, (LIMITED.) 30 TO 34.NEW0XF01RD STRKET. BRAwdn OFFICES 1241, BRQMPTON ROAD,S '. |48,QUEEN VICTORIA ST, E.C. SUB SCRIP TIOI^. One Giiin e a Per Anuuia and upvv aid s L I E) R.A RY OF THE U N I VERSITY or ILLI NOIS 823 5 8 5"^ <^ l» THE CHARLATAN NEW LIBRARY NOVELS. MR. JERVIS. I!y B. M. Crokf.k. 3 vols. THE GOOD SHIP 'MOHOCK.' By W. Clark Russell. 2 vols. THE CHARLATAN By Rof.frt Buchanan and Henry Murray. 2 vols. BEYOND THE DREAMS OF AVARICE. By Walter Besant. I vol. PUDDNHEAD WILSON. By Mark Twain, i vol. A MINOR CHORD : A Story of a Prima Donna. By J. Mitchell Cha)'1'Le. i vol. MADAME SANS-GENE. By E. Lepelletier. i vol. THE PHANTOM DEATH, etc. By W Clark Russell. I vol. THE BELL-RINGER OF ANGEL'S, etc. By Bret Harte. I vol. VERNON'S AUNT. By Sara Jeannette Duncan, i vol. RENSHAW FANNING'S QUEST. By Bertram Mitford. I vol. HIS VANISHED STAR. By Charlfs Egbert Craddock. I vol. ROMANCES OF THE OLD SERAGLIO. By H. N. Crellin. 1 vol. London : CHATTO & WINDUS, Piccadilly. THE CHARLATAN BY ROBERT BUCHANAN AND HENRY MURRAY ' Ghndcnuer. I can call spirits from the vasty deep ! Hotsfiur. Why, so can I, and so can any man, But will they come when you do call for them ?' Shakespeare's Henry IV. (Part 11.) ' There are repentances more splendid than innocence itself.' BOSSUET IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. L HouDoit CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 1895 8^3 b85e)ch V 1 PREFATORY NOTE The following story, founded on the drama of the ^same name, has been written in collaboration with * Mr. Henry Murray ; but I was indebted for the original ^idea, and notably for the sleep-walking incident, to 3 an unpublished sketch by Miss Harriett Jay, the authoress of ' The Queen of Connaught.' The drama was produced at the Haymarket Theatre in January c ' last, and is still running in the provinces, while the c< story, after appearing serially in newspapers, is now \ for the first time republished in book form. S K B. < December, 1894. CONTENTS OF VOL. I. CHAPTER PAGE I. AT WANBOEOUGH CASTLE .... 1 II. IN THE DRAWING-ROOM - - - - 20 III, A MODERN LOVER - - - - - 42 IV. ' THE ASRA ' - - - - - - 64 V. PHILIP WOODVILLE - - - - - 78 VI. IN THE TURRET-ROOM - - - -93 VII. ISABEL ...... 114 VIII. A TETE-A-TETE ..... 127 IX. INTUITIONS -...-. 150 X. PREMONITIONS ..... 158 XI. WEAVING THE WEB ..... 172 XII. THE APPARITION ..... 180 THE CHARLATAN CHAPTER I. AT WANBOKOUGH CASTLE. ' But surely,' said the Dean, leaning back in his arm- chair, with the tips of his fingers delicately joined together, and his short-sighted brown eyes peering at his interlocutor under knitted brows of questioning surprise — ' surely our modern religious thought has progressed far enough to reject such superstitions as these ?' * Thought, my dear Dean,' returned the Earl, ' should reject no kind of human evidence ! You will pardon me, I am sure, if, as a layman, I venture upon a modest historical criticism of the Church to which VOL. I. 1 2 THE CHARLATAN you belong. Have not men of your stamp, Church- men who, still holcUng the more important tenets of revealed religion, are yet to a great degree open to the teachings of modern science — have you not, may I ask, too lightly and easily abandoned, at the bidding of science, many minor beliefs which are sanctioned by a great mass of reliable evidence, though their truth is not to be proved by the scientific paraphernalia of microscopes and solvent acids ?' * That would be a very wide field of controversy,' said the Dean, with a smile. ' Possibly we have, but really, really, my dear Lord Wanborough, astrology — the black art ' '"Were distinctly, in the hands of their noblest followers, theosophic. We have proof — absolute proofs — that manifestations of the most extraordinary nature have taken place. For instance, that re- markable man, Dr. Dee, in a seance at which Queen Elizabeth was present, raised up the spirit of the first Plantagenet.' The Dean's brows went up, and he looked at his AT WANBOROUGH CASTLE 3 companion with a wondering face, in which there was a touch of pity. ' Do you actually believe tliat /' he asked gravely. 'Why should I not believe it?' asked the Earl, in return. 'It is a historical fact, like another. You yourself accept miracles. The last sermon I had the pleasure to hear you preach dealt with the raising of the spirit of Samuel before Saul. What could be done once can be done again.' ' Ah, but pardon me,' returned the Dean. ' In that very sermon I was careful to guard myself by the admission that the day of such special manifesta- tions had long gone by, and such glimpses of the Power which rules the world as are now vouchsafed to us come by other channels.' ' How can you say that the days of miracles are over?' said the Earl, now firmly seated in the saddle of his favourite hobby. ' All Nature is a miracle — a daily, hourly miracle.' ' Yes, but reduced to law — to a code of clear and immutable law, which admits of no deviation from 4 THE CHARLATAN settled order. Although a Churchman — and, I trust, a faithful and consistent one — I cannot blind myself to the wonderful discoveries of modern thought, to the inestimable blessings of modern science. I could, of course, wish — I do wish — that men of science would show more tolerance to the sacred mystery of our faith, and would not be so apt to treat it with contempt, and, as you say, regard acids and microscopes as the final court of appeal for beliefs which have been held, and are still held, by so many of the best and noblest of mankind. But even there I see gleams of light. Science is losing its cocksureness. These recent experiments in the Paris hospitals by Charcot and others, and the attention they have received from scientific men all over the world, show that faith in the Unseen — the occult — still survives, and is hard to kill.' ' Ah,' said his lordship, with a smile of triumph, ' so far you are with me ! You believe in Hypnotism ?' * Most decidedly. The possession by many indi- viduals of the hypnotic force is clearly a fact. One AT WANBOROUGH CASTLE 5 might as well doubt the power of steam. I myself possess the force in a certain degree. A year or two ago I hypnotized a servant-maiden, who revealed in a state of trance a number of petty thefts which had taken place in the kitchen. The power of one living will over another I can understand. It is one of the commonest phenomena of life. But I fail to comprehend the power of the living over the dead.' ' Well, well,' said the Earl, laying aside the paper- knife with which he had been absently toying during the conversation, ' that is a subject on which we shall never agree.' ' I fear not,' said the Dean gravely. The Earl of Wanborough lay back in his chair and bent a sidelong glance on the emerald turf of the lawn beneath the window. He was a man in the early sixties, long, and a little loosely built. He had been one of the handsomest men in England in his day, and his face, though lined with years of thought and study, was beautifully venerable. His smile was singularly sweet, and his voice had the tender reson- 6 THE CHARLATAN ance of a musical instrument. Dignity and kindli- ness shone in his every word and gesture. He was carelessly — for a man of his rank and wealth almost shabbily — dressed in well-worn tweeds, and the elf locks of his silky gray hair fell about his face from under a skull cap of black velvet. The Dean, a personable, jolly-looking divine, who rode some fourteen stone, set his glasses astride his nose, and took advantage of his host's momentary abstraction to examine him closeh'. The Earl would have been vastly more surprised than pleased could he have guessed what was passing in his old friend's mind. * He can't be mad /' thought the Dean. ' His father and grandfather were as healthy-minded men as ever breathed, and his life has been purity itself. And yet, how can a man of his brains and scholarship believe such rubbish as he has been talking ?' * You are expecting Lord Dewsbury down here, you were saying just now,' said the Dean, breaking silence after a rather lengthy pause. AT WANBOROUGH CASTLE 7 ' Yes,' said the Earl, rousing himself from his momentary abstraction, ' I had a letter from him this morning. He is in high feather.' He selected the letter from a number of others in his jacket pocket. ' He wrote from the House of Commons. Let me see. Where is it ? Ah, yes ! ' " If the vote to-night goes against the Government — and I am all but certain it will — they must resign, and we are sure of a big reception and a thumping majority in the country. Salisbury regards our triumph as a fait accompli, and, although he made no absolute promise, he held out good hopes of a place for me in his Ministry." ' 'Excellent!' cried the Dean. 