captain had 
 improved and beautified the place from a farm- 
 labourer^s cottage into a habitation which was the 
 quintessence of picturesque inconvenience. Ceilings 
 which you could touch with your hand ; funny little 
 fireplaces in angles of the rooms ; a corkscrew stair- 
 case, which a stranger ascended or descended at 
 peril of life or limb ; no kitchen worth mentioning, 
 and stuffy little bedrooms under the thatch. Seen 
 from the outside the cottage was charming ; and if
 
 LADY SOUTmONSTER's BALL. 279 
 
 tlie captain and his family could only haYe lived 
 over tlie way, and looked at it^ they would have 
 had full value for the money invested in its im- 
 provement. Small as the rooms were, however^ 
 and despite that dark slander which hung over 
 the chinmeySj Captain Winstanley declared that 
 the cottage would suit him admirably. 
 
 " I like the situation/^ he said, discussing his 
 "bargain in the coffee-room at The Crown, Lynd- 
 hurst. 
 
 '^ I should rather think you did ! '^ cried ]\Ir. Bell, 
 the local surgeon. " Suits you down to the ground, 
 doesn't it ? '' 
 
 Whereby it will be seen that there was already 
 a certain opinion in the neighbourhood as to the 
 Captain's motive for planting himself at Beechdale 
 — so acute is a quiet Httle community of this kind 
 in divining the intentions of a stranger. 
 
 Captain Winstanley took up his quarters at 
 Beechdale Cottage in less than a week after 
 Mrs. Tempest's dinner-party. He sent for his 
 horses, and began the business of hunting in real 
 earnest. His two hunters were unanimously pro-
 
 280 VIXEN. 
 
 nounced screws ; but it is astonisliing how well a 
 good rider can get across country on a horse whicb. 
 other people call a screw. Nobody could deny 
 Captain Winstanley^s merits as a horseman. His 
 costume and appointments had all the finish of 
 Melton Mowbray^ and he was always in the first 
 flight. 
 
 Before he had occupied Captain PlawbucFs 
 cottage a month the new-comer had made friends 
 for himself in all directions. He was as much at 
 home in the Forest as if he had been native and to 
 the manner born. His straight riding, his good 
 looks, and agreeable manners won him every- 
 body's approval. There was nothing dissipated 
 or Bohemian about him. His clothes never smelt 
 of stale tobacco. He was as punctual at church 
 every Sunday morning as if he had been a family 
 man, bound to set a good example. He subscribed 
 liberally to the hounds, and was always ready 
 with those stray florins and half-crowns by which 
 a man purchases a cheap popularity among the 
 horse-holding and ragged-follower class. 
 
 Having distinctly asserted her intention of
 
 LADY SOUTHMIXSTER's BALL. 281 
 
 remaining a widow to Yiolet^ Mrs. Tempest allowed 
 herself tlie privilege of being civil to Captain 
 Winstanlej. He di'opped in at afternoon tea at 
 least twice a week ; he dined at the Abbey House 
 whenever the Scobels or any other intimate friends 
 were there " in a quiet way." He generally 
 escorted Mrs. Tempest and her daughter from 
 church on a Sunday morning, Violet persistently 
 loitering twenty yards or so behind them on the 
 narrow woodland path that led from Beechdale to 
 the Abbey House. 
 
 After walking home from church with Mrs. 
 Tempest, it was only natural that the Captain 
 should stop to luncheon, and after luncheon — the 
 Sabbath afternoon being, in a manner, a legiti- 
 mate occasion for dawdling — it was equally natural 
 for him to linger, looking at the gardens and 
 greenhouses, or talking beside the drawing-room 
 fire, till the appearance of the spitfire Queen- 
 Anne tea-kettle and Mrs. Tempest's infusion of 
 orange pekoe. 
 
 Sometimes the Scobels were present at these 
 Sunday luncheons, sometimes not. Violet was with
 
 282 VIXEN. 
 
 lier motlier, of course, on these occasions; but, 
 while bodily present, she contrived to maintain 
 an attitude of aloofness which would have driven 
 a less resolute man than Conrad Winstanley to 
 absent himself. A man more sensitive to the 
 opinions of others could hardly have existed in 
 such an atmosphere of dislike; but Captain 
 Winstanley meant to live down Miss Tempest's 
 aversion, or to give her double cause for hating him. 
 
 "Why have you given up hunting, Miss 
 Tempest ? " he asked one Sunday afternoon, ^hen 
 they had gone the round of the stables, and Arion 
 had been fondled and admired — a horse as gentle 
 as an Italian greyhound in his stable, as fiery as a 
 wild-cat out of it. 
 
 "Because I have no one I care to hunt with, 
 now papa is gone.^' 
 
 " But here in the Forest, where everybody 
 knows you, where you might have as many fathers 
 as the Daughter of the Eegiment " 
 
 " Yes, I have many kind friends. But there is 
 not one who could fill my father^ s place — for an 
 hour.''"'
 
 LADY SOUTHMINSTER's BALL. 283 
 
 " It is a pity/' said tlie Captain sympathetically. 
 " You were so fond of liunting_, were you not ? '^ 
 
 " Passionately.''^ 
 
 " Then it is a shame you should forego the 
 pleasure. And you must find it very dull^ I should 
 thinkj riding alone in the Forest.^' 
 
 " Alone ! I have my horse." 
 
 " Surely he does not count as a companion/' 
 
 " Indeed he does. I wish for no better com- 
 pany than Arion_, now papa is gone.'' 
 
 " Violet is so eccentric ! " Mrs. Tempest mur- 
 mured gently. 
 
 Captain Winstanley had taken Mrs. Hawbuck's 
 cottage till the first of May. The end of April 
 would see the last of the hunting, so this arrange- 
 ment seemed natural enough. He hunted in good 
 earnest. There was no pretence about him. It 
 was only the extra knowing ones, the little knot of 
 choice spirits at The Crown, who saw some deeper 
 motive than a mere love of sport for his residence 
 at Beechdale. These advanced minds had con- 
 trived to find out all about Captain Winstanley by 
 this time — the date of his selling out, his ostensible
 
 284 VIXEN. 
 
 and hidden reasons for leaving tlie army, tlie amount 
 of Lis income, and tlie general complexion of Ms 
 character. There was not much to be advanced 
 against him. No dark stories; only a leading 
 notion that he was a man who wanted to improve 
 his fortunes, and would not be over-scrupulous as 
 to the means. But as your over-scrupulous man is 
 one in a thousand, this was ranking Captain 
 Winstanley with the majority. 
 
 The winter was over; there were primroses 
 peeping out of the moss and brambles, and a shy 
 little dog-violet shining like a blue eye here and 
 there. The flaunting daffodils were yellow in every 
 glade, and the gummy chestnut buds were begin- 
 ning to swell. It was mid-March, and as yet there 
 had been no announcement of home-coming from 
 Roderick Vawdrey or the Dovedales. The Duke 
 was said to have taken a fancy to the Roman style 
 of fox-hunting ; Lady Mabel was studying art ; the 
 Duchess was suspected of a leaning to Romanism ; 
 and Roderick was dancing attendance upon the 
 family generally. 
 
 " Why should he not stay there with them ? ^^
 
 LADY SOUTHMDsSTEPt's BALL. 285 
 
 said Mr. Scobel, sipping liis pekoe in a comfortable 
 little circle of gossipers round Mrs. Tempest^s 
 gipsy table. "He bas very little else to do witli 
 liis life. He is a young man utterly without views 
 or purpose. He is one of our many Gallios. Tou 
 could not rouse bim to an interest in tbose stirrins: 
 questions that are agitating tbe Catholic Church to 
 her very foundation. He has no mission. I have 
 sounded him^ and found him full of a shallow good- 
 nature. He would build a church if people asked 
 him^ and hardly know, when it was finished, whether 
 he meant it for Jews or Gentiles.''^ 
 
 Yixen sat in her corner and said nothing. It 
 amused her rather — with a half-bitter sense of 
 amusement — to hear them talk about Eoderick. 
 He had quite gone out of her life. It interested 
 her to know what people thought of him in his new 
 world. 
 
 ^' If the Duke doesn^t bring them all home very 
 soon the Duchess will go over to Rome/^ said Mrs. 
 Scobel, with conviction. " She had been drifting 
 that way for ever so long. Ignatius isn^t high 
 enough for her.^'
 
 286 VIXEN. 
 
 Tlie Reverend Ignatius sigbed. He tardly saw 
 Ms way to ascending any Mgher. He liad already, 
 acting always in perfect good faitli and con- 
 scientious desire for tlie right, made his pretty 
 little churcli obnoxious to many of the simple old 
 Foresters, to whom a pair of brazen candlesticks on 
 an altar were among the abominations of Baal, and 
 a crucifix as hateful as the image of Ashtaroth; 
 obstinate old people of limited vision, who wanted 
 Mr. Scobel to stick to what they called the old 
 ways, and read the Liturgy as they had heard it 
 when they were children. In the minds of these 
 people, Mr. ScobeFs self-devotion and hard service 
 were as nothing, while he cut off the ten com- 
 mandments from the Sunday morning service, and 
 lighted his altar candles at the early celebration. 
 
 It was in this month of March that an event 
 impended which caused a considerable flutter among 
 the dancing population of the Forest. Lord South- 
 minster's eldest daughter. Lady Almira Ringwood, 
 was to marry Sir Ponto Jones, the rich ironmaster 
 — an alliance of ancient aristocracy and modern 
 wealth which was considered one of the grandest
 
 LADY SOUTHMINSTEe's BALL. 287 
 
 achievements of the age, like tlie discovery of 
 steam or tlie electric telegraph ; and after the 
 marriage, which was to be quietly performed in the 
 presence of about a hundred and fifty blood rela- 
 tions, there was to be a ball, to which all the 
 county families were bidden, with very little more 
 distinction or favouritism than in the good old 
 fairy -tale times, when the king^s herald went 
 through the streets of the city to invite everybody, 
 and only some stray Cinderella, cleaning boots and 
 knives in a back kitchen, found herself uninten- 
 tionally excluded. Lady Southminster drew the 
 line at county famihes, naturally, but her kindly 
 feelings allowed a wide margin for parsons, doctors, 
 and military men — and among these last Captain 
 Winstanley received a card. - 
 
 Mrs. Scobel declared that this ball would be a 
 grand thing for Violet. '^ You have never properly 
 come out, you know, dear," she said ; " but at 
 Southminster you will be seen by everybody; 
 and, as I daresay Lady Ellangowan will take you 
 under her wing, you^ll be seen to the best 
 advantage.^'
 
 288 VIXEN. 
 
 ^^Do you. think Lady EUangowan^s wing will 
 make any difference — in me ? '^ inquired Vixen. 
 
 ^'It will make a great deal of difference in 
 tlie Soutliminster set/' replied Mrs. Scobel,, who 
 considered herself an authority upon all social 
 matters. 
 
