Vl B RAFLY 
 
 OF THL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 
 8'23 
 
 HS9ho 
 1894 
 
 V.I 
 

THE HOYDEN 
 
AT ALL LIBRARIES. 
 
 W. E. NoRRis's New Novel. 
 THE COUNTESS RADNA. By W. E. Norris, Author of 
 ' Matrimony,' etc. In 3 vols. 
 ' Mr. Norris has rarely appeared to so much advantage as 
 in this brilliant novel.' — Morning Post. 
 
 Sarah Grand's Novel. 
 
 THE HEAVENLY TWINS. By Sarah Grand, Author 
 
 of ' Ideala,' etc. In 3 vols. Fourth Thousand. 
 
 A COMEDY OF MASKS. By Ernest Dowson and 
 Arthur Moore. In 3 vols. 
 ' One of the cleverest works of fiction produced during 
 the past decade.'— X>az'/)' Telegraph. 
 
 FROM THE FIVE RIVERS : Stories of Native Life in 
 India. By Flora Annie Steel, Author of ' Miss 
 Stuart's Legacy.' In i vol., price 6s. 
 ' Force, feeling, and originality Distinctly 
 
 worth xe.z.^mz.' —Speaker. 
 
 LONDON: 
 WM. HEINEMANN, 21, BEDFORD STREET, W.C. 
 
THE HOYDEN 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. HUNGERFORD 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 MOLLY BAWN,' ' THE o'CONNORS OF BALLINAHINCH, 
 
 ' NOR WIFE NOR MAID,' ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON 
 
 WILLIAM HEINEMANN 
 
 1894 
 
 [All rights reserved^ 
 
r^3 
 
 v. I 
 
 THE HOYDEN 
 
 I 
 
 ^ CHAPTER I. 
 
 HOW DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND, AND HOW THE 
 »' SPARKS FLEW. 
 
 The windows are all wide open, and 
 
 through them the warm, lazy summer 
 
 1 wind is stealing languidly. The perfume 
 
 ^ of the seringas from the shrubbery beyond, 
 
 -^mingled with all the lesser but more delicate 
 
 ^ delights of the garden beneath, comes with 
 
 sUhe wind, and fills the drawing-room of 
 
 ^ The Place with a vague, almost drowsy 
 
 { sense of sweetness. 
 
 J Mrs. Bethune, with a face that smiles 
 ^^-^Iways, though now her very soul is in 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
THE HOYDEN 
 
 revolt, leans back against the cushions of 
 her lounging chair, her fine red hair making 
 a rich contrast with the pale-blue satin 
 behind it. 
 
 * You think he will marry her, then ?' 
 
 * Think, think !' says Lady Rylton pet- 
 tishly. * I can't afford to think about it. 
 I tell you he must marry her. It has come 
 to the very last ebb with us now, and unless 
 Maurice consents to this arrangement ' 
 
 She spreads her beautiful little hands 
 abroad, as if in eloquent description of an 
 end to her sentence. 
 
 Mrs. Bethune bursts out laughing. She 
 can always laugh at pleasure. 
 
 * It sounds like the old Bible story,' says 
 she ; ' you have an only son, and you must 
 sacrifice him !' 
 
 ' Don't study to be absurd !' says Lady 
 Rylton, with a click of her fan that always 
 means mischief. 
 
 She throws herself back in her chair, 
 and a tiny frown settles upon her brow. 
 She is such a small creation of Nature's 
 
HOW DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND 3 
 
 that only a frown of the slightest dimen- 
 sions cou/d settle itself comfortably between 
 her eyes. Still, as a frown, it is worth a 
 good deal ! It has cowed a good many 
 people in its day, and had, indeed, helped 
 to make her a widow at an early age. 
 Very few people stood up against Lady 
 Rylton's tempers, and those who did never 
 came off quite unscathed. 
 
 * Absurd ! Have I been absurd ?' asks 
 Mrs. Bethune. ' My dear Tessie ' — she 
 is Lady Rylton's niece, but Lady Rylton 
 objects to being called aunt — ' such a sin 
 has seldom been laid to my charge.' 
 
 ' Well, / lay it,' says Lady Rylton with 
 some emphasis. 
 
 She leans back in her chair, and, once 
 again unfurling the huge black fan she 
 carries, waves it to and fro. 
 
 Marian Bethune leans back in her chair 
 too, and regards her aunt with a gaze that 
 never wavers. The two poses are In their 
 way perfect, but it must be confessed that 
 the palm goes to the younger woman. 
 
THE HOYDEN 
 
 It might well have been otherwise, as 
 Lady Rylton is still, even at forty-six, a 
 very graceful woman. Small — very small 
 — a sort of pocket Venus as it were, but 
 so carefully preserved that at forty-six she 
 might easily be called thirty-five. If it 
 were not for her one child, the present 
 Sir Maurice Rylton, this fallacy might 
 have been carried through. But, unfortu- 
 nately, Sir Maurice is now twenty-eight 
 by the church register. Lady Rylton hates 
 church registers ; they tell so much ; and 
 truth is always so rude ! 
 
 She is very fair. Her blue eyes have 
 still retained their azure tint — a rare thing 
 at her age. Her little hands and feet are 
 as tiny now as when years ago they called 
 all London town to look at them on her 
 presentation to her Majesty. She has 
 indeed a charming face, a slight figure, 
 and a temper that would shame the devil. 
 
 It isn't a quick temper — one can forgive 
 that. It Is a temper that remembers — 
 remembers always, and that in a mild. 
 
HOW DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND 5 
 
 ladylike sort of way destroys the one It 
 fastens upon. Yet she is a dainty creature ; 
 fragile, fair, and pretty, even now. It is 
 generally in these dainty, pretty, soulless 
 creatures that the bitterest venom of all is 
 to be found. 
 
 Her companion is different. Marian 
 Bethune is a tall woman, with a face not 
 perhaps strictly handsome, but yet full of 
 a beautiful diablerie that raises it above 
 mere comeliness. Her hair is red — a rich 
 red — magnificent red hair that colls itself 
 round her shapely head, and adds another 
 lustre to the exquisite purity of her skin. 
 Her eyes have a good deal of red in them, 
 too, mixed with a warm brown — wonderful 
 eyes that hold you when they catch you, 
 and are difficult to forget. Some women 
 are born with strange charms ; Marian 
 Bethune is one of them. To go through 
 the world with such charms is a risk, for 
 it must mean ruin or salvation, joy or 
 desolation to many. Most of all is it a 
 risk to the possessor of those charms. 
 
THE HOYDEN 
 
 There have been some who have denied 
 the right of Marian to the title beautiful. 
 But for the most part they have been 
 women, and with regard to those others — 
 the male minority — well, Mrs. Bethune 
 could sometimes prove unkind, and there 
 are men who do not readily forgive. Her 
 mouth is curious, large and full, but not 
 easily to be understood. Her eyes may 
 speak, but her mouth is a sphinx. Yet 
 it is a lovely mouth, and the little teeth 
 behind it shine like pearls. For the rest, 
 she is a widow. She married very badly ; 
 went abroad with her husband ; buried 
 him in Montreal ; and came home again. 
 Her purse is as slender as her figure, and 
 not half so well worth possessing. She 
 says she is twenty-eight, and to her praise 
 be it acknowledged that she speaks the 
 truth. Even good women sometimes 
 stammer over this question ! 
 
 ' My sin, my sin i^' demands she now 
 gaily, smiling at Lady Rylton. 
 
 She flings up her lovely arms, and 
 
HOW DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND 7 
 
 fastens them behind her head. Her smile 
 Is full of mockery. 
 
 ' Of course, my dear Marian, you cannot 
 suppose that I have been blind to the fact 
 that you and Maurice have — for the past 
 
 year — been — er ' 
 
 ' Philandering ?' suggests Mrs. Bethune 
 lightly. 
 
 She leans a little forward, her soft curved 
 chin coming into recognition. 
 
 ' I beg, Marian, you won't be vulgar,' 
 says Lady Rylton, fanning herself petu- 
 lantly. * It's worse than being immoral' 
 
 ' Far, far worse !' Mrs. Bethune leans 
 back in her chair, and laughs aloud. * Well, 
 I'm not immoral,' says she. 
 
 Her laughter rings through the room. 
 The hot sun behind her is lighting up the 
 splendid masses of her red hair, and the 
 disdainful gleam that dwells In her hand- 
 some eyes. 
 
 * Of course not,' says Lady Rylton, a 
 little stiffly ; ' even to mention such a thing 
 seems to be — er — a little ' 
 
THE HOYDEN 
 
 * Onfy a little ?' says Mrs. Bethune, 
 arching her brows. ' Oh, Tessie !' She 
 pauses, and then with an eloquent gesture 
 goes on again. ' After all, why shouldn't 
 I be immoral ?' says she. Once again she 
 flings her arms above her head so that her 
 fingers grow clasped behind it. 'It pays ! 
 It certainly pays. It is only the goody- 
 goodies who go to the wall.' 
 
 * My dear Marian !' says Lady Rylton, 
 with a delicate pretence at horror ; she 
 puts up her hands, but after a second or 
 so bursts out laughing. * I always say 
 you are the one creature who amuses me,' 
 cries she, leaning back, and giving full 
 play to her mirth. ' I never get a^ you, 
 somehow. I am never ^uzU sure whether 
 you are very good or very — well, very 
 much the other thing. That is your 
 charm.' 
 
 The stupid, pretty litde woman has 
 reached a truth in spite of herself — that 
 zs Mrs. Bethune's charm. 
 
 A quick change passes over the latter's 
 
HOW DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND 9 
 
 face. There is extreme hatred in it. It 
 is gone, however, as soon as born, and 
 remains for ever a secret to her companion. 
 
 * Does that amuse you ?' says she airily. 
 ' I dare say a perpetual riddle is interest- 
 ing. One can never guess it.' 
 
 ' As for that, I can read you easily 
 enough/ says Lady Rylton, with a superior 
 air. 'You are original, but — yes — I can 
 read you.' She could as easily have read 
 a page of Sanscrit. ' It is your originality 
 I like. I have never, in spite of many 
 things, been in the least sorry that I gave 
 you a home on the death of your — er — 
 rather disreputable husband.' 
 
 Mrs. Bethune looks sweetly at her. 
 
 * And suc/i a home !' says she. 
 
 ' Not a word, not a word,' entreats Lady 
 Rylton graciously. * But to return to 
 Maurice. I shall expect you to help me 
 in this matter, Marian.' 
 
 * Naturally.' 
 
 * I have quite understood your relations 
 with Maurice during the past year. One, 
 
THE HOYDEN 
 
 as a matter of course,' with a shrug of her 
 dainty shoulders, ' lets the nearest man 
 
 make love to one But Maurice must 
 
 marry for money, and so must you.' 
 
 * You are all wisdom/ says Marian, 
 showing her lovely teeth. * And this girl ? 
 She has been here a week now, but as yet 
 you have told me nothing about her.' 
 
 * I picked her up !' says Lady Rylton. 
 She lays down her fan — looks round her in 
 a little mysterious fashion, as though to 
 make doubly sure of the apparent fact that 
 there is no one in the room but her niece 
 and herself. ' It was the most providential 
 thing,' she says ; ' I was staying at the 
 Warburtons' last month, and one day when 
 driving their abominable ponies along the 
 road, suddenly the little beasts took fright 
 and bolted. You know the Warburtons, 
 don't you ? They haven't an ounce of 
 manners between them — themselves, or 
 their ponies, or anything else belonging 
 to them. Well ! They tore along as if 
 possessed ' 
 
HOW DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND ii 
 
 ' The Warburtons ?' 
 
 * No, the ponies ; don't be silly !' 
 
 * Suc/ir a relief !' 
 
 * And I really think they would have 
 taken me over a precipice. You can see ' 
 — holding out her exquisite little hands — 
 ' how inadequate these would be to deal 
 with the Warburton ponies. But for the 
 timely help of an elderly gentleman and a 
 young girl — she looked a mere child ' 
 
 'This Miss Bolton?' 
 
 * Yes. The old gentleman caught the 
 ponies' heads — so did the girl. You know 
 my slender wrists — they v/ere almost 
 powerless from the strain, but that gzrl ! 
 her wrists seemed made of iron. She held 
 and held, until the little wretches gave 
 way and returned to a sense of decency.' 
 
 ' Perhaps they are made of iron. Her 
 people are in trade, you say ? Is it iron, 
 or buttons, or what ?' 
 
 ' I don't know, I'm sure, but at all 
 events she is an heiress to quite a tre- 
 mendous extent. Two hundred thousand 
 
12 THE HOYDEN 
 
 pounds, the Warburtons told me after- 
 wards ; even allowing for exaggeration, 
 still, she must be worth a good deal, and 
 poor dear Maurice, what is /le worth ?' 
 ' Is it another riddle ?' asks Mrs. Bethune. 
 
 * No, no, indeed ! The answer is plain 
 to all the world. The Warburtons didn't 
 know these people, these Boltons (so silly 
 of them, with a third son still unmarried), 
 but when I heard of her money I made 
 inquiries. It appeared that she lived with 
 her uncle. Her father had died early, 
 when she was quite young. Her mother 
 was dead too ; this last was 2, great comfort. 
 And the uncle had kept her in seclusion 
 all her life. They are nobodies, dear 
 Marian ! Nobodies at all, but that girl 
 has two hundred thousand pounds, and 
 can redeem the property of all its mort- 
 gages — if only Maurice will let her do it.' 
 
 * But how did you ask her here ?' 
 
 ' How ? What is simpler ? The moment 
 the Warburtons told me of the wealth that 
 would be that girl's on her marriage (I 
 
HOW DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND 13 
 
 was careful to make sure of the marriage 
 point), I felt that an overpowering sense 
 of gratitude compelled me to go and call 
 on her. She and her uncle were new- 
 comers in that county, and — it is very 
 exclusive — so that when I {^id arrive, I 
 was received with open arms. I was 
 charming to the old uncle, a frosty sort 
 of person, but not objectionable in any 
 way, and I at once asked the niece to pay 
 me a visit. They were flattered, the uncle 
 especially so ; I expect he had been want- 
 ing to get into Society — had held off from 
 his own class a good deal — and as for the 
 girl, she seemed overcome with delight ! 
 A very second-class little creature I thought 
 her. No style ! No suppression of her 
 real feelings ! She said at once how glad 
 she would be to come to me ; she gave 
 me the impression that she would be glad 
 to get away from her uncle ! No idea of 
 hidmg anything ! So strange !' 
 
 ' Strange enough to be almost a fresh 
 fashion. Fancy her saying she would be 
 
14 THE HOYDEN 
 
 glad to come to you ! No wonder you 
 were startled !* 
 
 'Well, she's here,' says Lady Rylton, 
 furling her fan. Mrs. Bethune's little 
 sarcasm has been lost upon her. ' And 
 now, how to use her } Maurice, though 1 
 have thrust the idea upon him, seems 
 averse to it.' 
 
 ' The idea ?' 
 
 * Of marrying her, of course, and so 
 redeeming himself. She is not what I 
 would have chosen for him, I admit that ; 
 but all things must give way before the 
 ruin that threatens us.' 
 
 ' Yes ; true — all things,' says Mrs. 
 Bethune in a low tone. 
 
 'You see that. But how to bring 
 Maurice to the point } He is so very 
 difficult. YoUy Marian — you have influ- 
 ence with him ' 
 
 'I?' 
 
 Mrs. Bethune rises in the slow, beautiful 
 fashion that is hers always ; she moves 
 towards the window. There is no hurry, 
 
HOW DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND 15 
 
 no undue haste, to betray the disquietude 
 of her soul. 
 
 * You — you, of course,' says Lady 
 Rylton peevishly. * I always rely upon 
 you.' 
 
 ' I have no influence !' 
 
 ' You mean, of course, that you will not 
 use it,' says Lady Rylton angrily. ' You 
 still think that you will marry him your- 
 self, that perhaps his uncle will die and 
 leave him once more a rich man — the 
 master of The Place, as the old Place's 
 master should be ; but that is a distant 
 prospect, Marian.' 
 
 Mrs. Bethune has swung round, her 
 beautiful figure is drawn up to its most 
 stately height. 
 
 ' Not another word !' says she imperi- 
 ously. ' What have I to do with your 
 
 son ? Let him marry — let him marry ' 
 
 She pauses as if choking, but goes on 
 again : ^ I tell you I have no influence — 
 none ! Appeal to Margaret, she may help 
 you !' 
 
1 6 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' She— no !' 
 
 * Hush ! here she is. Yes ; ask her,' 
 says Mrs. Bethune, as if desirous of letting 
 Lady Rylton hear the opinion of the new- 
 comer on this extraordinary subject. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 HOW MARGARET PLEADS FOR THE LITTLE 
 HOYDEN, AND WITH WHAT ILL-SUCCESS. 
 
 Margaret Knollys, entering the room 
 and seeing the signs of agitation in the 
 two faces before her, stops on the thresh- 
 old. 
 
 ' I am disturbing you. I can come 
 again,' says she, in her clear, calm voice. 
 
 * No,' says Mrs. Bethune abruptly. 
 
 She makes a gesture as if to keep her. 
 
 ' Not at all. Not at all, dear Margaret. 
 Pray stay, and give me a little help,' says 
 Lady Rylton plaintively. 
 
 She pulls forward a little chair near her, 
 as if to show Margaret that she must stay, 
 
 vol. I. 2 
 
1 8 THE HOYDEN 
 
 and Miss Knollys comes quickly to her. 
 Marian Bethune is Lady Rylton's real 
 niece. Margaret is her niece by marriage. 
 
 A niece to be proud of, in spite of the 
 fact that she is thirty years of age and 
 still unmarried. Her features, taken sepa- 
 rately, would debar her for ever from being 
 called either pretty or beautiful ; yet there 
 have been many in her lifetime who ad- 
 mired her, and three, at all events, who 
 would have gladly given their all to call 
 her theirs. Of these one is dead, and one 
 is married, and one — still hopes. 
 
 There had been a fourth. Margaret 
 loved him ! Yet he was the only one 
 whom Margaret should not have loved. 
 He was unworthy in all points. Yet, 
 when he went abroad, breaking cruelly 
 and indifferently all ties with her (they had 
 been engaged), Margaret still clung to 
 him, and ever since has refused all comers 
 for his sake. Her face is long and utterly 
 devoid of colour ; her nose is too large ; 
 her mouth a trifle too firm for beauty ; her 
 
HOW MARGARET PLEADS 
 
 eyes, dark and earnest, have, however, a 
 singular fascination of their own, and when 
 she smiles one feels that one mus^ love 
 her. She is a very tall woman, and slight, 
 and gracious in her ways. She is, too, a 
 great heiress, and a woman of business, 
 having been left to manage a huge property 
 at the age of twenty- two. Her manage- 
 ment up to this has been faultless. 
 
 ' Now, how can I help you ?' asks she, 
 looking at Lady Rylton. ' What is dis- 
 tressing you ?' 
 
 ^ Oh ! you know,' says Mrs. Bethune, 
 breaking impatiently into the conversation. 
 ' About Maurice and this girl ! This new 
 girl ! There,' contemptuously, ^ have been 
 so many of them !' 
 
 * You mean Miss Bolton,' says Margaret, 
 in her quiet way. ' Do you seriously 
 mean,' addressing Lady Rylton, ' that you 
 desire this marriage ?' 
 
 'Desire it? No. It is a necessity!' 
 says Lady Rylton. * Who could desire a 
 daughter-in-law of no lineage, and with 
 
20 THE HOYDEN 
 
 the most objectionable tastes ? But she 
 has money ! That throws a cloak over all 
 defects.' 
 
 * I don't think that poor child has so 
 many defects as you fancy,' says Miss 
 Knollys. ' But for all that I should not 
 regard her as a suitable wife for Maurice.' 
 
 Mrs. Bethune leans back in her chair 
 and laughs. 
 
 * A suitable wife for Maurice !' repeats 
 she. * Where Is s/ie to be found ?' 
 
 'Here! In this girl!' declares Lady 
 Rylton solemnly. ' Margaret, you know 
 how we are situated. You know how low 
 we have fallen — you can understand that 
 in this marriage lies our last hope. If 
 Maurice can be Induced to marry Miss 
 Bolton ' 
 
 A sound of merry laughter interrupts 
 her here. There comes the sound of 
 steps upon the terrace — running steps. 
 Instinctively the three women w^ithln the 
 room grow silent and draw back a little. 
 Barely in time; a tiny, vivacious figure 
 
HOW MARGARET PLEADS 21 
 
 springs into view, followed by a young 
 man of rather stout proportions. , 
 
 * No, no, no !' cries the little figure, * you 
 couldn't beat me. I bet you anything you 
 like you couldn't. You may play me again 
 if you will, and then,' smiling and shaking 
 her head at him, ' we shall see !' 
 
 The windows are open and every word 
 can be heard. 
 
 ' Your future daughter-in-law/ says Mrs. 
 Bethune, in a low voice, nodding her 
 beautiful head at Lady Rylton. 
 
 'Oh, it is detestable! A hoyden — a 
 mere hoyden' says Lady Rylton pettishly. 
 * Look at her hair !' 
 
 And, indeed, it must be confessed that 
 the hoyden's hair is not all it ought to be. 
 It is in effect 'all over the place' — it is 
 straight here, and wandering there ; but 
 perhaps its wildness helps to make more 
 charming the naughty childish little face 
 that peeps out of it. 
 
 * She has no manners — none f says Lady 
 Rylton. ' She ' 
 
THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' Ah, is that you, Lady Rylton ?' cries 
 the small creature on the terrace, having 
 caught a glimpse of her hostess through 
 the window. 
 
 * Yes, come in — come in !' cries Lady 
 Rylton, changing her tone at once, and 
 smiling and beckoning to the girl with 
 loving fingers. * I hope you have not 
 been fatiguing yourself on the tennis- 
 courts, you dearest child !' 
 
 Her tones are cooing. 
 
 ' I have won, at all events !' says Tita, 
 jumping in over the window-sUl. * Though 
 Mr. Gower,' glancing back at her com- 
 panion, ' won't acknowledge it.' 
 
 * Why should I acknowledge it ?' says 
 the stout young man. ' It's folly to ac- 
 knowledge anything.' 
 
 ' But the truth is the truth !' says the 
 girl, facing him. 
 
 * Oh no ; on the contrary, it's generally 
 a lie,' says he. 
 
 * You ought to be ashamed of yourself,' 
 says Miss Bolton, turning her back on 
 
HOW MARGARET PLEADS 
 
 him, which proceeding seems to fill the 
 stout young man's soul with delight. 
 
 * Do come and sit down, dear child ; 
 you look exhausted,' says Lady Rylton, 
 still cooing. 
 
 ' I'm not/ says Tita, shaking her head. 
 * Tennis is not so very exhausting — is it, 
 Mrs. Bethune ?' 
 
 * I don't know, I'm sure. It seems to 
 have exhausted your hair, at all events,' 
 says Mrs. Bethune, with her quick smile. 
 ' I think you had better go upstairs and 
 settle it ; it is very untidy.' 
 
 ' Is it ? Is it ?' says Tita. 
 
 She runs her little fingers through her 
 pretty short locks, and gazes round. Her 
 eyes meet Margaret's. 
 
 ' No, no,' says the latter, laughing. ' It 
 looks like the hair of a little girl. You,' 
 smiling, ' are a little girl. Go away and 
 finish your fight with Mr. Gower.' 
 
 ' Yes. Come ! Miss Knollys is on 
 my side. She knows I shall win,' says 
 the stout young man ; and, whilst dis- 
 
24 THE HOYDEN 
 
 puting with him at every step, Tita dis- 
 appears. 
 
 ' What a girl ! No style, no manners/ 
 says Lady Rylton ; 'and yet I must receive 
 her as a daughter. Fancy living with that 
 girl ! A silly child, with her hair always 
 untidy, and a laugh that one can hear a 
 mile off. Yet it must be done.' 
 
 'After all, it is Maurice who will have 
 to live with her,' says Mrs. Bethune. 
 
 * Oh, I hope not,' says Margaret quickly. 
 ' Why ?' asks Lady Rylton, turning to 
 
 her with sharp inquiry. 
 
 * It would never do,' says Margaret 
 with decision. ' They are not suited to 
 each other. Maurice ! and that dady / 
 It is absurd ! I should certainly not 
 counsel Maurice to take such a step as 
 that !' 
 
 ' Why not ? Good heavens, Margaret, 
 I hope you are not in love with him, too !' 
 says Lady Rylton. 
 
 ' Too ?' 
 
 Margaret looks blank. 
 
HOW MARGARET PLEADS 25 
 
 * She means me,' says Mrs. Bethune, 
 with a slight, insolent smile. ' You know, 
 don't you, how desperately in love with 
 Maurice I am ?' 
 
 * I know nothing,' says Miss Knollys, a 
 little curtly. 
 
 ' Ah, you will !' says Mrs. Bethune, 
 with her queer smile. 
 
 ' The fact is, Margaret,' says Lady 
 Rylton, with some agitation, ' that if 
 Maurice doesn't marry this girl, there — 
 there will be an end of us all. He miis^ 
 marry her.' 
 
 ' But he doesn't love — he barely knows 
 her — and a marriage without love ' 
 
 ' Is the safest thing known.' 
 
 ' Under given circumstances ! I grant 
 you that if two people well on in life, old 
 enough to know their own minds, and 
 what they are doing, were to marry, it 
 might be different. They might risk a 
 few years of mere friendship together, and 
 be glad of the venture later on. But for 
 two young people to set out on life's 
 
26 THE HOYDEN 
 
 journey with nothing to steer by — that 
 would be madness !' 
 
 * Ah ! yes. Margaret speaks like a 
 book,' says Mrs. Bethune, with an amused 
 air ; ' Maurice, you see, is so young, so 
 inexperienced ' 
 
 * At all events, Tita is only a child.' 
 