'Why, the Govern- ment was defeated by twenty votes !' ' Yes,' said the Earl ; ' and if Dewsbury is right in his calculations, the resignation will take place in a day or two, and we shall have him down here to stand 8 THE CHARLATAN for the borough agam. I am afraid,' he contmued, ' that his career in the Commons will soon be ended.' * Is the Earl so ill ?' asked the Dean. ' His condition is very serious. Dewsbury writes ' — he again referred to the letter — ' " I grieve to say that my father's strength declines daily. He takes hardly any food, and has not left his bed for the last three daj^s. Lawson, after taking the most hopeful view for weeks past, confessed to me this morning that he fears the end is inevitable, and near at hand. Poor old dad ! Heaven knows, the prospect of the title is little consolation for his loss !" ' ' Dear, dear !' said the Dean. ' Well, it is the common lot, and we can only be glad that he leaves such an excellent successor. Lord Dewsbury is a very fine fellow !' ' Yes,' said the Earl cordially ; .' Frank is a very fine fellow indeed !' AT WANBOROUGH CASTLE 9 ' Do you know,' said the Dean — ' pray don't think me impertinent for speaking of a family matter — I have fancied that Dewsbury may find his consolation here' ' Isabel ?' asked the Earl, with a smile. ' Well, yes ; I have thought so myself. Setting aside money — and Dewsbury will have enough and to spare of that — I don't think he could do better. She is a most charming girl, and would make a wife for an emperor. I think she likes Frank, and I am sure he is greatly attached to her.' ' There is no formal engagement between them ?' asked the Dean. 'None, so far; but I think they understand each other. I have noticed his letters by Miss Arlington's plate at breakfast every morning for the last two months at least, and she makes no secret of their correspondence.' ' There is still no news of her father ?' continued the Dean. As he spoke, he raised his eyes to a picture hanging on the wall above the Earl's head. lo THE CHARLATAN It was the portrait of a man in the prime of life, with prematurely gray hair and moustache, and clad in military undress. The face was handsome, but sad and stern, with a far-away, dreamy look in the eyes which somewhat contradicted the expression of the set brows and resolute mouth and chin. The Earl's eyes mechanically followed in the same direction. ' No,' he said, with a sigh. ' Nothing has been heard of him since the last letter from Thalak, nearly two years ago, announcing his intention of crossmg the centre of Thibet.' * A wild scheme,' said the Dean. * I don't like to think about it,' said the Earl. ' It is wonderful to me how Isabel keeps up her health and spirits.' He paused a moment. * You and I, Dean, think differently on many subjects. Tell me what you think of what Isabel said this morning. She came down to breakfast radiant. I had never seen her look so beautiful or so happy. I questioned her, and her reply was, " My father is alive, and is coming AT WANBOROUGH CASTLE il home." "You have heard from him?" I asked. " You have received a letter ?" "No," she repHed ; " but I have seen him. He came to me in my sleep. He was haggard, and ill, and worn. His dress was all in rags, and there was a great scar upon his face. He spoke to me ; I heard his voice as distinctly as you can hear mine at this moment. He said, ' Have no fear, child, my task is accomplished, and I shall soon be with you again.' " ' ' God grant it !' said the Dean fervently. ' We can ill afford to lose such men as Colonel Arlington.' 'But the dream,' said Lord Wanborough. 'What do you think of that ?' ' What can one think of it ?' asked the Dean. ' There are more things than are dreamed of in our philosophy. I have known dreams quite as extra- ordinary come true. It may have been a Divine message of comfort to the poor young lady. Let us hope so.' 'I spoke of it to Madame Obnoskin,' continued the Earl. * She accepts it as an actual truth, and 12 THE CHARLATAN prophesies that we shall hear from Colonel Arlington very shortly.' ' God grant it !' said the Dean again. ' So Madame Obnosldn is still here ?' ' Yes ; and will stay for some time yet, I hope. A remarkable woman, my dear Dean — a most remark- able woman. You must meet her. If any argu- ments can lead you to consider the eternal mysteries from another point of view, hers will. I owe Madame Obnoskin a great debt, intellectually and morally. A woman of extraordinary attainments. She is in direct communication with the occult powers of Nature.' ' Indeed ! And these communications — how do they come ?' * In many ways. Sometimes by direct intuition, sometimes by post.' The Dean did his best to restrain an irrepressible chuckle. ' This is indeed remarkable.' ' "What is remarkable ?' asked the Earl. AT WANBOROUGH CASTLE 13 ' That spirits should use postage-stamps.' ' My dear Dean,' said his lordship a little testily, ' the matter is perfectly simple. Spirits can only work through material conditions.' * Quite so — quite so !' said the Dean with recovered gravity. ' And this lady — Madame Obnoskin — what kind of person is she ? — young ?' ' Yes, comparatively. Not more, I should say, than thirty, at most.' ' Handsome ?' ' Distinctly. A very charming woman. She would be an acquisition in any society.' ' A widow ?' asked the Dean. ' Yes ; a sad experience, I fear. Her husband was a Pole, like herself ; a very able man, and an adept in the religion she teaches ; but I gather from hints she has dropped that they were not happy together.' ' H'm !' said the Dean, with a slight pursing of the lips and another lift of the eyebrows. ' You must meet her, my dear Dean,' continued his lordship. 14 THE CHARLATAN * I shall be delighted. Your description of the lady has quite fired my curiosity.' ' Since you are here,' said Lord Wanborough, ' why not stay to dinner ?' * Thank you exceedingly, but I fear it is impossible. I have a Church meeting in Wanborough at seven o'clock, and I promised faithfully to attend. But as Madame Obnoskin is staying on, I shall drop in some evening sans ceremonie, and ask for an introduction.' The apartment in which they sat was a long galler}', traversing almost the entire length of Wanborough Castle, and lit at regular intervals by windows of the height of the walls. The autumn night was falling, and the long perspective was gradually fading as the shadows rose along the walls, adorned by family por- traits and groups of statuary. It was with a little shock of surprise that the Dean suddenly perceived that he and the Earl were no longer alone. No sound of opening or closing door, no footfall on the thick carpet, had announced the presence of a lady, who stood within a few feet of him. AT WANBOROUGH CASTLE 15 The red glow of the dying sunset fell full upon her, and lit her face and form with a strange brightness, which, taken in conjunction with the suddenness of her appearance, had something weird in it. She was taller than the average height of women, and of a rather full but graceful figure. Her features were regular and beautiful, her eyes black, brilliant, and inscrutable. ' Ah !' exclaimed his lordship, rising, ' this is for- tunate. My dear Madame Obnoskin, let me present to you Dr. Darley, the Dean of Wanborough. He is burning to make your acquaintance.' 