 She was a busy good-natured little woman, 
 the chosen confidante of all her female friends. 
 People were always appealing to her on small social 
 questions, what they ought to do or to wear on 
 such and such an occasion. She knew the ward- 
 robes of her friends as well as she knew her own. 
 ^^I suppose you'll wear that lovely pink/' she 
 would say when discussing an impending dinner- 
 party. She gave judicious assistance in the com- 
 position of a menu. ^'M.j love, everyone has 
 pheasants at this time of year. Ask your poulterer 
 to send you guinea-fowls, they are more distingue,'^ 
 she would suggest. Or : *"' If you have dessert ices, 
 let me recommend you coffee-cream. We had it 
 last week at EUangowan Park." 
 
 Vixen made no objection to the Southminster 
 ball. She was young, and fond of waltzing.
 
 LADY SOUTHMIXSTER's BALL. 289 
 
 WMrling easily round to the swing of some German 
 melody,, in a great room garlanded with, flowers^ 
 was a temporary cessation of all eartlily care, the 
 idea of wliicli was in no wise unpleasant to her. 
 She had enjoyed her waltzes even at that charity- 
 ball at the Pavilion, to which she had gone so 
 unwillingly. 
 
 The March night was fine, but blustery, when 
 Mrs. Tempest and her daughter started for South- 
 minster. The stars were shining in a windy sky, 
 the tall forest trees were tossing their heads, the 
 brambles were shivering, and a shrill shriek came 
 up out of the woodland every now and then like a 
 human cry for help. 
 
 Mrs. Tempest had offered to take Mrs. Scobel 
 and Captain Winstanley in her roomy carriage., 
 Mr. Scobel was not going to the ball. All such 
 entertainments were an abhorrence to him ; but 
 this particular ball, being given in Lent, was 
 more especially abhorrent. 
 
 " I shouldn't think of going for my own amuse- 
 ment,'' Mrs. Scobel told her husband, '' but I want 
 to see Violet Tempest at her first local dance. I 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 VIXEN. 
 
 want to see tlie impression site makes. I believe 
 she will be tlie belle of tlie ball." 
 
 '^ That would mean the belle of South Hants/' 
 said the parson. " She has a beautiful face for a 
 painted window — there is such a glow of colour." 
 
 '^She is absolutely lovely, when she likes/' 
 replied his wife ; " but she has a curious temper ; 
 and there is something very repellent about her 
 when she does not like people. Strange, is it not, 
 that she should not like Captain Winstanley ? " 
 
 '^ She would be a very noble girl under more 
 spiritual influences/' sighed the Reverend Ignatius. 
 " Her present surroundings are appallingly earthly. 
 Horses, dogs, a table loaded with meat in Lent and 
 Advent, a total ignoring of daily matins and even- 
 song. It is sad to see those we like treading the 
 broad path so blindly. I feel sorry, my dear, that 
 you should go to this ball." 
 
 " It is only on Violet's account," repeated Mrs. 
 Scobel. " Mrs. Tempest will be thinking of 
 nothing but her dress ; there will be nobody inte- 
 rested in that poor girl." 
 
 Urged thus, upon purely benevolent grounds,
 
 LADY SOUTHiMINSTEPt's BALL. 291 
 
 Mr. Scobel could not witMiold his consent ; more 
 especially as lie had acquired the habit of letting 
 his wife do what she liked on most occasions — a 
 marital custom not easily broken through. So Mrs. 
 Scobel, who was an economical little woman, " did 
 up " her silver-gray silk dinner-dress with ten 
 shillings^ worth of black tulle and pink rosebuds, 
 and felt she had made a success that Madame Elise 
 might have approved. Her faith in the silver-gray 
 and rosebuds was just a little shaken by her first 
 view of Mrs. Tempest and Violet : the widow in 
 black velvet, rose-poiut, and scarlet — Spanish as a 
 portrait by Velasquez; Violet in black and gold, 
 with stephanotis in her hair. 
 
 The drive was a long one, well over ten miles, 
 along one of those splendid straight roads which dis- 
 tinguish the New Forest. Mrs. Tempest and Mrs, 
 Scobel were in high spirits, and prattled agreeably 
 all the way, only giving Captain Winstanley time 
 to get a word in edgeways now and then. Violet 
 looked out of the window and held her peace. 
 There was always a charm for her in that dark 
 silent forest, those waving branches and flitting 
 
 u 2
 
 292 VIXEN. 
 
 clouds, stars gleaming like lights on a stormy sea. 
 Slie was not mucli elated at the idea of the ball, 
 and " that small, small, imperceptibly small talk '' 
 of her mother's and Mrs. ScobeFs was beyond 
 measure wearisome to her. 
 
 "I hope we shall get there after the Elian- 
 go wans,^' said Mrs. Scobel, when they had driven 
 through the little to^vn of Eingwood, and were 
 entering a land of level pastures and fertilising 
 streams, which seemed wonderfully tame after the 
 undulating forest ; ^^ it would be so much nicer 
 for Violet to be in the Ellangowan set from the 
 first.'' 
 
 '' I beg to state that Miss Tempest has promised 
 me the first waltz," said Captain Winstanley. " I 
 am not going to be ousted by any offshoot of 
 nobility in Lady Ellangowan^s set." 
 
 ''^Oh, of course, if Violet has promised 
 
 What a lot of carriages ! I'm afraid there'll be 
 a block presently." 
 
 There was every prospect of such a calamity. 
 A confluence of vehicles had poured into a narrow 
 lane bounded on one side by a treacherous water-
 
 LADY SOUTHMINSTER's BALL. 293 
 
 meadow, on the other by a garden-wall. They 
 all came to a standstill, as Mrs. Scobel had pro- 
 phesied. For a quarter of an hour there was no 
 progress whatever, and a good deal of recrimination 
 among coachmen, and then the rest of the journey 
 had to be done at a walking pace. 
 
 The reward was worth the labour when, at the 
 end of a long winding drive, the carriage drew 
 up before the Italian front of Southminster House ; 
 a white marble portico," long rows of tall windows 
 brilliantly lighted, a vista of flowers, and statues, 
 and lamps, and pictures, and velvet hangings, seen 
 through the open doorway. 
 
 " Oh, it is too lovely ! '' cried Violet, fresh as a 
 schoolgirl in this new delight; "first the dark 
 forest and then a house like this — it is like Fairy- 
 land.^^ 
 
 "And you are to be the queen of it — my 
 queen," said Conrad Winstanley in a low voice. 
 " I am to have the first waltz, remember that. If 
 the Prince of Wales were my rival I would not 
 give way." 
 
 He detained her hand in his as she aliofhted
 
 294 VIXEN. 
 
 from tlie carriage. Slie snatched it from Mm 
 angrily. 
 
 " I have a good mind not to dance at all/^ she 
 said. 
 
 ^^ Why not ?^^ 
 
 *' It is paying too dearly for the pleasure to be 
 obliged to dance with you.''^ 
 
 " In what school did you learn politeness,, Miss 
 Tempest?'^ 
 
 " If politeness means civility to people I despise, 
 I have never learnt it/^ answered Yixen. 
 
 There was no time for further skirmishing. He 
 had taken her cloak from her, and handed it to the 
 attendant nymph, and received a ticket ; and now 
 they were drifting into the tea-room, where a row 
 of ministering footmen were looking at the guests 
 across a barricade of urns and teapots, with coun- 
 tenances that seemed to say : ^^ If you want any- 
 thing, you must ask for it. We are here under 
 protest, and we very much wonder how our people 
 could ever have invited such rabble ! '* 
 
 " I always feel small in a tea-room when there 
 are only men in attendance,^^ whispered Mrs. Scobel,
 
 295 
 
 " they are so hauglity. I would sooner ask Glad- 
 stone or Disraeli to pour me out a cup of tea tlian 
 one of those supercilious creatures/^ 
 
 Lady Southminster was stationed in the Teniers 
 room — a small apartment at the beginning of the 
 suite which ended in the picture-gallery or ball- 
 room. She was what Joe Gargery called " a fine 
 figure of a woman/^ in ruby velvet and diamonds, 
 and received her guests with an indiscriminating 
 cordiality which went far to heal the gaping wounds 
 of county politics. 
 
 The EUangowans had arrived, and Lady Ellan- 
 gowaq, who was full of good-nature, was quite ready 
 to take Violet under her wing when Mrs. Scobel 
 suggested that operation. 
 
 " I can find her any number of partners/^ she 
 said. ^^ Oh. J there she goes — off already — with 
 Captain Winstanley."'^ 
 
 The Captain had lost no time in exacting his 
 waltz. It was the third on the programme, and 
 the band were beginniag to warm to their work. 
 They were playing a waltz by Offenbach — " Les 
 Traineaux^' — with an accompaniment of jingling
 
 296 VIXEN. 
 
 sleigh-bells — music that had an almost maddening 
 effect on spirits already exhilarated. 
 
 The long lofty picture-gallery made a magni- 
 ficent ball-room — a polished floor of dark wood — 
 a narrow line of light under the projecting cornice^ 
 the famous Paul Veronese^ the world-renowned 
 RubenS;, the adorable Titian — ideal beauty looking 
 down with art^s eternal tranquillity upon the whisk 
 and whirl of actual life — here a calm Madonna, 
 contemplating^ with deep unfathomable eyes, these 
 brief ephemera of a night — there Judith with a 
 white muscular arm holding the tyrant^ s head aloft 
 above the dancers — yonder Philip of Spain frowning 
 on this Lenten festival. 
 
 Violet and Captain Winstanley waltzed in a 
 stern silence. She was vexed with herself for her 
 loss of temper just now. In his breast there was 
 a deeper anger. ^' When will my day come ? '' he 
 asked himself. ^^When shall I be able to bow 
 this proud head, to bend this stubborn will ? '' It 
 must be soon — he was tired of playing his 
 submissive part — tired of holding his cards 
 hidden.
 
 LADY SOUTHMDfSTER's BALL. 297 
 
 They held on to the end of the waltz — the last 
 clash of the sleigh-bells. 
 
 ^^ Who's that girl in black and gold ? '' asked 
 a Guardsman of Lady Ellangowan ; '' those two 
 are the best dancers in the room — it's a thousand 
 to nothing on them.'' 
 
 That final clash of the bells brought the Captain 
 and his partner to anchor at the end of the gallery^ 
 which opened through an archway into a spacious 
 palm-house with a lofty dome. In the middle of 
 this archway, looking at the dancers, stood a figure 
 at sight of which Violet Tempest's heart gave a 
 great leap, and then stood still. 
 
 It was Eoderick Vawdrey. He was standing 
 alone, listlessly contemplating the ball-room, with 
 much less life and expression in his face than there 
 was in the pictured faces on the walls. 
 
 ^'That was a very nice waltz, thanks," said 
 Vixen, giving the Captain a little curtsy. 
 