 * Tita ! Is that her name ?' 
 
 * A pet name, I fancy. Short for Titania; 
 she is such a little thing.' 
 
 ' Titania — Queen of the Fairies ; I 
 wonder if the original Titania's father 
 dealt in buttons ! Is it buttons, or soap, 
 or tar ? You didn't say,' says Mrs. 
 Bethune, turning to Lady Rylton. 
 
 * I really don't know — and as it Aas to 
 be trade, I can't see that it matters,' says 
 Lady Rylton, frowning. 
 
 ' Nothing matters, if you come to think 
 of it,' says Mrs. Bethune. ' Go on, Margaret 
 — you were in the middle of a sermon ; I 
 dare say we shall endure to the end.' 
 
 * I was saying that Miss Bolton is only 
 a child.' 
 
HOW MARGARET PLEADS 27 
 
 ' She is seventeen. She told us about 
 It last night at dinner. Gave us month 
 and day. It was very clever of her. We 
 ought to give her birthday-gifts, don't you 
 think } And yet you call her a child !' 
 
 * At seventeen ! What else ?' 
 
 * Don't be ridiculous, Margaret,' says 
 Lady Rylton pettishly ; ' and, above all 
 things, don't be old-fashioned. There is 
 no such product nowadays as a child at 
 seventeen. There isn't time for it. It 
 has gone out ! The idea is entirely ex- 
 ploded. Perhaps there were children aged 
 seventeen long ago — one reads of them, 
 I admit, but It is too long ago for one to 
 remember. Why, I was only eighteen 
 when I married your uncle.' 
 
 ' Poor uncle !' says Mrs. Bethune ; her 
 tone is full of feeling. 
 
 Lady Rylton accepts the feeling as grief 
 for the uncle's death ; but Margaret, casting 
 a swift glance at Mrs. Bethune, wonders if 
 it was meant for grief for the uncle's life — 
 with Lady Rylton. 
 
28 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' He was the ugliest man I ever saw, 
 without exception,' says Lady Rylton 
 placidly ; ' and I was never for a moment 
 blind to that fact, but he was well off at 
 that time, and, of course, I married him. 
 1 wasn't in love with him.' She pauses, 
 and makes a little apologetic gesture with 
 her fan and shoulders. ' Horrid expres- 
 sion, isn't it ?' says she. ' In love ! So 
 terribly bourgeois. It ought to be done 
 away with. However, to go on, you see 
 how admirably my marriage turned out. 
 Not a hitch anywhere. Your poor dear 
 uncle and I never had a quarrel. I 
 had only to express a wish, and it was 
 gratified.' 
 
 ' Poor dear uncle was so clever,' says 
 Mrs. Bethune, with lowered lids. 
 
 Again Margaret looks at her, but is 
 hardly sure whether sarcasm is really 
 meant. 
 
 * Clever ? Hardly, perhaps,' says Lady 
 Rylton meditatively. ' Clever is scarcely 
 the word.' 
 
HOW MARGARET PLEADS 29 
 
 * No, wise — wise is the word,' says Mrs. 
 Bethune. 
 
 Her eyes are still downcast. It seems 
 to Margaret that she is inwardly convulsed 
 with laughter. 
 
 'Well, wise or not, we lived in harmony,' 
 says Lady Rylton v;ith a sigh and a pro- 
 longed sniff at her scent-bottle. ' With us 
 it was peace to the end.' 
 
 * Certainly ; it was peace a^ the end,' 
 says Mrs. Bethune solemnly. 
 
 It was, indeed, a notorious thing that 
 the late Sir Maurice had lived in hourly 
 fear of his wife, and had never dared to 
 contradict her on any subject, though he 
 was a man of many inches, and she one of 
 the smallest creatures on record. 
 
 ' True ! true ! Vou knew him so well !' 
 says Lady Rylton, hiding her eyes behind 
 the web of a handkerchief she is holding. 
 One tear would have reduced it to pulp. 
 ' And w^hen he was ' She pauses. 
 
 ' Was dead ?' says Margaret kindly, 
 softly. 
 
30 THE HOYDEN 
 
 * Oh, do7t^, dear Margaret, don^ f says 
 Lady Rylton, with a tragical start. * That 
 dreadful word ! One should never mention 
 death ! It is so rude I He, your poor uncle 
 — he left us with the sweetest resignation 
 on the 1 8th of February, 1887.' 
 
 ' I never saw such resignation,' says 
 Mrs. Bethune, with deep emphasis. 
 
 She casts a glance at Margaret, who, 
 however, refuses to have anything to do 
 with it. But, for all that, Mrs. Bethune 
 is clearly enjoying herself. She can never, 
 indeed, refrain from sarcasm, even when 
 her audience Is unsympathetic. 
 
 * Yes, yes ; he was resigned,' says Lady 
 Rylton, pressing her handkerchief to her 
 nose. 
 
 *■ So much so, that one might almost 
 think he was glad to go,' says Mrs. 
 Bethune, nodding her head with beautiful 
 sympathy. 
 
 She is now shaking with suppressed 
 laughter. 
 
 'Yes; glad. It is such a comfort to 
 
HOW MARGARET PLEADS 31 
 
 dwell on it/ says Lady Rylton, still 
 dabbing her eyes. ' He was happy — quite 
 happy when he left me.' 
 
 ' I never saw anyone so happy/ says 
 Mrs. Bethune. 
 
 Her voice sounds choking ; no doubt it 
 is emotion. She rises and goes to the 
 window. The emotion seems to have got 
 into her shoulders. 
 
 ' All which proves/ goes on Lady 
 Rylton, turning to Margaret, ' that a 
 marriage based on friendship, even be- 
 tween two young people, is often success- 
 ful.' 
 
 * But surely in your case there was love 
 on one side/ says Miss Knollys, a little 
 impatiently. ' My uncle ' 
 
 ' Oh, he adored me I' cries she ecstati- 
 cally, throwing up her pretty hands, her 
 vanity so far overcoming her argument 
 that she grows inconsistent. * You know,' 
 with a little simper, * I was a belle in my 
 day.' 
 
 * I have heard it,' says Margaret hastily. 
 
32 THE HOYDEN 
 
 who, indeed, has heard it ad nauseam. 
 ' But with regard to this marriage, Tessie, 
 I don't believe you will get Maurice to 
 even think of it.' 
 
 ' If I don't, then he is ruined !' Lady 
 Rylton gets up from her chair, and takes 
 a step or two towards Margaret. * This 
 house-party that I have arranged, with 
 this girl in it, is a last effort,' says she in 
 a low voice, but rather hysterically. She 
 clasps her hands together. * He must — 
 he imtst marry her. If he refuses ' 
 
 ' But she may refuse him,' says Margaret 
 gently ; ' you should think of that.' 
 
 * She — she refuse ? You are mad !' says 
 Lady Rylton. *A girl — a girl called 
 Bolton' 
 
 ' It is certainly an ugly name,' says Mar- 
 garet in a conciliatory way. 
 
 ' And yet you blame me because I desire 
 to give her Rylton instead, a name as old 
 as England itself. I tell you, Margaret,' 
 with a little delicate burst of passion, * that 
 it goes to my very soul to accept this girl 
 
HOW MARGARET PLEADS 33 
 
 as a daughter. She — she is hateful to me, 
 not only because of her birth, but in every 
 way. She is antagonistic to me. She — 
 would you believe it ? — she has had the 
 audacity to argue with me about little 
 things, as if she — she', imperiously, ' should 
 have an opinion when I was present' 
 
 ' My dear Tessie, we all have opinions, 
 and you know you said yourself that at 
 seventeen nowadays one is no longer a 
 child; 
 
 * I wish, Margaret, you would cure your- 
 self of that detestable habit of repeating 
 one's self to one's self,' says Lady Rylton 
 resentfully. * There,' sinking back in her 
 chair, and saturating her handkerchief with 
 some delicate essence from a little Louis 
 Quatorze bottle beside her, ' it isn't worth 
 so much worry. But to say that she would 
 refuse Maurice ' 
 
 ' Why should she not 1 She looks to 
 me like a girl who would not care to risk 
 all her future life for mere position. I 
 mean,' says Margaret a little sadly, ' that 
 
 VOL. I. 3 
 
34 THE HOYDEN 
 
 she looks to me as if she would be like 
 that when she is older, and understands.' 
 
 * Then she must look to you like a fool,' 
 says Lady Rylton petulantly. 
 
 * Hardly that. Like a girl, rather, with 
 sense, and with a heart.' 
 
 * My dear girl, we know how romantic 
 you are, we know that old story of yours,' 
 says Lady Rylton, who can be singularly 
 nasty at times. ' Such an o/d story, too. 
 I think you might try to forget it.' 
 
 * Does one ever forget ?' says Margaret 
 coldly. A swift flush has dyed her pale 
 face. *And story or no story, I shall 
 always think that the woman who marries 
 a man without caring for him is far a 
 greater fool than the woman who marries 
 a man for whom she does care.' 
 
 * After all, I am not thinking of a 
 woman,' says Lady Rylton with a shrug. 
 ' I am thinking of Maurice. This girl has 
 money ; and, of course, she will accept 
 him if I can only induce him to ask her.' 
 
 ' It is not altogether of course !' 
 
HOW MARGARET PLEADS 35 
 
 ' / think it is,' says Lady Rylton obsti- 
 nately. 
 
 Miss Knollys shrugs her shoulders. 
 
 All at once Mrs. Bethune turns from 
 the window and advances towards Mar- 
 garet. There is a sudden fury in her 
 eyes. 
 
 * What do you mean ?' says she, stopping 
 short before Miss Knollys, and speaking 
 with ill-suppressed rage. * Who is sAe, 
 that she should refuse him ? That little, 
 contemptible child ! That nobody ! I tell 
 you, she would not dare refuse him if he 
 asked her! It would be too great an 
 honour for her.' 
 
 She stops. Her fingers tighten on her 
 gown. Then, as suddenly as it grew, her 
 ungovernable fit of anger seems to die, 
 checked, killed by her own will. She 
 sinks into the chair behind her, and looks 
 deliberately at Margaret with an air that, 
 if not altogether smiling, is certainly alto- 
 gether calm. It must have cost her a 
 good deal to do it. 
 
36 THE HOYDEN 
 
 * It is beyond argument,' says she; *he 
 will not ask her.' 
 
 ' He shall', says Lady Rylton in a low 
 tone. 
 
 Margaret rises, and moves slowly to- 
 wards one of the open windows ; she 
 pauses there a moment, then steps out 
 on to the balcony, and so escapes. These 
 incessant discussions are abhorrent to her, 
 and just now her heart is sad for the poor 
 child who has been brought down here 
 ostensibly for amusement, in reality for 
 business. Of course, Maurice will not 
 marry her — she knows Maurice, he is far 
 above all that sort of thing ; but the very 
 attempt at the marriage seems to cover 
 the poor child with insult. And she is 
 such a pretty child. 
 
 At this moment the pretty child, with 
 Randal Gower, comes round the corner; 
 she has her skirt caught up at one side, 
 and Miss Knollys can see it is full of 
 broken biscuits. The pulling up of the 
 skirt conduces a good deal to the showing 
 
HOW MARGARET PLEADS 37 
 
 of a lovely little foot and ankle, and Mar- 
 garet, who has the word 'hoyden' still ring- 
 ing in her ears, and can see Lady Rylton's 
 cold, aristocratic, disdainful face, wishes 
 the girl had had the biscuit in a basket. 
 
 'Oh, here is Miss Knollys !' cries Tita, 
 running to her. 'We are going to feed 
 the swans ' (she looks back at her com- 
 panion). * He has got some more biscuits 
 in his pockets.' 
 
 * It's quite true,' says Mr. Gower ; * I'm 
 nothing but biscuits. Every pocket's full 
 of 'em, and they've gone to dust. I tried 
 to blow my nose a moment ago, but I 
 couldn't. One can't blow one's nose in 
 biscuit.' 
 
 * Come with us. Miss Knollys — do,' says 
 Tita coaxingly. 
 
 * I can't. Not now. I can't,' says Mar- 
 garet, who is a little troubled at heart. 
 * Go, dear child, and feed the swans, and 
 take care of her. Randy — take care of 
 her.' 
 
 * I'll do my little best,' says Mr. Gower, 
 
38 THE HOYDEN 
 
 with much solemnity ; ' but it's small — 
 very small. As a rule, Miss Bolton takes 
 care of me.' 
 
 Margaret gives him a last admonitory 
 glance and turns away. In truth, Mr. 
 Gower is but a broken reed to lean upon. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 HOW LADY RYLTON SAYS A FEW THINGS THAT 
 WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER LEFT UNSAID. 
 HOW * THE SCHEME ' IS LAID BEFORE SIR 
 MAURICE, AND HOW HE REFUSES TO HAVE 
 ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT. 
 
 In the meantime the conversation in the 
 drawing-room has been going on. 
 
 * Of course, if you think you can per- 
 suade him,' says Mrs. Bethune presently. 
 
 ' I know I shall. One can always per- 
 suade a man where his interests lie. 
 Besides, I have great weight with him. 
 I tell you I shall manage him. I could 
 always manage his father.' 
 
 A curious expression crosses Mrs. 
 
40 THE HOYDEN 
 
 Bethune's face. The present Baronet may 
 not prove so easy of management as his 
 father ! 
 
 ' Well, I can only wish you success,' 
 says she, with a shrug. ' By the way, 
 Margaret did not back you up in this 
 scheme as cordially as I deemed possible.' 
 
 * Margaret is so troublesome,' says Lady 
 Rylton. 'Just when you expect her to 
 sympathize with you, she starts off at a 
 tangent on some other absurd idea. She 
 is full of fads. After all, it would be rash 
 to depend on her. But yoUy Marian — you 
 owe me much.' 
 
 * How much ? My life's blood ?' 
 
 Mrs. Bethune lets her hands fall clasped 
 upon her knees, and, leaning over them, 
 looks at her aunt — such a wonderfully 
 young aunt, with her yellow hair and her 
 sparkling eyes ! Marian's lips have taken 
 a cynical turn ; her smile now is un- 
 pleasant. 
 
 ' What a hideous expression !' says Lady 
 Rylton, shuddering. 'You spoil yourself, 
 
LADY RYLTON SAYS A FEW THINGS 41 
 
 Marian ; you do indeed. Yuu will never 
 make a good marriage if > ou talk like that. 
 " Life's blood " ! — detestable /' 
 
 ' I don't desire a good marriage, as you 
 regard it.' 
 
 Lady Rylton sits suddenly quite upright. 
 
 * If you mean marriage with Maurice/ 
 says she, ' put that out of your head. You 
 must be mad to cherish such a hope. You 
 are both paupers, for one thing, and for the 
 rest, I assure you, my dear, Maurice is not 
 as infatuated about you as you are about 
 him !' 
 
 Mrs. Bethune makes a sudden move- 
 ment ; it Is slight. Her face darkens. 
 One reading between the lines might at 
 this moment see that she could have 
 killed Lady Rylton with a wondrous joy. 
 Killing has its consequences, however, and 
 she only stands quite quiet, looking at her 
 foe. What'a look it is ! 
 
 * It is you who are mad,' says she calmly. 
 * What I meant was that I should probably 
 marry some rich nobody for the sake of 
 
42 THE HOYDEN 
 
 his wealth. It would be quite in my line. 
 I should arrange him, form him, bring him 
 into Society, even against Society's will ! 
 There is a certain excitement in the 
 adventure. As for Maurice, he is no 
 doubt in your eyes a demigod — in mine,' 
 with infinite contempt, ' he is a man.' 
 
 * Well, I hope you will keep to all that,' 
 says Lady Rylton, who is as shrewd as 
 she is cruel, ' and that you will not inter- 
 fere with this marriage I have arranged 
 for Maurice.' 
 
 ' Why should I interfere ?' 
 
 * Because you interfere always. You 
 can't bear to see any man love any woman 
 but yourself.' 
 
 Mrs. Bethune smiles. * A common fault. 
 It belongs to most women. But this girl — 
 you like her ?' 
 
 ' On the contrary, as I have told you, I 
 detest her. Once Maurice has her money 
 safely in his hands, I shall know how to 
 deal with her. A little, ignorant, detest- 
 able child ! I tell you, Marian, that the 
 
LADY RYLTON SAYS A FEW THINGS 43 
 
 time will come when I shall pay her out 
 for her silly insolence towards me.' 
 
 * She is evidently going to have a good 
 time if Maurice proposes to her.' 
 
 ' He sAa// propose. Why ' She 
 
 breaks off suddenly. ' Not another word,' 
 says she, putting up her hand. ' Here is 
 Maurice. I shall speak to him now.' 
 
 ' Shall I stay and help you ?' 
 
 ' No, thank you,' says Lady Rylton, 
 with a little knowing grimace. 
 
 Seeing it, Marian's detestation grows 
 apace. She rises — and calmly, yet swiftly, 
 leaves the room. Sir Maurice is only 
 crossing the lawn now, and by running 
 through the hall outside, and getting on 
 to the veranda outside the dining-room 
 window, she can see him before he enters 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 Gaining the veranda, she leans over the 
 railings and makes a signal to him ; it is 
 an old signal. Rylton responds to it, and 
 in a second is by her side. 
 
 * Oh no, you must not stay ; your mother 
 
44 THE HOYDEN 
 
 is waiting for you in the south drawing- 
 room. She saw you coming ; she wants 
 you.' 
 
 * Well, but about what ?' asks Rylton, 
 naturally bewildered. 
 
 ' Nothing — only — she is going to advise 
 you for your good. Shall 1/ smiling at 
 him in her beautiful way, and laying one 
 hand upon his breast — 'shall I advise you, 
 too ?' 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' says Rylton ; he takes the 
 hand lying on his breast and lifts it to his 
 lips. ' Advise me.' 
 
 * Ah, no !' She pauses, a most eloquent 
 pause, filled with a long deep glance from 
 her dark eyes. ' There, go P she says, 
 suddenly pushing him from her. 
 
 ' But your advice.'^' asks he, holding her. 
 
 * Pouf ! as if that was worth anything.' 
 She looks up at him from under her 
 lowered lids. ' Well, take it. My advice 
 to you is to come to the rose-garden as 
 soon as possible, and see the roses before 
 they fade out of all recognition ! / am 
 
LADY RYLTON SAYS A FEW THINGS 45 
 
 going there now. You know how I love 
 that rose-garden ; I almost live there now- 
 adays.' 
 
 ' I wish I could live there too/ says 
 Rylton, laughing. 
 
 He lifts her hand again and presses it 
 fondly to his lips. Something, however, 
 in his air, though it had breathed devotion, 
 troubles Mrs. Bethune ; she frowns as he 
 leaves her, and, turning into a side-path 
 that leads to the rose-garden, gives herself 
 up a prey to thought. 
 
 4J -X- -re * -Tr 
 
 Rylton, with a shrug, goes towards the 
 room where Marian had told him his 
 mother was awaiting him. He could very 
 readily (as Lady Rylton had not formally 
 requested his presence) have stayed away, 
 but long experience has driven into him 
 the knowledge that when his mother wants 
 anything, all the delays and subterfuges 
 and evasions in the world will not prevent 
 her having it. To get it over, then, as 
 soon as possible is the chief thing. And, 
 
46 THE HOYDEN 
 
 after all, he is so far happy in that he 
 knows what the immediate interview is to 
 be about. That little ridiculous girl — not 
 
 half a bad little girl — but 
 
 It is with quite a resigned air that he 
 seats himself on the lounge, and agrees 
 with himself to make his mother happy by 
 letting her talk to him uninterruptedly for 
 ten minutes. 
 
 ' Women like to talk,' says Sir Maurice 
 to himself, as he sits on the lounge where 
 Marian had just now sat. He finds con- 
 solation in his mother's poodle, who climbs 
 on his knees, giving herself up a willing 
 prey to his teasing. 
 
 * Maurice, you are not attending/ says 
 Lady Rylton at last, with a touch of serious 
 anger. 
 
 ' I am indeed — I am, I assure you,' says 
 Maurice, looking up. ' If I'm not, it's 
 your poodle's fault ; she is such a fasci- 
 nating creature.' 
 
 As he says this he makes a little attack 
 on the poodle, who snaps back at him. 
 
LADY RYLTON SAYS A FEW THINGS 47 
 
 barking vigorously, and evidently enjoying 
 herself immensely. 
 
 * I want a decisive answer from you,' 
 says his mother. 
 
 ' A decisive answer ! How can I give 
 that ?' 
 
 He Is still laughing, but even as he 
 lauehs a sound from without checks him. 
 It is another laugh — happy, young, joyous. 
 Instinctively both he and Lady Rylton look 
 towards the open window. There below, 
 still attended by Mr. Gower, and coming 
 back from her charitable visit to the swans, 
 is Tita, her little head upheld, her bright 
 eyes smiling, her lips parted. There is a 
 sense of picturesque youth about the child 
 that catches Rylton's attention, and holds 
 it for the moment. 
 
 ' There she Is,' says he at last, looking 
 back over his shoulder at his mother. * Is 
 ^Aa^ the wife you have meted out for me — 
 that baby ?' 
 
 * Be serious about it, Maurice ; It is a 
 serious matter, I assure you.' 
 
48 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' Fancy being serious with a baby ! She's 
 too young, my dear mother. She couldn't 
 know her duty to her neighbours yet, to 
 say nothing of her duty to her husband.' 
 
 * You could teach her.' 
 
 ' I doubt it. They have taken that duty 
 off nowadays, haven't they ?' He is still 
 looking at Tita through the window ; her 
 gay little laugh comes up to him again. 
 * Do you know, she is very pretty,' says 
 he dispassionately ; ' and what a little 
 thing ! She always makes me think of a 
 bird, or a mouse, or a ' 
 
 ' Think of her as a girl,' says his mother 
 impatiently. 
 
 * Certainly. After all, it would be im- 
 possible to think of her as a boy ; she's too 
 small.' 
 
 ' I don't know about that,' said Lady 
 Rylton, shrugging her shoulders. * She's 
 much more a boy than a girl, where her 
 manners are concerned.' 
 
 ' Poor little hoyden ! That's what you 
 call her, isn't it — a hoyden ?' 
 
LADY RYLTON SAYS A FEW THINGS 49 
 
 ' Did Marian tell you that ?' 
 
 * Marian ? Certainly not !' says Sir 
 Maurice, telling his lie beautifully. 
 ' Marian thinks her beneath notice. So 
 
 would you, perhaps, if ' He pauses. 
 
 * If she hadn't a penny you wouldn't know 
 her,' he says presently; ^and you admit 
 she has no manners, yet you ask me to 
 marry her. Now, if I did marry her, what 
 should I do with her ?' 
 
 ' Educate her ! Control her !' says his 
 mother, a little viciously. 
 
 ' I confess I am not equal to the occa- 
 sion. I could not manage a baby. The 
 situation doesn't suit me.* 
 
 * Maurice — it musf /' Lady Rylton 
 rises, and, standing near him with her 
 hand on the table, looks at him with a 
 pale face. * You find fault with her; so 
 do I, and frankly admit she is the last 
 woman in the world I should have chosen 
 for you if I could help it, but she is one 
 of the richest girls in England. And after 
 all, though I detest the very sound of it, 
 
 VOL. I. 4 
 
50 THE HOYDEN 
 
 Trade is now our master. You object to 
 this girl's youth ; that, however, is in her 
 favour. You can mould her to your own 
 designs, and' — she casts a bitter glance 
 at him that will not be suppressed — * all 
 women cannot be widows. Then, as for 
 her being so little a creature, she is surely 
 quite as tall as I am, and your father — 
 you know, Maurice, how devoted he was 
 to me/ 
 
 * Oh yes, poor old Dad !' says Maurice, 
 with a movement that might mean pain. 
 He seldom speaks of his father — 7tever to 
 his mother. He had certainly loved his 
 father. He moves quickly to the further 
 end of the room. 
 
 * You will think of this girl, Maurice ?' 
 *Oh, if that's all,' laughing shortly, * you 
 
 have arranged for that. One can't help 
 thinking of the thing that is thrust under 
 one's eyes morning, noon, and night. I 
 shall think of her certainly until she goes 
 away.' He stops, and then says abruptly, 
 ' When is she going ?' 
 
LADY RYLTON SAYS A FEW THINGS 51 
 
 * When her engagement to you is an 
 accomplished fact.' 
 
 * My dear mother, how absurd it all is ! 
 Poor little girl, and what a shame too ! 
 She doesn't even like me ! We shouldn't 
 be taking her name in vain like this. By- 
 the-bye, what queer eyes she has ! — have 
 you noticed ?' 
 
 ' She has two hundred thousand pounds,' 
 says Lady Rylton solemnly. ' That is of 
 far greater consequence. You know how 
 it is with us, Maurice. We can hold on 
 very little longer. If you persist in refus- 
 ing this last chance, the old home will 
 have to go. We shall be beggars !' She 
 sinks back in her chair, and sobs softly but 
 bitterly. 
 
 * Don't go on like that — don't !' says 
 Rylton, coming over to her and patting 
 her shoulder tenderly. ^ There must be 
 some other way out of it. I know we are 
 in a hole more or less, but ' 
 
 * How lightly you speak of it ! Who is 
 to pay your debts ? You know how your 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 
52 THE HOYDEN 
 
 gambling on the turf has ruined us — 
 brought us to the very verge of disgrace 
 and penur}', and now, when you can help 
 to set the old name straight again, you 
 refuse — refuse !' She stops as if choking. 
 
 ' I don't think my gambling debts are 
 the actual cause of our worries,' says her 
 son, rather coldly. * If I have wasted a 
 few hundreds on a race here and there, it 
 is all I have done. When the property 
 came into my hands it was dipped very 
 deeply.' 
 
 ' You would accuse your father ' 
 
 begins she hotly. 
 