'Delighted to meet you, Dean,' said the lady in a clear contralto voice, with a very faint and very piquant foreign accent. The Dean bowed, and murmured that he was enchanted. ' I have heard so much of you from the Earl that I can only regret that, owing to my annual holiday, our meeting has been so long delayed.' ' You are very good,' said the lady, crossing to his 1 6 THE CHARLATAN lordship's side, and bending over his chair. * You are well to-day, dear friend ?' ' Perfectly, I thank you,' he answered. ' I have news for you.' ' Indeed ?' ' Yes ; good news — great news.' ' You interest me profoundly. May I ask ?' ' I might have told j'ou some days ago, but I delayed till I was certain. The intimations I have received to-day put the matter beyond doubt, and I can speak without the fear of raising false hopes. One of our most powerful personalities will soon be here ; if I am not mistaken, an Adept.' * An Adept ?' queried the Dean. ' Pray, Madame Obnoskin, what is that ?' * An Apostle of our religion,' answered the lady ; ' a person full of the effulgence of spiritual life, capable of communicating with spirits from beyond the grave. The words were addressed to the Dean, but the lady's eyes were fixed upon the Earl. 'Dear me !' said the Dean a little fatuously. AT WANBOROUGH CASTLE 17 Madame Obnoskin spoke with such a perfect calm, with so little recognition of the strangeness of her utterance in ordinary ears, that he was for the moment quite nonplussed. 'May I ask,' he continued, 'how you received this news ? By letter ?' 'No.' ' By wire, perhaps ?' he slyly suggested. ' No,' she answered again, with a smiling shake of the head. ' By an intuition. I have had similar intimations before, and they have always announced the arrival of one of the Adepts. But this is the strangest I have ever felt. The impression has been overwhelming.' 'Dear me!' said the Dean again. 'And this person — is he a spirit or a ghost ?' ' Neither ; a man like yourself — a mere human being.' ' But, my dear lady ' ' He is a being who has discovered the secrets of the spiritual world. Still wearing the vestments of the VOL. I. 2 i8 THE CHARLATAN flesh, he is, to all outward seeming, a corporeal projection like ourselves.' ' H'm !' said Dr. Darley, ' and you — are you also a corporeal projection ?' * My dear Dean !' exclaimed the Earl. 'Certainly,' said the lady, with a little laugh. * A very charming one.' The lady laughed again. ' And the charming dress you wear — is that also ' ' Of course ! All that you behold, all material phenomena, is simply the Kama, adumbrating the ethereal or astral body !' The Dean gave a sounding cough, and crossed his legs. * My good friend Dr. Darle}',' said the Earl, ' is a little sceptical.' ' Yes ?' said Madame Obnoskin, with her little laugh, and the odd, pleasant accent in full play. ' Ah, well, perhaps we shall convert him !' ' I fear it is a little too late in the day for that,* AT WANBOROUGH CASTLE i 9 said the Decan, rising, and glancing at his watch ; ' though I should be delighted to receive instruction from so charming a tutress. I trust, madame, that we shall meet again.' ' I hope so, indeed,' she answered, frankly extending her hand. ' And I warn you to prepare your weapons of controversy ; I shall convert you if I can.' The Dean bowed and smiled, then turned to the Earl: ' I was going to ask your lordship, when I was so agreeably interrupted, if you had a copy of Burck- hardt's great work on the "Apostolic Succession." ' ' Yes ; you will find it in the theological section of the library, on the third shelf from the ground, to the left of the oriel window.' ' Thank you. I wish to verify a quotation for to-morrow's sermon.' He shook hands with the Earl, bowed again to Madame Obnoskin, and left the gallery. * What a deplorable thing,' he murmured to himself, 'is human credulity !' CHAPTER II. IN THE DRAWIXG-ROOM. Among the more frequent and favoured guests at Wan- borough Castle was the Honourable Mr. MervjTi Darrell, a nephew of the Earl, a 3'oung gentleman blessed with a couple of thousands a year, perfect nerves and digestion, a more than moderate share of intelligence, and a colossal belief in himself. One of his few earthly troubles was that he had but very recently left his teens, and one of his secret joys sprang from the fact that he was prematurely bald. There are a good many sorts of ambitions and aspirations in the world, and the Honourable Mervjui's chief aspiration was to be superior to everything and IN THE DRAWING-ROOM 21 everybody : an ambition to which a too youthful appearance would have been a serious drawback. He had acquired a habit of coming down to Wan- borough at any odd moment when the idea might seize him, and he turned up there on the morning after Dr. Parley's introduction to Madame Obnoskin, sent his man upstairs with his traps to the room set aside for his accommodation, and strolled, with his usual air of tolerant boredom, into the drawing-room, where a young lady, a few years his junior, was playing softly to herself on the piano. 'Morning, Lottie,' he said, dropping into a seat. ' Uncle about ?' Lady Carlotta Deepdale, the only daughter of the Earl of Wanborough, was as complete a contrast to her father in temperament as could easily be found. His lordship was a naturally thoughtful man, given over wholly to the study of moral and religious problems, and, if fortune and indolence had not com- bined to make him avoid active labour, he would probably have made a great name as a writer on 22 THE CHARLATAN ethics and theology. He was dreamy, unambitious, and excessively unpractical. Lottie was a wide-awake young lady, who troubled her pretty head with no problem whatsoever, except that one — so easily solvable by a young and beautiful woman with a great name and plenty of mone}' — of how to get the greatest amount of honest and harmless happiness out of everyday existence. ' Papa's somewhere about the grounds, walking with that awful woman, and talking theosophy, I suppose.' ' Yv'hom do you mean ?' asked Mervyn, takmg up a book, and settling himself languidly in his seat. ' That Obnoskin creature,' said Lottie viciously. ' Why doesn't she go ? She came here for a week, and she has stayed for over a month already.' ' I suppose,' said Mervyn, polishing his nails with a little apparatus in mother-o' -pearl and washleather, and admiring their sheen in the sunlight, * that she stays because my uncle asks her to stay.' IN THE DRAWING-ROOM 23 ' Of course ; I know tliat,'' said Lottie. ' And that's just where the aggravation comes in.' ' May I ask how ?' ' Why, can't you see that papa has perfectly lost his head about her, and knows no more than a child what game she is playing with him ?' ' And what game is she playing ?' asked Mervyn, still admiringly examining his nails. ' Do you mean to say that you don't see it ? It's as plain as the nose on your face. The woman wants to become Countess of Wanborough.' Even Mervyn's affectation of indifference to every- thing on earth, an indifference he had feigned so long that it had well-nigh become real, vanished for the moment at these words. He concealed an unphilo- sophically violent start by a stretch and a half- yawn. ' My dear Lottie, what nonsense ! Your father would never dream of such a thing !' ' Men at papa's time of life are foolish enough for anything, where a woman is concerned.' 