 ^^ Shall I take you back to Mrs. Tempest ? '^ 
 
 Roderick had seen her by this time, and was 
 coming towards her with a singularly grave and 
 distant countenance, she thought ; not at all like
 
 298 VIXEN. 
 
 tlie Eorie of old times. But of course that was 
 over and done with. She must never call him 
 Eorie any more^ not even in her own thoughts. 
 A sharp sudden memory thrilled her^ as they stood 
 face to face in that brilliant gallery — the memory 
 of their last meeting in the darkened room on the 
 day of her father's funeral. 
 
 "How do you do?'' said Roderick^ with a 
 gush of originality. ^'Your mamma is here^ I 
 suppose." 
 
 " Haven't you seen her ? " 
 
 "No ; we've only just come." 
 
 "We/' no doubt, meant the Dovedale party, 
 of which Mr. Yawdrey was henceforth a member. 
 
 "I did not know you were to be here/' said 
 Vixen, " or even that you were in England." 
 
 *''We only came home yesterday, or I should 
 have called at the Abbey House. We have been 
 coming home, or talking about it, for the last 
 three weeks. A few days ago the Duchess took 
 it into her head that she ought to be at Lady 
 Almira's wedding — there's some kind of relation- 
 ship, you know, between the Ashbournes and the
 
 LADY SOUTHMINSTEr's BALL. 299 
 
 Soutliminsters — so we put on a spurt^ and here 
 we are/^ 
 
 '^'^I am very glad/' said Yixen_, not knowing 
 very well wliat to say; and then seeing Captain 
 Winstanley standing stiffly at her side^ with an 
 aggrieved expression of countenance^ she faltered : 
 ^^ I beg your pardon^ I don't think you have 
 ever met Mr. Yawdrey. Captain Winstanley — 
 Mr. Vawdrey.'' 
 
 Both gentlemen acknowledged the introduction 
 with the stiff est and chilliest of bows ; and then 
 the Captain offered Violet his arm,, and she^ having 
 no excuse for refusing it^ submitted quietly to be 
 taken away from her old friend. Eoderick made 
 no attempt to detain her. 
 
 The change in him could hardly have been 
 more marked^ Yixen thought. Tes^ the old Eorie 
 — ^play fellow^ scapegoat^ friend of the dear old 
 childish days — was verily dead and gone. 
 
 '■^ Shall we go and look at the presents ? '' asked 
 Captain Winstanley. 
 
 ^^ What presents?'' 
 
 "Lady Almira's wedding presents. They are
 
 300 VIXEN. 
 
 all laid out in tlie library. I liear they are very 
 splendid. Everybody is crowding to see them.^^ 
 
 '^ I dareseiy mamma would like to go^ and Mrs. 
 ScobeV suggested Vixen. 
 
 ^' Then we will all go together.'^ 
 
 They found the two matrons side by side on a 
 settee^ under a lovely girlish head by Greuze. 
 They were both delighted at the idea of seeing 
 the presents. It was something to do. Mrs. 
 Tempest had made up her mind to abjure even 
 square dances this evening. There was something 
 incongruous in v/idowhood and the Lancers ; espe- 
 cially in one^s own neighbourhood.
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 EOEIE ASKS A QUESTION. 
 
 The library was one of the finest rooms at South.- 
 minster. It was not like the library at Althorpe — 
 a collection for a nation to be proud of. There 
 was no priceless Decameron^ no Caxton Bible^ no 
 inestimable ''^Book of Hours/' or early Venetian 
 Virgil ; but as a library of reference^ a library for 
 all purposes of culture or enjoyment^ it left nothing 
 to be desired. It was a spacious and lofty room^ 
 lined from floor to ceiling with exquisitely bound 
 books ; f or^ if not a collector of rare editions. Lord 
 Southminster was at least a connoisseur of bindings. 
 Creamy vellum, flowered with gold, antique brown 
 calf, and russia in every shade of crimson and 
 brown, gave brightness to the shelves, while the 
 sombre darkness of carved oak made a background 
 for this variety of colour. 
 
 Not a mortal in the crowded library this evening
 
 302 VIXEN. 
 
 thougM of looking at tlie books. The room liad 
 been transformed into a bazaar. Two long tables 
 were loaded witb tbe wedding gifts wMcli rejoicing 
 friends and aspiring acquaintances bad lavished 
 upon Lady Almira. Each gift was labelled with 
 the name of the giver ; and the exhibition was full 
 of an intensely personal interest. Everybody 
 wanted to see what everybody else had given. 
 Most of the people looking at the show had made 
 their offerings^ and were anxious to see if their 
 own particular contributions appeared to ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 Here Mrs. S cob el was in her element. She 
 explained everything^ expatiated upon the beauty 
 and usefulness of everything. If she had assisted 
 at the purchase of all these gifts^ or had actually 
 chosen them^ she could not have been more familiar 
 with their uses and merits. 
 
 ^^You must look at the silver candelabra pre- 
 sented by Sir Ponto's workpeople^ so much more 
 sensible than a bracelet. I donH think Garrard — 
 yesj it is Garrard — ever did anything better; so 
 sweetly mythological — a goat and a dear little
 
 EORIE ASKS A QUESTIOX. 303 
 
 chubbj hoj, and ever so many savage -looking 
 persons with cymbals/^ 
 
 '^ Tlie education of Jupiter^ perhaps/^ suggested 
 Captain Winstanley. 
 
 '' Of course. The savage persons must be 
 teaching Mm music. Have you seen this liqueur 
 cabinet, dear Mrs. Tempest? The most exquisite 
 thing, from the servants at Southminster. Could 
 anything be nicer ? ^^ 
 
 ''^ Looks rather like a suggestion that Lady 
 Almira may be given to cura9oa on the quiet,^^ said 
 the Captain. 
 
 '^ And this lovely, lovely screen in crewels, by 
 the Ladies Eingwood, after a picture by Alma 
 Tadema/' continued Mrs. Scobel. ''Was there 
 ever anything so perfect ? And to think that our 
 poor mothers worked staring roses and gigantic 
 lilies in Berlin wool and glass beads, and imagined 
 themselves artistic ! ^' 
 
 The ladies went the round of the tables, in a 
 crush of other ladies, all rapturous. The Louis- 
 Quatorze fans, the carved ivory, the Brussels point, 
 the oxydised silver glove-boxes, and malachite
 
 304 VIXEN. 
 
 blotting-books, tlie pearls, opals, ormolu ; the 
 antique tankards and candlesticks, Queen-Anne 
 teapots ; diamond stars, combs, tiaras ; prayer-books, 
 and " Christian Years. ''^ The special presents which 
 stood out from this chaos of commonplace were — a 
 riviere of diamonds from the Earl of Southminster, 
 a cashmere shawl from Her Majesty, a basket of 
 orchids, valued at five hundred guineas, from Lady 
 Ellangowan, a pair of priceless crackle jars, a 
 Sevres dinner-service of the old hleu-du-roi, a set of 
 knives of which the handles had all been taken from 
 stags slaughtered by the Southminster hounds. 
 
 " This is all very well for the wallflowers,^' said 
 Captain Win Stanley to Violet, " but you and I are 
 losing our dances.^'' 
 
 '^ I don^t much care about dancing," answered 
 Vixen wearily. 
 
 She had been looking at this gorgeous display 
 of bracelets and teacups, silver-gilt dressing-cases, 
 and ivory hairbrushes, without seeing anything. 
 She was thinking of Roderick Vawdrey, and how 
 odd a thing it was that he should seem so utter a 
 stranger to her.
 
 RORIE ASKS A QUESTION. 305 
 
 '' He lias gone up into fhe ducal circle/^ slie 
 said to herself. ^' He is translated. It is almost as 
 if he had wings. He is certainly as far away from 
 me as if he were a bishop .^^ 
 
 They struggled back to the picture-gallery, and 
 here Lady Ellangowan took possession of Yiolet, 
 and got her distinguished partners for all the 
 dances till supper-time. She found herself re- 
 ceiving a gracious little nod from Lady Mabel 
 Ashbourne in the ladies' chain. Neither the lapse 
 of two years nor the experiences of foreign travel 
 had made any change in the hope of the Dovedales. 
 She was still the same sylph-like being, dressed 
 in palest green, the colour of a duck's egg, with 
 diamonds in strictest moderation, and pearls that 
 would have done honour to a princess. 
 
 ^'Do you think Lady Mabel Ashbourne very 
 beautiful ? '' Vixen asked Lady Ellangowan, curious 
 to hear the opinion of experience and authority. 
 
 ^^ No ; she's too shadowy for my taste," rephed 
 her ladyship, who was the reverse of sylph-like. 
 '^Wasn't there someone in Greek mythology who 
 fell in love with a cloud ? Lady Mabel would just 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 VIXEN. 
 
 suit tliat sort of person. And then slie is over- 
 educated and conceited ; sets up for a modern Lady- 
 Jane Grey^ quotes Greek plays, I believO;, and looks 
 astounded if people don't understand ker. Ske'll 
 end by establishing a female college, like Tennyson's 
 princess.^' 
 
 '^ Ok, but she is engaged to be married to 
 Mr. Yawdrey." 
 
 '^ Her cousin ? Very f oolisk ! Tkat may go off 
 by-and-by. First engagements seldom come to 
 anything.'' 
 
 Violet thought herself a hateful creature for 
 being inwardly grateful to Lady Ellangowan for 
 this speech. 
 
 She had seen Roderick spinning round with 
 his cousin. He was a good waltzer, but not a 
 graceful one. He steered his way well, and went 
 with a strong swing that covered a great deal of 
 ground ; but there was a want of finish. Lady 
 Mabel looked as if she were being carried away by 
 a maelstrom. And now people began to move 
 towards the supper-rooms, of which there were 
 two, luxuriously arranged with numerous round
 
 EOEIE ASKS A QUESTION. 307 
 
 tables in'tlie way that was still a novelty wlien 
 ^''Lothair" was written. This gave more room for 
 the dancers. The people for whom a ball meant 
 a surfeit of perigord pie, truffled turkey, salmon 
 mayonnaise, and early strawberries^ went for their 
 first innings, meaning to return to that happy 
 hunting-ground as often as proved practicable. 
 Violet was carried off by a j^artner who was so 
 anxious to take her to supper that she felt sure he 
 was dying to get some for himself. 
 
 Her cavalier found her a corner at a snug 
 little table with three gorgeous matrons. She ate 
 a cutlet and a teaspoonful of peas, took three sips 
 from a glass of champagne, and wound up with 
 some strawberries, which tasted as if they had been 
 taken by mistake out of the pickle-jar. 
 
 ^^ Fm afraid you haven't had a very good 
 supper,'' said her partner, who had been comfort- 
 ably wedged between two of the matrons, con- 
 suming mayonnaise and loate to his heart's 
 content. 
 
 "Excellent, thanks. I shall be glad to make 
 room for someone else." Whereat the unfortunate 
 
 X 2
 
 308 VIXEN. 
 
 young man was obliged to stand up^ leaving tlie 
 choicest morsel of truffled goose-liver on his plate. 
 