 Rylton pauses. ' No ; not my father,' 
 says he distinctly, if gently. 
 
 * You mean, then, that you accuse me /' 
 cries she, flashing round at him. 
 
 All at once her singularly youthful face 
 grows as old as it ought to be-^a vindic- 
 tive curve round the mouth makes that 
 usually charming feature almost repulsive. 
 
 ' My dear mother, let us avoid a scene/ 
 says her son sternly. ' To tell you the 
 
LADY RYLTON SAYS A FEW THINGS 53 
 
 truth, I have had too many of them of 
 late/ 
 
 Something in his manner warns her to 
 go no farther in the late direction. If she 
 is to win the cause so close to her heart, 
 she had better refrain from recrimination 
 — from an accusation of any sort. 
 
 * Dearest Maurice/ says she, going to 
 him and taking his hand in hers, 'you 
 know it Is for your sake only I press this 
 dreadful matter. She is so rich, and you 
 — we — are so poor ! She has a house in 
 Surrey, and one in the North — delightful 
 places, I have been told — and, of course, 
 she would like you to keep up your own 
 house in town. As for me, all I ask is 
 this old house — bare and uncomfortable 
 as it is.' 
 
 ' Nonsense, mother,' letting her hand go 
 and turning away impatiently. ' You speak 
 as if it were all settled.' 
 
 * Why should it no^ be settled ?' 
 
 * You talk without thinking !' He is 
 frowning now, and his tone Is growing 
 
54 THE HOYDEN 
 
 angry. ' Am I the only one to be con- 
 sulted ?' 
 
 * Oh ! as for her — that child ! Of course 
 you can influence her.' 
 
 * I don't want to,' wearily. 
 
 ' You can do more than that. You are 
 
 very good-looking, Maurice. You can ' 
 
 She hesitates. 
 
 ' Can what ?' coldly. 
 
 * Fascinate her.' 
 
 * I shall certainly not even try to do 
 that. Good heavens ! what do you mean ?' 
 says her son, colouring a dark red with 
 very shame. *Are you asking me to 
 make love to this girl — to pretend an 
 admiration for her that I do not feel ? To 
 — to — lie to her ?' 
 
 ' I am only asking you to be sensible,' 
 says his mother sullenly. She has gone 
 back to her chair, and now, with lowered 
 lids and compressed lips, is fanning herself 
 angrily. 
 
 ^ I shan't be sensible in that way,' says 
 her son, still very hotly. ' Put it out of 
 
LADY RYLTON SAYS A FEW THINGS 55 
 
 your head. To me this Miss Bolton (it 
 Is really ridiculous to call her Miss any- 
 thing ; she ought to be Betty, or Lizzie, 
 or Lily, or whatever her name Is, to every- 
 one at her age) — to me she seems nothing 
 but a baby — and — I /la^e babies !' 
 
 * Marian has taught you !' says his 
 mother, with a sneer. ' S/ie certainly Is 
 not a baby, whatever else she may be. 
 But I tell you this, Maurice, that you will 
 hate far more being left a beggar in the 
 world, without enough money to keep 
 yourself alive.' 
 
 ' I am sure I can keep myself alive.' 
 
 ' Yes, but how ? Vou, who have been 
 petted and pampered all your life ?' 
 
 ' Oh, don^ speak to me as If I were in 
 the cradle !' says Maurice, with a shrug. 
 
 ' Do you never think ?' 
 
 ' Sometimes.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, of Marian. That designing 
 woman ! Do you believe / haven't read 
 her, if you are still blind ? She will hold 
 you on and on and on. And if your uncle 
 
56 THE HOYDEN 
 
 should chance to die, why, then she will 
 marry you ; but if in the meantime she 
 meets anyone with money who will marry 
 her, why, good-bye to you. But you must 
 not marry! Mind that! You must be 
 held in chains whilst she goes free. Really, 
 Maurice,' rising and regarding him with 
 extreme contempt, ' your folly is so great 
 over this absurd infatuation for Marian, 
 that sometimes 1 wonder if you can be my 
 own son.' 
 
 * I am my father's son also,' says 
 Maurice. ' He, I believe, did sometimes 
 believe in somebody. He believed in 
 you.' 
 
 He turns away abruptly, and an inward 
 laugh troubles him. Was that last gibe 
 not an argument against himself, his judg- 
 ment ? Like his father ; is he like his 
 father ? Can he, too, see only gold where 
 dross lies deep ? Sometimes, of late, he 
 has doubted. The laughter dies away, he 
 sighs heavily. 
 
 ' He was wise,' says Lady Rylton coolly. 
 
LADY RYLTON SAYS A FEW THINGS $7 
 
 ' He had no cause to regret his belief. 
 But you, you sit in a corner, as it were, 
 and see nothing but Marian smiHng. You 
 never see Marian frowning. Your corner 
 suits you. It would trouble you too much 
 to come out into the middle of the room 
 and look round Marian. And in the end 
 what will it all come to ? Nothing f 
 
 * Then why make yourself so unhappy 
 about nothing ?' 
 
 * Because ' 
 
 ' My dear mother,' turning rather fiercely 
 on her, * let us have an end of this. 
 Marian would not marry me. She has 
 refused me many times.' 
 
 * I am quite aware of that,' says Lady 
 Rylton calmly. ' She has taken care to 
 tell me so. She will never marry you 
 unless you get your uncle's money (and 
 he is as likely to live to be a Methuselah 
 as anyone I ever saw ; the scandalous way 
 in which he takes care of his health is 
 really a byword !), but she will hold you 
 on until ' 
 
58 THE HOYDEN 
 
 * I asked you not to go on with this,' 
 says Rylton, interrupting her again. * If 
 you have nothing better to say to me than 
 the abuse of Marian, I ' 
 
 ' But I have. What is Marian, what is 
 anything to me except your marriage with 
 Tita Bolton ? Maurice, think of it. Pro- 
 mise me you will think of it. Maurice, 
 don't go.' 
 
 She runs to him, lays her hand on his 
 arm, and tries to hold him. 
 
 * I must.' He lifts her hand from his 
 arm, presses it, and drops it deliberately. 
 ' My dear mother, I can't; I can't, really,' 
 says he. 
 
 She stands quite still. As he reaches 
 the door, he looks back. She is evidently 
 crying. A pang shoots through his heart. 
 But it is all so utterly impossible. To 
 marry that absurd child ! It is out of the 
 question. Still, her tears trouble him. 
 He can see her crying as he crosses the 
 hall, and then her words begin to trouble 
 him even more. What was it she had 
 
LADY RYLTON SAYS A FEW THINGS 59 
 
 said about Marian ? It was a hint, a very 
 broad one. It meant that Marian might 
 love him if he were a poor man, but could 
 love him much more if he were a rich one. 
 As a fact, she would marry him if he had 
 money, but not if he were penniless. 
 After all, why not ? She, Marian, had 
 often said all that to him, or at least some 
 of it. But that other word, of her marrying 
 some otlier man should he appear 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HOW THE HEART OF MAURICE GREW HOT 
 WITHIN HIM, AND HOW HE PUT THE 
 QUESTION TO THE TOUCH, AND HOW HE 
 NEITHER LOST NOR WON. 
 
 Mrs. Bethune, sauntering slowly between 
 the bushes laden with exquisite blooms, 
 all white and red and yellow, looks up as 
 he approaches her with a charming start. 
 
 'You!' she says, smiling, and holding 
 out her hand — a large hand, but beautiful. 
 'It is my favourite spot. But that you 
 should have come here too !' 
 
 * You knew I should come !' returns he 
 gravely. Something in her charming air 
 of surprise jars upon him at this moment. 
 Why should she pretend .^ — and to him ! 
 
THE HEART OF MAURICE GROWS HOT 6i 
 
 ' I knew ?' 
 
 * You told me you were coming here.' 
 
 * Ah, what a lovely answer !' says she, 
 with a glance from under her long lashes, 
 that — whatever her answer may be— cer- 
 tainly is lovely. 
 
 Rylton regards her moodily. If she 
 really loved him, would she coquet with 
 him like this — would she so pretend ? All 
 In a second, as he stands looking at her, 
 the whole of the past year comes back to 
 him. A strange year, fraught with glad- 
 ness and deep pain — with fears and joys 
 intense ! What had it all meant 1 If any- 
 thing, It had meant devotion to her — to 
 this cousin, who, widowed, all but penni- 
 less, had been flung by the adverse winds 
 of Fate into his home. 
 
 She was the only daughter of Lady 
 Ryltons only brother, and the latter had 
 taken her In, and in a measure adopted 
 her. It was a strange step for her to take 
 — for one so little led by kindly impulses, 
 or rather for one who had so few kindly 
 
62 THE HOYDEN 
 
 impulses to be led by ; but everyone has 
 a soft spot somewhere in his heart, and 
 Lady Rylton had loved her brother, 
 good-for-nothing as he was. There might 
 have been a touch of remorse, too, in her 
 charity ; she had made Marian's marriage ! 
 
 Grudgingly, coldly, she opened her son's 
 doors to her niece, but still she opened 
 them. She was quite at liberty to do this, 
 as Maurice was seldom at home, and gave 
 her always carte blanche to do as she would 
 with all that belonged to him. She made 
 Marian Bethune's life for the first few 
 months a burden to her, and then Marian 
 Bethune, who had waited, took the reins 
 in a measure ; at all events, she made her- 
 self so useful to Lady Rylton that the 
 latter could hardly get on without her. 
 
 Maurice had fallen in love with her 
 almost at once ; insensibly but thoroughly. 
 There had been an hour in which he had 
 flung himself, metaphorically, at her feet 
 (one never does the real thing now, 
 because it spoils one's trousers so), and 
 
THE HEART OF MAURICE GROWS HOT 63 
 
 offered his heart, and all the fortune still 
 left to him after his mother's reign ; and 
 Marian had refused it all, very tenderly, 
 very sympathetically, very regretfully — to 
 tell the truth — but she had refused it. 
 
 She had sweetened the refusal by de- 
 claring that, as she could not marry him — 
 as she could not be so selfish as to ruin 
 his prospects — she would never marry at 
 all. She had looked lovely in the light of 
 the dying sunset as she said all this to him, 
 and Maurice had believed in her a thou- 
 sand times more than before, and had 
 loved her a thousand times deeper. And 
 in a sense his belief was justified. She did 
 love him, as she had never loved before, 
 but not well enough to risk poverty again. 
 She had seen enough of that in her first 
 marriage, and in her degradation and 
 misery had sworn a bitter oath to herself 
 never again to marry, unless marriage 
 should sweep her into the broad river 
 of luxury and content. Had Maurice's 
 financial affairs been all they ought to 
 
64 THE HOYDEN 
 
 have been but for his mother's extrava- 
 gances, she undoubtedly would have chosen 
 him before all the world ; but Maurice's 
 fortunes were (and are) at a low ebb, and 
 she would risk nothing. His uncle might 
 die, and then Maurice, who was his heir, 
 would be a rich man ; but his uncle was 
 only sixty-five, and he might marry again, 
 and No, she would refuse ! 
 
 Rylton had pressed his suit many times, 
 but she had never yielded. It was always 
 the same argument, she would not ruin 
 him. But one day — only the other day, 
 indeed — she had said something that made 
 him know she sometimes counted on his 
 uncle's death. She would marry him then ! 
 She would not marry a poor man, however 
 much she loved him. The thought that she 
 was waiting for his uncle's death revolted 
 him at the moment, and though he forgave 
 her afterwards, still the thought rankled. 
 
 It hurt him, in a sense, that she should 
 desire death — the death of another — to 
 create her own content. 
 
THE HEART OF MAURICE GROWS HOT 65 
 
 His mother had hinted at it only just 
 now ! Marian feared, she said — feared to 
 step aboard his sinking ship. Where, then, 
 was her love, that perfect love that casteth 
 out all fear ? 
 
 A wave of anger rushes over him as he 
 looks at her now — smiling, fair, with large, 
 deep, gleaming eyes. He tells himself he 
 will know at once what it is she means — 
 what is the worth of her love. 
 
 She is leaning towards him, a soft red 
 rosebud crushed against her lips. 
 
 * Ah, yes ! It is true. I did know you 
 were coming,' says she tenderly. 
 
 She gives a hasty, an almost imper- 
 ceptible glance round. Lady Rylton is 
 often a little — just a little — prone to pry- 
 ing — especially of late ; ever since the 
 arrival of that small impossible heiress, for 
 example ; and then very softly she slips 
 her hand into his. 
 
 ' What an evening !' says she with deli- 
 cate fervour. * How sweet, how perfect, 
 Maurice !' 
 
 VOL. I. 5 
 
66 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' Well ?' in a rather cold, uncompro- 
 mising way. 
 
 Mrs. Bethune gives him a quick glance. 
 
 * What a tone !' says she ; ' you frighten 
 me !' 
 
 She laughs softly, sweetly. She draws 
 closer to him — closer still ; and, laying her 
 cheek against his arm, rubs it lightly, 
 caressingly, up and down. 
 
 ' Look here !' says he quickly, catching 
 her by both arms, and holding her a little 
 away from him ; ' I have a question to ask 
 you.' 
 
 * There is always a question,' says she, 
 smiling still, ' between friends and foes, 
 then why not between — lovers ?' 
 
 She lingers over the word, and, stooping 
 her graceful head, runs her lips lightly 
 across the hand that is holding her right 
 arm. 
 
 A shiver runs through Rylton. Is she 
 true or false ? But, however it goes, how 
 exquisite she is ! 
 
 * And now your question,' says she ; 
 
THE HEART OF MAURICE GROWS HOT 67 
 
 'how slow you are to ask it. Now what 
 is it ? — what — what ?' 
 
 'Shall I ask it, Marian? I have asked 
 it too often before.' 
 
 He is holding her arms very tightly now, 
 and his eyes are bent on hers. Once 
 again he is under the spell of her beauty. 
 
 * Ask — ask what you will !' cries she. 
 She laughs gaily, and throws back her 
 head. The last rays of the sunlight catch 
 her hair, and lift it to a very glory round 
 her beautiful face. ' Go on, go on,' she 
 says lightly. There is, perhaps, some 
 defiance in her tone, but, if so, it only 
 strengthens her for the fight. ' I am your 
 captive !' She gives a little expressive 
 downward glance at his hands, as he holds 
 her arms. ' Speak, my lord ! and your 
 slave answers.' She has thrown some 
 mockery into her tone. 
 
 ' I am not your lord/ says Rylton. He 
 drops her arms, and lets her go, and stands 
 well back from her. ' That is the last part 
 assigned to me.' 
 
68 THE HOYDEN 
 
 Mrs. Bethune's gaze grows concentrated. 
 It Is fixed on him. What does he mean ? 
 What is the object of this flat rebellion— 
 this receding from her authority ? Strength 
 is hers, as well as charm, and she comes to 
 the front bravely. 
 
 ' Now what zs It ?' asks she, creeping up 
 to him again, and now slipping her arm 
 around his neck. ' How have I vexed 
 you ? Who has been saying nasty little 
 things about me ? The dear mother, eh ?' 
 
 ' I want no one to tell me anything, but 
 you.' 
 
 ' Speak, then ; did I not tell you I should 
 answer ?' 
 
 * I want an answer to one question, and 
 one only,' says Rylton slowly. 
 
 * That is modesty itself.' 
 
 * Will you marry me ?' 
 
 * Marry you ?' She repeats his words 
 almost In a whisper, her eyes on the 
 ground, then suddenly she uplifts her 
 graceful form, and, lazily clasping her arms 
 behind her head, looks at him. ' Surely 
 
THE HEART OF MAURICE GROWS HOT 69 
 
 we have been through this before,' says 
 she, with a touch of reproach. 
 
 ' Many times !' His lips have grown 
 into a rather straight Hne. ' Still I repeat 
 my question.' 
 
 ' Am I so selfish as this in your eyes ?' 
 asks she. 'Is it thus you regard me ?' 
 Her large eyes have grown quite full of 
 tears. ' Is my own happiness so much to 
 me that for the sake of it I would de- 
 liberately ruin yours ?' 
 
 * It would not ruin mine! Marry me, 
 Marian, if — you love me !' 
 
 * You know I love you.' Her voice 
 is tremulous now and her face very pale. 
 ' But kow can we marry ? I am a beggar, 
 and you ' 
 
 ' The same !' returns he shortly. * We 
 are in the same boat.' 
 
 * Still, one must think.' 
 
 * And you are the one. Do you know, 
 Marian ' — he pauses, and then goes on 
 deliberately — ' I have been thinking, too, 
 and I have come to the conclusion that 
 
70 THE HOYDEN 
 
 when one truly loves, one never calcu- 
 lates/ 
 
 ' Not even for the one beloved ?' 
 
 * For no one !' 
 
 ' Is love, then, only selfishness Incar- 
 nate ?' 
 
 ' I cannot answer that. It is a great 
 mixture ; but, whatever It Is, It rules the 
 world, or should rule It. It rules me. 
 You tell me — you are for ever telling me 
 — that marriage with you, who are penni- 
 less, would be my ruin, and yet 1 would 
 marry you. Is that selfishness }' 
 
 ' No ; It Is only folly,' says she In a low, 
 curious tone. 
 
 Maurice regards her curiously. 
 
 ' Marian,' says he quickly, Impulsively, 
 ' there are other places. If you would 
 come abroad with me, I could carve out 
 a fresh life for us — I could work for you, 
 live for you, endure all things for you. 
 Come ! come !' 
 
 He holds out his hands to her. 
 
 * But why — why not wait ?' exclaims she 
 
THE HEART OF MAURICE GROWS HOT 71 
 
 with deep agitation. ' Your uncle — he 
 cannot live for ever.' 
 
 * I detest dead men's shoes,' returns he 
 coldly. Her last words have chilled him 
 to his heart's core. ' And besides, my 
 uncle has as good a life as my own.' 
 
 To this she makes no answer ; her eyes 
 are downbent. Rylton's face is growing 
 hard and cold. 
 
 ' You refuse, then ?' says he at last. 
 
 ' I refuse nothing, but ' She breaks 
 
 off. ' Maurice,' cries she passionately, 
 ' why do you talk to me like this ? What 
 has changed you ? Your mother ? Ah, I 
 know it ! She has set her heart on your 
 marriage with this — this little nobody, and 
 she is poisoning your mind against me. 
 But you — you — you will not forsake me 
 for her !' 
 
 Mt Is you who are forsaking me,' returns 
 he violently. ' Am I nothing to you, 
 except as a medium by which )ou may 
 acquire all the luxuries that women seem 
 ready to sell their very souls for ? Come, 
 
72 THE HOYDEN 
 
 Marian, rise above it all. I am a poor 
 man, but I am young, and I can work. 
 Marry me as I am, and for what I am in 
 your sight, and seek a new life with me 
 abroad.' 
 
 ' It is madness,' says she, in a voice so 
 low as to be almost inaudible. For a 
 short, s/zor^ minute the plan held out 
 to her had tempted her, but something 
 stronger than her love prevailed. She 
 could wait — she would; and she is so 
 sure of him. He Is her own, her special 
 property. Yes ! she can afford to wait. 
 Something must occur shortly to change 
 the state of his affairs, and even if things 
 come to the very worst — there are others. 
 ' I tell you,' says she, ' that I will not spoil 
 your life. Your uncle — he would be furious 
 if you married me, and ' 
 
 Rylton put her somewhat roughly from 
 him. 
 
 * I am tired of that old excuse,' says he, 
 his tone even rougher than his gesture. 
 He turns away. 
 
THE HEART OF MAURICE GROWS HOT 73 
 
 * Maurice !' says she sharply — there is 
 real anguish in her tone, her face has grown 
 white as death — ' Maurice, come back.' 
 She holds out her arms to him. * Oh — 
 darling, do not let your mother come 
 between us ! That girl — she will make 
 you marry that girl. She has money, 
 whereas I — what am I ? A mere casta- 
 way on life's sea ! Yes, yes.' She covers 
 her face with her hands in a little paroxysm 
 of despair. * Yes,' faintly, ' you will marry 
 that girl.' 
 
 'Well, why not?' sullenly. He is as 
 white as she is — his face is stern. * It 
 she will deign to accept me. I have not 
 so far,' with a bitter laugh, * been very 
 successful in my love affairs.' 
 
 * Oh ! How can you say that — and to 
 me?' 
 
 She bursts into tears, and in a moment 
 he has her in his arms. His beautiful 
 darling ! He soothes her, caresses her, 
 lets her weave the bands of her fascina- 
 tion over him all fresh again. 
 
74 THE HOYDEN 
 
 It is only afterwards he remembers that 
 through all her grief and love she had 
 never so far forgotten herself as to promise 
 to exile herself for his sake in a foreign 
 land. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 SHOWING HOW, WHEN PEOPLE DO CONGRE- 
 GATE TOGETHER, MUCH KNOWLEDGE MAY 
 BE FOUND, AND HOW THE LITTLE HOYDEN 
 HAD SOME KIND THINGS SAID ABOUT HER. 
 
 * Game and set,' cries TIta at the top of 
 her fresh young voice, from the other end 
 of the court. It would be useless to pre- 
 tend she doesn't shout It. She Is elated — 
 happy. She has won. She tears off the 
 little soft round cap that, defiant of the 
 sun, she wears, and flings It sky-high, 
 catching It deftly as it descends upon the 
 top of her dainty head, a little sideways. 
 Her pretty, soft, fluffy hair, cut short, and 
 curled all over her head by Mother Nature, 
 
76 THE HOYDEN 
 
 is flying a little wildly across her brows, 
 her large gray eyes (that sometimes are so 
 nearly black) are brilliant. Altogether she 
 is just a little, a ve7y little, pronounced in 
 her behaviour. Her opponents, people 
 who have come over to The Place for the 
 day, whisper something to each other, and 
 laugh a little. After all, they have lost — 
 perhaps they are somewhat spiteful. Lady 
 Rylton, sitting on the terrace above, bites 
 her lips. What an impossible girl ! and 
 yet how rich ! Things must be wrong 
 somewhere, when Fate showers money on 
 such a little ill-bred creature. 
 
 * How funny she is !' says Mrs. Chichester, 
 who is sitting near Lady Rylton, a guest 
 at The Place in this house-party, this last 
 big entertainment, that is to make or mar 
 its master. Lady Rylton had organized it, 
 and Sir Maurice, who never contradicted 
 her, and who had not the slightest idea of 
 the real meaning of it, had shrugged his 
 shoulders. After all, let her have her own 
 way to the last. There would be enough 
 
WHEN PEOPLE CONGREGATE 77 
 
 to pay the debts and a little over for her ; 
 and for him, poverty, a new life, and 
 emancipation. He is tired of his mothers 
 rule. 'And how small!' goes on Mrs. 
 Chichester, a tall young woman with light 
 hair and queer eyes, whose husband is 
 abroad with his regiment. * Like a doll. 
 I love dolls ; don't you, Captain Marryatt ?' 
 
 ' Ayq you a doll ?' asks Captain Marryatt, 
 who is leaning over her. 
 
 He is always leaning over her ! 
 
 * I never know what I am,' says Mrs. 
 Chichester frankly, her queer eyes growing 
 a little queerer. ' But Miss Bolton, how 
 delightful she is ! so natural, and Nature is 
 always so — so ' 
 
 ' Natural !' supplies Mr. Cower, who is 
 lying on a rug watching the game below. 
 
 * Oh, get out !' says Mrs. Chichester, 
 whose manners are not her strong point. 
 
 She is sitting on a garden-chair behind 
 him, and she gives him a little dig in the 
 back with her foot as she speaks. 
 
 * Don't ! I'm bad there !' says he. 
 
78 THE HOYDEN 
 
 * I believe you are bad everywhere/ says 
 she, with a pout. 
 
 * Then you believe wrong ! My heart 
 is a heart of gold/ says Mr. Gower 
 ecstatically. 
 
 ' I'd like to see it/ says Mrs. Chichester, 
 who is not above a flirtation even with a 
 man whom she knows is beyond tempta- 
 tion ; and truly Randal Gower is hard to 
 get at ! 
 
 ' Does that mean that you would gladly 
 see me dead ?' asks he. * Oh, cruel woman !' 
 
 * I'm tired of seeing you as you are, any 
 way/ says she, tilting her chin. ' Why 
 don't you fall in love with somebody, for 
 goodness' sake ?' 
 
 'Well, I'm trying/ says Mr. Gower, 
 ' I'm trying hard ; but,' looking at her, * I 
 don't seem to get on. You don't encourage 
 me, you know, and I'm very shy !' 
 
 ' There, don't be stupid,' says Mrs. 
 Chichester, seeing that Marryatt is grow- 
 ing a little enraged. ' We were talking of 
 Miss Bolton. We were saying ' 
 
WHEN PEOPLE CONGREGATE 79 
 
 * That she was Nature's child.' 
 
 ' Give me Nature !' says Captain Mar- 
 ryatt, breaking into the tete-a-tete a Httle 
 sulkily. ' Nothing like it' 
 
 ' Is that a proposal ?' demands Mr. 
 Gower, raising himself on his elbow, and 
 addressing him with deep interest. ' It 
 cannot be Mrs. Bolton you refer to, as 
 she is unfortunately dead. Nature's child, 
 however, is still amongst us. Shall I convey 
 your offer to her ?' 
 
 ' Yes, shall he ?' asks Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 She casts a teasing glance at her admirer ; 
 a little amused light has come into her 
 green-gray eyes. 
 
 * I should think yoic, Randal, would be 
 the fitting person to propose to her, con- 
 sidering how you haunt her footsteps day 
 and night,' says a strange voice. 
 
 It comes from a tall, gaunt old lady, 
 who, with ringlets flying, advances towards 
 the group. She is a cousin of the late 
 Sir Maurice, and an aunt of Gower's, from 
 whom much is to be expected by the latter 
 
8o THE HOYDEN 
 
 at her death. There is therefore, as you 
 see, a cousinship between the Gowers and 
 the Ryltons. 
 