24 THE CHARLATAN 'You are shockingly irreverent,' said Mervyn. 'It's true,' the girl continued. 'And you, with your usual absurdity, are encouraging him in his folly.' ' I !' repeated Mervyn. ' / encouraging him !' ' Of course you are, by pretending to believe in the rubbish she talks.' * My dear Lottie, as a person philosophically inter- ested in all human developments ' * Oh, pray don't talk rubbish about philosophy and developments !' Lottie cut him short. ' I sometimes think you do believe in their tomfooler}', for if there is any moral complaint about, you're sure to catch it. At college you had the esthetic scarlatina, and babbled about lilies, and sunflo^Yers, and blue china. Then you became affected with Radicalism — went about disguised in corduroys, and lectured at Toynbee Hall. Then, after a few less serious ailments, you caught the last epidemic, from which you are still suffering.' 'And what may that be?' asked Mervyn, returning the nail-polisher to his waistcoat pocket. IN THE DRAWING-ROOM 25 * Individualism yon call it, I believe ; / call it the dumps.' ' Dumps !' murmured Mervyn, with a slight indraw- ing of the breath, as if the expression hurt him physically. ' A sort of moral influenza,' continued Lottie, ' which prevents you from enjoying anything bright and sunny. You are simply impossible ! ' 'I am consistent,' said Mervyn. ' I range through man}^ varying moods. I am chameleonic in my out- ward symptoms, but I have never wavered from my faith in Nature, and what is to me its most interesting expression.' ' And what's that ?' asked Lottie. ' Myself,' responded the youthful sage. ' That's true enough,' she answered, with a laugh. ' Self is your principal study, I think.' ' My only one,' said Mervyn. ' A great, a noble study. How to evolve — how to he /' ' Are you evolving at present ?' asked Lottie, stand- ing beside the sofa and looking down at him. 26 THE CHARLATAN ' I hope SO.' ' It doesn't hurt you much, does it ?' she asked, with mock sympathy. Mervyn merely closed his eyes for a moment, as if her flippancy were too much to bear, and, reopening them, bent them on his book. ' "\\^iat's that you are reading ?' Lottie in- quired. ' " The Sublimation of Personality, or the Quint- essence of the Ego." ' ' Sounds like something funny,' said Lottie. ' Do you think I should like to read it ?' ' If I ma}^ judge by your general literary studies, I should say not. It is necessary to have attained to a higher intellectual platform than, I fear, the one you stand on.' ' Eeally !' said Lottie. ' What's it all about ?' ' It is an essay on the imperfections of human society. It shows, absolutely and conclusively, that everything is wrong except one's inner self — that Society, Morality, Duty, Respectability, and the other IN THE DRAWING-ROOM 27 shibboleths, are only terms to express various phases of exploded bourgeois superstition.' ' Eeally !' said Lottie. ' So, you don't believe in Morality ?' 'No.' ' Or Duty ?' 'No.' ' Or Eespectability ? Whatever do you believe in ?' ' In myself ; in my right to expand, to live, to evolve in my own way.' And he threw out his chest, as if he were really expanding. ' H'm ! Isn't that a little selfish ?' said Lottie. ' Certainly,' responded Mervyn, with his own smile of superiority. ' Self is the only reality. I am ; but, to me, everything else in the world is merely a phenomenon, a figment, which has no provable existence.' ' Oh ! Am I a phenomenon, and a figment, and the rest of it ?' ' Certainly,' replied Mervyn placidly. ' The object 28 THE CHARLATAN of Self is to realize phenomena, and in so far as Theosophy helps me to realize them, I accept it.' ' "\Miat a charming religion !' said Lottie, sitting at the piano. She let her fingers wander aimlessly along the keys for a few seconds, and then Ijroke into a rattling chorus from the last Savoy opera. Mervyn writhed upon the sofa like an eel impaled upon a trident, his countenance expressing extreme anguish. ' Don't !' he wailed, with his fingers in his ears. ' Please don't !' ' What's the matter now ?' asked Lottie, stopping short. ' That music !' said Mervj'n, with a reminiscent shudder. * Why, don't you like it ?' ' Like it !' gasped the theosophic festhete. * Like it ! It reminds me of — of — what shall I say ? Plum pudding — or Dickens !' * Poor Dickens !' said Lottie. ' And don't you like Dickens ?' IN THE DRAWING-ROOM 29 * Vulgar optimist !' ' I don't believe you really like anything,' cried Lottie, laughing. ' You are wrong,' said Mervyn. ' I like myself.' * Epicure !' ' And I enjoy the sharp, acute spasm of artistic agony, the aroma of social decay, for out of these comes Literature, which is Life.' ' I wish you would take something to do you good,' said his cousin. 'You're really in a bad way.' Mervyn smiled with unmoved placidity. ' I'll tell you what it is, Mervyn. You've adopted this last craze simply because 3'ou've failed in every- thing else.' 'Failed!' echoed Mervyn. ' My dear Lottie, the failures of life are its only successes !' ' Then, what a success you must be ! But there, it's so easy to talk in paradoxes.' ' All nature is a paradox. The paradox of Life is Death.' ' Oh dear, oh dear !' cried Lottie, beating her little 30 , THE CHARLATAN feet on the ground, and clutching at her hah* with a comic desperation. ' For goodness' sake, stop ! My head's spinning round !' ' That's really not bad,' said Mervyn, pencilling his last utterance on his shirt-cuff, with his head admir- ingly on one side. ' " The paradox of Life is Death," Not bad at all.' Lottie watched him for some moments with an amused smile, and was about to make another remark, not too complimentary to her companion, when a figure passed along the terrace beyond the open French windows of the drawing-room. 'Isabel, Isabel!' cried Lottie; and, in answer to the call, a beautiful young girl, carrying in her hand a bunch of newly-plucked white roses from the garden, entered the room. She paused on the threshold, glancing quietly from Lottie to Mervyn, and seemed about to retire, when Lottie ran up to her, and putting her arm about her waist, continued, with a merry laugh : ' Oh, do come in, Isabel ! Mer\7n is boring me to death !' IN THE DRAWING-ROOM 31 ' Have you been quarrelling, as usual ?' asked Isabel. ' Well, never mind, Mervyn. Lottie doesn't mean half she says.' ' But I do !' cried Lottie, still encircling Isabel's waist, and drawing her forward. ' Just look at him. Do you know what he's doing ? He's — he's evolving /' Mervyn made a deprecating gesture and shrugged his shoulders, glancing at Isabel with an expression which plainly said, 'You see this little Philistine? — she doesn't understand me in the least. I live in regions far beyond her comprehension. But you, who live in the ideal, doubtless comprehend me, and I freely leave jon to judge between us.' Fortunately, just then Lottie's attention was diverted from the contemplation of Mervyn's eccentricities to the face of the new-comer. ' How pale you look !' she cried. ' I am a little tired, that's all,' replied Isabel gently, seating herself on a couch near the window, and look- ing at the flowers which she held in her hand. ' We are all tired nowadays,' said Mervyn, glancing 32 THE CHARLATAN up again. ' We are the inheritors of centuries of decay.' So saying, the Apostle of the New Culture rose languidly to his feet, and sauntered to the window. ' I think I'll take a stroll,' he murmured. ' The scent of those roses reminds me that relief from all spiritual weariness is still to be found in Nature her- self. Yes ; I really think I'll take a stroll.' Lottie tossed her head, and laughed. 