 The crowd in the picture-gallery was thinner 
 when Violet went back. In the doorway she met 
 Roderick Vawdrey. 
 
 ^''Haven^t you kept a single dance for me, 
 Violet ? '' he asked. 
 
 ^^ You didn^t ask me to keep one.^^ 
 
 ^^ Didn^t I ? Perhaps I was afraid of Captain 
 Winstanley^s displeasure. He would have objected, 
 no doubt.-'^ 
 
 ffWhy should he object, unless I broke an 
 engagement to him ? '' 
 
 " Would he not ? Are you actually free to be 
 asked by anyone ? If I had known that two hours 
 ago ! And now, I suppose, your programme is 
 full. Yes, to the very last galop; for which, 
 of course, you won^t stop. But there's to be 
 an extra waltz presently. You must give me 
 that.'' 
 
 She said neither yes nor no, and he put 
 her hand through his arm and led her up the 
 room.
 
 EOKIE ASKS A QUESTIOX. 309 
 
 '^ Have you seen mamma ? '^ 
 
 '"Yes, she thinks I am grown. She forgets 
 that I was one-and-twenty when we last met. 
 That does not leave much margin for growings 
 unless a man went on getting taller indefinitely^ 
 like Lord Southminster's palms. He had to take 
 the roof off his palm-house last year^ you know. 
 What a dreadful thing if I were lo become a 
 Norfolk giant — giants are indigenous to Xorfolk^ 
 aren^t they? — and were obhged to take the 
 roof off Briarwood. Have you seen the Duchess ? '^ 
 
 ^' Only in the distance. I hardly know her at 
 all, you know.-'^ 
 
 " That's absurd. You ought to know her very 
 well. You must be quite intimate with her by-and- 
 by, when we are all settled down as steady-going 
 married people.^'' 
 
 The little gloved hand on his arm quivered ever 
 so shghtly. This was a distinct allusion to his 
 approachiug marriage. 
 
 ^' Lovely room, isn't it ? Just the right thing 
 for a ball. How do you like the Rubens ? Very 
 grand — a magnificent display of carmines — beautiful,
 
 310 YIXEN. 
 
 if you are an admirer of Eubens. What a draughts- 
 man ! Tlie Italian school rarely achieved that 
 freedom of pencil. Isn't that Greuze enchanting ? 
 There is an innocence^ a freshness^ about his girlish 
 faces that nobody has ever equalled. His women 
 are not Madonnas^ or Junos^ or Helens — they 
 are the incarnation of girlhood; girlhood with- 
 out care or thought ; girlhood in love with a 
 kitten^ or weeping over a wounded robin-red- 
 breast/' 
 
 How abominably he rattled on. Was it the 
 overflow of joyous spirits? No doubt. He was 
 so pleased with life and fate, that he was obliged 
 to give vent to his exuberance in this gush of 
 commonplace. 
 
 '^ You remind me of Miss Bates, in Jane Austen's 
 ^ Emma/ '' said Vixen, laughing. 
 
 The band struck up " Trauriges KerZy^ a 
 waltz like a wail, but with a fine swing in it. 
 
 "Now for the old three-time,^' said Roderick; 
 and in the next minute they were sailing smoothly 
 over the polished floor, with all the fair pictured 
 faces, the crimson draperies, the pensive Madonnas,
 
 EORIE ASKS A QUESTION. 311 
 
 Dutch boors^ Italian temples^ and hills, and skies, 
 circling round them like the figures in a kaleido- 
 scope. 
 
 " Do you remember our boy-and-girl waltzes in 
 the hall at the Abbey House ? '' asked Eorie. 
 
 Happily for Vixen her face was so turned that 
 he could not see the quiver of her hps, the sudden 
 look of absolute pain that paled her cheeks. 
 
 ^' I am not hkely to forget any part of my child- 
 hood," she answered gravely. ^^It was the one 
 happy period of my life." 
 
 ^" You don't expect me to believe that the last 
 two years have been altogether unhappy." 
 
 "You may believe what you like. You who 
 
 knew my father, ought to know " 
 
 '^ The dear Squire ! do you think I am likely to 
 undervalue him, or to forget your loss ? No, 
 Violet, no. But there are compensations. I heard 
 of you at Brighton. You were very happy there, 
 were you not ? ^ ' 
 
 "I liked Brighton pretty well. And I had 
 Arion there all the while. There are some capital 
 rides on the Downs. ''^
 
 312 vixEx. 
 
 '^ Yes, and you had agreeable friends there/' 
 
 ^^Yes, we knew a good many pleasant people, 
 and went to a great many concerts. I heard all the 
 good singers, and Madame Goddard ever so many 
 times/' 
 
 They went on till the end of the waltz, and then 
 walked slowly round the room, glancing at the 
 pictures as they went by. The Duchess was not in 
 sight. 
 
 " Shall we go and look at the palms ? '' asked 
 Roderick, when they came to the archway at the 
 end of the gallery. 
 
 " If you like." 
 
 "This was the roof that had to be taken off, 
 you know. It is a magnificent dome, but I daresay 
 the palms will outgrow it within Lord South- 
 minster's time." 
 
 It was like entering a jungle in the tropics ; if 
 one could fancy a jungle paved with encaustic tiles, 
 and furnished with velvet-covered ottomans for the 
 repose of weary sportsmen. 
 
 There was only a subdued light, from lamps 
 thinly sprinkled among the ferns and flowers.
 
 EOEIE ASKS A QUESTION. 313 
 
 There were four large groups of statuary^ placed 
 judiciously^ and under the central dome there was 
 a fountain, where, half hidden by a veil of ghtter- 
 ing spray, Neptune was wooing Tyro, in the aspect 
 of a river-god, amongst bulrushes, lilies, and water- 
 plants. 
 
 Violet and her companion looked at the tropical 
 plants, and admired, with a delightful ignorance of 
 the merits of these specimens. The tall shafts and 
 the thick tufts of huge leaves were not Vixen^s idea 
 of beauty. 
 
 ^^ I like our beeches and oaks in the Forest ever 
 so much better,^'' she exclaimed. 
 
 ^^ Everything in the Forest is dear,^^ said 
 Korie. 
 
 Vixen felt, with a curious choking sensation, 
 that this was a good opening for her to say some- 
 thing pohte. She had always intended to con- 
 gratulate him, in a straightforward sisterly way, 
 upon his engagement to Lady Mabel. 
 
 '^ I am so glad to hear you say that,^^ she began. 
 ^' And how happy you must be to think that your 
 fate is fixed here irrevocably ; doubly fixed now ;
 
 314 VIXEN. 
 
 for you can liave no interest to draw you away from 
 us^ as you migiit if you were to marry a stranger. 
 Briarwood and Ashbourne united will make you tlie 
 greatest man among us." 
 
 "I don^t higlily value tliat kind of greatness, 
 Yiolet — a mere question of acreage ; but I am glad 
 to tbink myself anchored for life on my native 
 soil." 
 
 ^^ And you will go into Parliament and legislate 
 for usj and take care that we are not disforested. 
 Tbey have taken away too mucb already, with tbeir 
 horrid enclosures." 
 
 ^^ The enclosures will make splendid pine-woods 
 by-and-by." 
 
 ^^ Yes, when we are all dead and gone." 
 
 '^ I don^t know about Parliament. So long as 
 my poor mother was living I had an incentive to 
 turn senator, she was so eager for it. But now 
 that she is gone, I don^t feel strongly drawn that 
 way. I suppose I shall settle down into the 
 approved |)attern of country squire : breed fat 
 cattle — the aristocratic form of cruelty to animals — 
 spend the best part of my income upon agricultural
 
 EOEIE ASKS A QUESTIOX. 315 
 
 maclimerjj talk about guano^ like the Duke^ and 
 lecture delinquents at quarter-sessions/^ 
 
 " But Lady Mabel will not allow that. She will 
 be ambitious for you/^ 
 
 " I hope not. I can fancy no affliction greater 
 than an ambitious wife. No. My poor mother left 
 Mabel her orchids. Mabel will confine her ambition 
 to orchids and literature. I believe she writes 
 poetry, and some day she will be tempted to 
 publish a small volume^ I daresay. ''^olian 
 Echoes/ or ''Harp Strings/ or ''Broken Chords/ 
 or ' Consecutive Fifths/ or something of that kind.^^ 
 
 ^' You believe ! " exclaimed Vixen. " Surely 
 you have read some of Lady MabePs poetry^ or 
 heard it read. She must have read some of her 
 verses to you.'^ 
 
 ^^ Never. She is too reserved, and I am too 
 candid. It would be a dangerous experiment. I 
 should inevitably say something rude. Mabel 
 adores Shelley and Browning ; she reads Greek, 
 too. Her poetry is sure to be unintelligible, and I 
 should expose my obtuseness of intellect. I couldn't 
 even look as if I understood it.'^
 
 316 VIXEN. 
 
 " If I were Lady Mabel^ I think under sucli 
 circumstances I should leave off writing poetry/' 
 
 " That would be quite absurd. Mabel has a 
 hundred tastes which I do not share with her. 
 She is devoted to her garden and hothouses. I 
 hardly know one flower from another^ except the 
 forest wildlings. She detests horses and dogs. I 
 am never happier than when among them. She 
 reads ^schylus as glibly as I can read a French 
 newspaper. But she will make an admirable 
 mistress for Briarwood. She has just that tranquil 
 superiority which becomes the ruler of a large 
 estate. You will see what cottages and schools we 
 shall build. There will not be a weed in our 
 allotment gardens, and our farm-labourers will get 
 all the prizes at cottage flower-shows. 
 
 " You will hunt;, of course t" 
 
 ^^ Naturally ; don^t you know that I am to have 
 the hounds next year ? It was all arranged a few 
 days ago. Poor Mabel was strongly opposed to the 
 plan. She thought it was the first stage on the 
 road to ruin ; but I think I convinced her that it 
 was the natural thing for the owner of Briar-
 
 EOPJE ASKS A QUESTION. 317 
 
 wood; and the Duke was warmly in favour of 
 
 " The dear old kennels ! ^' said Vixen, " I have 
 never seen them since — since I came home. I ride 
 by the gate very often, but I have never had 
 courage to go inside. The hounds wouldn't know 
 me now.'' 
 
 '^ You must renew your friendship with them. 
 You will hunt, of course, next year ? " 
 
 ^' No, I shall never hunt again ! " 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ; I hear that Captain Win- 
 stanley is a mighty Nimrod — quite a Leicester- 
 shire man. He will wish you to hunt." 
 
 ^' What can Captain Winstanley have to do with 
 it ? " asked Vixen, turning sharply upon him. 
 
 ^'A great deal, I should imagine, by next 
 season." 
 
 ^'I haven't the least idea what you mean." 
 
 It was Koderick Vawdrey's turn to look 
 astonished. He looked both surprised and angry. 
 