 * My dear aunt, is that you ?' says Mr. 
 Gower with enthusiasm. ' Come and sit 
 here ; do, just here beside me !' 
 
 He pats the rug on which he is recHning 
 as he speaks, beckoning her warmly to it, 
 knowing as he well does that her bones 
 would break if she tried to bring them to 
 so low a level. 
 
 ' Thank you, Randal, I prefer a more 
 elevated position,' replies she austerely. 
 
 * Ah, you would ! you would !' says 
 Randal, who really ought to be ashamed 
 of himself. ' You were meant for high 
 places.' 
 
 He sighs loudly, and goes back to his rug. 
 
 ' Miss Gower is right,' says Mrs. Bethune 
 gaily, who has just arrived. ' Why don't 
 you go in for Miss Bolton }^ 
 
 ' She wouldn't have me !' says Gower 
 tragically. ' I've hinted all sorts of lovely 
 things to her during the past week, but 
 
WHEN PEOPLE CONGREGATE 8i 
 
 she has been apparently bhnd to the 
 brilHant prospects opened to her. It has 
 been my unhappy lot to learn that she 
 prefers lollipops to lovers.' 
 
 ' You tried her ?' asks Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 'Well, I believe 1 did do a good deal in 
 the chocolate - cream business,' says Mr. 
 Gower mildly. 
 
 ' And she preferred the creams ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! much, muck P says Gower. 
 
 ' So artless of her,' says Mrs. Bethune, 
 with a shrug. ' I do love the nineteenth- 
 century child r 
 
 ' If you mean Miss Bolton, so do I,' 
 says a young man who has been listening 
 to them, and laughing here and there — a 
 man from the Cavalry Barracks at Ash- 
 bridge. * She's quite out-of-the-way 
 charming.' 
 
 Mrs. Bethune looks at him — he is only 
 a boy and easily to be subdued, and she 
 is glad of the opportunity of giving some 
 little play to the jealous anger that is 
 raging within her. 
 
 VOL. I. 6 
 
82 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' She has a hundred thousand charm- 
 ing ways/ says she, smiHng, but very 
 unpleasantly. ' An heiress is always 
 charming !' 
 
 * Oh no ! I didn't look at it in that w^ay 
 at all,' says the boy, reddening furiously. 
 * One wouldn't, you know — when looking 
 at /ler.' 
 
 ' Wouldn't one ?' says Mrs. Bethune. 
 She is smiling at him always ; but it is a 
 fixed smile now, and even more bitter. 
 ^ And yet one might,' says she. 
 
 She speaks almost without knowing it. 
 She is thinking of Rylton — might /le ? 
 
 ' I think not,' says the boy, stammering. 
 
 It is his first lesson in the book that 
 tells one that to praise a woman to a 
 woman is to bring one to confusion. It is 
 the worst manners possible. 
 
 ' I agree with you, Woodleigh,' says 
 Gower, who is case-hardened and doesn't 
 care about his manners, and who rather 
 dislikes Mrs. Bethune. ' She's got lovely 
 little ways. Have yoit noticed them T 
 
WHEN PEOPLE CONGREGATE 83 
 
 He looks direct at Marian. 
 
 * No,' says she, shaking her head, but 
 very sweetly. * But, then, I'm so dull.' 
 
 *Well, she has,' says Gower, in quite a 
 universally conversational tone, looking 
 round him. He turns himself on his rug, 
 pulls a cushion towards him, and lies down 
 again. * And they're all her own, too.' 
 
 * What a comfort !' says Mrs. Bethune, 
 rather nastily. 
 
 Gower looks at her. 
 
 * Yes, you're right,' says he. * To be 
 original — honestly original — is the thing 
 nowadays. Have you noticed when she 
 laughs ? Those little slender shoulders of 
 hers actually shake.' 
 
 * My dearMr. Gower,' says Mrs. Bethune, 
 ' do spare us ! I'm sure you must be por- 
 traying Miss Bolton wrongly. Emotion — 
 to betray emotion — how vulgar !' 
 
 * I like emotion,' says Mr. Gower calmly ; 
 ' I'm a perfect mass of it myself. Have 
 you noticed Miss Bolton's laugh, Rylton ?' 
 to Sir Maurice, who had come up a 
 
84 THE HOYDEN 
 
 moment ago, and had been listening to 
 Mrs. Bethune's last remark. * It seems to 
 run all through her. Not an inch that 
 doesn't seem to enjoy it.' 
 
 ' Well, there aren't many inches,' says 
 Sir Maurice, with an amused air. 
 ' And the laugh itself — so gay.' 
 ' You are an enthusiast,' says Sir Maurice, 
 who is standing near Mrs. Bethune. 
 
 * My dear fellow, who wouldn't be, in 
 such a cause ?' says the young cavalry- 
 man, w^ith a rather conscious laugh. 
 
 ' Here she is,' says Mrs. Chichester, 
 who is one of those people whom Nature 
 has supplied with eyes behind and before. 
 
 Tita running up the slope at this 
 moment like a young deer — a steep em- 
 bankment that would have puzzled a good 
 many people — puts an effectual end to the 
 conversation. Mr. Gower graciously deign- 
 ing to give her half of his rug, she sinks 
 upon it gladly. She likes Gower. 
 
 Lady Rylton calls to her. 
 
 * Not on the grass, Tita dearest,' cries 
 
WHEN PEOPLE CONGREGATE 85 
 
 she, in her little shrill, old-young voice. 
 * Come here to me, darling. Next to me 
 on this seat. Marian,' to Mrs. Bethune, 
 who has been sitting on the garden-chair 
 with her, * you can make a little room, 
 eh.^' 
 
 'A great deal,' says Marian. 
 
 She rises. 
 
 ' Oh no ! don't stir. Not for me,' says 
 Tita, making a little gesture to her to re- 
 seat herself. ' No, thank you. Lady 
 Rylton ; I shall stay here. I'm quite 
 happy here. I like sitting on the grass.' 
 
 She makes herself a little more com- 
 fortable where she is, regardless of the 
 honour Lady Rylton would have done her 
 — regardless, too, of the frown with which 
 her hostess now regards her. 
 
 Mr. Gower turns upon her a beaming 
 countenance. 
 
 ' What you really mean is,* says he, 
 that you like sitting near 7ne.' 
 
 * Indeed I do not,' says Tita indignantly. 
 
 ' My dear girl, think. Am I to under- 
 
86 . THE HOYDEN 
 
 Stand, then, that you don't like sitting near 
 me?' 
 
 ' Ah, that's a different thing/ says Tita, 
 with a little side-glance at him that shows 
 a disposition to laughter. 
 
 ' You see ! you see !' says Mr. Gower 
 triumphantly — he has a talent for teasing. 
 * Then you do wish to sit beside me ! 
 And why not ?' He expands his hands 
 amiably. ' Could you be beside a more 
 delightful person ?' 
 
 ' Maybe I could,' says Tita, with another 
 glance. 
 
 Rylton, who is listening, laughs. 
 
 His laugh seems to sting Mrs. Bethune 
 to her heart. She turns to him, and lets 
 her dark eyes rest on his. 
 
 ' What a little flirt !' says she con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 * Oh no ! a mere child,' returns he. 
 
 'Miss Bolton! What an answer!' 
 Gower is now at the height of his enjoy- 
 ment. ' And after last night, too ; you mus^ 
 remember what you said to me last night.' 
 
WHEN PEOPLE CONGREGATE 87 
 
 * Last night ?' She is staring at him 
 with a small surprised face — a dehghtful 
 little face, as sweet as early spring. ' What 
 did I say to you last night ?' 
 
 * And have you forgotten ?' Mr. 
 Gower has thrown tragedy into his voice. 
 ' Already ? Do you mean to tell me that 
 you don't recollect saying to me that 
 you preferred me to all the rest of my 
 sex ?' 
 
 * I never said that 1' says Tita, with 
 emphasis ; * never ! never ! Why should 
 I say that ?' 
 
 She looks at Gower as if demanding an 
 answer. 
 
 * I'm not good at conundrums,' says he. 
 * Ask me another.' 
 
 * No ; I won't,' says she. ' Why ? 
 Upon this Mr. Gower rolls himself over 
 
 in the rug, and covers his head. It is 
 plain that answers are not to be got out 
 of hiTn. 
 
 ' Did I say that ?' says Tita, appealing 
 to Sir Maurice. 
 
THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' 1 hope not,' returns he, laughing. 
 ' Certainly I did not hear it.' 
 
 * And certainly he didn't either,' says 
 Tita with decision. 
 
 'After thai,' says Gower, unrolling him- 
 self, ' I shall retire from public life ; I shall 
 give myself up to' — he pauses and looks 
 round ; a favourite ladies' paper is lying 
 on the ground near him — 'to literature.' 
 
 He turns over on his side, and appar- 
 ently becomes engrossed in it. 
 
 ' Have you been playing, Maurice ?' 
 asks Mrs. Bethune presently. 
 
 Her tone is cold. That little speech of 
 his to Tita, uttered some time ago, * I hope 
 not,' had angered her. 
 
 ' No,' returns he as coldly. 
 He is in one of his uncertain moods 
 with regard to her. Distrust, disbelief, 
 a sense of hopelessness — all are troubling 
 him. 
 
 ' What a shame, Sir Maurice !' says Mrs. 
 Chichester, leaning forward. As I have 
 hinted, she would have flirted with a broom- 
 
WHEN PEOPLE CONGREGATE 89 
 
 Stick. 'And you, who are our champion 
 player.' 
 
 * I'll play now if you will play with me,' 
 says Sir Maurice gallantly. 
 
 ' A safe answer,' looking at him with a 
 pout, and through half-closed lids. She 
 finds that sort of glance effective some- 
 times. ' You know I don't play.' 
 
 ' Not ^Aa^ game,' says Mr. Gower, who 
 never can resist a thrust. 
 
 * I thought you were reading your paper,' 
 says Mrs. Chichester sharply. ' Come, 
 what's in it ? I don't believe,' scornfully, 
 ' you are reading it at all.* 
 
 ' I am, however,' says Mr. Gower. 
 * These ladies' papers are so full of infor- 
 mation. I'm quite enthralled just now. 
 I've got on to the Exchange and Mart 
 business, and it's too exciting for words. 
 Just listen to this : '* Two dozen old tooth- 
 brushes (in £-00^ preservation) would be 
 exchanged for a gold bangle {tmscratched). 
 Would not be sent on approval (mind, it 
 must not be sent scratched! good old 
 
90 THE HOYDEN 
 
 toothbrushes !) without deposit of ten shil- 
 lings. Address, * Chizzler,' office of this 
 paper." ' 
 
 ' It isn't true. I don't believe a word 
 of it,' says Tita, making a snatch at the 
 paper. 
 
 * My dear girl, why not ? Two dozen 
 old toothbrushes. 0/d toothbrushes, you 
 notice. Everything old now goes for a 
 large sum, except,' thoughtfully, * aunts.' 
 
 He casts a lingering glance round, but 
 providentially Miss Gower has disap- 
 peared. 
 
 * But toothbrushes ! Show me that 
 paper.' 
 
 ' Do you, then, disbelieve in my word ?' 
 
 * Nobody could want a toothbrush.' 
 
 * Some people want them awfully,' says 
 Mr. Gower. * Haven't you noticed ?' 
 
 But here Sir Maurice sees it his duty to 
 interfere. 
 
 * Miss Bolton, will you play this next set 
 with me ?' says he, coming up to Tita. 
 
 ' Oh, I should /ove it !' cries she. ' You 
 
WHEN PEOPLE CONGREGATE 91 
 
 are so good a player. Do get us some 
 decent people to play against, though ; I 
 hate a weak game.' 
 
 *WelI, come, we'll try and manage it,' 
 says he, amused at her enthusiasm. 
 
 They move away together. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HOW GAMES WERE PLAYED, * OF SORTS ' ; 
 AND HOW TITA WAS MUCH HARRIED, 
 BUT HOW SHE BORE HERSELF VALIANTLY, 
 AND HOW, NOT KNOWING OF HER VIC- 
 TORIES, SHE WON ALL THROUGH. 
 
 There had been no question about It ; 
 it had been a walk-over. Even Lord 
 Eshurst and Miss Staines, who are con- 
 sidered quite crack people at tennis in this 
 part of the county, had not had a chance. 
 Tita had been everywhere ; she seemed to 
 fly. Every ball caught, and every ball so 
 well planted. Rylton had scarcely been 
 in it, though a good player. That little 
 thing was here and there and everywhere. 
 
HOW GAMES WERE PLAYED 93 
 
 yet Rylton could not say she poached. 
 Whatever she did, however, she won. 
 
 She does not throw up her cap this time 
 — perhaps she had seen a little of that 
 laughter before — but she claps her hands 
 joyfully, and pats Rylton's arm afterwards 
 in a don camarade fashion that seems to 
 amuse him. And is she tired '^. There is 
 no sense of fatigue, certainly, in the way 
 she runs up the slope again, and flings 
 herself gracefully upon the rug beside Mr. 
 Gower. Mr. Gower has not stirred from 
 that rug since. He seldom stirs. Per- 
 haps he would not be quite so stout if he 
 did. 
 
 ' You won your game ?' says Margaret 
 Knollys, bending towards Tita, with a 
 smile. 
 
 Old Lady Eshurst Is smiling at her, 
 too. 
 
 ' Oh yes ; how could I help It ? Sir 
 Maurice' — with a glance at the latter as 
 he climbs the slope in turn — ' plays like 
 an angel.' 
 
94 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' Oh no ; it Is you who do that,' says he, 
 laughing. 
 
 'Are you an angel, Miss Bolton?' asks 
 Mrs. Bethune, who is standing next 
 Rylton. 
 
 He had gone straight to her, but she 
 had not forgiven his playing with the girl 
 at all, and a sense of hatred towards Tita 
 is warming her breast. 
 
 ' I don't know,' says Tita, with a slight 
 grimace. It is not the answer expected. 
 Marian had expected to see her shy, con- 
 fused ; Tita, on the contrary, is looking at 
 her with calm, inquiring eyes. ' Do you ?' 
 asks she. 
 
 ' I have not gone into it,' says Mrs. 
 Bethune, with as distinct a sneer as she 
 can allow herself. 
 
 Mr. Gower laughs. 
 
 ' You're good at games,' says he to 
 Tita. 
 
 He might have meant her powers at 
 tennis, he might have meant anything, 
 
 ' That last game you are thinking of T 
 
HOW GAMES WERE PLAYED 95 
 
 * Decidedly, the last game,' says Gower, 
 who laughs again immoderately. 
 
 * I don't see what there is to laugh at,' 
 says Miss Bolton, with some indignation. 
 * " They laugh who win," is an old proverb. 
 But you didn't win ; you weren't in it.' 
 
 ' I expect I never shall be,' says Gower. 
 'Yet lookers-on have their advantage 
 ascribed to them by a pitiful Providence. 
 They see most of the game.' 
 
 * It is I who should laugh,' says Tita, 
 who has not been following him. ' / won 
 — we ' — looking, with an honest desire 
 to be just to all people, at Sir Maurice — 
 ' we won.' 
 
 * No, no ; leave it in the singular,' says 
 Maurice, making her a little gesture of 
 self-depreciation. 
 
 'You seem very active,' says Margaret 
 kindly. ' I watched you at golf yesterday. 
 You liked it ?' 
 
 * Yes ; there is so little else to like,' says 
 Tita, looking at her, ' except my horses 
 and my dogs.' 
 
96 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' A horse is the best companion of all,' 
 says Mr. Woodleigh, his eyes bent on her 
 charming little face. 
 
 ' I'm not sure, the dogs are so kind, so 
 affectionate ; they wan^ one so/ says Tita. 
 ' And yet a horse — oh, I do love my last 
 mount — a brown mare ! She's lying up 
 now.' 
 
 * You ride, then ?' says Sir Maurice. 
 
 ' Ride ! you bet !' says Tita. She rolls 
 over on the rug, and, resting on her 
 elbows, looks up at him ; Lady Rylton 
 watching, shudders. ' I've been in the 
 saddle all my life. Just before I came 
 here I had a real good run — my uncle's 
 groom had one horse, I had the other ; it 
 was over the downs. / won.' 
 
 She rests her chin upon her hands. 
 
 Lady Rylton's face pales with horror. 
 A race with a groom ! 
 
 ' Your uncle must give you good mounts,' 
 says Mr. Woodleigh. 
 
 ' It is all he does give me,' says the girl, 
 with a pout. * Yes ; I may ride, but that 
 
HOW GAMES WERE PLAYED 97 
 
 is all. I never see anybody — there is no- 
 body to see ; my uncle knows nobody. 
 
 Lady Rylton makes an effort. It is 
 growing ^00 dreadful. She turns to Mrs. 
 Chichester. 
 
 ' Why don't you play ?' asks she. 
 
 ' Tennis ? I hate it ; it destroys one's 
 clothes so,' says Mrs. Chichester. * And 
 those shoes, they are terrible. If I knew 
 any girls — I never do know them, as a 
 rule — I should beg of them not to play 
 tennis ; it is destruction so far as feet 
 
 go-' 
 
 ' Fancy riding so much as that !' says 
 
 Mr. Woodleigh, who, with Sir Maurice 
 and the others, has been listening to 
 Tita's stories of hunts and rides gone and 
 done. * Why, how lon£- have you been 
 hunting ?' 
 
 * Ever since I was thirteen,' says Tita. 
 
 * Why, that is about your age now, isn't 
 it ?' says Gower. 
 
 'We lived at Oakdean then,' goes on 
 Tita, taking, very properly, no notice of 
 VOL. I. 7 
 
THE HOYDEN 
 
 him, *and my father liked me to ride. My 
 cousin was with us there, and he taught 
 me. I rode a great deal before ' — she 
 pauses, and her lips quiver ; she is evi- 
 dently thinking of some grief that has 
 entered into her young life and saddened 
 it — ' before I went to live with my uncle.' 
 
 * It was your cousin who taught you to 
 ride, then ? Is he a son of the — the uncle 
 with whom you now live T asks Sir Maurice, 
 who is rather ashamed of exhibiting such 
 interest in her. 
 
 ' No, no, indeed ! He is a son of my 
 aunt's — my father's sister. She married a 
 man in Birmingham — a sugar merchant. 
 I did love Uncle Joe/ says Tita warmly. 
 
 ' No wonder !' says Mrs. Bethune. ' I 
 wish / had an uncle a sugar merchant. It 
 does sound sweet.' 
 
 * I'm not sure that you would think 
 my uncle Joe sweet !' says Miss Bolton 
 thoughtfully. * He wasn't good to look 
 at. He had the biggest mouth that ever 
 / saw, and his nose was little and turned 
 
HOW GAMES WERE PLAYED 99 
 
 Up, but I loved him. I love him now, 
 even when he is gone. And one does 
 forget, you know ! He said such good 
 things to people, and ' — covering her little 
 face with her hands, and bursting into an 
 irrepressible laugh — ' he told such funny- 
 stories !' 
 
 Lady Rylton makes a sudden move- 
 ment. 
 
 ' Dear Lady Eshurst, wouldn't you like 
 to come and see the houses ?' asks she. 
 
 ' I am afraid I must be going home,' 
 says old Lady Eshurst. * It is very late ; 
 you must forgive my staying so long, but 
 your little friend — by-the-bye, is she a 
 friend or relation ?' 
 
 ' A friend !' says Lady Rylton sharply. 
 
 'Well, she is so entertaining that I 
 could not bear to go away sooner.' 
 
 * Yes — yes ; she is very charming,' says 
 Lady Rylton, as she hurries Lady Eshurst 
 down the steps that lead to the path below. 
 
 Good heavens ! If she should hear some 
 of Uncle Joe's funny stories! She takes 
 
loo THE HOYDEN 
 
 Lady Eshurst visibly in tow, and walks 
 her out of hearing. 
 
 * What a good seat you must have !' 
 says Mr. Woodleigh presently, who has 
 been dwelling on what Tita has said about 
 her riding. 
 
 ' Oh, pretty well ! Everyone should 
 ride,' says Tita indifferently. * I despise 
 a man who can't conquer a horse. I,' 
 laughing, * never saw the horse that / 
 couldn't conquer.' 
 
 * You ? Look at your hands !' says 
 Gower, laughing. 
 
 * Well, what's the matter with them ?' 
 says she. * My cousin, when he was riding, 
 used to say they were made of iron.' 
 
 * Of velvet, rather.' 
 
 * No. He said my heart was made of 
 that.' She laughs gaily, and suddenly 
 looking up at Rylton, who is looking down 
 at her, she fixes her eyes on his. She 
 spreads her little hands abroad, brown as 
 berries though they are with exposure to 
 all sorts of weather. They are small 
 
HOW GAMES WERE PLAYED loi 
 
 brown hands, and very delicately shaped. 
 ' They are not so bad after all, are they ?' 
 says she. 
 
 * They are very pretty,' smiles Rylton, 
 returning her gaze. 
 
 Suddenly for the first time it occurs to 
 him that she has a beauty that is all her 
 own. 
 
 ' Oh no ! there is nothing pretty about 
 me,' says Tita. 
 
 She gives a sudden shrug of her 
 shoulders. She is still lying on the rug, 
 her face resting on the palms of her hands. 
 Again she lifts her eyes slowly to Rylton ; 
 it is an entirely inconsequent glance — a 
 purely idle glance — and yet it suddenly 
 occurs to Mrs. Bethune, watching her 
 narrowly, that there is coquetry in it : 
 undeveloped, certainly, but ^Aere. She is 
 now a child ; but later on ? 
 
 Maurice is smiling back at the child as 
 if amused. Mrs. Bethune lays her hand 
 upon his arm — Lady Rylton has gone 
 away with old Lady Eshurst. 
 
I02 THE HOYDEN 
 
 * Maurice ! there will be just time for a 
 walk before tea/ says she in a whisper, 
 her beautiful face uplifted very near to his. 
 Her eyes are full of promise. 
 
 He turns with her. 
 
 * Sir Maurice ! Sir Maurice !' cries Tita ; 
 * remember our match at golf to-morrow !' 
 Sir Maurice looks back. ' Mr. Gower and 
 I, against you and Mrs. Bethune. You do 
 remember ?' 
 
 * Yes, and we shall win,' says Mrs. 
 Bethune, with a cold smile. 
 
 ' Oh no ! don't think it. We shall beat 
 you into a cocked hat !' cries Tita gaily. 
 
 * Good heavens ! how vulgar she is !' 
 says Mrs. Bethune. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HOW THE ARGUMENT GROWS HIGHER ; AND 
 HOW MARIAN LOSES HER TEMPER, AND 
 HOW MARGARET OBJECTS TO THE RUIN 
 OF ONE YOUNG LIFE. 
 
 ' She is Insufferable — Intolerable !' says 
 Lady Rylton, almost hysterically. She is 
 sitting in the drawing-room with Margaret 
 and Mrs. Bethune, near one of the win- 
 dows that cverlook the tennis court. The 
 guests of the afternoon have gone ; only 
 the house-party remains, and still, in the 
 dying daylight, the tennis balls are being 
 tossed to and fro. Tita's little form may 
 be seen darting from side to side ; she is 
 playing again with Sir Maurice. 
 
I04 THE HOYDEN 
 
 * She is a very young girl, who has been 
 brought up without a mother's care,' says 
 Miss Knollys, who has taken a fancy to 
 the poor hoyden, and would defend her. 
 
 ' Her manners this afternoon ! — her 
 actions — her fatal admissions !' says Lady 
 Rylton, who has not forgiven that word 
 or two about the sugar merchant. 
 
 * She spoke only naturally. She saw no 
 reason why she should not speak of ' 
 
 ' Don't be absurd, Margaret !' sharply. 
 
 * You know, as well as I do, that she is 
 detestable.' 
 
 ' I am quite glad you have formed that 
 idea of her,' says Miss Knollys, ' as it 
 leads me to hope you do not now desire 
 to marry her to Maurice.' 
 
 After all, there are, perhaps, moments 
 when Margaret is not as perfect as one 
 believes her. She can't, for example, 
 resist this thrust. 
 
 ' Decidedly I don't desire to marry her 
 to Maurice,' says Lady Rylton angrily. 
 
 * I have told you that often enough, I 
 
THE ARGUMENT GROWS HIGHER 105 
 
 think ; but for all that Maurice must marry 
 her. It is his last chance !' 
 
 * Tessie,' says Margaret sharply, * if 
 you persist in this matter, and bring it to 
 the conclusion you have in view, do you 
 know what will happen ? You will make 
 your only child miserable ! I warn you of 
 that.' Miss Knollys' voice is almost solemn. 
 
 * You talk as if Maurice was the only 
 person in the world to be made miserable,' 
 says Lady Rylton, leaning back in her 
 chair and bursting into tears — at all 
 events, it must be supposed it is tears that 
 are going on behind the little lace frag- 
 ment pressed to her eyes. ' Am not I 
 ten times more miserable ? I, who have 
 to give my only son — as ' (sobbing) 
 ' you most admirably describe it, Mar- 
 garet — to such a girl as that ! Good 
 heavens ! What can his sufferings be to 
 mine ?' She wipes her eyes daintily, and 
 sits up again. ' You hurt me so, dear 
 Margaret,' she says plaintively, 'but I'm 
 sure you do not mean it.' 
 
io6 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' No, no, of course,' says Miss Knollys, 
 as civilly as she can. She is feeling a 
 little disgusted. 
 
 * And as for this affair — objectionable as 
 the girl is, still one must give and take a 
 little when one's fortunes are at the ebb. 
 And I will save my dearest Maurice at 
 all risks if I can, no matter what grief it 
 costs 7ne. Who am I ' — with a picturesque 
 sigh — ' that I should interfere with the 
 prospects of my child ? And this girl ! 
 If Maurice can be persuaded to have 
 her ' 
 
 * My dear Tessie, what a word!' says 
 Margaret, rising, with a distinct frown. 
 ' Has he on/y to ask, then, and have ?' 
 