'Yes, do,' she said; 'and leave me to talk to Isabel ; adding, as Mervyn was about to pass through the window, ' Why don't you take to bicycling, Mervyn, or something really energetic ? I'm sure it would do you good !' The young man glanced at his cousin with a look of profoundly supercilious pity, and murmured, as he disappeared, ' Ride on a bicycle ! Good heavens ! I would rather die /' Left alone together, the two young girls sat for some time in silence. A casual observer, seeing them seated side by side, could not fail to have been struck by the IN THE DRAWING-ROOM 33 extraordinary contrast between them. Lottie, though ' the daughter of a hundred earls,' was as round, phimp, and Enghsh as fresh air and a happy country life could make her. She was a blonde of the bright- est type, fair-haired, fair-complexioned, and blue-eyed, with dimples in her cheeks, and a face all happiness and sunshine. One would have said, looking at her, that she had never known what trouble was ; and one would have added, under the contagion of her good temper, a hearty wish that such knowledge might never come. Isabel Arlington, on the contrary, with her dark, dreamy eyes, her dark hair, and her pale olive com- plexion, seemed the very incarnation of abiding melan- choly. Beautiful as she w^as, her beauty seemed of the night rather than of the day, and her very voice, with its deep musical tones, increased the impression of settled sadness. She was tall and slightly built ; in these respects also a contrast to her sunny com- panion. * Well, Isabel,' said Lottie at last, with a little laugh, VOL. I. 3 34 THE CHARLATAN * how should you Hke to have a lover like that ?' And when Isabel smiled without replying, she continued, * I'm really quite serious when I tell him that he bores my head off. He calls me a Philistine, whatever that means, but I'm sure I'd rather be a Philistine than a bore. But there ! don't let us talk about him or about anything so absurd. What shall we talk of? — Frank ?' A faint blush flickered on Isabel's cheek, and she bent a still closer scrutiny on the flowers she held in her hand. ' He'll be here to-day, papa says, though I suppose you don't know anything about it ? "What an odd girl 3'Ou are !' she continued, after a pause spent in roguish examination of Isabel's face. * Aren't you glad he's coming ?' ' Of course I'm glad,' replied her companion ; but there was no great happiness in the tone in which she spoke, as Lottie's ear told her. ' I like Frank verj^ much ; he's — he's very kind.' ' He's very fond of you, Isabel. I don't know how IN THE DRAWING-ROOM 35 you can take things so coolly. It must be lovely to have a sweetheart. If anyone loved me as Frank loves yon, I should be jumping out of my shoes.' ' I'm afraid I'm not so enthusiastic as you, Lottie.' ' But just think of it ! When you marry Frank, you'll be a queen of society. You'll have your por- trait and pictures of 3'our dresses in all the ladies' papers, and columns of description in the Times and the ISIonuiHj Post. Lady Dewsbury ! Doesn't it sound splendid ? And Frank getting more and more famous every day ! He's been in the Punch cartoons thirteen times in the last twelve months. I've counted, so I know. And then, when the Earl dies, poor old man, you'll be the Countess of Loamshire ; but you mustn't let Frank go and bury himself in that stupid old House of Lords. You must make him be an ambassador, or something. Fancy ! if he could be ambassador at Paris!' She clasped her hands, her cheeks flushing and her eyes sparkling, as if the glories she dwelt upon were in store for herself rather than for her companion. ' I could go over and live 36 THE CHARLATAN with you, and you could chaperon me. Isabel, what is the matter with you ? I don't believe you're listening to a word I say.' ' Yes, I am, dear. And I was thinking how much better you would fill such a position than I could.' * I ?' cried Lottie, in genume comic surprise. ' My dear, I should never do for that sort of thing ! I haven't a bit of dignity — not an atom ! I should be doing something awful, and compromising my husband's official position, before I had been married a week. I know I should ! But you're just cut out for a statesman's wife.' Isabel smiled faintly at her bright little companion's frank and vivacious admiration of her. ' You love Frank, don't you, dear '?' Lottie asked, with sudden seriousness. She was far too honest and loyal a girl, far too unspoiled by the world of which she knew so little, not to put love, where every true-hearted maiden is sure to x^^^t it, before all else that life can offer. IN THE DRAWING-ROOM 37 ' I am very fond of Frank,' said Isabel. She spoke quite steadfastly and candidly, but Lottie felt a reservation behind her words, and waited with a rather anxious face for her to speak again. ' Frank is very good and kind, and very clever ; but — we are so different,' ' So much the better !' said Lottie gaily. ' It's the people who have differences of character who make the best couples. The people whose ways and tastes are alike, and who you'd think were just cut out for each other, are always unhappy together.' ' Then, what a splendid couple you and Mervyn would make !' said Isabel, with a little laugh, glad, perhaps, of a chance, however slight, of carrying the war into the enemy's country. ' Mervyn !' cried Lottie indignantly. ' I marry Mervyn ! What an idea ! No ; when I marry, I shall marry a man — a man who can do something — fight, or write, or paint, or — or anything ! Mervyn can do nothing, except loll about and evolve, as he calls it.' 38 THE CHARLATAN 'Yes,' said Isabel, 'and that is just what I mean. There are women like that, women who are fitted to be the wives of the leaders of men, who can sympa- thize with their aims, and aid them in their struggles. I shall never be a woman of the world, Lottie. I shall never really care for politics, or be mterested in Frank's pursuits, or be able to share his pleasures. All the splendid thmgs you talk of, the social triumphs, the great positions, frighten me. I feel like the wife of the Lord of Burleigh, fading away beneath the burden of an honour unto which I was not born. The landscape-painter would suit me better than the great lord.' She kept her eyes bent upon the flowers as she spoke, and Lottie watched her keenly, her dimpled face dimmed with a shadow of anxious wonder. Isabel, unwitting of the scrutiny, slowly picked the petals of a rose, and watched them as they flickered from her fingers to the carpet. * Isabel !' she said suddenly, laying her hand on her companion's arm. IN THE DRAWING-ROOM 39 'Yes, clear,' Isabel answered, waking from her brown study with a nervous start. ' I have sometimes thought ' said Lottie, and then stopped short, with her eyes still fixed on Isabel's face. Isabel, once roused from her abstraction, returned the gaze with ej^es as clear and untroubled as Lottie's own. 'Yes, dear,' she prompted her. 'You have some- times thought ' 'I have sometimes thought,' said Lottie, 'that there might be somebody else — somebody you had met, perhaps, when you were in India with your father, who ' Isabel rose, and walked a step or two back into the drawing-room. 'My darling!' cried the impetuous Lottie, darting after her, and embracing her waist. ' I haven't offended you'?' Isabel looked down on her from her superior height 40 THE CHARLATAN with the air of affectionate l)ut calm dignity which she could assume when she chose — an air which Lottie, who honestly admired and rather feared her, never dreamed of resenting. ' Don't talk nonsense, Lottie !' she said, softening the reproof with a kiss. 