 '^ How fond young ladies are of making 
 mysteries about these things," he exclaimed 
 impatiently ; " I suppose they think it enhances
 
 318 'YIXEN. 
 
 their importance. Have I made a mistake ? Have 
 my informants misled me ? Is your engagement 
 to Captain Winstanley not to be talked about 
 yet — only an understood thing among your own 
 particular friends ? Let me at least be allowed 
 tlie privilege of intimate friendship. Let me be 
 among the first to congratulate you.''' 
 
 ^^ What folly have you been listening to ? ^^ cried 
 Vixen ; ^' you, Koderick Vawdrey, my old play- 
 fellow — almost an adopted brother — to know me 
 so little." 
 
 '^What could I know of you to prevent my 
 believing what I was told? Was there anything 
 strange in the idea that you should be engaged 
 to Captain Winstanley ? I heard that he was a 
 universal favourite.-'^ 
 
 '^And did you think that I should like a 
 universal favourite ? '^ 
 
 "Why should you not? It seemed credible 
 enough, and my informant was positive; he saw 
 you together at a picnic in Switzerland. It'was 
 looked upon as a settled thing by all your friends." 
 
 ^'By Captain Winstanley's friends, you mean.
 
 EORIE ASKS A QUESTIOX. 319 
 
 They may liave looked upon it as a settled thing 
 that he should marry someone with plenty of 
 money, and they may have thought that my money 
 would be as useful as anyone else's/' 
 
 '^ Yioletj are you mystifying me ? are you trying 
 to drive me crazy ? or is this the simple truth ? '' 
 
 ^' It is the simple truth /^ 
 
 '^ You are not engaged to this man ? — you never 
 have been? — you don't care for him, never have 
 cared for him ? " 
 
 ^^ Never, never, never, never ! ^' said Violet, with 
 unmistakable emphasis. 
 
 ^^ Then I have been the most consummate " 
 
 He did not finish his sentence, and Violet did 
 not ask him to finish it. The ejaculation seemed 
 involuntary. He sat staring at the palms, and said 
 nothing for the next minute and a half, while Vixen 
 unfurled her great black and gold fan, and looked 
 at it admiringly, as if she had never seen it before. 
 
 "Do you really think those palms will break 
 through the roof again, in the present Lord South- 
 minster's time ? " Roderick inquired presently, with 
 intense interest.
 
 320 VIXEN. 
 
 Vixen did not feel herself called upon to reply- 
 to a question so purely speculative. 
 
 " I think I had better go and look for mamma 
 and Mrs. Scobel/^ she said ; '^ they must have come 
 back from the supper-room by this time.'^ 
 
 Koderick rose and offered her his arm. She 
 was surprised to see how pale he looked when they 
 came out of the dusk into the brilliant light of 
 the gallery. But in a heated room,, and between 
 two and three o'clock in the morning, a man may 
 naturally be a little paler than usual. 
 
 E/oderick took Violet straight to the end of the 
 room, where his quick eye had espied Mrs. Tempest 
 in her striking black and scarlet costume. He said 
 nothing more about the Duchess or Lady Mabel ; 
 and, indeed, took Violet past the elder lady^ who 
 was sitting in one of the deep -set windows with 
 Lady Southminster, without attempting to bring 
 about any interchange of civilities. 
 
 " Captain Winstanley has been kind enough to 
 go and look for the carriage, Violet,^' said Mrs. 
 Tempest. ^' I told him we would join him in the 
 vestibule directly I could find you. Where have
 
 EOEIE ASKS A QUESTION. 321 
 
 jo\i been all this time ? You were not in the 
 Lancers. Such a pretty set. Oh, here is Mrs. 
 Scobel ! " as the Yicar^s wife approached them on 
 her partner's arm, in a piteous state of dilapidation 
 — not a bit of tulle puffing left, and all her rosebuds 
 crushed as flat as dandelions. 
 
 " Such a delightful set ! " she exclaimed gaspingly. 
 
 " Pm afraid your dress has suffered^'' said her 
 partner. 
 
 " jSTot in the least,'' protested Mrs. Scobel, with 
 the fortitude of that ladylike martyr to a clumsy 
 carver, celebrated by Sydney Smith, who, splashed 
 from head to foot, and with rills of brown gravy 
 trickling down her countenance, vowed that not a 
 drop had reached her. 
 
 '' This," says the reverend wit, '' I esteem the 
 highest triumph of civihsation." 
 
 " Your carriage will be the third," the Captain 
 told Mrs. Tempest, while Eoderick was putting 
 Violet's cloak round her in the vestibule ; ^^ there 
 are a good many people leaving abeady.'^ 
 
 Roderick went with them to the carriage door, 
 and stayed in the porch till they were gone. The 
 VOL. I. ' T
 
 322 VIXEN. 
 
 last object Vixen saw under tlie Southminster lamps 
 was tlie pale grave face of lier old playfellow. 
 
 He went straight from tlie porch to the supper- 
 room,, not to find himself a place at one of the snug 
 little tables^, but to go to the buifet and pour out a 
 glass of brandy^ which he drank at a draught. 
 Yet^ in a general way, there was no man more 
 abstemious than Roderick Vawdrey. 
 
 A quarter of an hour afterwards he was waltzing^ 
 with Lady Mabel — positively the last dance before 
 their departure. 
 
 " Roderick/^ she said in an awe- stricken under- 
 tone, ^' I am going to say something very dreadful. 
 Please forgive me in advance.^ ^ 
 
 " Certainly/^ he said, with a somewhat appre- 
 hensive look. 
 
 ^' Just now, when you were talking to me, I 
 fancied you had been drinking brandy.^^ 
 
 "Ihad.^^ 
 
 ^^ Absolute undiluted brandy ! '^ 
 
 ^' Neat brandy, sometimes denominated ^ short.'' ^^ 
 
 '*■ Good heavens ! were you ill ? ^^ 
 
 " I had had what people call ^ a turn.^ ''
 
 CHAPTER XYII. 
 
 WHERE THE RED KING WAS SLAIN. 
 
 May had come. The red glow of the beech- 
 branches had changed to a tender green ; the oaks 
 were amber ; the winding forest-paths^ the deep 
 inaccessible glades where the cattle led such a 
 happy life^ were blue with dog-violets and golden 
 with primroses. Whitsuntide was close at hand, 
 and good Mr. Scobel had given up his mind to 
 church decoration, and the entertainment of his 
 school-children with tea and buns in that delightful 
 valley, where an iron monument, a little less artistic 
 than a pillar post-office, marks the spot where the 
 Red King fell. 
 
 Vixen, though not particularly fond of school- 
 feasts, had promised to assist at this one. It was 
 not to be a stiff or ceremonious affair. There was 
 to be no bevy of young ladies, oppressively attentive 
 to their small charges, causing the children to drink 
 
 Y 2
 
 324 VIXEN. 
 
 scalding tea in a paroxysm of shyness. Tlie whole 
 thing was to be done in an easy and friendly 
 manner ; with no aid but that of the school-mistress 
 and master. The magnates of the land were to 
 have no part in the festival. 
 
 ^'^The children enjoy themselves so much more 
 when there are no finely-dressed people making 
 believe to wait upon them/' said Mrs. Scobel ; ^^ but 
 I know they'll be delighted to have you^ Violet. 
 They positively adore you ! " 
 
 "Fm sure I can't imagine why they should/' 
 answered Violet truthfully. 
 
 ^' Oh, but they do. They like to look at you. 
 When you come into the school-room they're all 
 in a flutter ; and they point at you awfully, don't 
 they. Miss Pierson?" said Mrs. Scobel, appealing 
 to the school-mistress. 
 
 '^Yes, ma'am. I can't cure them of pointing, 
 do what I will." 
 
 '^ Oh, they are dear little children," exclaimed 
 Violet, '^ and I don't care how much they point at 
 me if they really like me. They make me such 
 nice little bob-curtsies when I meet them in the
 
 WHEEE THE EED KING WAS SLAIN. 325 
 
 Forest^ and they all seem fond of Argus. Fm 
 sure you have made them extremely polite^ Miss 
 Pierson. I shall be very pleased to come to your 
 school-feastj Mrs. Scobel ; and Til tell our good 
 old Trimmer to make no end of cakes." 
 
 ^*'My dear Violet,, pray don^t think of putting 
 Mrs. Trimmer to any trouble. Your dear mamma 
 might be angry." 
 
 ^^ Angry at my asking for some cakes for the 
 school-children, after being papa^s wife for seven- 
 teen years ! That couldn^t be." 
 
 The school-feast was fixed, three weeks in 
 advance, for the Wednesday in Whitsun week, and 
 during the interval there were many small meteor- 
 ologists in Beechdale school intent upon the 
 changes of the moon, and all those varied pheno- 
 mena from which the rustic mind draws its auguries 
 of coming weather. The very crowiug of early 
 village cocks was regarded suspiciously by the 
 school children at this period; and even the 
 harmless domestic pussy, sitting with his back 
 to the fire, was deemed a cat of evil omen. 
 
 It happened that the appointed Wednesday
 
 326 VIXEN. 
 
 was a day on wliicli Mrs. Tempest liad cliosen 
 to invite a few friends in a quiet way to lier 
 seven o'clock dinner ; among tlie few Captain 
 Winstanley^ wlio liad taken Mrs. Hawbuck's cottage 
 for an extended period of tkree months. Mrs. 
 Tempest kad known all about tke sckool-feast a 
 fortnight before she gave her invitations^ but had 
 forgotten the date at the moment when she ar- 
 ranged her little dinner. Yet she felt offended 
 that Violet should insist upon keeping her engage- 
 ment to the Scobels. 
 