 * Beyond doubt,' says Lady Rylton 
 insolently, waving her fan to and fro, * if 
 he does it in the right way. In all my 
 experience, my dear Margaret, I have 
 never known a woman to frown upon a 
 man who was as handsome, as well-born, 
 as c/itc as Maurice ! Even though the 
 man might be a — well ' — smiling and 
 
THE ARGUMENT GROWS HIGHER 107 
 
 lifting her shoulders — ' it's a rude word, 
 but — well, a very devil !' 
 
 She looks deliberately at Margaret over 
 her fan, who really appears In this dull 
 light nearly as young as she is. The look 
 is a cruel one, hideously cruel. Even 
 Marian Bethune, whose bowels of com- 
 passion are extraordinarily small, changes 
 colour, and lets her red-brown eyes rest 
 on the small woman lounging in the deep 
 chair with a rather murderous gaze. 
 
 Yet Lady Rylton smiles on, enjoying the 
 changes In Margaret's face. It Is a terrible 
 smile, coming from so fragile a creature. 
 
 Margaret's face has grown white, but 
 she answers coldly and with deliberation. 
 All that past horrible time — her lover, his 
 unvvorthlness, his desertion — all her young, 
 young life lies once more massacred before 
 her. 
 
 * The women who give In to such fas- 
 cination, such mere outward charms, are 
 fools !' says she with a strength that 
 adorns her. 
 
io8 The hoyden 
 
 ' Oh, come ! Come now, dearest 
 Margaret/ says her aunt, with the gayest 
 of Httle laughs, * would you call yourself a 
 fool ? Why, remember, your own dear 
 Harold was ' 
 
 * Pray spare me !' says Miss Knollys, In 
 so cold, so haughty, so commanding a 
 tone, that even Lady Rylton sinks beneath 
 it. She makes an effort to sustain her 
 position and laughs lightly, but for all 
 that she lets her last sentence remain a 
 fragment. 
 
 ' You think Maurice will propose to this 
 Miss Bolton ?' says Marian Bethune, lean- 
 ing forward. There is something sarcastic 
 In her smile. 
 
 * He must. It Is detestable, of course. 
 One would like a girl in his own rank, but 
 there are so few of them with money, and 
 when there is one, her people want her 
 to marry a Duke or a foreign Prince — so 
 tiresome of them !* 
 
 * It is ail such folly,' says Margaret, 
 knitting her brows. 
 
THE ARGUMENT GROWS HIGHER 109 
 
 * Utter folly,' says Lady Rylton. * That 
 is what makes it so wise ! It would be 
 folly to marry a satyr — satyrs are horrid 
 — but if the satyr had millions ! Oh, the 
 wisdom of it !' 
 
 * You go too far !' says Margaret. 
 ' Money is not everything.' 
 
 * And Maurice is not a satyr,' says 
 Mrs. Bethune, a trifle unwisely. She 
 has been watching the players on the 
 ground below. Lady Rylton looks at 
 her. 
 
 * Of course you object to it,' says 
 she. 
 
 ' I !' says Marian. ' Why should I 
 object to it ? I talk of marriage only in 
 the abstract.' 
 
 * I am glad of that !' Lady Rylton's 
 eyes are still fixed on hers. ' This will be 
 a veritable marriage, I assure you ; I have 
 set my mind on it. It is terrible to con- 
 template, but one must give way some- 
 times ; yet the thought of throwing that 
 girl into the arms of darling Maurice ' 
 
lo THE HOYDEN 
 
 She breaks off, evidently overcome, yet 
 behind the cobweb she presses to her 
 cheeks she has an eye on Marian. 
 
 ' I don't think Maurice's arms could 
 hold her,' says Mrs. Bethune, with a low 
 laugh. It is a strange laugh. Lady 
 Rylton's glance grows keener. ' Such a 
 mere doll of a thing. A mite!' She 
 laughs again, but this time (having caught 
 Lady Rylton's concentrated gaze) in a 
 very ordinary manner — the passion, the 
 anger has died out of it. 
 
 'Yes, she's a mere mite,' says Lady 
 Rylton. ' She is positively trivial ! She 
 is in effect a perfect idiot in some ways. 
 You know I have tried to impress her — 
 to show her that she is not altogether 
 below our level — as she certainly is — but 
 she has refused to see my kindness. She 
 — she's very fatiguing,' says Lady Rylton, 
 with a long-suffering sigh. ' But one 
 gets accustomed to grievances. This 
 girl, just because she is hateful to me, 
 is the one I must take into my bosom. 
 
THE ARGUMENT GROWS HIGHER in 
 
 She is going to give her fortune to 
 Maurice !' 
 
 ' And Maurice ?' asks Margaret. 
 
 ' Is going to take it,' returns his mother 
 airily. ' And is going to give her, what 
 she has never had — a name P 
 
 * A cruel compact,' says Margaret slowly, 
 but with decision. ' I think this marriage 
 should not be so much as thought of! 
 That child ! and Maurice, who cares 
 nothing for her. Marian' — Miss Knollys 
 turns suddenly to Marian, who has with- 
 drawn behind the curtains, as if determined 
 to have nothing to say further to the dis- 
 cussion — * Marian, come here. Say you 
 think Maurice should not marry this silly 
 child — this baby.' 
 
 ' Oh ! as for me,' says Mrs. Bethune, 
 coming out from behind the curtains, her 
 face a little pale, ' what is my weight in 
 this matter .'^ Nothing ! nothing ! Let 
 Maurice marry as he will.' 
 
 * As he will f Lady Rylton repeats 
 her words, and, rising, comes towards her. 
 
12 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' Why don't you answer ?' says she. * We 
 want your answer. Give it !' 
 
 ' I have no answer/ says Mrs. Bethune 
 slowly. * Why should he not marry Miss 
 Bolton? — and again, why should he? 
 Marriage, as we have been told all our 
 lives, is but a lottery — they should have 
 said a mockery,' with a little bitter smile. 
 ' One could have understood that.' 
 
 * Then you advise Maurice to marry this 
 girl ?' asks Lady Rylton eagerly. 
 
 ' Oh, no, no ! I advise nothing,' says 
 Marian, with a little wave of her arms. 
 
 ' But why ?' demands Lady Rylton 
 angrily. 
 
 She had depended upon Marian to sup- 
 port her against Margaret. 
 
 'Simply because I won't,' says Mrs. 
 Bethune, her strange eyes beginning to 
 blaze. 
 
 ' Because you daren't ?' questions Lady 
 Rylton, with a sneer. 
 
 ' I don't understand you,' says Marian 
 coldly. 
 
THE ARGUMENT GROWS HIGHER 113 
 
 ' Don't you ?' Lady Rylton's soft, little, 
 fair face grows diabolical. ' Then let me 
 explain.' Margaret makes a movement 
 towards her, but she waves her back. 
 * Pray let me explain, Margaret. Our 
 dear Marian is so Intensely dull that she 
 wants a word In season. We all know 
 why she objects to a marriage of any sort. 
 She made a fiasco of her own first mar- 
 riage, and now hopes ' 
 
 She would have continued her cruel 
 speech but that Mrs. Bethune, who has 
 risen, breaks into it. She comes forward 
 In a wild, tempestuous fashion, her eyes 
 afire, her nostrils dilated ! Her beautiful 
 red hair seems alight as she descends upon 
 Lady Rylton. 
 
 ' And that marriage !' says she, In a 
 suffocating tone. ' Who made It 1 Who ?' 
 She looks like a fury There Is a hatred, 
 an almost murderous hatred. In the glance 
 she casts at the little, languid, pretty 
 woman before her, who looks back at her 
 with uplifted shoulders, and an all-round 
 
 VOL. I. 8 
 
14 THE HOYDEN 
 
 air of surprise and disapprobation. ' You 
 to taunt me !' says she, in a low, condensed 
 tone. * Yozi, who hurried, who forced me 
 into a marriage with a man I detested ! 
 You, who gave me to understand, when I 
 resisted, that I had no place on this big 
 earth except a pauper's place — a place in 
 a workhouse !' 
 
 She stands tall, grave, magnificent, in 
 her fury before Lady Rylton, who, in spite 
 of the courage born of want of feeling, now 
 shrinks from h^r as if affrighted. 
 
 ' If you persist in going on like this,' 
 says she, pressing her smelling-bottle to 
 her nose, ' I must ask you to go away — 
 to go at once. I hate scenes. You 7nust 
 go!' 
 
 ' I went away once,' says Mrs. Bethune, 
 standing pale and cold before her, * at your 
 command — I went to the home of the man 
 you selected for me. What devil's life I 
 led with him you may guess at. You 
 knew him, I did not. I was seventeen 
 then/ She pauses ; the breath she draws 
 
THE ARGUMENT GROWS HIGHER 115 
 
 seems to rive her body in twain. * I came 
 back ' she says presently. 
 
 * A widow ?' 
 
 ' A widow — thank God f 
 
 A silence follows ; something of tragedy 
 seems to have fallen into the air — with 
 that young lovely creature standing there, 
 upright, passionate, her arms clasped behind 
 her head, as the heroine of it. The sun- 
 light from the dying day lights up the red, 
 rich beauty of her hair, the deadly pallor 
 of her skin. Through it all the sound of 
 the tennis-balls from below, as they hurry 
 to and fro through the air, can be heard. 
 Perhaps it reaches her. She flings her- 
 self suddenly into a chair, and bursts out 
 laughing. 
 
 ' Let us come back to common-sense,' 
 cries she. ' What were we talking of ? 
 The marriage of Maurice to this little 
 plebeian — this little female Croesus. Well, 
 what of the argument — what T 
 
 Her manner is a little excited. 
 
 * I, for one, object to the marriage,' says 
 
ii6 THE HOYDEN 
 
 Margaret distinctly. * The child is too 
 young and too rich ! She should be given 
 a chance ; she should not be coerced and 
 drawn into a mesh, as it were, without her 
 knowledge.' 
 
 * A mesh ? Do you call a marriage with 
 my son a mesh ?' asks Lady Rylton angrily. 
 ' He of one of the oldest families in 
 England, and she a nobody !' 
 
 * There is no such thing as a nobody,' 
 says Miss Knollys calmly. ' This girl has 
 intellect, mind, a soul! She has even 
 money ! She must be considered.' 
 
 * She has no birth !' says Lady Rylton. 
 * If you are going in for Socialistic prin- 
 ciples, Margaret, pray do not expect me 
 to follow you. I despise folly of that 
 sort.' 
 
 * I am not a Socialist/ says Margaret 
 slowly, ' and yet why cannot this child be 
 accepted as one of ourselves ? Where is 
 the great difference ? You object to her 
 marrying your son, yet you want to marry 
 her to your son. How do you reconcile 
 
THE ARGUMENT GROWS HIGHER 117 
 
 it ? Surely you are more of a Socialist 
 than I am. You would put the son of a 
 baronet and the daughter of heaven knows 
 who on an equality.' 
 
 ' Never !' says Lady Rylton. * You 
 don't understand. She will always be just 
 as she is, and Maurice ' 
 
 ' And their children ?' asks Margaret. 
 
 Here Mrs. Bethune springs to her feet. 
 
 * Good heavens ! Margaret, have you not 
 gone far enough ?' says she. If her face 
 had been pale before, it is livid now. 
 
 * Why, this marriage — this marriage ' — she 
 beats her hand upon a table near her — 
 'one would think it was a fact accom- 
 plished !' 
 
 ' I was only saying,' says Miss Knollys, 
 looking with a gentle glance at Marian, 
 
 * that if Maurice were to marry this 
 girl ' 
 
 ' It would be an honour to her,' inter- 
 rupts Lady Rylton hotly. 
 
 * It would be a degradation to him/ says 
 Margaret coldly. * He does not love her. 
 
Ii8 THE HOYDEN 
 
 She might have said more, but that 
 suddenly Marian Bethune stops her. The 
 latter, who is leaning against the curtains of 
 the window, breaks into a wild little laugh. 
 
 * Love — what is love ?' cries she. ' Oh, 
 foolish Margaret ! Do not listen to her, 
 Tessie, do not listen.' 
 
 She folds the soft silken curtains rounds 
 her slender figure, and, hidden therein, 
 still laughs aloud with a wild passion of 
 mirth. 
 
 ' It is you who are foolish,' cries Mar- 
 garet, with some agitation. 
 
 ' I V She lets the curtains go ; they 
 fall in a sweep behind her. She looks out 
 at Margaret, still laughing. Her face is 
 like ashes. * You speak too strongly,' says 
 she. 
 
 ' Do you think I could speak too 
 strongly ?' asks Margaret, looking intently 
 at her. It is a questioning glance. * You ! 
 Do you think Maurice ought to ask this 
 poor, ignorant girl to marry him ? Do 
 you advise him to take this step ?' 
 
THE ARGUMENT GROWS HIGHER 119 
 
 * Why, it appears he must take some 
 step/ says Marian. ' Why not this ?' 
 
 Margaret goes close to her and speaks 
 in so low a tone that Lady Rylton cannot 
 hear her. 
 
 ' His honour, is that nothing to you ?' 
 says she. 
 
 ' To me ? What have I got to do with 
 his honour ?' says Mrs. Bethune, with a 
 little expressive gesture. 
 
 ' Oh, Marian !' says Miss Knollys. 
 
 She half turns away as if in disgust, but 
 Marian follows her and catches her sleeve. 
 
 * You mean ' says she. 
 
 * Must I explain ? With his heart full 
 of you, do you think he should marry this 
 girl ?' 
 
 ' Oh, /lis heart !' says Mrs. Bethune. 
 ' Has he a heart ? Dear Margaret, don't 
 be an enthusiast ; be like everybody else. 
 It is so much more comfortable.' 
 
 ' You can put it off like this,' says Miss 
 Knollys in a low tone. ' It is very simple ; 
 but you should think. I have always 
 
I20 THE HOYDEN 
 
 thought you — you Hked Maurice, that you 
 were a — a friend of his. Save him from 
 this. Don't let him marry this child.' 
 
 ' I don't think he will marry a child !' 
 says Mrs. Bethune, laughing. 
 
 * You mean ' 
 
 * I mean nothing at all — nothing, really/ 
 says Marian. ' But that baby! My dear 
 Margaret, how impossible 1' 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HOW A STORM RAGED ; AND HOW, WHEN A 
 MAN AND WOMAN MET FACE TO FACE, 
 THE VICTORY FOR A WONDER ^WENT TO 
 
 THE MAN. 
 
 There has been a second scene between 
 Lady Rylton and Sir Maurice — this time 
 a terrible scene. She had sent for him 
 directly after dinner, and had almost com- 
 manded him to marry Miss Bolton. She 
 had been very bitter in her anger, and 
 had said strange things of Marian. Sir 
 Maurice had come off triumphant, certainly, 
 if greatly injured, and with his heart on 
 fire. He had, at all events, sworn he 
 would not marry the little Bolton girl. 
 
122 THE HOYDEN 
 
 Those perpetual insinuations ! What had 
 his mother meant by saying that Marian 
 was laying herself out to catch Lord 
 Dunkerton, an old baron in the neighbour- 
 hood, with some money and a damaged 
 reputation ? That could not be true — he 
 would not believe it. That old beast ! 
 Marian would not so much as look at him. 
 And yet — had she not been very civil to 
 him at that ball last week ? 
 
 Coming out from his mother's boudoir, 
 a perfect storm of fury in his heart, he 
 finds himself face to face with Marian. 
 Something in his face warns her. She 
 would have gone by him with a li^ht word 
 or two, but, catching her by the wrist, he 
 draws her into a room on his left. 
 
 * You have had another quarrel with 
 your mother,' says she sympathetically, 
 ignoring the anger blazing in his e)es. 
 * About that silly girl ?' 
 
 * No. About you !' 
 
 His tone is short — almost violent. 
 ' About me ?' 
 
HOW A STORM RAGED 123 
 
 She changes colour. 
 
 * Yes, you. She accuses you of encour- 
 aging that wretched old man, Dunkerton. 
 Do you /lea?"- ? Speak ! Is It true ?' 
 
 * This is madness !' says Marian, throw- 
 ing out her hands. * How could you 
 believe such folly ? That old man ! Why 
 will you give ear to such gossip ?' 
 
 * Put an end to it, then,' says he savagely. 
 ' I .^ How can I put an end to it ?' 
 
 * By marrying me /' 
 
 He stands opposite to her, almost com- 
 pelling her gaze in return. Mrs. Bethune 
 gives it fearlessly. 
 
 ' Maurice dearest, you are excited now. 
 Your mother — she is so irritating. I know 
 her. Marriage, as we now stand, would 
 mean quite dreadful things. Do be reason- 
 able !' 
 
 * You talk of reason,' says he passion- 
 ately. 'Does love reason? No! I will 
 hear your last word now.' 
 
 * Are you condemning me, then, to 
 death ?' asks she, smiling delicately, and 
 
124 THE HOYDEN 
 
 laying two large but delicate hands upon 
 his arms. 
 
 He shakes her off. 
 
 ' Answer me. Will you marry me, or 
 will you not ?' 
 
 * This is too sudden, Maurice !' 
 
 A little fire is kindling in her own eyes ; 
 she had objected to that last repulsion. 
 
 * Sudden I After all these months !^ 
 He pauses. ' Is it to be Dunkerton or 
 me ?' asks he violently. 
 
 ' Please do not bring Lord Dunkerton 
 into this discussion,' says she coldly. 
 
 * I certainly shall.' 
 
 ' You mean that I ' 
 
 ' Have encouraged him. So I hear, at all 
 events, and — there are things I remember.' 
 
 * For the matter of that,' says she, 
 throwing up her beautiful head, ' there are 
 things I remember too ! You — you dare 
 to come here and accuse 7ne of falsity when 
 I have watched you all day making steady 
 court to that wretched little plebeian, play- 
 ing tennis with her all the day long, and 
 
HOW A STORM RAGED 125 
 
 far into the evening ! No ! I may have 
 said half a dozen words to Lord Dunkerton, 
 but you — how many half-dozen words have 
 you said to Miss Bolton ? Come, answer 
 me that, as we seem bent on riddles.' 
 
 'All this is as nothing,' says Rylton. 
 ' You know, as well as I do, that Miss 
 Bolton has not a thought of mine ! I want 
 only one thing, the assurance that you love 
 me, and I put it at marriage. Will you 
 link your fate with mine, low down though 
 it is at present ? If you will, Marian' — 
 he comes closer to her and lays his hands 
 upon her shoulders, and gazes at her with 
 eyes full filled with honest love — ' I shall 
 work for you to the last day of my life. If 
 you will not ' 
 
 He pauses — he looks at her — he waits. 
 But no answer comes from her. 
 
 * Marian, take courage,' says he softly — 
 very softly. ' My darling, is money every- 
 thing ?' 
 
 She suddenly leans back from him, and 
 looks fair in his eyes. 
 
126 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' It is, it is,' says she hoarsely. ' I can't 
 again go through what I suffered before. 
 Wait, do wait — something — something will 
 happen ' 
 
 ' You refuse me ?' says he, in a lifeless 
 tone. 
 
 ' Not that. Don't speak like that. Don't 
 leave me, Maurice.' 
 
 ' It is our last hour,' says he deliberately. 
 * Be sure of that. If money is so much to 
 you — if money counts so far beyond all 
 that a man can give you of his heart and 
 soul — then take it.' 
 
 * And you,' says she, ' are you not seek- 
 ing money, too 1 This girl, this WhIq fool; 
 your mother has led you to think of her. 
 You will marry her !' 
 
 ' I will marry you,' says he coldly, ' if 
 you will marry me.' 
 
 ' I have told you that it is impossible ' — 
 she draws a deep breath — ' at present.' 
 
 * You will not trust me, then, to make a 
 fortune for you T 
 
 'A fortune ! It takes so long to make ; 
 
HOW A STORM RAGED 127 
 
 and/ smiling, and drawing nearer to him, 
 and suddenly flinging her arms around his 
 neck, ' are we not happy as we are ?' 
 
 ' No.' He loosens her arms lightly, and, 
 still holding them, looks at her. How fair 
 she is, how desirable ! * Marian,' says he 
 hoarsely, ' think ! It is indeed my last 
 word. Will you trust yourself to me as 
 things are, or will ) ou reject me ? Marian, 
 say you will marry me as I now am — 
 poor, ruined.' 
 
 He holds her, gazing at her despairingly. 
 She would have spoken, perhaps, but no 
 words come to her ; no words to soften 
 her grim determination. She u>i// not 
 marry him poor — and yet she loves him. 
 
 Rylton, with a stifled oath, pushes her 
 from him. 
 
 * This is the end,' says he. 
 He goes to the door. 
 
 * Maurice !' says she faintly. 
 He turns. 
 
 * Well, will you marry me to-morrow ?' 
 asks he mockingly. 
 
128 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ^ No. But ' 
 
 ' There is no time for " buts," ' says he. 
 
 He opens the door and closes it sharply 
 behind him. 
 
 Mrs. Bethune flings herself back into a 
 chair, and presses her handkerchief to her 
 face. 
 
 * Oh, it is nothing, nothing,' says she 
 presently. She gets up, and, standing 
 before a glass, arranges her hair and 
 presses her eyebrows into shape. ' He 
 gets impatient, that is all. He will never 
 be able to live without me. As for that 
 absurd child, Maurice would not look at 
 Aer. No, I am sure of him, quite, quite 
 sure ; to-morrow he will come back to me, 
 repentant.' 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 HOW MAURICE PLACES HIS LIFE IN THE 
 HANDS OF THE HOYDEN, AND HOW SHE 
 TELLS HIM MANY THINGS, AND DESIRES 
 MANY THINGS OF HIM. 
 
 Maurice had said it was his last word. 
 He goes straight from Marian Bethune 
 to one of the reception-rooms, called the 
 lesser ballroom, where some dancing is 
 going on. His face is a little white, but 
 beyond that he betrays no emotion what- 
 ever. He feels even surprised at himself. 
 Has he lost all feeling ? Passing Randal 
 Gower he whispers a gay word or two to 
 him. He feels in brilliant spirits. 
 
 Tita Bolton is dancing, but when her 
 dance comes to an end he goes to her and 
 
 VOL. I. 9 
 
I30 THE HOYDEN 
 
 asks her for the next. Yes ; he can have 
 it. She dances Hke a httle fairy, and when 
 the waltz is at an end he goes with her, 
 half mechanically, towards the conservatory 
 at the end of the room. 
 
 He is calm now, quite calm ; the chatter 
 of this child has soothed him. It had 
 been a pleasure to dance with her, to 
 laugh when she laughed, to listen to her 
 nonsense. As he walks with her towards 
 the flowers, he tells himself he is not in 
 the least unhappy, though always quite 
 close to him, at his side, someone seems to 
 be whispering : 
 
 ' It is all over ! it is all over !' 
 
 Well, so much the better. She has 
 fooled him too long. 
 
 The conservatory at the end of the 
 lesser ballroom leads on to the balcony 
 outside, and at the end of that is another 
 and larger conservatory, connected with 
 the drawing-room. Towards this he would 
 have led her, but Tita, in the middle of 
 the balcony, stops short. 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE HOYDEN 131 
 
 ' But I want to dance/ says she. 
 
 That far-off house, full of flowers, seems 
 very much removed from the music. 
 
 ' You have been playing tennis all day/ 
 says Rylton. 'You must be tired. It is 
 bad for you to fatigue yourself so much. 
 You have had enough dancing for awhile. 
 Come and sit with me. I, too, am tired.' 
 
 * Well, for awhile,' says she reluctantly. 
 
 It is with evident regret that she takes 
 every step that leads her away from the 
 dancing-room. 
 
 The larger conservatory is but dimly lit 
 with lamps covered with pale pink shades. 
 The soft musical tinkling of a fountain, 
 hidden somewhere amongst the flowering 
 shrubs, adds a delicious sense of coolness 
 to the air. The delicate perfume of helio- 
 trope mingles with the breath of the roses, 
 yellow and red and amber, that, standing 
 in their pots, nod their heads drowsily. 
 The begonias, too, seem half dead with 
 sleep. The drawing - room beyond is 
 deserted. 
 
i-,2 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' Now, Is not this worth a moment's con- 
 templation ?' says Rylton, pressing her 
 gently into a deep lounging chair that 
 seems to swallow up her little figure. * It 
 has its own charm, hasn't it ?' 
 
 He has flung himself into another chair 
 beside her, and is beginning to wonder if 
 he might have a cigarette. He might 
 almost have believed himself content, but 
 for that hateful, monotonous voice at his 
 ear. 
 
 ' Oh, it is pretty,' says Tita, glancing 
 round her. ' It is lovely. It reminds me 
 of Oakdean.' 
 
 ' Oakdean ?' 
 
 * My old home,' says she softly — 'where 
 I lived with my father.' 
 
 * Ah, tell me something of your life,' says 
 Rylton kindly. 
 
 No idea of making himself charming to 
 her is in his thoughts. He has, indeed, 
 but one idea, and that is to encourage her 
 to talk, so that he himself may enjoy the 
 bliss of silence. 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE HOYDEN 133 
 
 ' There is nothing,' says she quickly. 
 ' It has been a stupid life. I was very 
 happy at Oakdean, when,' hesitating, ' papa 
 was alive ; but now I have to live at Rick- 
 fort, with Uncle George, and,' simply, ' I'm 
 not happy.' 
 
 ' What's the matter with Rickfort ?' 
 
 * Nothing. It's Uncle George that 
 there is something the matter with. Rick- 
 fort is my house, too, but I hate it ; it is 
 so gloomy. I'm sure,' with a shrug of 
 her shoulders, * Uncle George might have 
 it, and welcome, if only he wouldn't ask 
 me to live there with him.' 
 