'But it isn't nonsense,' said Lottie, who, with all her practicality, had as keen a relish for a love- story, with a dash of mystery or romance to flavour it, as every pretty girl should have. ' You must have made hundreds of conquests, and among them all ' ' Hush !' said Isabel. ' What is that ?' A distant rumbling of wheels in the avenue, growing rapidly nearer and louder, drew them both to the balustrade of the broad terrace which encircled the entire castle. A carriage rounded the line of elms which had hitherto hid it from sight, and dashed up to the entrance. A face looked from the open window, and Lottie, clapping her hands with delight, IN THE DRAWING-ROOM 41 cried, ' Bravo ! It's Frank !' and danced down the steps to welcome Lord Dewsbury. Isabel, after a momentary pause, followed at a slower pace. CHAPTER III. A MODERN LOVER Lord Dewsbury ^Yill play a sufficiently prominent part in the present narrative to merit somewhat of a formal introduction. The heir and hope of one of the oldest and wealthiest families of England, he was a man thoroughly fitted for the position to which he had been born. He was proud, as was natural in a man of such descent, and, as was natural to a true gentleman of any degree, hid his pride for the most part under a genial courtesy to all sorts and condi- tions of people with whom he came in contact. He was brave, honourable, arbitrary and generous, as his forebears had been before him, while he had a serene conviction, which he had never paused to examine or A MODERN LOVER 43 even to formulate, that he and men of his class were the appointed rulers and leaders of the great mass of mankind. Since the most iron-bound aristocrat cannot escape the influences of the environment of his day and generation, he recognised, and was proud of the clear- sightedness which enabled him to recognise, the right of the great mass to just and kindly government. The people's duty was to him and the class he repre- sented ; his duty was to his own instincts as an English gentleman. For the rest, he was acute, hard-headed, marvel- lously well-informed on every possible subject, a fluent and convincing speaker, rising sometimes to something like eloquence, keenly alert, obstinately logical, and he had never done five minutes' real thinking in his life. He was a man with no doubts about anything, a man who had inherited his opinions with his birth and his acres as part of the family property. He was a Churchman just as he was a Tory, because 44 THE CHARLATAN his father and grandfather had been Churchmen and Tories before him. He believed in the superiority of England and Englishmen over all foreign countries and peoples as he believed in the superiority of his own class over all other classes. A Home Ruler or a Radical was to him a sort of political maniac, a clever and able maniac, it might be, but still a maniac, and he would cheerfully have given his life to save one acre of English territory from dismemberment. Politically, in a word, he was a young Sir Leicester Dedlock, with more brains, and an up-to-date political education. Socially, he was a charming fellow, even- tempered, genial, and high-spirited. Physically, he was as fine a specimen as one could wish to see of the young English gentleman beginning to verge towards middle age ; as hard as nails all over, a superb , athlete, splendid shot, boxer, oarsman, rider, and golfer. Somehow, though one of the hardest-worked men of his party, he found time for all these varied pursuits, and for a good deal of innocent social dissipation besides. A MODERN LOVER 45 A man of such gifts could hardly fail to be popular with women as ^Yith men, but a resolute ambition, and the hard work its fulfilment entailed on him, had kept him heart-whole to the verge of six-and-thirty. Since his college days he had never given more than a passing thought to any woman till, at Wanborough Castle, he had met the Earl's niece, the calm, pale, proud girl, who had recently returned from India, committed to her uncle's care by her father, a restless modern Ulysses, who, unable to cease from travel, had started on a desperate journey across the wilds of Thibet. Isabel Arlington might have seemed the last woman in the world to attract such a man as Dewsbury. Perhaps her very indifference to everything he re- garded as best worth having — wealth, social position, political battle and triumph — was the spell which drew her to him. He had been the despair of mothers and chaperons any time for the last ten years. The prize beauties of successive seasons had surged about him like the 46 THE CHARLATAN waves of the sea against Ailsa Craig, only to retire defeated. He might have married any woman in England of less than royal rank, and his power of resistance had been tested a score of times with every weapon in the feminine armoury. Women with blood, women with brains, women with money, women with all three, had shot at him, and chased him, and angled for him in vain. Yet here was a girl, beautiful, certainly, but not more beautiful than a dozen others he had known, not conspicuously clever, the daughter of a retired officer of moderate income, who did none of these things, who did not covet his prospective coronet, or flatter him about his prospective triumphs, but met him with calm friendship, and no more. He was as little of a coxcomb as any man living, but his first impression of Isabel Arlington had been that she was the most finished coquette he had yet en- countered. How else could the heir to sevent}' thousand per annum and a potential Prime Minister of England A MODERN LOVER 47. regard the penniless girl whose manner to him was as coldly friendly as it was to any country gentleman she met in her uncle's drawing-room? He had been tried with that bait before, and had not swallowed it, aware, like the shy fish he was, of the hook it covered. But he had soon learned that coquetry of any kind was foreign to this strange girl's nature. Her calmness had first piqued his sense of humour, then interested, and finally captivated him. Here was the bride worth}^ of him, the ideal woman he had sought — no vulgar female fortune-hunter, no Avoman to be dazzled by wealth or the world's regard ; but one calm, proud, queenly, and, above all, as he felt, beautifully womanly, full of the capacity of gentle and serene affection for the man who could conquer her reticence and win her love. Dewsbury soon began to feel as much delight in this quiet girl's lightest word of praise as in the thunders of the crowded House, or the applausive murmurs of London salons. Even the strong infusion of mysticism he discovered in her character, which 48 THE CHARLATAN ■would have bored and repelled him in another woman, attracted him in her, though, as their friendship thickened, he tried gently and genially to correct it by administering sugared doses of his own hard-headed common-sense. ' Family traits are wonderfully strong,' he had said to her one day. ' You are very like your father.' 'Like my father!' Isabel had answered. 