 ^' But^ dear mamma,, I am of no use to you at 
 our parties/' pleaded Vixen; "if I were at all 
 necessary to your comfort I would give up the 
 school-feast.''^ 
 
 ^^ My dear Violet^, it is not my comfort I am 
 considering ; but I cannot help feeling annoyed 
 that you should prefer to spend your evening with 
 a herd of vulgar children — playing Oranges and 
 Lemons^ or Kiss in the K,ing, or some other ridi- 
 culous gamCj and getting yourself into a most un- 
 becoming perspiration — to a quiet home evening 
 with a few friends.'^
 
 WHERE THE EED KING WAS SLAIN. 327 
 
 " You see^ mamma, I know our quiet home 
 evenings witli a few friends so well. I could tell 
 you beforehand exactly what will happen, almost 
 the very words people will say — ^how j out jardinieres 
 will be admired, and how the conversation will 
 glance off from your ferns and pelargoniums to 
 Lady EUangowan^s orchids, and then drift back to 
 your old china ; after which the ladies will begin to 
 talk about dress, and the wickedness of giving 
 seven guineas for a summer bonnet, as Mrs. Jones, 
 or Green, or Eobinson has just done ; from which 
 their talk will glide insensibly to the iniquities of 
 modern servants ; and when those have been dis- 
 cussed exhaustively, one of the younger ladies will 
 tell you the plot of the last novel she has had from 
 Mudie^s, with an infinite number of you knows and 
 you sees, and then perhaps Captain Winstanley — ^he 
 is coming, I suppose — will sing a French song, of 
 which the company will understand about four 
 words in every verse, and then you will show 
 Mrs. Carteret your last piece of art needlework '' 
 
 '^ What nonsense you talk, Violet. However, if 
 you prefer the children at Stony Cross to the society
 
 328 VIXEN. 
 
 of your motlier and jour mo therms friends^ you must 
 take your own way/^ 
 
 ^''And you will forgive me in advance^ dear 
 mamma ? ^' 
 
 "My love^ I have nothing to forgive. I only 
 deplore a bent of mind whicli I can but think 
 unladylike.^' 
 
 Yixen was glad to be be let off with so brief a 
 lecture. In her heart of hearts she was not at all 
 sorry that her mother's friendly dinner should fall 
 on a day which she had promised to spend else- 
 where. It was a treat to escape the sameness of 
 that polite entertainment. Yes_, Captain Wins tanley 
 was to be there of course^ and prolonged acquaint- 
 ance had not lessened her dislike to that gentleman. 
 She had seen him frequently during his residence at 
 the Hawbuck cottage, not at her mother's house 
 only, but at all the best houses in the neighbour- 
 hood. He had done nothing to offend her. He 
 had been studiously polite ; and that was all. Not 
 by one word had he reminded Violet of that moon- 
 light walk in the Pavilion garden ; not by so much 
 as a glance or a sigh had he hinted at a hidden
 
 WHERE THE RED KING WAS SLAIN. 329 
 
 passion. So far slie could make no complaint 
 against him. But the attrition of frequent inter- 
 course did not wear off the sharp edge of her 
 dislike. 
 
 Wednesday afternoon came, and any evil 
 auguries that had been drawn from the noontide 
 crowing of restless village cocks were set at naught,, 
 for the weather was peerless; a midsummer sky and 
 golden sunlight shone upon all things ; upon white- 
 walled cottages and orchards, and gardens where the 
 pure lilies were beginning to blow, upon the yellow- 
 green oak leaves and deepening bloom of the beech, 
 and the long straight roads cleaving the heart of 
 the Forest. 
 
 Violet had arranged to drive Mr. and Mrs. 
 Scobel in her pony -carriage. She was at the door 
 of their snug httle vicarage at three o^ clock ; the 
 vivacious Titmouse tossing his head and jinghng 
 his bit in a burst of pettishness at the aggravating 
 behaviour of the flies. 
 
 Mrs. Scobel came fluttering out, with the Yicar 
 behind her. Both carried baskets, and after them 
 came an old servant, who had been Mrs. S cob el's
 
 330 VIXEN. 
 
 nurse^ a woman with a figure like a liogsliead of 
 wine, and a funny little liead at tlie top, carrying a 
 tMrd basket. 
 
 " The buns and bread have gone straight 
 from the village/^ said the Yicar^s wife. ^' How 
 well you are looking, Violet. I hope dear Mrs. 
 Tempest was not very angry at your coming 
 with us.^' 
 
 ^''Dear Mrs. Tempest didn^t care a straw," 
 Vixen answered, laughing. " But she thinks me 
 wanting in dignity for liking to have a romp with 
 the school-children.-" 
 
 All the baskets were in by this time, and 
 Titmouse was in a paroxysm of impatience ; so 
 Mr. and Mrs. Scobel seated themselves quickly^ 
 and Vixen gave her reins a little shake that meant 
 Gro, and off went the pony at a pace which was 
 rather like running away. 
 
 The Vicar looked slightly uneasy. 
 
 " Does he always go as fast as this ? " he 
 inquired. 
 
 '^ Sometimes a good deal faster. He^s an old 
 fencer, you know, and hasn't forgotten his jumping
 
 WHERE THE EED KING WAS SLAIN. 331 
 
 days. But of course I don^t let liim jump with, tlie 
 carriage." 
 
 "I should think not/^ ejaculated the Yicar; 
 *' unless you wanted to commit murder and suicide. 
 Don't you think you could make him go a little 
 steadier? He^s going rather like a dog with, a 
 tin kettle at his tail, and if the kettle were to tip 
 
 '' Oh, he'll settle down presently/' said Vixen 
 coolly. ^^ I don't want to interfere with him ; it 
 makes him ill-tempered. And if he were to take 
 to kicking " 
 
 " If you'll pull him up I think I'll get out and 
 walk/^ said i\Ir. Scobel, the back of whose head 
 was on a level with the circle which the pony's 
 hoofs would have been likely to describe in the 
 event of kicking. 
 
 " Oh, please don't ! '^ cried Vixen. " If you do 
 that I shall think you've no confidence in my 
 driving." 
 
 She pulled Titmouse together, and coaxed him 
 into an unobjectionable trot ; a trot which travelled 
 over the ground very fast, without giving the occu-
 
 332 VIXEN. 
 
 pants of tlie carriage tlie uncomfortable sensation 
 of sitting behind a pony intent on getting to 
 tbe sharp edge of tbe horizon and throwing himself 
 over. 
 
 They were going up a long hill. Halfway up 
 they came to the gate of the kennels. Violet 
 looked at it with a curious half-reluctant glance 
 that expressed the keenest pain. 
 
 " Poor papa/-* she sighed. ^' He never seemed 
 happier than when he used to take me to see the 
 hounds.'^ 
 
 ^' Mr. Yawdrey is to have them next year," said 
 Mrs. Scobel. '^ That seems right and proper. He 
 will be the biggest man in this part of the country 
 when the Ashbourne and Briarwood estates are 
 united. And the Duke cannot live very long — a 
 man who gives his mind to eating and drinking, 
 and is laid up with the gout twice a year." 
 
 " Do you know when they are to be married ? " 
 asked Vixen, with an unconcerned air. 
 
 "At the end of this year, I am told. Lady 
 Jane died last November. They would hardly have 
 the wedding before a twelvemonth was over. Have
 
 WHERE THE EED KING WAS SLAIN. 333 
 
 you seen mucli of ]\Ir. Yawdrey since lie came 
 back ? " 
 
 " I believe I have seen bim three times : once 
 at Lady Southminster's ball; once when he came 
 to call upon mamma; once at a kettledrum at 
 Ellangowan^ where he was in attendance upon Lady 
 Mabel. He looked rather like a little dog at the 
 end of a string ; he had just that meekly-obedient 
 look, combined with an expression of not wantino- 
 to be there_, which you see in a dog. If I were 
 engaged, I should not take my fiance to kettle- 
 drums.^^ 
 
 " Ahj Violet, when are you going to be 
 engaged ? " cried Mrs. Scobel, in a burst of play- 
 fulness. " Where is the man worthy of you ? '' 
 
 " Nowhere ; unless Heaven would make me such 
 a man as my father .''^ 
 
 '^ You and Mr. Yawdrey were such friends when 
 you were girl and boy. I used sometimes to fancy 
 that childish friendship of yours would lead to a 
 lasting attachment.^^ 
 
 " Did you ? That was a great mistake. I am 
 not half good enough for Mr. Yawdrey. I was well
 
 334 VIXEN. 
 
 enougli for a playfellow^ but lie wants sometWiig 
 much nearer perfection in a wife/^ 
 
 " But your tastes are so similar." 
 
 " The very reason we should not care for each 
 other.'' 
 
 '^ ^ In joining contrasts lieth love's delight.' 
 That's what a poet has said^ yet I can't quite 
 believe it_, Yiolet." 
 
 '■'' But you see the event proves the poet's axiom 
 true. Here is my old playfellow^, who cares for 
 nothing but horses and hounds and a country life^ 
 devotedly attached to Lady Mabel Ashbourne, who 
 reads Greek plays with as much enjoyment as other 
 young ladies derive from a stirring novel, and who 
 hasn't an idea or an attitude that is not strictly 
 aesthetic." 
 
 ''Do you know, Violet, I am very much afraid 
 that this marriage is rather the result of calculation 
 than of genuine affection ? " said Mrs. Scobel 
 solemnly. 
 
 " Oh_, no doubt it will be a grand thing to unite 
 Ashbourne and Briarwood, but Roderick Yawdrey 
 is too honourable to marry a girl he could not love.
 
 WHEEE THE RED EIXG WAS SLAIX. 335 
 
 I would never believe Mm capable of sucli base- 
 ness/' answered Yiolet_, standing up for her old 
 friend. 
 
 Here tliey turned out of the Forest and drove 
 through a peaceful colony consisting of half-a- 
 dozen cottages, a rustic inn where reigned a supreme 
 silence and sleepiness^ and two or three houses in 
 old-world gardens. 
 
 Yixen changed the conversation to buns and 
 school-children, which agreeable theme occupied 
 them till Titmouse had walked up a tremendously 
 steep hill, the Yicar trudging through the dust 
 beside him ; and then the deep green vale in which 
 Rufus was slain lay smiling in the sunshine below 
 their feet. 
 
 Perhaps the panorama to be seen from the top 
 of that hill is absolutely the finest in the Forest — a 
 vast champaign, stretching far away to the white 
 walls, tiled roofs, and ancient abbey-church of 
 Romsey ; here a glimpse of winding water, there a 
 humble village — nameless save to its inhabitants — 
 nestling among the trees, or basking in the broad 
 sunshine of a common.
 
 336 VIXEN. 
 
 At tlie top of tlie hill, Bates, tlie gray-headed 
 groom, who had attended Violet ever since her first 
 pony-ride, took possession of Titmouse and the 
 chaise, while the baskets were handed over to a lad, 
 who had been on the watch for their arrival. Then 
 they all went down the steep path into the valley, 
 at the bottom of which the children were swarming 
 in a cluster, as thick as bees, while a pale flame 
 and a cloud of white smoke went up from the 
 midst of them like the fire beneath a sacrifice. This 
 indicated the boiling of the kettle, in true gipsy 
 fashion. 
 
 For the next hour and a half tea-drinking was 
 the all-absorbing business with everybody. The 
 boiling of the kettle was a grand feature in the 
 entertainment. Cups and saucers were provided by 
 a little colony of civilised gipsies, who seem in- 
 digenous to the spot, and whose summer life is 
 devoted to assisting at picnics and tea-drinkings, 
 telling fortunes, and selling photographs. White 
 cloths were spread upon the short sweet turf, and 
 piles of bread-and-butter, cake and buns, invited 
 the attention of the flies.
 
 WHERE THE EED KIXG WAS SLAIX. 337 
 
 Presently arose the thrilling melody of a choral 
 grace, with the sweet embellishment of a strong 
 Hampshire accent. And then, with a swoop as of 
 eagles on their quaiTy, the school- children came 
 down upon the mountains of bread-and-butter, and 
 ate their way manfully to the buns and cake. 
 