 * Uncle George seems to make a poor 
 show,' says Rylton. 
 
 ' He's horrid !' says Miss Bolton, with- 
 out reservation. ' He's a deas^ ! He hates 
 me, and I hate him.' 
 
 * Oh no !' says Rylton, roused a little. 
 The child's face is so earnest. He feels 
 
 a little amused, and somewhat surprised. 
 She seems the last person in the world 
 capable of hatred. 
 
134 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ^ Yes, I do,' says she, nodding her 
 delightful little head, ' and he knows It. 
 People say a lot about family resemblances, 
 but it seems wicked to think Uncle George 
 is papa's brother. For my part,' reck- 
 lessly, ' I don't believe it.' 
 
 * Perhaps he's a changeling,' says Sir 
 Maurice. 
 
 * Oh, don't be silly,' says Miss Bolton. 
 ' Now, listen to this.' She leans forward, 
 her elbows on her knees, her eyes glisten- 
 ing with wTath. ' I had a terrier, a lovely 
 one, and she had six puppies, and, would 
 you believe it ! he drowned every one of 
 them — said they were Ill-bred, or some- 
 thing. And they weren't, they couldnt 
 have been ; they were perfectly beautiful, 
 and my darling Scrub fretted herself 
 nearly to death after them. I begged 
 almost on my knees that he would leave 
 her one, and he wouldn't.' Her eyes are 
 now full of tears. ' He Is a beast !' says 
 she. This last word seems almost comic, 
 coming from her pretty childish lips. 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE HOYDEN 135 
 
 'Well, but you see,' says Rylton, 'some 
 men pride themselves on the pedigree of 
 their dogs, and perhaps your uncle ' 
 
 ' Oh, if you are going to defend him !' 
 says she, rising with a stiff little air. 
 
 ' I'm not — I'm not, indeed,' says Rylton. 
 ' Nothing could excuse his refusing you 
 that one puppy. But in other ways he is 
 not unkind to you ?' 
 
 ' Yes, he is ; he won't let me go any- 
 where.' 
 
 ' He has let you come here.' 
 
 ' Just because your mother is Lady 
 Rylton !' says the girl, with infinite scorn. 
 She looks straight at him. ' My uncle is 
 ashamed because we are nobodies — be- 
 cause his father earned his money by 
 trade. He hates everyone because of 
 that. My father,' proudly, ' was above it 
 all.' 
 
 ' I think I should like to have known 
 your father,' says Rylton, admiring the 
 pride in her gray eyes. 
 
 ' It would have done you good,' returns 
 
136 THE HOYDEN 
 
 she thoughtfully. She pauses, as If still 
 thinking, and then, ' As for me, I have not 
 been good at all since I lost him.' 
 
 * One can see that,' says Rylton. ' Crime 
 sits rampant in your eyes.' 
 
 At this she laughs too ; but presently 
 she stops short, and turns to him. 
 
 ' It is all very well for you to laugh !' 
 says she ruefully. ' You have not to go 
 home next week to live again with Uncle 
 George !' 
 
 'I begin to hate Uncle George!' says 
 Rylton. * You see how you are demoralizing 
 me ! But, surely, if you cannot live in 
 peace with him, there must be others — 
 other relations — who would be glad to 
 chaperone you !' 
 
 * No,' says the girl, shaking her head 
 sadly. ' For one thing, I have no rela- 
 tions — at least, none who could look after 
 me ; and, for another, by my father's will, 
 I must stay with Uncle George until my 
 marriage.' 
 
 * Until your marriage !' Sir Maurice 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE HOYDEN 137 
 
 laughs. * Forgive me ! I should not have 
 laughed/ says he, ' especially as your 
 emancipation seems a long way off.' 
 
 Really, looking at her in the subdued 
 lights of those pink lamps, she seems a 
 mere baby. 
 
 ' I don't see why it should be so far off,' 
 says Tita, evidently affronted. * Lots of 
 girls get married at seventeen ; I've heard 
 of people who were married at sixteen 1 
 But they must have been fools. No, I 
 don't want to be married, though, if I did, 
 I should be able to get rid of Uncle 
 George. But what I should like to do 
 would be to run away !' 
 
 ' Where ?' asks Rylton, rather abomin- 
 ably, it must be confessed. 
 
 ' Oh, I don't know,' confusedly. ' I 
 haven't thought it out.' 
 
 ' Well, dont' says he kindly. 
 
 * That is what everyone would say,' 
 impatiently. ' In the meantime, I cannot 
 go on living with my uncle. No ; I can't.' 
 She leans back, and, flinging her arms 
 
138 THE HOYDEN 
 
 behind her neck, looks with a Httle laugh- 
 ing pout at Rylton. ' Some day I shall 
 do something dreadful,' says she. 
 
 She is charming, posing so. Rylton 
 looks at her. How pretty she is ! How 
 guileless! How far removed from worldly 
 considerations ! His affair with Marian is 
 at an end. Never to be renewed ! That 
 is settled. He had given her a last word, 
 and she had spurned it. 
 
 After all, why should he no^ marry this 
 charming child ? The marriage would 
 please his mother, and restore the old 
 name to something of its ancient grandeur. 
 And as for himself — why, It matters 
 nothing to him. 
 
 ' It is all over. It is all over.' 
 
 Again that teasing voice in his ear. 
 
 Well, if it zs all over, so much to the 
 good. But as for this girl sitting near 
 him, if he must take her to be his wife, it 
 shall be at least In good faith. She shall 
 know^ all. Probably she will refuse him. 
 For one thing, because he is ten years 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE HOYDEN 139 
 
 older than she Is — a century In the eyes of 
 a child of seventeen ; and, for another, 
 because she may not like him at all. For 
 all he knows, she may hate him as she 
 hates her uncle George, in certain ways. 
 
 However It Is, he will tell her that he 
 has no love for her. It shall be all fair 
 and above-board between them. He can 
 give her a title. She can give him money, 
 without which the title would be useless. 
 
 On the instant he makes up his mind to 
 risk the proposal. In all probability she 
 will say *No' to It. But If not — If she 
 accepts him — he swears to himself he will 
 be true to her. 
 
 * The most dreadful thing you could do,' 
 says he, ' would be to marry a man who 
 did not love you.' 
 
 * Eh ?' says she. 
 She seems surprised. 
 
 * To marry a man, then, with whom you 
 weren't In love !' 
 
 * Oh, l/iaf, that's nothing,' says she 
 grandly. * I'd do a great deal more than 
 
I40 THE HOYDEN 
 
 that to get away from my uncle. But ' — 
 sorrowfully — ' nobody's asked me.' 
 
 She says it so innocently, so sweetly, 
 that Rylton's heart grows cold within him. 
 To ask her ! To tempt this child 
 
 ' But,' says he, looking away from her 
 religiously, ' would you marry a man who 
 was not in love with you ?' 
 
 ' Not in love with me ?' 
 
 * No. Not actually in love, but who 
 admired — liked you ?' 
 
 * But a man who wasn't in love with me 
 wouldn't want to marry me,' says Tita. 
 ' At least, that's what the novels say.' 
 
 * He might,' says Rylton deliberately. 
 He leans forward. ' Will you marry jne ?' 
 
 He almost laughs aloud as he makes his 
 extraordinary proposal. If it fails, as it 
 certainly must, he will throw up the rem- 
 nant of his life here and go abroad. And, 
 at all events, he can so far satisfy his 
 mother as to assure her that he had placed 
 his all at this little heiress's feet. 
 
 ' You ! You !' says she. 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE HOYDEN 141 
 
 She Stares at him. 
 
 * Even me ! You said a moment ago 
 that no man would ask you to marry him 
 for any reason less than love ; but I — I am 
 not in love with you, and yet I ask you to 
 marry me.' 
 
 He pauses here, shocked at his own 
 words, his brutal audacity. 
 
 ' But why ?' asks the girl slowly. 
 
 She is looking at him, deep inquiry and 
 wonder in her great gray eyes. 
 
 ' Because I am poor and you are rich,' 
 says he honestly. ' Your money could 
 redeem this old place, and I could give 
 you a title — a small thing, no doubt.' 
 
 ' You could take me away from my 
 uncle/ says the girl thoughtfully. There 
 is silence for awhile, and then — ' I should 
 be able to do as I liked/ says she, as if 
 communing with herself. 
 
 *That certainly,' says Rylton, who feels 
 as if all things should be allowed her at 
 this juncture, considering how little it is in 
 his power to allow. 
 
142 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' And you ?' She looks up at him. ' Vou 
 could do as you liked, too !' 
 
 ' Thank you !' says Rylton. 
 
 He smiles in spite of himself, but the 
 girl continues very grave. 
 
 ' You say you have nothing,' says she, 
 ' but this house ?' 
 
 ' It is useless arguing about it,' returns 
 Rylton ; ' this house will go shortly with 
 all the rest. For myself, I don't care 
 much really, but my mother — she would 
 feel it. That's why I say you can help 
 us, if you will.' 
 
 * I should like to help you f says Tita, 
 still very slowly. 
 
 She lays a stress upon the word * you.' 
 ' Well, will you trust yourself to me ?' 
 
 * Trust myself!' 
 
 * Will you marry me ? Consider how it 
 is. I lay it all before you. I am not in 
 love with you, and I have not a penny in 
 the world. Literally, I have nothing.' 
 
 *You have a mother,' says Tita. 'I,' 
 pathetically, 'have nothing.' It is plain to 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE HOYDEN 143 
 
 him that she had set great store by her 
 dead father. ' I have nohting, really. 
 But you say this house must go ?' 
 ' Not if you will help me to keep it.' 
 ' I should not like to live here,' says 
 Tita, with some haste. And then in a low 
 tone, ' Your mother would live here ?' 
 *Yes, certainly.' 
 
 * Well, and I — I have been very un- 
 happy with Uncle George,' says she. 
 Her air is so naive that Rylton suddenly 
 busrts out laughing. After all, the last 
 thing he would desire either would be to 
 live here with his mother. 
 
 * You would not have to make this place 
 your home,' says he. It had never been 
 a home to him since his father's death. 
 * You shall command me in this matter ; 
 I shall live at Oakdean if that is your 
 desire.' Indeed, it seems to him it would 
 be a great relief to get away from the 
 Hall, from his mother, from 
 
 * To live at Oakdean !' The girl's face 
 grows transfigured. She stares at him 
 
[44 THE HOYDEN 
 
 as if hardly seeing him, however ; her 
 thoughts have carried her back to past 
 delights in which he has had no part. 
 ' To live there again !' She sighs quickly, 
 excitedly. * You haven't seen it, you 
 don't know^ says she. ' But it is the 
 most beautiful place on earth.' She puts 
 out her hand and lays it on his. ' If I 
 marry you, will you promise that I shall 
 live at Oakdean ?' 
 
 ' If you will do me the honour to marry 
 me, you shall live just where you like,' 
 returns he. Indeed, to him it is now a 
 matter of indifference where life may be 
 dragged out to its weary end. But Tita 
 fails to see the apathy in his manner. 
 
 ' Then it is settled,' cries she joyfully. 
 She claps her hands. ' Oh, how good of 
 you !' says she. ' What a blessing I came 
 here ! Fancy getting rid of Uncle George 
 and getting back to Oakdean all in one 
 stroke !' Suddenly she looks round at 
 him ; there is almost terror in her gaze. 
 ' You are sure you mean it ?' says she. 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE HOYDEN 145 
 
 * I mean it. But, TIta ' — he takes one 
 of her hands and holds it between his 
 own, and regards her with some anxiety 
 — ' have you thought it all out ? I have 
 told you the truth, you know. I have 
 told you that I am not in love with you.' 
 
 ' In love with me ! I'm sure I hope 
 not/ says Tita with a disgusted air. 
 ' Don't put yourself out about that. I 
 should hate you if you were in love with 
 me. Fancy a person following me about 
 always, and saying silly things to me, and 
 perhaps wanting to kiss me ! You,' 
 anxiously looking at him with searching 
 eyes, * you wouldn't want to kiss me, 
 would you ?^ 
 
 She looks so pretty as she puts this 
 startling question, that Rylton loses him- 
 self a little. 
 
 * I don't know.' 
 
 ^ Then you had better know, and at 
 once' says Miss Bolton, with decision. 
 
 The whole affair seems to be trembling 
 in the balance. A sense of amusement 
 
 VOL: I. 10 
 
146 THE HOYDEN 
 
 has most unfortunately seized on Rylton, 
 and is shaking him to his very heart's 
 core. To marry a girl who even objected 
 to a kiss ! It sounds like a French play. 
 He subdues his untimely mirth by an 
 effort, and says gravely, * How can I 
 promise you that I shall never want to 
 kiss you ? I may grow very fond of you 
 in time, and you — but, of course, that is 
 far more improbable — may grow very fond 
 of me.' 
 
 * Even so,' begins she hotly. She 
 pauses, however, as if some thought had 
 struck her. ' Well, let it stay so,' says 
 she. 'If ever I do grow to like you as 
 much as you fancy, why, then you may 
 kiss me — sometimes.' 
 
 * That's a bargain,' says he. 
 
 Again he suppresses a desire to laugh. 
 It seems to him that she is intensely 
 interesting in some way. 
 
 ' In the meantime,' says he, with quite 
 a polite air, ' may I not kiss you now ?' 
 
 'No!' says she. It is the lightest 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE HOYDEN 147 
 
 monosyllable, but fraught with much 
 energy. She tilts the shoulder nearest to 
 him, and peeps at him over It, with a half- 
 merry little air. 
 
 She sets Rylton's mind at work. Is 
 she only a silly charming child, or an 
 embryo flirt of the first water ? Whatever 
 she Is, at all events, she Is very new, very 
 fresh — an Innovation ! He continues to 
 look at her. 
 
 ' Really no ?' questions he. 
 
 She nods her head. 
 
 'And yet you have said ''Yes" to 
 everything else ?' 
 
 She nods her head again. She nods It 
 even twice. 
 
 'Yes, I shall marry you,' says she. 
 
 * I may tell my mother ?^ 
 
 Miss Bolton sits up. A little troubled 
 expression grows within her eyes. 
 
 ' Oh ! must you ?' cries she. ' She W// 
 be mad. She won't let you marry me — 
 I know she won't. She — hates me.' 
 
 ' My dear child, why ?' Rylton's tone Is 
 
148 THE HOYDEN 
 
 shocked. The very truth in her declara- 
 tion makes it the more shocking. And 
 how does she know ? His mother has 
 been sweetness itself to her before the 
 curtain. 
 
 ' Never mind, I know,' says Tita. ' I 
 feel things. They come to me. I don't 
 blame her. I'm sure I'm often horrid. 
 I know that, when I look at other people. 
 When I look at ' 
 
 She pauses. 
 
 ' Look at whom ?' 
 
 ' At your cousin.' 
 
 * My cousin !' 
 
 * Yes ! You love her, don't you .^' 
 
 ' Love her !' He has turned suddenly 
 as pale as death. 'What do you mean .'^' 
 asks he in a low voice. 
 
 * I love her, any way,' says Tita. * I 
 think Miss Knollys is the nicest person in 
 all the world.' 
 
 'Oh, Margaret?' says he. He says it 
 involuntarily. The relief is so great that 
 it compels him to give himself away. 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE HOYDEN 149 
 
 * Why, who else ?' says Tita. * Who did 
 you think I meant ?' 
 
 * Who could I think ?' says he, re- 
 covering. * Even now I am surprised. 
 Margaret, though very superior in most 
 ways, is not always beloved.' 
 
 * But you love her ? 
 ' Oh yes, / do !' 
 
 * I am glad of that,' says Tita. 
 ' Because I love her more than anyone I 
 know. i\nd I have been thinking' — she 
 /ooks at him quickly — ' I have been 
 thinking that ' — nervously — * that when I 
 marry you. Miss Knollys will be my cousin, 
 too, in a sort of way, and that perhaps 
 she will let me call her by her name. Do 
 you,' anxiously, * think she will ?' 
 
 ' I know she will.' His answer is terse. 
 He has barely yet recovered from the 
 shock she had innocently given him. 
 
 * And your mother ?' asks she, going 
 back to the first question. ' Do you think 
 she will like you to marry me ? Oh, do 
 persuade her !' 
 
ISO THE HOYDEN 
 
 * Make no mistake about my mother, 
 Tita ; she will receive you with open 
 arms.' He feels as If he were lying when 
 he says this, yet Is It not the truth ? 
 * She will be glad to receive you as a 
 daughter.' 
 
 ' Will she ? She doesn't look like it,' 
 says Tita, * not sometimes when I — look 
 back at her /' 
 
 She rises, and makes a step towards the 
 door of the conservatory that will lead her 
 to the balcony, and so back to the dancing- 
 room. 
 
 * Tita, bear with my mother,' says he 
 gently, and in a low voice. 
 
 The girl turns to him, her whole young, 
 generous heart In her voice. * Oh, I shall ! 
 I shall indeed !' 
 
 They traverse the long balcony in 
 silence. The moon Is flooding It with 
 brilliant light. Here and there are groups 
 in twos and threes — the twos are most 
 popular. Just as they come to the 
 entrance to the dancing-room, an alcove 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE HOYDEN 151 
 
 now deserted, Tita stops short and looks 
 up at him. 
 
 * You have promised to be kind to me !' 
 says she, her voice trembHng. For the 
 first time the solemnity of this marriage 
 arrangement of hers seems to have dawned 
 upon her. 
 
 ' I have,' says Rylton earnestly. 
 
 ' I am often very troublesome,' says the 
 poor child. ' Uncle George says so. But 
 
 you ' She hesitates, looking at him 
 
 always. Her gaze Is intense. He feels 
 as if she is watching him, taking his mental 
 temperature, as it were. 
 
 ' Be kind to me in turn, Tita,' says he. 
 * Don't mistrust me. Try to ^now that I 
 like you.' 
 
 ' I wish,' says she, a little forlornly, ' that 
 you could be fond of me. I'm — you don't 
 know it — nobody knows it — but I'm often 
 very lonely. I've been lonely all the time 
 since pappy died.' 
 
 ' You shall never be lonely again,' says 
 Rylton. ' I am your friend from this 
 
152 THE HOYDEN 
 
 hour — your friend for ever.' He is 
 touched to his very heart by her words 
 and her small face. He stoops over her, 
 and in spite of all that has been said 
 against kissing, presses his lips to her soft 
 cheek ! 
 
 * Ah ! you are kind. I do like you/ 
 says she, gazing at him with earnest eyes. 
 * Yes, I know I shall be happy with you.' 
 She is evidently comparing him most 
 favourably with Uncle George. * And 
 you will be fond of me, won't you ? You 
 will be good to me ?' 
 
 ' I will, so help me God !' says Rylton 
 very solemnly. 
 
 To her it seems an oath of allegiance 
 — kindly, tender, reassuring. To him it 
 is a solemn abjuration of all his devotion 
 to — the other. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 HOW MAURICE GIVES WAY TO TEMPER, AND 
 HOW LADY RYLTON PLANTS A SHAFT OR 
 TWO. AND HOW MARGARET SAYS A WORD 
 IN SEASON, AND HOW IN RETURN COLONEL 
 NEILSON SAYS A WORD TO HER. 
 
 Maurice goes straight to his mother's 
 room, not from a sense of duty, but a 
 desire to dinch the matter finally. Lady 
 Rylton would be the last person to permit 
 backsliding where her own interests were 
 
 concerned, and perhaps He does 
 
 not exactly say it to himself in so many 
 words, but he feels a certain dread of the 
 moment when he shall be alone — a prey to 
 thought. What if he should regret the 
 move he had taken, to the extent of want- 
 
54 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ing it undone ? His step grows quicker 
 as he approaches his mother's room. His 
 interview with her is of the sHghtest — a 
 bare declaration of the fact. She would 
 have fallen upon his neck in the exuberance 
 of her triumph and her satisfaction, but he 
 coldly repulses her. 
 
 * My dear mother, why such enthusiasm 
 over my engagement to a girl of whom 
 you distinctly disapprove ?' 
 
 ' Disapprove ! Of Tita ! Dearest 
 Maurice, what an idea !' 
 
 ' We won't go into it,' says Maurice, 
 with a gesture of ill-suppressed disgust. 
 * I know your opinion of her. I beg to 
 say, however, I do not share it. Badly 
 as I shall come out of this transaction, I 
 should like you to remember that I both 
 admire and like Miss Bolton.' 
 
 ' I know, dearest boy, I know,' says 
 Lady Rylton, in the tone one would use 
 to an acute sufferer. ' It is very noble of 
 you, Maurice. It is a sacrifice. I felt 
 sometimes I had no right to demand ' 
 
MAURICE GIVES WAY TO TEMPER 155 
 
 ' The sacrifice is hers/ says he shortly, 
 gloomily. 
 
 His eyes are bent upon the ground. 
 
 ^ Hers ! That little upst that poor 
 
 unsophisticated child ! My dear Maurice, 
 why run away with things ? Of course 
 she was charmed, enchanted, flattered, In 
 that you admired her so much as to ask 
 her to be your wife.' 
 
 * She was not,' says Maurice flatly. 
 
 * Exactly what I should have expected 
 
 from such a ' Lady Rylton checks 
 
 herself in her fury. * From such an inno- 
 cent creature,' substitutes she. ^ But for 
 all that, I shall consider how great is the 
 sacrifice you have made, Maurice — how 
 you have given up the happiness of your 
 life to preserve the old name.' 
 
 ' I am beginning to get tired of the old 
 name,' said Maurice slowly. * Its nobility 
 seems to me to be on the decline.' 
 
 * Oh, not now,' says Lady Rylton, who 
 does not understand him, who could not, 
 if she tried, fathom the depths of self- 
 
156 THE HOYDEN 
 
 contempt that he endures, when he thinks 
 of this evening's work, of his permitting 
 this child to marry him, and give him her 
 wealth — for nothing — nothing I What can 
 he give her in return ? An old name. 
 She had not seemed to care for that — to 
 know the importance of it. ' Now it will 
 rise again, and at all events, Maurice, you 
 have saved the old home !' 
 
 ' True !' says he. ' For you.' 
 
 ' For me ? Oh, dearest boy, what can 
 you mean ?' 
 
 ' Yes, for you only. She refuses to live 
 here with you.' 
 
 The very disquietude of his soul has 
 driven him into this mad avowal. Look- 
 ing at her with dull eyes and lowering 
 brows, he tells himself— in this, one of the 
 saddest hours of his life — that he hates the 
 mother who bore him. Her delight in his 
 engagement is odious to him ; it seems to 
 fan his rage against her. What has she 
 ever done for him, what sympathy has she 
 ever shown ? She has embittered the life 
 
MAURICE GIVES WAY TO TEMPER 157 
 
 of the woman he loves ; she has insulted 
 the woman he is to marry. What con- 
 sideration does she deserve at his hands ? 
 
 * She refuses to live here with me P' says 
 Lady Rylton. ' And why, may I ask ?' 
 
 Her small, pale face flushes angrily. 
 
 * I don't know, really ; you should be 
 the one to know.' 
 
 His tone is so cold, so uncompromising", 
 that she decides on coming to terms for 
 the present. Afterwards, when that girl 
 has married him, she will remember to 
 some purpose, so far as sAe is concerned. 
 There is a little tale that she can tell her. 
 
 * Dearest Maurice, how could I .-^ I 
 always fancied I treated her with the 
 utmost kindness. But why should we 
 worry about it ? No doubt it was a mere 
 girlish fancy, a distaste,' playfully, ' to the 
 terrible mamma-in-law of fiction. Such 
 monsters do not exist now. She will 
 learn that by degrees. You will bring her 
 to stay with me for awhile on your return 
 from your honeymoon ?' 
 
58 THE HOYDEN 
 
 * If you desire it.' 
 
 ' Of course I shall desire it ; then she 
 and I will become great friends. You are 
 going ? My love to your Vittle ^anc^e , and 
 say I am so charmed, so delighted ! And 
 tell her I should like her to come to me 
 for a quiet little talk in the morning about 
 eleven ; I shall have no one with me then 
 but Marian.' 
 
 ' She shall not come to you, then,' says 
 Rylton. A dark red mounts to his brow. 
 What a diabolical thought — to receive 
 those two together ! ' Do you Aear ?' says 
 he imperiously. 
 
 ' Good heavens, yes !' says his mother, 
 pretending prettily to cower before him. 
 ' What a tone ! What a look ! What 
 have I done, then ?' 
 
 * What devilish cruelty is in your heart 
 I don't know,' says he, his passion carrying 
 him beyond all bounds ; ' but understand 
 at once, I will not have Tita tortured.' 
 
 Lady Rylton leans back in her chair 
 and laughs. 
 
MAURICE GIVES WAY TO TEMPER 159 
 
 * You would have made a good tragic 
 actor,' she says. ' If this little plebeian 
 throws you over after all, you should think 
 of It. You remind me of your father when 
 he was in his most amusing moods. There, 
 go ; kiss Tita for me.' Rylton turns to 
 the door, his very soul on fire with rage. 
 Just as he goes out, she calls to him, with 
 a little soft musical ripple of laughter. 
 * By-the-bye, take care you do not kiss 
 
 Marian Instead,' says she. 
 
 #4«- ji jj^ jt 
 
 •vr TV- TV" TT 
 
 He meets Margaret on his way down- 
 stairs. He had walked up and down the 
 passages above, in the dim light, with a 
 view to bringing himself back into a state 
 of control, with so much success that, when 
 he comes face to face with Miss Knollys, 
 he seems to her as self-possessed as usual. 
 He had seen her talking to Tita In the 
 hall below, In a somewhat earnest manner, 
 and had taken It for granted that Tita had 
 told her of their engagement. 
 
 ' Well,' says he, stopping her. 
 
i6o THE HOYDEN 
 
 * Well ?' returns she, smiling. 
 