'How can you know that? You have never met him.' *I don't need to meet him to know that,' said Dewsbury. ' Y'^ou both have the love of the unknown. He starts out to explore Thibet, the geographical mystery. Y'^ou try to pierce into the psjxhical terra incognita. Allow for the difference of sex, and the resemblance between you is striking.' ' Yes,' said Isabel thoughtfully ; ' there may be something in what you say.' * And it seems to me,' continued Dewsbury, ' that both expenditures of energy — if you will permit me to say so, Miss Arlington — are equally, or almost equally, mistaken.' A MODERN LOVER 49 * Yes ?' answered Isabel. ' And why so ?' ' I can understand exploration when it has a useful and definite end. The exploration which results in the discovery of an America or an Australia, which ig useful in findmg new outlets for capital and enterprise, justifies itself. But what use can a dreary tract of mountain, covered with snow, and populated by a crowd of ignorant and brutal savages, be to anybody ? Such men as Colonel Arlington are rare, and I cannot help thinking it a pity that he should risk his life for such a very inadequate gain. Then, as regards your- self ' * I can gather your meaning,' said Isabel, * without 3^our giving yourself the trouble to express it.' ' You are not offended ?' asked Dewsbury. ' I am never offended by plain speech which is honestly meant,' Isabel answered. ' If actual and tangible results are all that are worth labouring and suffering for, you are right. My father's life and my life are wasted !' ' Pardon me,' said Dewsbury quickly ; ' I did not VOL. I. 4 50 THE CHARLATAN say that ! I do not think it ! But there is so much tangible hard work to do in the ^vorld, that it always seems to me a pity to see energy appHed to negative rather than positive results.' He owned to himself later on that this particular lesson on his favourite doctrine of ' common-sense ' had been rather a failure, though he knew that a woman of Isabel's nature and intelligence was far more likely to respect, and ultimately to love, a man who discarded the ordmary methods of love-making, and gave her credit for the capacity — none too common among her sex — of dispassionate self-criticism. Isabel was not a woman to be caught l)y pretty speeches, and, for all her dreaminess and unpracti- cality, would rather listen to a home-truth than a. conventional compliment. And, indeed, so far as she was attracted by Dewsbury at all, she was attracted by his intellectual and moral honesty. His hard and fast ideas on all created things repelled her. But sVc liked and respected him for showing himself so A MODERN LOVER 51 clearly, although what he showed was not particularly lovable. A great battle was gomg on in the girl's heart. She knew that Dewsbury loved her. That he was wealthy, famous, and certain of a brilliant career did not affect her in the least. She left those figments aside. The only question in her mind was whether she could make him such a wife as such a man should have. She liked him thoroughly, and respected him profoundly, but she did not love him, nor could she, after much conscientious effort, take a real interest in the world of which he was so brilliant a figure. As she had confessed to Lottie, his triumphs — or rather the prospect of her share in them — frightened her. And she held the grand old creed, less popular nowa- days than it once was with her sex, that nothing but love can justify marriage. If she married Frank, her every thought, her very life, must be his. Dewsbury sprang from the carriage, and returned Lottie's hearty greetmg in kind, though he could not UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY 52 THE CHARLATAN keep his eyes from wandering to the tall, lithe figure of Isabel, as she slowly descended the steps. * And you, my dear Isabel ?' he asked. * You are well '?' 'Quite, thank you, Frank!' she answered. *I need not ask how you are. You look radiant. You bring good news ?' ' The best. The Liberal Ministry has resigned. We are certain of a big majority.' ' I am glad, Frank — very glad, for your sake.' ' Ah,' said Frank, with a little sigh, ' you don't care much for politics, I'm afraid. Well, we must see what the election and a bit of canvassing will do for you, and you may blossom into a Primrose dame before I see the Clock Tower again. Hullo, Darrell,, you here !' * Yes,' said Mervyn, who had just lounged up to the little group. ' I came over from Oxford to interview the Obnoskin. Wonderful woman ! Y'^ou'll meet her at dmner, Frank.' 'I suppose so,' said Dewsbury resignedly. 'And Lord Wanborough ? Still trying to solve the riddle A MODERN LOVER 53 of the universe, and running after the will-o'-the-wisp of Theosophy ?' ' I am afraid so, Frank,' said Isabel, smiling. * Has the Obnoskin converted yon yet ?' asked Dewsbury. Isabel shook her head. ' No ; I saw enough of Theosophy and Theoso- phists in India. I don't desire to know more of them.' * Papa's gone simply crazy,' said Lottie. ' He's ready to swallow any amount of nonsense.' 'Dear, dear! the folly of it!' said Dewsbury ' Seeking to know what never can be known ! Open- ing his doors to every kind of humbug !' ' Ah,' said Mervyn, who had listened to the talk with his usual air of bored tolerance, ' talking of humbug, that reminds me.' * Reminds you of what ?' asked Lottie. * Of an acquaintance of mine. A wonderful fellow ! I was introduced to him the other day at The Travellers, just after his arrival from India. He's fresh from the headquarters of the occult faith, and 54 THE CHARLATAN an adept in all its mysteries. I told the Earl about him this morning, and he has asked me to mvite him down here.' ' You'll do nothing of the kind, if you please, Mervyn,' said Lottie sharply. * I've done it already, my dear Lottie,' answered Mervyn. ' I wrote to him this afternoon.' ' I'll stop the letter,' said Lottie, starting up the steps leading to the balcony. ' You can't. Simmons went off with the post-bag ten minutes ago.' ' It's shameful !' cried Lottie. ' As if the Obnoskin wasn't enough, without another importation !' * Perhaps it's for the best, Lottie,' said Dewsbury. * There's a good deal in what Dickens says — that " the harder an unsound hobby is ridden the better, because it is the sooner ridden to death." ' ' This gentleman comes from India, you say, Mervyn ?' asked Isabel. * Yes ; he's not a native, though — at least, not alto- gether — though I should say he had a touch of the A MODERN LOVER 55 tar-brush. Very gentlemanly person,, and particularly well-read.' ' What is his name ?' * Woodville. Perhaps you've heard of him ?' ' Xo,' said Isabel thoughtfully. ' I know nobody of that name.' ' I do, though,' said Frank ; ' or, at least, I heard of him. He came over with an introduction to our chief. A Theosophist, you say ?' ' The prince of Theosophists. What they call a Mahatma.' ' Oh, how I wish papa would give up all this rubbish and go in for something sensible,' said Lottie ; * billiards, or — or even politics !' ' Thank you,' said Frank, with a laugh. * But you mustn't chaff lue, Lottie; Mervyn^ will be jealous. Will you walk round the grounds, Isabel ? You don't know how delicious it is to get away from the jar and clamour of politics to this quiet old place.' They sauntered away together, leaving Lottie and Mervyn to continue the eternal squabble in which, 56 THE CHARLATAN during each of the latter's visits to the Castle, their lives were passed. The turf was soft beneath then- feet, the encircling trees held the outer world at bay, the solemn voices of the rooks mingled with the chant of the birds singing good-night to the declmmg sun. * You are sure you will wm m the election ?' asked Isabel. * Certain !' said Dewsbury. ' The country is sick of Eadical cheeseparing and muddling. "We shall come back with a grand majority and a great programme. But I didn't ask you to walk with me to talk politics, Isabel.' ' I remember the time,' she said, ' when you scarcely cared to talk of anything else.' * Times change,' said Dewsbury, * and men with them.' * Isn't that rather a Eadical maxim for such a strong Conservative as you'?' she asked, with a smile. ' Politics again ! No, I am not to be drawn in that A MODERN LOVER $7 way. I want to forget them for a day or two, till the jfight begins again.' Isabel certainly had no great interest in the subject which Dewsbury tabooed for the moment, though she would have been glad of any topic which would keep him from speaking on the theme she feared was in his mind. But she could find no other, and so re- mained silent perforce till her companion spoke again. They had reached a moss-grown stone bench at the edge of a parterre of smooth turf, beneath which the park sloped precipitately to a line of immemorial beeches marking its confines. Through their thick clustered leaves the roofs and spire of the little town were visible against the fading glory of the sunset. Isabel sat in obedience to Frank's silent gesture, and he stood beside her for another moment in silence. 