 Yiolet had never been happier since her return 
 to Hampshire than she felt this sunny afternoon, 
 as she moved quickly about, ministering to these 
 juvenile devourers. The sight of their somewhat 
 bovine contentment took her thoughts away from 
 her own cares and losses ; and presently, when the 
 banquet was concluded — a conclusion only arrived 
 at by the total consumption of everything provided, 
 whereby the hungry-eyed gipsy attendants sunk 
 into despondency — Vixen constituted herself Lord 
 of Misrule, and led off a noisy procession in the 
 time-honoured game of Oranges and Lemons, which 
 entertainment continued till the school-children 
 were in a high fever. After this they had Kiss in 
 the Ring ; Vixen only stipulating, before she began, 
 that nobody should presume to drop the handker- 
 chief before her. Then came Touchwood — a game 
 VOL. I. z
 
 338 VIXEN. 
 
 cliarminglj adapted to that wooded valley^ wliere 
 tlie trees looked as if tliey liad been planted at con- 
 venient distances on purpose for this juvenile sport. 
 " Oh, I am so tired/ ^ cried Violet at last, when 
 churcli clocks — all out of earshot in this deep valley — 
 were striking eight, and the low sun was golden on 
 the silvery beech-boles, and arrowy gleams of light 
 touched the quiet half -hidden water-pools under the 
 trees yonder ; '^ I really don^t think I can have 
 anything to do with the next game.'^ 
 
 " Oh, if you please, miss,'^ cried twenty shrill 
 young voices, " oh, if you please, miss, we couldnH 
 play without you — you^re the best on us ! '' 
 This soothing flattery had its effect. 
 " Oh, but I really don^t think I can do more than 
 start you," sighed Vixen, flushed and breathless, 
 '^what isit tobe?" 
 
 •^^ Blindman's Buff," roared the boys. 
 '' Hunt the Slipper," screamed the girls. 
 ^^Oh, Blindman's Buff is best," said Vixen. 
 '' This little wood is a splendid place for Blindman's 
 Buff. But mind, I shall only start you. Now then, 
 who's to be Blindman ?"
 
 WHEEE THE RED KING WAS SLAIN. 339 
 
 Mr. Scobel volunteered. He had been a 
 tranquil spectator of tlie sports liitberto ; but this 
 was the last game^ and lie felt that lie ought to 
 do something more than look on. Yixen blind- 
 folded him, asked him the usual question about 
 his father's stable, and then sent him spinning 
 amongst the moss-grown beeches, groping his way 
 fearfully, with outstretched arms, amidst shrillest 
 laughter and noisiest delight. 
 
 He was not long blindfold, and had not had 
 many bumps against the trees before he impounded 
 the person of a fat and scant-of-breath scholar, a 
 girl whose hard breathing would have betrayed 
 her neighbourhood to the dullest ear. 
 
 '' That's Polly Sims, I know,'' said the Vicar. 
 
 It was Polly Sims, who was incontinently made 
 as blind as Fortune or Justice, or any other of 
 the deities who dispense benefits to man. Polly 
 floundered about among the trees for a long time, 
 making frantic efforts to catch the empty air, 
 panting like a human steam-engine, and nearly 
 knocking out what small amount of brains she 
 might possess against the gray branches, out- 
 
 z 2
 
 340 VIXEN. 
 
 stretclied like tlie lean arms of Macbeth^s weird 
 women across her path. Finally Polly Sims suc- 
 ceeded in catching Bobby Jones^ whom she clutched 
 with the tenacity of an octopus; and then came 
 the reign of Bobby Jones, who was an expert at 
 the game, and who kept the whole party on the 
 qui vive by his serpentine windings and twistings 
 among the stout old trunks. 
 
 Presently there was a shrill yell of triumph. 
 Bobby had caught Miss Tempest. 
 
 " I know'd her by her musling gownd, and the 
 sweet-smelling stuff upon her pocket-handkercher/^ 
 he roared. 
 
 Violet submitted with a good grace. 
 
 " Vm dreadfully tired/^ she said, ^^ arid Fm 
 sure I shanH catch anyone.''^ 
 
 The sun had been getting lower and lower. 
 There were splashes of ruddy light on the smooth 
 gray beech-boles, and that was all. Soon these 
 would fade, and all would be gloom. The grove 
 had an awful look already. One would expect to 
 meet some ghostly Druid, or some witch of eld, 
 among the shadowy tracks left by the forest wild-
 
 WHEEE THE RED KIXG WAS SLAIX. 341 
 
 lings. Vixen went about her work languidly. She 
 was really tired^ and was glad to tliink her day^s 
 labours were over. She went slowly in and out 
 among the trees, feeling her way with outstretched 
 arms, her feet sinking sometimes into deep drifts 
 of last yearns leaves, or gliding noiselessly over the 
 moss. The air was soft and cool and dewy, with 
 a perfume of nameless wild flowers — a faint 
 aromatic odour of herbs, which the wise women 
 had gathered for medicinal uses in days of old, 
 when your village sorceress was your safest doctor. 
 Everywhere there was the hush and coolness of 
 fast-cominof nierht. The children's voices were 
 stilled. This last stage of the game was a thing 
 of breathless interest. 
 
 Vixen's footsteps drifted lower down into the 
 wooded hollow ; insensibly she was coming towards 
 the edge of the treacherously green bog which has 
 brought many a bold rider to grief in these 
 districts, and still she had caught no one. She 
 began to think that she had roamed ever so far 
 away, and was in danger of losing herself alto- 
 gether, or at least losing everybody else, and being
 
 342 VIXEN. 
 
 left by herself in the forest darkness. The grassy 
 hollow in which she was wandering had an atmo- 
 sphere of solitude. 
 
 She was on the point of taking off the handker- 
 chief that Mr. Scobel had bound so effectually 
 across her eyes, when her outstretched arms clasped 
 something — a substantial figure, distinctly human^ 
 clad in rough cloth. 
 
 Before she had time to think who it was she 
 had captured, a pair of strong arms clasped her ; 
 she was drawn to a broad chest ; she felt a heart 
 beating strong and fast against her shoulder, while 
 lips that seemed too familiar to offend kissed hers 
 with all the passion of a lover's kiss. 
 
 " DonH be angry/^ said a well-known voice. " I 
 believe it"'s the rule of the game. If it isn't Fm 
 sure it ought to be.^^ 
 
 A hand, at once strong and gentle, took off the 
 handkerchief, and in the soft woodland twilight she 
 looked up at Roderick Yawdrey's face, looking down 
 upon her with an expression which she presumed 
 must mean a brotherly friendliness — the delight of 
 an old friend at seeing her after a long interval.
 
 WHERE THE EED EING WAS SLAIX. 343 
 
 She was not tlie less angry at that outrageous 
 unwarrantable kiss. 
 
 ^^It is not the rule of the game amongst civi- 
 lised people ; though it possibly may be amOTig 
 ploughboys and servant-maids ! ^' she exclaimed 
 indignantly. " You are really a most ungentleman- 
 like person ! I wonder Lady Mabel Ashbourne has 
 not taught you better manners. ^^ 
 
 " Is that to be my only reward for saving you 
 
 from plunging — at least ankle-deep — in the marshy 
 
 ground yonder ? But for me you would have been 
 
 performing a boggy version of Ophelia by this time." 
 
 *■*■ How did you come here ? " 
 
 ^^I have been to Langley Brook for a day^s 
 
 fly-fishings and was tramping home across country 
 
 in a savage humour at my poor sporty when I heard 
 
 the chatter of small voices^ and presently came upon 
 
 the Scobels and the school- children. The juveniles 
 
 were in a state of alarm at having lost you. They 
 
 had been playing the game in severe silence^ and 
 
 at a turn in the grove had missed you altogether. 
 
 Oh, here comes Scobel, with his trencher on the 
 
 back of his head.^'
 
 344 VIXEN. 
 
 Tlie Vicar came forward,, rejoicing at sight of 
 VioleVs white gown. 
 
 '' My dear, wliat a turn you have given us ! ^' 
 he# cried; "those silly children, to let you out of 
 their sight ! I donH think a wood is a good place 
 for Blindman's Buff.'^ 
 
 " No more do I/^ answered Vixen, very pale. 
 
 " You look as if you had been frightened, too,^^ 
 said the Vicar. 
 
 " It did feel awfully lonely ; not a sound, except 
 the frogs croaking their vespers, and one dismal 
 owl screaming in the distance. And how cold it 
 has turned now the sun has gone down ; and how 
 ghostly the beeches look in their green mantles ; 
 there is something awful in a wood at sunset. ^^ 
 
 She ran on in an excited tone, masking her 
 agitation under an unnatural vivacity. Koderick 
 watched her keenly. Mr. and Mrs. Scobel went 
 back to their business of getting the children 
 together, and the pots, pans, and baskets packed 
 for the return-journey. The children were inclined 
 to be noisy and insubordinate. They would have 
 liked to make a night of it in the woody hollow.
 
 WHERE THE RED KING WAS SLAIX. 345 
 
 or on the gorse-clothed lieiglits up yonder by 
 Stony Cross. To go home after such a festival^ 
 and be herded in small stuffy cottages, was doubt- 
 less trying to free-born humanity, always more or 
 less envious of the gipsies. 
 
 " Shall we walk up the hill together/^ Roderick 
 asked Violet humbly, "while the Scobels follow 
 with their flock ? '' 
 
 " I am going to drive ^Ir. and Mrs. Scobel,^' 
 replied Vixen curtly. 
 
 " But where is your carriage ? '* 
 
 " I don't know. I rather think it was to meet 
 us at the top of the hiU.''^ 
 
 "Then let us go up together and find it — 
 unless you dislike me too much to endure my 
 company for a quarter of an hour — or are 
 too angry with me. for my impertinence just 
 now.'^ 
 
 " It is not worth being serious about,^^ answered 
 Vixen quietly, after a little pause. " I was very 
 angry at the moment, but after all — between you 
 and me — who were like brother and sister a few 
 years ago, it can't matter very much. I daresay
 
 346 VIXEN. 
 
 you may have kissed me in those days^ though I 
 have forgotten all about it/^ 
 
 " I think I did — once or twice/' admitted Korie 
 with laudable gravity. 
 
 '^ Then let your impertinence just now go down 
 to the old account, which we will close, if you 
 please, to-night. But/' seeing him drawing nearer 
 her with a sudden eagerness, ^'mind, it is never 
 to be repeated. I could not forgive that." 
 
 ^' I would do much to escape your anger,'' said 
 Eorie softly. 
 
 ^^The whole situation just now was too ridi- 
 culous," pursued Vixen, with a spurious hilarity. 
 ^^A young woman wandering blindfold in a wood 
 all alone — it must have seemed very absurd." 
 
 " It seemed very far from absurd — to me," said 
 Rorie. 
 
 They were going slowly up the grassy hill, the 
 short scanty herbage looking gray in the dimness. 
 Glow-worms were beginning to shine here and 
 there at the foot of the furze-bushes. A pale moon 
 was rising above the broad expanse of wood and 
 valley, which sank with gentle undulations to the
 
 WHEEE THE EED KIXG WAS SLAIX. 347 
 
 distant plains^ wliere the young corn was growing* 
 and the cattle were grazing in a sober agricultural 
 district. Here all was wild and beautiful — rich^ yet 
 barren. 
 