 * You have heard ?' 
 
 ' Of what ? Anything new ?' curiously. 
 The very best women are curious. 
 
 ' Of my engagement ; surely she has 
 told you ?' 
 
 ' She ? Who ? Marian P 
 
 ' V^o—no P 
 
 Then the truth comes to her. 
 
 * Tita }' she says faintly. 
 
 He nods his head ; words fail him. 
 
 * She told me nothing,' says Margaret, 
 recovering herself. 
 
 * Yet I saw you talking together just now.' 
 ' You did indeed.' 
 
 ' And she said nothing ?' 
 ' Nothing.' 
 
 * Then what were you talking about ?' 
 
 * I was advising her to marry no man 
 who did not love her.' 
 
 ' What an extraordinary piece of advice 
 to give to a girl who, as far as you knew, 
 was not going to be married at all ! What 
 led up to it ?' 
 
MAURICE GIVES WAY TO TEMPER i6i 
 
 ' Not Tita, certainly. It was I who led 
 up to It.' 
 
 ' And why ?' 
 
 * Do you think I have been blind and 
 deaf, Maurice, during this past fortnight ?' 
 Miss Knollys almost compels his gaze. 
 * If you are going to marry this young 
 girl, tAzs child, I hope, I ' — almost passion- 
 ately — ' hope it will be for her good and 
 yours.' 
 
 * Margaret ! What a tone ! You mean 
 something !' 
 
 ' I do.' Margaret's strong face lights 
 up with honest anxiety. ' I mean this !' 
 She takes a step nearer to him. * How is 
 it between you and Marian ?' 
 
 * Why, how has it been ?' asks he, wuth 
 affected lightness ; but a change passes 
 over his face. 
 
 * Oh, Maurice, take care !' says his 
 cousin, laying her hand upon his arm. 
 
 * Well, if you must have it,' says he, 
 frowning, ' all that is over.' 
 
 He breaks away from her, frowning still. 
 
 VOL. J. I I 
 
i62 THE HOYDEN 
 
 It is quite plain to her that she has 
 offended him. But even as he leaves her 
 he looks back ; a sort of grim smile illu- 
 mines his face. 
 
 *I note that in your "hoping" you 
 have put Miss Bolton before me ; that is 
 as it should be. She is a sworn admirer 
 of yours. Did you know it T 
 
 * No. But she appeals to me — I don't 
 know why — but I feel that I could love 
 her,' says Margaret, in short sentences as 
 if thinking, and as if a little surprised at 
 herself. Suddenly she breaks into a more 
 immediate feeling. * Oh, Maurice, love 
 her too ! Try, try to love her ; she is so 
 young. Her very soul is in your keeping. 
 Be good to her ; she is a mere baby. If 
 you neglect her, forget her ' 
 
 Maurice casts a queer look at her. 
 
 * " Is thy servant a dog ?" ' quotes he. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Margaret moves slowly away. She had, 
 when Maurice met her, been bent on going 
 upstairs to her books and her thoughts ; 
 
MAURICE GIVES WAY TO TEMPER 163 
 
 but now she turns backward. She feels 
 as if she wants something. Perhaps she 
 finds it — unconsciously, however — when 
 she stops before a tall, soldierly-looking 
 man, who, seeing her, comes to meet her 
 with evident pleasure. 
 
 * You look disturbed !' says Colonel 
 Neilson. 
 
 He is, as I have said, a tall man, with a 
 kindly face, and deep eyes of a dark colour. 
 There is nothing very special about him ; 
 he is not, strictly speaking, handsome, yet 
 he was, last season, one of the most popular 
 men in town. 
 
 * Yes, and no,' says Margaret. * My 
 cousin has confided a sort of secret to 
 me.' 
 
 * A secret ! I may not hear it, then ?' 
 'Well, I don't know. It is, as I have 
 
 hinted, a sor^ of secret, not very much to 
 be kept.' 
 
 * I may hear it, then ?' 
 
 ' I suppose so. xA.t all events,' with a 
 laugh, soft as silk, ' 1 should like you to 
 
i64 THE HOYDEN 
 
 hear it, because I want your opinion. You 
 will give it ?' 
 
 'You know I will give you everything I 
 have,' says he. 
 
 * Oh no ! you must not talk like that,' 
 says she. ' Put all that on one side, and 
 let me have you for my friend. I want 
 one now — not for myself, but for another ; 
 for two others, in fact. You know how 
 fond I am of Maurice, and lately I have 
 contracted quite a romantic, for me ' — she 
 pauses and laughs — ' well, quite a romantic 
 affection, for a little girl staying here with 
 my aunt. You know who I mean — Tita 
 Bolton.' 
 
 * A charming child !' 
 
 * I am so glad you like her ! But, as 
 you say, she is a mere child ; and Maurice 
 has proposed to her, and she has accepted 
 him, and I am curious about her future.' 
 
 ' Hers only ?' 
 
 * Oh no ! His, too !' 
 
 ' It will be a risk, certainly,' says Colonel 
 Neilson. ' I thought — I imagined — I had 
 
MAURICE GIVES WAY TO TEMPER 165 
 
 heard that Rylton was engaged to his 
 cousin, Mrs. Bethune — a very beautiful 
 woman.' 
 
 * How can you think so !' says Margaret. 
 * Well, yes, no doubt she zs beautiful, but 
 I should not like Maurice to marry her.' 
 
 ' You would prefer his marrying the 
 ** charming child "?' 
 
 ' I don't know what I prefer,' says Miss 
 Knollys. She casts a reproachful glance 
 at him that certainly is not deserved. Has 
 he not served her late and early for the 
 past six years ? ' I thought you would 
 help me !' 
 
 ' You know I shall do that, however 
 things may turn.' 
 
 ' Well, help me here. What ozi£-A^ 
 Maurice to do ? I am so dreadfully un- 
 happy about this projected marriage of 
 his.' 
 
 ' It seems to me you are unhappy about 
 all things except those that concern your- 
 self. Your own future seems a blank to 
 you ; is it not so ?' 
 
[66 THE HOYDEN 
 
 Miss Knollys makes a little movement. 
 
 ' Why should it be always a blank ?' 
 says he. 'Margaret,' in a low tone, Met 
 me fill it !' 
 
 Marg-aret rises impatiently. 
 
 ' After all, you can't help me,' says she, 
 turning abruptly away. 
 
 ' Margaret, hear me !' 
 
 ' No, no, no ! What is the use ?' 
 
 She goes slowly down the hall. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 HOW THE LAST DAY COMES, AND HOW SOME 
 STRANGE WORDS ARE SAID BEFORE THE 
 MARRIAGE IS ACCOMPLISHED ; AND HOW 
 MARIAN BETHUNE SCORES A POINT. 
 
 The dawn of the wedding-day has broken. 
 Everything has been hurried over as much 
 as possible ; with no unseemly haste — ^just 
 in the most ordinary, kindly way — however. 
 But Lady Rylton's hand was at the helm, 
 and she guided her barque to a safe anchor 
 with all speed. She had kept Tita with 
 her — under her eye, as it were — until the 
 final accomplishment should have taken 
 place. 
 
 The wedding, she declared, should be 
 
[68 THE HOYDEN 
 
 from her house, from The Place, seeing 
 that the poor darhng child was mother- 
 less ! She made herself all things to Tita 
 in those days, although great anger stung 
 her within. She had been bitterly in- 
 censed by Maurice's avowal that Tita had 
 declined to live with her at The Place, but 
 she had been mightily pleased, for all that, 
 in the thought that therefore The Place 
 would be left to her without a division of 
 authority. 
 
 Sir Maurice had gone to Rickfort to 
 interview 'Uncle George' of unpleasant 
 fame. He had found him a rather strange- 
 looking man, but not so impossible as Tita 
 had led him to imagine. He made no 
 objection of any sort to the marriage, and, 
 indeed, through his cold exterior Maurice 
 could see that the merchant blood in him 
 was flattered at his niece's alliance with 
 some of the oldest blood in England. 
 
 He was quite reasonable, too, about his 
 niece's fortune. So much was to go to 
 redeeming the more immediate debts on 
 
THE LAST DAY COMES 169 
 
 the property ; for the rest, Sir Maurice 
 declared he would have nothing to do with 
 it. The money should be settled on his 
 wife entirely. It was hers ; he had no 
 claim to it. He would have something 
 off his own property, a small thing, but 
 sufficient for his requirements. He gave 
 his word to quit the turf finally. He had 
 no desire to amuse himself in that sort of 
 way again — or, indeed, in other ways. He 
 wished to settle down, etc. It occurred to 
 old Bolton, who was a shrewd man, that 
 Sir Maurice looked like one whose interest 
 in life and its joys was at an end. Still, he 
 was a baronet, and of very ancient lineage, 
 and it was a triumph for the Boltons. He 
 refused to acknowledge to himself that he 
 was sacrificing his niece. It was not a 
 sacrifice ; it was an honour ! 
 
 For one thing the old man stipulated, 
 or rather bargained. He had managed 
 his niece's affairs so far with great success ; 
 some of her money was in land, in Oak- 
 dean and Rickfort, for example ; the rest 
 
I70 THE HOYDEN 
 
 he had invested securely, as he hoped and 
 beheved. If he might still be acknow- 
 ledged as her guardian ? 
 
 Sir Maurice, of course, gave in. 
 Thoroughly ashamed and humiliated by 
 the whole affair — he, the man, without a 
 penny ; she, the woman, possessed of all 
 things in that line — it gave him genuine 
 relief to tell her uncle that he would be 
 actually thankful if he would still continue 
 to be the head of her affairs, and manage 
 her money matters, as he had managed 
 them hitherto — and always with such happy 
 results. 
 
 Mr. Bolton had bowed to him over his 
 spectacles ; his curious gray eyes caught a 
 little addition of light, as it were. He was 
 honoured by Sir Maurice's confidence, but, 
 if he might suggest it, he thought that 
 whilst Sir Maurice's affairs were righting 
 themselves, he ought to allow himself a 
 certain income out of his wife's money. 
 
 But Rylton would not hear of it. He 
 had, as he had already told Mr. Bolton, a 
 
THE LAST DAY COMES 171 
 
 small yearly income that he might with 
 honesty call his own. It was specially 
 small on account of his mother's jointure 
 having to be paid out of the estate also. 
 Of course he could not curtail that, nor 
 would he desire to do so. And, seeing 
 how deeply dipped the estates were, he 
 could, of course, only take as much as he 
 could reasonably desire. With his future 
 wife's help, however, he felt the old pro- 
 perty could be brought back in time to 
 its former splendid position — to a position 
 that he would be proud to see her the 
 mistress of, etc. 
 
 There is always a good deal of hum- 
 bug talked on these occasions. Maurice, 
 perhaps, talked very considerably less than 
 most people ; and, indeed, when he said 
 he would gladly see her mistress of all he 
 ought to have, he spoke something very 
 near the truth. He was grateful to her 
 beyond all words, and he had sworn to 
 himself to be loyal to her. 
 
 Lady Rylton was distinctly annoyed 
 
172 THE HOYDEN 
 
 when she heard of the arrangements come 
 to. She would have liked Maurice to have 
 had entire control of his wife's fortune. 
 And, oddly enough, Tita was annoyed too. 
 
 ' Oh, I wzsk you had broken away 
 entirely from Uncle George,' she had said 
 to Maurice, when he had come down on 
 one of his flying visits to The Place be- 
 tween his engagement and his marriage. 
 
 * But why ? He seemed to me quite a 
 nice old gentleman.' 
 
 She could not explain why, however, 
 but only clung to her belief that they would 
 be better without Uncle George. She 
 hated him. That seemed to be the sum 
 total of her objection. 
 
 Maurice had left The Place the morning 
 after his engagement. He had had time 
 to have an interview with his little fiancee, 
 who seemed surprised that he wanted it in 
 private, and who, to his great relief, in- 
 sisted on making very cool adieux to him 
 in the public hall, where everyone was 
 passing to and fro, and where Mr. Gower 
 
THE LAST DAY COMES 173 
 
 was making a nuisance of himself by- 
 playing ball against the library door. 
 Naturally it was impossible to have an 
 affecting parting there. 
 
 Marian had not come down to breakfast. 
 And Sir Maurice was conscious of a 
 passionate sense of relief. She had heard. 
 He knew — he felt that ! His mother 
 would not spare her ; and even if she had 
 not cared as he had cared, still, unless she 
 was the greatest fiend on earth, she must 
 have had some small love for him — how 
 terribly small he knows ! He assures 
 himself of that all day long in the living 
 torture he is enduring, as if by it he can 
 reconcile himself to his marriage with this 
 child, whose money is so hateful, and whose 
 presence is such a bore. 
 
 There are a few things, however, always 
 to be thankful for. Tita, in the frankest 
 fashion in all their interviews, has told him 
 that she doesn't care a fig about him, that 
 she is marrying him only to escape from 
 Uncle George ! 
 
174 THE HOYDEN 
 
 All their interviews have been but few. 
 Sir Maurice had run down from here, and 
 there, and everywhere, just for a night at 
 a time, arriving barely in time for dinner, 
 and going away before breakfast. Once, 
 and once only, he had seen Mrs. Bethune. 
 Those other times she had been confined 
 to her room with neuralgia (what should 
 we all do without neuralgia ?), or with 
 letters to write, or something, anything 
 else. 
 
 That one time she came out of the 
 library at the very moment he had arrived. 
 They met in the hall, and it was quite im- 
 possible to avoid seeing him. She came 
 forward with a charming air. 
 
 ' It is you ? How long since we have 
 met !' said she. Her tone was evenness 
 itself; she was smiling brightly. If she 
 was pale, he could not see it in the 
 darkening twilight. ' How troublesome 
 these elections are ! I see you have been 
 staying with the Montgomerys ; I do hope 
 he will get in. But Conservatives are 
 
THE LAST DAY COMES 17 S 
 
 nowhere nowadays. Truth hes buried in 
 a well. That's a good old saying.' She 
 nodded to him and went up a step or 
 two of the stairs, then she looked back. 
 ' Don't stay away from The Place on my 
 account,' said she, with rather an amused 
 smile. ' I like to have you here. And 
 see how badly you are behaving to the 
 beloved one !' 
 
 She smiled again, with even more amuse- 
 ment than before, and continued her 
 graceful way up the stairs. He had turned 
 away sore at heart. She had not even 
 thought it worth her while to make an 
 appeal to him. If she had ! He told him- 
 self that even then, if she had said but one 
 word, he would have thrown up everything, 
 even his honour, and gone with her to the 
 ends of the earth. But she had not said 
 that word — she had not cared — sufficiently. 
 
 #?¥* -^ -^ -^ 
 
 ^V" •TV' VV* •TV* 
 
 And now it is indeed all over I They 
 have come back from the church — Tita 
 just as she is every day, without a cloud 
 
76 THE HOYDEN 
 
 on her brow, and laughing with everybody, 
 and telling everybody, without the least 
 disguisement, that she is so £'hd she is 
 married, because now Uncle George can 
 never claim her again. She seems to 
 have no thought but this. She treats her 
 newly-made husband in a merry, perfectly 
 unembarrassed, rather boyish style, and is, 
 in effect, quite delighted with her new 
 move. 
 
 Sir Maurice has gone through It all 
 without a flaw. At the breakfast he had 
 made quite a finished little speech (he 
 could never have told you afterwards what 
 it was about), and when the bride was 
 upstairs changing her wedding garments 
 he had gone about amongst his guests 
 with an air that left nothing to be desired. 
 He looks quite an ideal bridegroom. A 
 mad longing for solitude drags him pre- 
 sently, however, into a small ante-room, 
 opening off a larger room beyond. The 
 carriage that is to convey him to the station 
 is at the door, and he almost swears at the 
 
THE LAST DAY COMES 177 
 
 delay that arises from Tita's non-appear- 
 ance. 
 
 Yet here — here is rest. Here there is 
 no one to breathe detestable congratula- 
 tions into his ear — no one. 
 
 A tall, slight figure rises from a couch 
 that is half hidden by a Chinese screen. 
 She comes forward a step or two. Her 
 face is very pale. It is Marian Bethune. 
 
 * You !' says she in a low, strange voice. 
 ' Have yozi come here, too, to ^Mnk ?' 
 She speaks with difficulty. Then all at 
 once she makes a stray movement with 
 her hands, and brings herself to her senses 
 by a passionate effort. ' You are like me, 
 you want quiet/ says she, with a very 
 ordinary little laugh ; * so you came here. 
 Well, shall I leave you ?' 
 
 She is looking very beautiful. Her 
 pallor, the violet shades beneath her eyes, 
 all tend to make her lovely. 
 
 ' It is you who have left me.' 
 
 '1} Oh no ! Oh, think !' says she, 
 laughing still. 
 
 VOL. I. 12 
 
178 THE HOYDEN 
 
 Rylton draws a long breath. 
 
 * After all, it could never have come to 
 anything,' says he, in a dull sort of way. 
 
 ' Never, never,' smiling. 
 ' I don't believe you care,' says he 
 bitterly. 
 
 She looks at him. It is a curious look. 
 ' Why should I ? Do you care ?' 
 ' I have cared too much.' 
 He turns away. 
 
 * Don't let us part bad friends,' says she, 
 going to him, and twining one of her hands 
 round his arm. 'What have I done to 
 you, or you to me ? How have we been 
 enemies ? It is fate, it is poverty that 
 has been our common enemy. Maurice, 
 remember what we /lave been to each 
 other.' 
 
 * It is what I dare not remember,' says 
 he hoarsely. 
 
 His face is resolutely turned from hers. 
 
 ' Well, well, forget, then, zf you can. 
 As for me, remembrance will be my sole 
 joy.' 
 
THE LAST DAY COMES 179 
 
 ' It is madness, Marian, to talk to me 
 like this. What is to be gained by it ?' 
 
 * Why, nothing, nothing, and so let us 
 forget ; let us begin again as true friends 
 only.' 
 
 * There is no hope of that,' says he. 
 His voice is a mere whisper. 
 
 ' Oh yes, there is — there,' eagerly * mus^ 
 be. What ! Would you throw me over 
 altogether, Maurice ? Oh, that I could 
 not bear ! Why should we not be as 
 brother and sister to each other ? Yes, 
 yes,' vehemently ; ' tell me it shall be so. 
 You will ask me to your new house, 
 Maurice, won't you ?' 
 
 She is looking up into his face, her hand 
 still pressing his arm. 
 
 * My wife's house.' 
 
 ^ Your wife's house is yours, is it not ? 
 You owe yourself something from this 
 marriage. You will ask me there now 
 and then ?' 
 
 * She will ask her own guests, I sup- 
 pose.' 
 
i8o THE HOYDEN 
 
 * She will ask whom you choose. Pah ! 
 what is she but a child in your hands ?' 
 
 * Tita is not the cipher you describe her,' 
 says Rylton coldly. 
 
 * No, no ; I spoke wrongly — I am always 
 wrong, it seems to me,' says she, with such 
 sweet contrition that she disarms him 
 again. * I cannot live if I cannot see you 
 sometimes, and, besides, you know what 
 my life is here, and how few are the 
 houses I can go to, and ' — she slips her 
 arms suddenly round his neck — ^ you wi// 
 ask me sometimes, Maurice ?' 
 
 * Yes/ 
 
 * You promise that ?' 
 
 * I promise that, as far as it lies in my 
 power, I will always befriend you.' 
 
 'Ah, that is not enough,' says she, 
 laughing and sobbing in the same breath. 
 * I am losing you for ever. Give me 
 something to dwell upon, to hope for. 
 Swear you will make me your guest some- 
 times.' 
 
 * I swear it,' says he huskily. 
 
THE LAST DAY COMES i8i 
 
 He removes her arms from his neck, 
 and holds her from him. His face is 
 gray. 
 
 * It is for the sake of our old friendship 
 that I plead,' says she. 
 
 The tears are running down her cheeks. 
 
 * Our friendship,' repeats he, with a 
 groan. 
 
 He makes a movement as if to fling her 
 from him, then suddenly catches her to his 
 heart, and presses his lips passionately to 
 hers. 
 
 JZ. J/* J£, Ji. .Ag, 
 
 W W TV W 'Tt' 
 
 ' Maurice ! Maurice !' calls somebody. 
 
 Marian sinks upon a couch near her, 
 and buries her face in her hands. Sir. 
 Maurice goes into the hall to meet his 
 bride. 
 
 The partings are very brief. Tita, who 
 is in the gayest spirits, says good-bye to 
 everybody with a light heart. Has not 
 her freedom been accomplished ? She 
 receives Lady Rylton's effusive embrace 
 calmly. There are some, indeed, who 
 
1 82 THE HOYDEN 
 
 say that the Httle bride did not return her 
 kiss. Just at the very last, with her foot 
 almost on the carriage step, Tita looks 
 back, and seeing Margaret at a little dis- 
 tance, runs to her, and flings herself into 
 her embrace. 
 
 * You are mine now, my own cousin !' 
 whispers she joyfully. 
 
 ^ God bless you, Tita,' says Margaret in 
 a whisper, too, but very earnestly, ' and 
 preserve to you your happy heart !' 
 
 * Oh, I shall always be happy,' says 
 Tita ; ' and I shall hurry back to see you,' 
 giving her another hug. 
 
 Then somebody puts her into the car- 
 riage, and, still smiling and waving her 
 hands, she is driven away. 
 
 ' Really, Margaret, you should be 
 flattered,' says Lady Rylton, with a sneer. 
 ' She seems to think more of you than of 
 her husband.' 
 
 ' I hope her husband will think of her,' 
 returns Margaret coldly. * As I told you 
 before, I consider this marriage ill done.' 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HOW TITA COMES BACK FROM HER HONEY- 
 MOON, AND HOW HER HUSBAND's MOTHER 
 TELLS HER OF CERTAIN THINGS THAT 
 SHOULD HAVE BEEN LEFT UNTOLD. 
 
 'And the weather — the weather was the 
 most marvellous thing !' says Tita, with 
 enthusiasm. ' Perpetual sunshine ! Here, 
 in September, it often pelts rain all day 
 long !' 
 
 'Pelts ! My dear Tita, what a word!' 
 says Lady Rylton. 
 
 She sinks back in her chair as if over- 
 come, and presses her perfumed handker- 
 chief to her face. 
 
 ' What's the matter with it ?' asks Tita, 
 
1 84 THE HOYDEN 
 
 a little smartly, perhaps. 'It's a right- 
 down good word, in my opinion. I've 
 heard lots of people use it.' 
 
 * No doubt you have/ says her mother- 
 in-law. 
 
 ' Well, so have you, I dare say !' says 
 Tita. 
 
 * I expect we all have,' says Margaret 
 Knollys, laughing. ' Still, you know, Tita, 
 ii's not a pretty word.' 
 
 * Very good ; I shan't say it again,' says 
 Tita, the mutinous little face of a moment 
 ago now lovely with love. 
 
 She has come back from her honeymoon 
 quite as fond of Margaret as when she 
 started. 
 
 It is now the middle of September; 
 outside on the lawn the shadows are 
 wandering merrily from tree to tree. The 
 sun is high, but little clouds running across 
 it now and again speak of sharp rains to 
 come. 
 
 ' The air so soft, the pines whispering so low, 
 The dragon-flies, like fairy spears of steel, 
 Darting or poised.' 
 
TITA BACK FROM HER HONEYMOON 185 
 
 All these speak of the glad heat that still 
 remains, though summer itself is but a 
 dream that is gone. 
 
 Tita's honeymoon is at an end. It had 
 seemed to her delightful. She had taken 
 but a child's view of it. Maurice had 
 been so kind, so good, so different from 
 that nasty old uncle. He had been so 
 good, indeed, that when he asked her to 
 come home first to see his mother (Lady 
 Rylton had made quite a point of this in 
 her letters to him ; the county might think 
 it so odd if the young wife did not appear 
 anxious to fly into her arms on her return), 
 she had said ' Yes ' quite willingly, and 
 with a grateful little glance. He had 
 done so much for her, she must do some- 
 thing for him. But she hated going back 
 to The Place, for all that. She wanted 
 to go straight to her own old home, 
 her beautiful Oakdean, without a single 
 stop. 
 
 She has been at The Place now for a 
 week. Margaret Knollys and Randal 
 
1 86 THE HOYDEN 
 
 Gower are the only two guests, Mrs. 
 Bethune being on a visit to some friends 
 in Scotland. The shooting here is ex- 
 cellent, and Sir Maurice has enjoyed him- 
 self immensely. Sir Maurice's wife has, 
 perhaps, not enjoyed herself quite so 
 much. But nothing, so far, has occurred 
 to render her in the very least unhappy. 
 If the clouds be black, she has not seen 
 them. Her young soul has uplifted itself, 
 and is soaring gaily amongst the stars. 
 In her ignorance she tells herself she is 
 quite, quite happy ; it is only when we 
 love that we doubt of happiness, and thus 
 sometimes (because of our modesty, per- 
 haps) we gain it. Tita has never known 
 what love means. 
 
 There has been a little fret, a little jar 
 to-day, between her and Lady Rylton. 
 The latter's memory is good, and she 
 has never forgotten what Maurice — in a 
 moment's folly — had said of Tita's deter- 
 mination not to live with her at The Place. 
 It is Lady Rylton's 7'o/e to return to all, in 
 
TITA BACK FROM HER HONEYMOON 187 
 
 extra good measure, such injuries as she 
 may judge herself to have received. 
 
 Tita naturally, in this small warfare, Is 
 at a disadvantage. She has forgotten her 
 words, but even If she remembered them, 
 would not for a moment suspect Maurice 
 of having repeated them. And, Indeed, 
 Maurice, as we all know, had done It in a 
 heated moment with best intent towards 
 his small betrothed ; besides, TIta at this 
 time — so heartwhole and so ddbonnaire — 
 gives no thinking to anything save the 
 getting out into the fresh air In these un- 
 certain days, and the breaking in of a 
 young horse that Maurice has made her a 
 present of. Danger walks behind her, but 
 she never turns her head ; what has she 
 to fear ? 
 