'Isabel!' he said suddenly, and for him rather nervously, ' I have something to say to you.' She shot a quick glance at him, and lowered her eyes. 58 THE CHARLATAN * You can guess what it is. You know already that I love you. I ask you now if j-ou will be my wife.' She sat silent, intertwisting her fingers, afraid to ans\\:er the question or to meet the eyes she felt were bent on her. * If the proposal seems sudden, and I dare say it is, take what time you will to answer it. I am a busy man, and I have had little time for love-making, but I think you must know how much I care for you.' He took her hand, and she made no resistance, but there was no answering warmth to his gentle pressure. He bent closer to her. She did not avoid him, but he felt her whole body shrinking. ' Have you no answer for me, Isabel ?' ' I don't know what to say, Frank,' she commenced at last. 'I — I am afraid.' * Afraid !' he echoed tenderly. ' Afraid of what '?' * Of myself,' she said. ' Of my fitness to be your wife.' A MODERN LOVER 59 ' You are worthy of a far better man than 1/ he said, ' worthy of any man aKve. I love you, Isabel. I have watched and studied you. I have learned to know you, and every fresh knowledge I have gained has deepened my love. I have worked for you of late far more than for myself. . Before I met you my ambition was cold and selfish, but now I feel that all that I could win would be valueless — mere dust and ashes, if you should refuse to share it with me. I feel as if, with you beside me, there was nothing I could not do ; without you, there will be nothing I shall care to do.' ' Give me time, Frank,' she pleaded. ' Give me time to learn my heart and see my duty clearly. Don't think that I am insensible of the honour you do me. I know there is no woman in England who would not be proud to be your wife. I know you are brave and good and kind, and worthy of any woman's love, but I cannot answer you yet. Frank, I must tell you something. Don't call me childish and silly. I know beforehand what you will think, but we are 6o THE CHARLATAN not all made alike, and I cannot banish this thing from my mind.' She then told him In-okenly of the vision of her father, which, on the preceding day, she had told to the Earl of Wanborough. ' Frank, I am as certain as that 3'ou and I are here together, as certain as I am of my o^Yn existence, that my father lives and will return to me. Think if he comes, how could I meet him if I had been false to him?' * False to him !' repeated Frank in astonishment. ' I should feel so if I formed such a tie as marriage at such a time as this. For two years we have heard no word of him. He may be sick, or a prisoner in that wild country, all alone, and I, his daughter, whom he loved better than his own life — don't you see how selfish, how horrible it would be ?' Dewsbury was in a cruel dilemma. It was hard for a man of his shrewd, worldly common-sense to be held back from the dearest of life's prizes by such A MODERN LOVER 6i gossamer manacles as these, woven from the fabric of a dream. Yet, what could he say? To ridicule the hope to which she clung so tenaciously would have been an unpardonable brutality. He had long ago made up his mind as to Colonel Arlington's fate, and had tried often, with the greatest tenderness and gentleness, to mstil into Isabel's mind his belief that her father was dead, and to induce her to bow herself to the unalterable decree of fate. And now the foolish, impressionable child had received this ' intimation,' and clung to its message with a faith which, during the recital of the dream, had almost infected liim. Eevolted common-sense on the one side, prudence and the desire, natural to a lover, not to shock Isabel by a too open confession of his un- belief in the trustworthiness of her visions, made sad havoc in his mind. 'Well,' he said at last, * God grant it may be so! But you will name some time, Isabel ; some term when you will feel conscience-free to act ?' ' Do not press me now,' said Isabel. ' I know how 62 THE CHARLATAN I am taxing your generosity, but at the earliest possible moment you shall have my answer.' And with that very doubtful consolation, Dewsbury forced himself as best he could to be content. The tranquil evening was succeeded by a night of heavy rain and storm. Lottie and Isabel, whose bedrooms communicated, sat together till, in the early morning, the tempest abated something of its fury. Lottie was ordinarily a sound sleeper ; but, as it seemed to her, she had scarcely lost consciousness, when she was recalled to it b}^ an oppressive sense of a presence in her room. She started up in bed, and there, in the clear, cold light of the early dawn, stood a white-robed figure, looking towards her with wide-open, unseeing eyes. Her first impulse was to scream aloud, but recog- nising Isabel, she held back her cry for help. Isabel walked slowly round the room, looking sightlessly here and there, and turning her head from A MODERN LOVER 63 side to side, as if listening to voices inaudible to her companion. Presently she spoke, with the dead, level monotony of sleeping speech. ' Philip ! Did you not call me, Philip ? I am here. I hear your voice, but it is dark. Where are you, Philip ?' She stretched out her hands gropingly, and so stood for a moment, then, with a deep, quivering sigh, passed from Lottie's sight to her own room. CHAPTER lY. ' THE ASRA.' It was a rather dull party which met next morning at the breakfast-table. Frank and Isabel had their own reasons for being rather constrained in each other's presence, and Lottie, remembermg the weird appearance of Isabel in her room only a few hours before, was too devoured with natural curiosity as to what her friend's dream- ing utterance might have meant to be in full posses- sion of her ordinary conversational fluency. A dozen times already it had been on the tip of her tongue to tell Isabel of her nocturnal adventure, but the ascendancy the latter so easily kept over her held her silent. Madame Obnoskin felt herself unpopular 'THE ASRA' 65 with all the mmates of the house save his lordship, who was busy with a pile of correspondence, and spoke but little. She held her own counsel, smiling, perfectly at ease, keenly and unobtrusively watchful of the others, and for the most part silent. Mervyn did not appear till the others had nearly finished their meal. "When he at last appeared, he walked up to his uncle, and, having exchanged greetings with him, gave him an open telegram, ' I have just received that, sir,' he said, ' from my friend Woodville. He will arrive here by the 6.15.' The Earl glanced at the telegram, and returned it with a smile of contentment. 'He will be welcome,' he said; 'most welcome. My dear Mervyn, will you kindly see that a carriage is in waiting at the station to convey him here ?' ' Woodville ?' said Lord Dewsbury. ' Is that the fellow you were speaking of yesterday — that Mahatma fellow ?' ' Yes,' said Mervyn. ' The Mahatma fellow will be here to-night.' VOL. I. 5 66 THE CHARLATAN Dewsbury gave a scarcely-perceptible shrug, and, rising from the table, murmured something about having work to do that morning, and betook himself to his own quarters. Lottie and Isabel left the table a moment later, leaving the Earl, Madame Obnoskin, and Mervyn together. ' Isn't it rather a curious thing, Madame Obnoskin,' asked Mervyn, ' that you, who are so highly placed in the theosophical hierarcln^ should not know so famous a man in your own line as m}' friend Wood- ville ?' ' But I do not say that I do not know him,' replied madame, ' It is ver}^ possible that I do ; it is almost certain that I know of him ; but if so, it \