 " Tm afraid when we met last — at Lady 
 Southminster^s ball — that I forgot to congratulate 
 you upon your engagement to your cousin/-' said 
 Violet by-and-by, when they had walked a Httle 
 way in perfect silence. 
 
 She was trying to carry out an old determina- 
 tion. She had always meant to go up to him 
 frankly, with outstretched hand, and wish him joy. 
 And she fancied that at the ball she had said too 
 little. She had not let him understand that she 
 was really glad. " BeKeve me, I am very glad that 
 you should marry someone close at home — that you 
 should widen your influence among us/^ 
 
 "You are very kind/^ answered Rorie, with 
 exceeding coldness. "I suppose all such engage- 
 ments are subjects for congratulation, from a con- 
 ventional point of view. My future wife is both 
 amiable and accomplished, as you know. I ha^ve 
 reason to be very proud that she has done me so
 
 348 VIXEN. 
 
 great an honour as to prefer me to many wortHer 
 suitors ; but I am bound to tell you — as we once 
 before spoke of this subject, at tlie time of your 
 dear father^ s death^ and I tlien expressed myself 
 somewhat strongly — I am bound to tell you that 
 my engagement to Mabel was made to please my 
 poor mother. It was when we were all in Italy 
 together. My mother was dying. MabeFs good- 
 ness and devotion to her had been beyond all 
 praise ; and my heart was drawn to her by affection, 
 by gratitude ; and I knew that it would make my 
 poor mother happy to see us irrevocably bound to 
 each other — and so — the thing came about some- 
 how, almost unawares, and I have every reason to 
 be proud and happy that fate should have favoured 
 me so far above my deserts.^' 
 
 ^^I am very glad that you are happy/' said 
 Violet gently. 
 
 After this there was a silence which lasted longer 
 than the previous interval in their talk. They were 
 at the top of the hill before either of them spoke. 
 
 Then Vixen laid her hand lightly upon her old 
 playfellow's arm, and said, with extreme earnestness :
 
 AVHEEE THE EED KING WAS SLAIX. 349 
 
 "You will go into Parliament by-and-bv, no 
 doubt, and have great influence. Do not let tbeni 
 spoil the Forest. Do not let horrid grinding-down 
 economists, for the sake of saving a few pounds or 
 gaining a few pounds, alter and destroy scenes 
 that are so beautiful and a delight to so many. 
 England is a rich country, is she not ? Surely she 
 can afford to keep something for her painters and 
 her poets, and even for the humble holiday-folks 
 who come to drink tea at Eufus^s stone. Don^t let 
 our Forest be altered, Eorie. Let all things be as 
 they were when we were children. ■'■' 
 
 " All that my voice and influence can do to keep 
 them so shall be done, Violet,^-* he answered in tones 
 as earnest. ^^ I am glad that you have asked me 
 something to-night. I am glad, with all my heart, 
 that you have given me something to do for you. 
 It shall be like a badge in my helmet, by-and-by, 
 when I enter the lists. I think I shall say : ^ For 
 God and for Violet,' when I run a tilt against the 
 economic devastators who want to clear our woods 
 and cut off our commoners. '^ 
 
 He bent down and kissed her hand, as in token
 
 350 YIXEN. 
 
 of knightly allegiance. He liad just time to do it 
 
 comfortably before Mr. and Mrs. Scobel^, witb the 
 
 children and their master and mistress^ came 
 
 •marching up the hill^ singing, with shrill glad 
 
 voices, one of the harvest-home processional hymns. ^ 
 
 • 
 
 All good gifts around us 
 
 Are sent from Heaven above, 
 
 Then thank the Lord, oh thank the Lord, 
 
 For all His love. 
 
 " What a delicious night ! '^ cried Mr. Scobel. 
 " I think we ought all to walk home. It would be 
 much nicer than being driven.^^ 
 
 This he said with a lively recollection of 
 Titmouse^ s performances on the journey out, and a 
 lurking dread that he might behave a little worse 
 on the journey home. A lively animal of that kind, 
 going home to his stable, through the uncertain 
 lights and shadows of woodland roads, and driven 
 by such a charioteer as Yiolet Tempest, was not to 
 be thought of without a shudder. 
 
 '^ I think I had better walk, in any case,^^ said 
 Mr. Scobel thoughtfully. '' I shall be wanted to 
 keep the children together."
 
 WHERE THE EED KIXG WAS SLAIX. 351 
 
 '''Let US all walk home/^ suggested Roderick. 
 " We can go tlirougb. the plantations. It will be 
 very jolly in the moonlight. Bates can drive your 
 pony back, Violet.''^ 
 
 Violet hesitated. 
 
 '' It's not more than four miles through the 
 plantations/' said Roderick. 
 
 ^''Do you think I am afraid of a long walk ?'' 
 
 " Of course not. You were a modern Atalanta 
 three years ago. I don't suppose a winter in Paris 
 and a season at Brighton have quite spoiled you." 
 
 '"''It shall be as you like, Mrs. Scobel/' said 
 Vixen, appealing to the Vicar's wife. 
 
 " Oh, let us walk by all means," replied Mrs. 
 Scobel, divining her husband's feelings with respect 
 to Titmouse. 
 
 " Then you may drive the pony home, Bates," 
 said Violet j " and be sure you. give him a good 
 supper." 
 
 Titmouse went rattling down the hiU at a pace 
 that almost justified the Vicar's objection to him. 
 He gave a desperate shy in the hollow at sight of a 
 shaggy donkey, with a swollen appearance about
 
 352 VIXEN. 
 
 the head,, suggestive^ to the equine mind, of hob- 
 goblins. Convulsed at this appalling spectre. 
 Titmouse stood on end for a second or two, and then 
 tore violently off, swinging his carriage behind him, 
 so that the groom's figure swayed to and fro in the 
 moonlight. 
 
 "Thank God we're not sitting behind that 
 brute ! " ejaculated the Yicar devoutly. 
 
 The pedestrians went off in the other direction, 
 along the brow of the hill, by a long white road 
 that crossed a wide sweep of heathy country, brown 
 ridges and dark hollows, distant groups of firs 
 standing black against the moonlit sky, here and 
 there a solitary yew that looked as if it were 
 haunted — just such a landscape as that Scottish 
 heath upon which Macbeth met the three weird 
 women at set of sun, when the battle was lost and 
 won. Vixen and Eorie led the way ; the procession 
 of school-children followed, singing hymns as they 
 went with a vocal power that gave no token of 
 diminution. 
 
 "Their singing is very melodious when the 
 sharp edge is taken off by distance,'^ said Eorie ;
 
 WHERE THE RED KIXG WAS SLAIN. 353 
 
 and lie and Violet walked at a pace wliicli soon left 
 tlie cliildren a good way behind them. 
 
 Mellowed by a quarter of a mile or so of inter- 
 vening space, the music lent a charm to the tranquil, 
 perfumed night. 
 
 By-and-by they came to the gate of an enclosure 
 which covered a large extent of ground, and through 
 which there was a near way to Beechdale and the 
 Abbey House. They walked along a grassy track 
 through a plantation of young pines — a track which 
 led them down into a green and mossy bottom, 
 where the trees were old and beautiful^ and the 
 shadows fell darker. The tall beech-trunks shone 
 like silver, or like wonderful frozen trees in some 
 region of eternal ice and snow. It was a wilderness 
 in which a stranger would incontinently lose him- 
 self; but every foot of the way was familiar to Vixen 
 and Eorie. They had followed the hounds by these 
 green ways, and ridden and rambled here in all 
 seasons. 
 
 For some time they walked almost in silence, 
 enjoying the beauty of the night, the stillness 
 only broken by the distant chorus of children 
 
 VOL. I. 2 a
 
 354 VIXEN. 
 
 singing their pious strains — old hymn -tunes tliat 
 Violet had known and loved all her life. 
 
 " Doesn^t it almost seem as if our old childish 
 days had come back?''^ said Eoderick by-and-by. 
 ^' Don^t you feel as if you were a little girl again. 
 Vixen,, going for a ramble with me — fern-hunting 
 or primrose-gathering ? ^' 
 
 "No/^ answered Vixen firmly. ^^ Nothing can 
 ever bring the past back for me. I shall never 
 forget that I had a father — the best and dearest — 
 and that I have lost him.^^ 
 
 ^*^Dear Violet/' Roderick began, very gently, 
 " life cannot be made up of mourning for the dead. 
 We may keep their images enshrined in our hearts 
 for ever, but we must not shut our youth from 
 the sunshine. Think how few years of youth 
 Grod gives us ; and if we waste those upon vain 
 sorrow '^ 
 
 '^ No one can say that 1 have wasted my youth, 
 or shut myself from the sunshine. I go to kettle- 
 drums and dancing-parties. My mother and I have 
 taken pains to let the world see how happy we can 
 be without papa.''
 
 WHERE THE EED KING WAS SLAIN. 355 
 
 ^' The dear old Squire/' said Rorie tenderly; ^' I 
 think lie loved me/' 
 
 " I am sure lie did/' answered Vixen. 
 
 ^' Well, you and I seem to have entered upon a 
 new life since last we rode tlirough these woods 
 together. I daresay you are right, and that it is 
 not possible to fancy oneself back in the past, even 
 for a moment. Consciousness of the present hangs 
 so heavily upon us." 
 
 '^ Yes," assented Vixen. 
 
 They had come to the end of the enclosure, and 
 stood leaning against a gate, waiting for the arrival 
 of the children. 
 
 ^' And after all, perhaps, it is better to live in 
 the present, and look back at the past, as at an 
 old picture which we shall sooner or later turn with 
 its face to the wall." 
 
 '^ I like best to think of my old self as if it were 
 someone else," said Violet. " I know there was a 
 little girl whom her father called Vixen, who used 
 to ride after the hounds, and roam about the Forest 
 on her pony ; and who was herself almost as wild as 
 the Forest ponies. But I can't associate her with
 
 356 VIXEN. 
 
 this present me/' concluded Violet, pointing to 
 herself witli a half-scornful gesture. 
 
 ^^ And which is the better, do you think/' asked 
 Rorie, " the wild Violet of the past, or the elegant 
 exotic of the present ? '' 
 
 '^ I know which was the happier/' 
 
 ''^Ah/' sighed Rorie, '^'^ happiness is a habit we 
 outgrow when we get out of our teens. But you, 
 at nineteen, ought to have a year or so to the 
 good." 
 
 The children came in sight, tramping along 
 the rutty green walk, singing lustily, Mr. Scobel 
 walking at their head, and swinging his stick in 
 time with the tuneful choir. 
 
 " He only is the Maker 
 
 Of all things near and far ; 
 He paints the wayside flower, 
 He lights the evening star." 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 \
 
 x^.^