 ' Youth, that knows no dread 
 Of any horrors lurking far ahead. 
 Across the sunny flowered fields of life ' 
 
 carries her safely right Into the enemy's 
 camp. Cruel youth ! 
 
 ' Won't you come out with me and have 
 
i88 THE HOYDEN 
 
 a stroll in the gardens before tea ?' asks 
 Margaret, rising. It seems to her that 
 the social air is growing a little too sultry. 
 ' Come, Tita ; it will do you good.' 
 
 * Oh, I should love it !' says Tita, start- 
 ing to her feet. 
 
 * Dear Margaret, you forget that, though 
 Tita has been here for a week, this is the 
 very first quiet moment I have had with 
 her ! Do not tempt her from me !' 
 
 ' Certainly not, Tessie, if you wish to 
 have her with you,' says Margaret, re- 
 seating herself. 
 
 Now, more than ever, she feels there is 
 danger in the air. 
 
 ' Don't let me keep you,^ says Lady 
 Rylton, with deliberation. * Go, dear Mar- 
 garet, and get some of the sweet evening 
 air — it may be of use to your complexion ; 
 it is the tiniest bit yellow of late. And 
 when one is twenty-five — it is twenty-five ?' 
 
 She knows Margaret's truthful nature. 
 
 ' Thirty,' says Margaret, who knows 
 her, too, to the very ground. 
 
TIT A BACK FROM HER HONEYMOON 189 
 
 * Ah, impossible !' says Lady Rylton 
 sweetly. ' Twenty-five, Margaret — not a 
 
 day more ! But, still, your complexion 
 
 There, go away and refresh it ; and come 
 back when I have had my little chat with 
 my dearest Tita.' 
 
 Margaret casts a swift glance at the 
 girl sitting there, apparently quite un- 
 conscious of the coming storm, and with 
 her hands twined behind her head. She 
 has her legs crossed — another sin — and is 
 waving one little foot up and down in a 
 rather too careless fashion. 
 
 Tita looks back at her. 
 
 * Don't be long,' says she inaudibly. 
 Margaret gives her a nod, and goes out 
 
 through the window. 
 
 * My dearest child,' says Lady Rylton, 
 nestling cosily into her chair, and smiling 
 delicately at Tita over the top of her fan, 
 ' you may have noticed that I gave dear 
 Margaret her con^-^ with intent ?' 
 
 * I saw that you wanted to get rid of 
 her,' says Tita. 
 
I90 THE HOYDEN 
 
 * I fear, my dear, your training has been 
 somewhat defective,' says Lady Rylton, 
 biting her lips. * We never — we in society, 
 I mean — never *' get rid" of people. 
 There are better ways of doing things, 
 that ' 
 
 ' It must cause you a lot of trouble,' 
 says Tita. ' It looks to me like walking 
 half a dozen times round your bath on a 
 frosty morning, knowing all along you will 
 have to get into it.' 
 
 * Sh !' says Lady Rylton. * My dear, 
 you should not mention your da^A before 
 people.' 
 
 * Why not ? When one loves a thing, 
 one speaks of it. Don't you love your 
 bath ?' asks Tita. 
 
 Lady Rylton sits glaring at her, as if 
 too horrified to go on. Tita continues : 
 
 ^ If you don't, you ought, you know,' 
 says she. 
 
 * You must be out of your mind to talk 
 to me like this,' says Lady Rylton at last. 
 Something in the girl's air tells her that 
 
TITA BACK FROM HER HONEYMOON 191 
 
 there is some little touch of devilment in it, 
 some anger, some hatred. ' But, naturally, 
 I make allowances for you. Your birth, 
 your surroundings, your bringing up, all 
 preclude the idea that you should know 
 how to manage yourself in the world into 
 which you have been thrown by your 
 marriage with my son.' 
 
 ' As for my birth,' says Tita slowly, ' I 
 did not choose it ; and you should be the 
 last to throw it in my teeth. If you dis- 
 approved of it before my marriage with 
 your son, why did you not say so 1' 
 
 * There were many reasons,' says Lady 
 Rylton slowly, deliberately. * For one, as 
 you know, your money was a necessity to 
 
 Maurice ; and for another ' She breaks 
 
 off, and scans the girl's face with an air of 
 question. ' Dare I go on }' asks she. 
 
 * Why should you not dare T says Tita. 
 A quick light has come into her eyes. 
 'Ah, that is it! I have something to 
 
 say to you that I think, perhaps, should be 
 said, yet I fear the saying of it.' 
 
192 THE HOYDEN 
 
 * For you, or for me ?' asks Tita. 
 
 She has her small brown hands clasped 
 tightly together in her lap now. There is 
 something nervous in the tension of them. 
 Where, where is Margaret .'^ For all that, 
 she looks back at her mother-in-law with a 
 clear and fearless glance. 
 
 * For you/ says Lady Rylton — * for you 
 only ! But before I begin — I am a very 
 nervous person, you know, and scenes,* 
 again pressing her handkerchief to her 
 face, * upset me so — tell me, do tell me, if 
 you have a good temper !' 
 
 * I don't know,' says Tita. 'Why?' 
 *Well, a reasonable temper! I know 
 
 Maurice would try anything — less than 
 that.' 
 
 * Has it to do with Maurice .'^ Yes, I 
 am very reasonable,' says Tita, laughing. 
 She shows all her pretty teeth. ' Now 
 for your other reason for deigning to 
 accept me as your son's wife !' 
 
 She laughs again. She seems to turn 
 Lady Rylton into a sort of mild ridicule^ 
 
TITA BACK FROM HER HONEYMOON 193 
 
 ' I don't think I should laugh about it 
 if I wGve you,' returns Lady Rylton calmly, 
 and with the subdued air that tells her 
 intimates when she is in one of her vilest 
 moods. • I feel very sorry for you, my 
 poor child ; and I would have warned you 
 of this thing long ago, but that I dreaded 
 the anger of Maurice.' 
 
 ' Why, what is it ?' cries Tita vehemently. 
 * Has Maurice murdered somebody, or 
 defrauded somebody, or run away with 
 somebody ?' 
 
 ' Oh no ! He did not run away with 
 her,' says Lady Rylton slowly. 
 
 ' You mean — you mean ' 
 
 The girl is now leaning forward, her 
 small face rather white. 
 
 ' I mean that he has been in love with 
 his cousin for the past two years. 
 
 ' His cousin !' Tita's thoughts run to 
 Margaret. ' Margaret ?' 
 
 * Nonsense !' says Lady Rylton ; the 
 idea strikes her as ludicrous. The sur- 
 prise, the strange awakening to the young 
 
 VOL. I. 13 
 
194 THE HOYDEN 
 
 bride, who, if not in love with her husband, 
 has at all events expected loyalty from 
 him, has affected her not at all ; but this 
 suggestion of Margaret as a possible lover 
 of Maurice's convulses her with amuse- 
 ment. ' Margaret ! No /' 
 
 * Who, then ?' asks Tita. 
 
 * Marian — Marian Bethune.' 
 ' Mrs. Bethune !' 
 
 * Did you never guess ? I fancied per- 
 haps you had heard nothing, so I felt it 
 my duty to let you into a little of the 
 secret — to warn you. Marian might want 
 to stay with you, for example — and 
 Maurice ' 
 
 * Mrs. Bethune may stay with me with 
 pleasure,' says Tita. * Why not T 
 
 * Why not 7 Lady Rylton pauses as if 
 half choking. She had thought to lower 
 this girl into the very dust, and revenge 
 herself on Maurice at the same time by 
 her shameful revelation. ' You do not 
 care, then ?' says she, bitterly disappointed. 
 
 Tita does not answer her. Suddenly 
 
TIT A BACK FROM HER HONEYMOON 195 
 
 her young thoughts have gone backwards, 
 and all at once she remembers many things. 
 The poison has entered into her. In a 
 moment, as it were, she is back in that 
 dim conservatory where Maurice (he has 
 never been * he ' or * him ' to her, as 
 happier girls, who love more and are more 
 beloved, would have styled him) — where 
 Maurice had asked her to marry him. 
 
 Now, in some strange fashion, her 
 memory grows alive and compels her to 
 remember how he looked and spoke that 
 night — that night of his proposal to her, 
 when she had asked him if he loved his 
 cousin. 
 
 There had been a queer, indescribable 
 change in his face — a sudden pallor, a 
 start ! She had thought nothing of it 
 then, but now it comes back to her. S/ie 
 had meant Margaret — Margaret whom she 
 loves ; but he — who had /le meant ? 
 
 Really it doesn't matter so much after 
 all, this story of Lady Rylton's. Maurice 
 can go his way and she hers — that was 
 
196 THE HOYDEN 
 
 arranged ! But, for all that, It does seem 
 rather mean that he should have married 
 her, telling her nothing of this. 
 
 ' Care ! why should I care ?' says she 
 suddenly, Lady Rylton's last words cling- 
 ing to her brain, in spite of all its swift 
 wanderings during the last sixty seconds. 
 
 ' Such an admirable indifference would 
 almost lead me to believe that you had 
 been born of good parentage,' says Lady 
 Rylton, cold with disappointed revenge. 
 
 * I was born of excellent parentage ' 
 
 Tita is beginning, when the sound of 
 footsteps slowly mounting the stairs of the 
 veranda outside comes to them. 
 
 A second later Mr. Gower shows him- 
 self. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 now A YOUNG AND LOVELY NATURE TAKES 
 A SHOCK MOST CRUELLY ADMINISTERED. 
 AND HOW A DOWAGER TAKES A NEW 
 NAME AS A DIRECT INSULT. AND HOW 
 TITA DECLINES TO PROMISE ANYTHING. 
 
 He Stands at the open window looking in. 
 All at once Tita knows and feels that 
 Margaret has sent him to rescue her from 
 captivity. 
 
 ' Lady Rylton,' calls he, ' won't you 
 come out ? The evening is a perfect 
 dream — a boon and a blessing to men, like 
 those pens, you know.' 
 
 The elder Lady Rylton answers him. 
 She leans forward, a charming smile on 
 her wonderfully youthful features. 
 
198 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' No. No, thanks.' She shakes her 
 pretty, fair head at Gower in a dehght- 
 fully coquettish fashion. Dear boy ! How 
 sweet it is of him to come and fetch her 
 for a Httle stroll among the hollyhocks. 
 * I can't go out now. Not to-night^ 
 Randal !' 
 
 ' Oh ! er — so sorry ! But ' He 
 
 looks at Tita. It is impossible not to 
 understand that the Lady Rylton he had 
 intended to take for a little stroll in the 
 calm, delightful evening, had been the 
 younger Lady Rylton. 'Well, if your — er 
 — mother — won't come, won't you ?^ asks 
 he, now addressing Tita distinctly. 
 
 * I am not going out either,' says she, 
 smiling gently at him. To go now will 
 be to betray fear, and she — no, she will 
 not give in, any way, she will never show 
 the white feather. She will finish this 
 hour with Lady Rylton, whatever it may 
 cost her. 
 
 ' Really ?' asks Gower. He looks as if 
 he would have persuaded her to come 
 
A SHOCK CRUELLY ADMINISTERED 199 
 
 with him, but something in her manner 
 convinces him of the folly of persistence. 
 
 * Yes, really,' returns she, after which 
 he goes down the steps again. They can 
 hear him going, slowly this time, as if 
 reluctantly, and step by step. There 
 doesn't seem to be a run left in him. 
 
 * How absurd it is, this confusion of 
 titles !' says Lady Rylton, as the last un- 
 satisfactory step is lost to them in the 
 distance. ' Lady Rylton here and Lady 
 Rylton there. Absurd, / call it.' She 
 makes a pretence at laughter, but it is a 
 sorry one -her laugh is only angry. 
 
 ' I suppose it can't be helped,' says Tita 
 indifferently. Her eyes are still downcast, 
 her young mouth a little scornful. 
 
 * But if you are to be Lady Rylton as 
 well as I, how are we to distinguish ? 
 What am / to be ?' 
 
 ' The Dowager, I suppose,' says Tita, 
 with a little flash of malice. She has been 
 rubbed the wrong way a trifle too much 
 for one afternoon. 
 
200 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' T/ie Dowager P Lady Rylton springs 
 to her feet. * I — do you think that / shall 
 follow you out of a room ?' 
 
 ' Follow me ! I'd hate you to follow me 
 anywhere !' says Tita, who does not cer- 
 tainly follow her as to her meaning. 
 
 ' That is meant to be a smart speech, 
 I presume,' says Lady Rylton, sinking 
 back into her seat once more. ' But do 
 not for a moment imagine that I dread 
 you. You know very little of Society if 
 you think you will be tolerated there! 
 
 ' I know nothing of Society,' returns 
 Tita, now very pale, ' and perhaps you 
 will understand me when I say that I 
 never want to know anything. If Society 
 means people who tell hateful, unkind 
 stories of a husband to his wife, I think I 
 am very well out of it.' 
 
 * That is a little censure upon poor me, 
 I suppose,' says Lady Rylton with a 
 difficult smile. She looks at Tita. Evi- 
 dently she expects Tita to sink into the 
 ground beneath that austere regard, but 
 Tita comes up smiling. 
 
A SHOCK CRUELLY ADMINISTERED 201 
 
 'Well, yes. After all, I suppose so,' 
 says she slowly, thoughtfully. 'You 
 shouldn't have told me that story about 
 Maurice and ' She stops. 
 
 ' I shall not permit you to dictate to 
 me what I should or should not do,' 
 interrupts Lady Rylton coldly. ' You for- 
 get yourself! You forget what is due to 
 the head of this house.' 
 
 * I do not, indeed ; Maurice will tell 
 you so !' 
 
 ' Maurice ! What has he to do with it ?' 
 
 ' Why, he is the head,' slowly. 
 
 ' True, you are right so far,' says Lady 
 Rylton bitterly. ' But I was not alluding 
 to the actual head ; I was alluding to the 
 — the mistress of this house.' She pauses, 
 and looks with open hatred at the little 
 girl before her. Tita could have answered 
 her, have told her that her authority was 
 at an end for ever, but by a violent effort 
 she restrains herself. Tita's naturally 
 warm temper is now at boiling-point. 
 Still, she puts a restraint upon herself. 
 
202 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' You will understand for the future, I 
 hope,' says Lady Rylton, who has lost all 
 control over her temper ; ' you will, for the 
 future, at all events, I trust, bear yourself 
 with respect towards the mistress of this 
 house.' 
 
 Her manner is so insolent, so unbear- 
 able, that Tita's short-lived calm gives way. 
 
 * Maurice says I am the mistress here,' 
 says she distinctly, clearly. 
 
 ' You ! you ' Lady Rylton advances 
 
 towards her with a movement that is 
 almost threatening. 
 
 * Don't be uneasy about it,' says Tita, 
 with a scornful little laugh, and a gesture 
 that destroys the meaning of Lady 
 Rylton's. ' I don't want to be the mis- 
 tress here. I dislike the place. I shall 
 be delighted if you will live here — instead 
 of me! 
 
 ' You are too good !' says Lady Rylton, 
 in a choking tone. She looks as if she 
 could kill this girl, whom she has driven 
 to so fierce an anger. 
 
A SHOCK CRUELLY ADMINISTERED 203 
 
 * I think it dismal,' goes on Tita. ' I 
 like light and gay places.' There is a 
 little clutch at her heart, though why, she 
 hardly knows. What she does know is 
 that she hates this pretty, fair, patrician 
 woman before her — this woman with a 
 well-bred face, and the vulgarest of all 
 vulgar natures. This woman who has 
 betrayed her son's secret. Even to so 
 young a girl, and one who is not in love 
 with her husband, the idea of that husband 
 being in love with somebody else is dis- 
 tinctly distasteful. 
 
 * Besides, remember,' says Tita, * Mrs. 
 Bethune lives here. After all you have told 
 me of her, and — Maurice — you,' breaking 
 into a gay little laugh, ' could hardly 
 expect me to make this place my home.' 
 
 * You certainly seem to take it very 
 lightly/ says Lady Rylton. ' Maurice 
 must be congratulated on having secured 
 so compliant a wife.' 
 
 ' Why should I care ?' asks Tita, turning 
 a bright face to her. ' We made a bar- 
 
204 THE HOYDEN 
 
 gain before our marriage — Maurice and I. 
 He was to do as he liked/ 
 
 ' And you ?' 
 
 ' I was to follow suit.' 
 
 ' OutrageoMS /' says Lady Rylton. * I 
 shall speak to Maurice about it. I shall 
 warn him. I shall tell him how I dis- 
 approve of you, and he ' 
 
 * He will do nothing,' interrupts Tita. 
 She stands up, and looks at the older 
 woman as if defying her. Her small 
 face is all alight, her eyes are burning. 
 
 * I dare say not, after all/ says Lady 
 Rylton, with a cruel smile. * He knew 
 what he was about when he made that 
 arrangement. It leaves him delightfully 
 free to renew his love-affair with Marian 
 Bethune.' 
 
 Mf he desires such freedom it is his.' 
 Tita gathers up her fan, and the long 
 suede gloves lying on the chair near her, 
 and walks towards the door. 
 
 ' Stay, Tita !' cries Lady Rylton hur- 
 riedly. ' You will say nothing of this to 
 
A SHOCK CRUELLY ADMINISTERED 205 
 
 Maurice. It was in strict confidence I 
 spoke, and for your good and his. You 
 will say nothing to him ?' 
 
 * I ! what should I say ?' She looks 
 back at Lady Rylton, superb disdain in 
 her glance. 
 
 ' You might mention, for example, that 
 it was I who told you.' 
 
 ' Well, why shouldn't I ?' asked Tita. 
 * Are you ashamed of what you have 
 said ?' 
 
 ' I have always told you that I spoke 
 only through a sense of duty, to protect 
 you and him in your married life. You 
 will give me your word that you will not 
 betray me.' 
 
 ' I shall give you my word about 
 nothing,' coldly. ' I shall tell Maurice, or 
 I shall not tell him, just as it suits me.' 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 HOW TITA COMES TO OAKDEAN, AND IS GLAD. 
 AND HOW MAURICE CALLS TO HER, AND 
 SHE PERFORMS AN ACROBATIC FEAT. AND 
 HOW A DISCUSSION ARISES. 
 
 What a day it is ! Golden light every- 
 where, and the sounds of singing birds, 
 and the perfume of the late mignonette 
 and Stocks. Who shall say summer is 
 gone ? Tita, flitting gaily through the 
 gardens and pleasure-grounds of her old 
 dear home, her beloved Oakdean, tells 
 herself that it is summer Aere at all events, 
 whatever it may be in other stupid homes. 
 Oakdean to-day is at its best, and that 
 is saying a great deal. The grand old 
 
TIT A AT OAKDEAN 207 
 
 lawn, Studded here and there with giant 
 beeches, seems sleeping solemnly in the 
 warm light, and to their left the lake lies, 
 sleeping too, rocking upon its breast the 
 lily leaves, whose flowers are now all 
 gone. Over there the hills are purple 
 with flowering heather, and beyond them, 
 yet not so far away but that the soft mur- 
 muring of it can be heard, dwells the sea, 
 spreading itself out, grand, immense, until 
 it seems to touch the pale blue heavens. 
 
 Tita, stopping with her hands full of 
 flowers, stands upright, and as a little 
 breeze comes to her, draws in a long 
 breath, as if catching the salt from the 
 great ocean that it brings her. Oh, what 
 a day — what a day ! 
 
 Her lovely old home ! Here she is in 
 it once more — parted for ever from the 
 detested uncle, mistress of this one place 
 that holds for her the only happy memories 
 of her youth. Here she and her father 
 had lived — she a young, young child, and 
 he an old one — a most happy couple ; and 
 
2o8 THE HOYDEN 
 
 here, too, she had grown to girlhood. And 
 now here she is again, free to roam, to 
 order, to direct, with no single hitch any- 
 where to mar her happiness. 
 
 The lovely new horse that Maurice has 
 got for her leaves nothing to be desired ; 
 she has had a gallop on him this morning. 
 And all her dear dogs have been sent to 
 Oakdean, so that her hands are full of 
 favourites. As for Maurice himself, he 
 is delightful. He doesn't even know how 
 to scold. And it will always be like this — 
 always. As for that story of Lady Rylton's 
 about Marian Bethune — why, Marian is 
 quite an old thing ! And besides — well, 
 besides, it doesn't matter. Maurice is here 
 now, and he can't see her, and even if he 
 did — well, even if he did, what harm ? 
 Neither she nor Maurice even pretends to 
 be in love with the other, and if he should 
 be in love — as the idiots call it — with Mrs. 
 Bethune, why, he can be ! She won't 
 prevent it, only she hopes poor Maurice 
 won't make himself unhappy over that 
 
TIT A AT OAK DEAN 209 
 
 dreadful red- headed creature. But there 
 is certainly one thing ; he might have told 
 her. 
 
 But what does anything matter ? Here 
 she is in her old home, with all her dear 
 delights around her ! She glances back- 
 wards and forwards, a happy smile upon 
 her lips. From one of the Scotch firs over 
 there, the graceful blossoms of the hop- 
 plant droop prettily. And beyond them 
 on the hillside, far, far away, she can see 
 mushrooms gleaming in the fields, for all 
 the world like little sheep dotted here and 
 there. She laughs to herself as she notes 
 the resemblance. And all is hers — all. 
 And she is in her own home, and happy. 
 
 What a blessing she hadn't said ' No ' 
 when Maurice asked her. If she had, she 
 would have been living at Rickfort now 
 with Uncle George. 
 
 * Tita !' cries Maurice. 
 
 He has thrown up the window of his 
 smoking-room, and is calling to her. 
 
 ' Yes ?' 
 
 VOL. I. 14 
 
2IO THE HOYDEN 
 
 She turns to him, her arms full of flowers, 
 her vivacious little face, just like another 
 sort of flower, peeping over them. 
 
 ' Can you come in for a moment ?' 
 
 ' Why can't you come out ? Do, it is 
 lovely here !' 
 
 ' I can if you like, but it will mean 
 hauling out pencils and paper, and ' 
 
 'Oh well, I'll come.' 
 
 She runs to him across the green, sweet 
 grass, and, standing beneath the window, 
 holds out her hands to him. 
 
 * You can't come in this way,' says he. 
 
 * Can't I ? I wish I had a penny for 
 every time I did get in this way,' says she. 
 ' Here, give me your hands.' 
 
 He stoops to her, and catches her small 
 brown hands In a close grip. The new 
 Lady Rylton plants a very shapely little 
 foot against an excrescence in the wall, 
 and in a second has her knee on the 
 window-sill. 
 
 * After all, my mother was right,' says 
 Rylton, laughing. ' You are a hoyden.' 
 
TITA AT OAKDEAN 211 
 
 He takes the slight girhsh figure in his 
 arms, and swings her into the room. She 
 stands for a second looking at him with a 
 rather thoughtful air. Then — 
 
 * Your mother may call me names if she 
 likes,' says she. ' But you mustn't T 
 
 * No ?' laughing again. She amuses him 
 with her little air of authority. ' Very 
 good. I shan't ! I suppose I may call' 
 you wife, any way.' 
 
 ' Oh, that !' She stops. ' Did you bring 
 me in to ask me that question ?' 
 At this they laugh together. 
 
 * No. I confess so much.' 
 ' What, then ?' 
 
 ' Well, we ought to decide at once who 
 we are going to ask for the rest of the 
 shooting. The preserves are splendid, and 
 it seems quite a sin to let them go to 
 waste. Of course I know a lot of men I 
 could ask, but there should be a kw women, 
 too, for you.' 
 
 * Why for me ? I like men a great deal 
 better,' says Tita audaciously. 
 
212 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' Well, you shouldn't ! And, besides, 
 you have some friends of your own to be 
 asked.' 
 
 ' Your friends will do very well.' 
 
 * Nonsense !' with a touch of Impatience. 
 ' It Is you and your friends who are first to 
 be considered ; afterw^ards we can think of 
 mine.' 
 
 ' I have no friends,' says Tita carelessly. 
 
 * You have your uncle, at all events ; he 
 might like ' 
 
 * Oh, don't be an ass !' says Lady Rylton. 
 She delivers this excellent advice with 
 
 a promptitude and vigour that does her 
 honour. Rylton stares at her for a moment, 
 and then gives way to amusement. 
 
 * I shan't be If I can help It,' says he ; 
 ' but there are often so many difficulties In 
 the way.' He hesitates as if uncertain, 
 and then goes on. * By the way, Tita, 
 you shouldn't give yourself the habit of 
 saying things like that.' 
 
 ' Like what ?' 
 
 *Well, telling a fellow not to be an ass, 
 
TITA AT OAKDEAN 213 
 
 you know. It doesn't matter to me, of 
 course, but I heard you say something 
 like that to old Lady Warbeck yesterday, 
 and she seemed quite startled.' 
 
 ' Did she ? Do her good !' says Tita, 
 making a charming little face at him. 
 * Nothing like electricity nowadays. It'll 
 quite set her up again. Add years to her 
 life.' 
 
 ' Still, she wouldn't like it, perhaps.' 
 
 ' Having years added to her life ?' 
 
 ' No ; your slang.' 
 
 ' She likes me, any way/ says Tita non- 
 chalantly, ' so it doesn't matter about the 
 slang. The last word she mumbled at me 
 through her old false teeth was that she 
 hoped I'd come over and see her every 
 Tuesday that I had at my command (I'm 
 not going to have many), because I re- 
 minded her of some granddaughter who 
 was now in heaven, or at the Antipodes — 
 it's all the same.' 
 
 She pauses to catch a fly — dexterously, 
 and with amazing swiftness, in the palm of 
 
214 THE HOYDEN 
 
 her hand — that has been buzzing aimlessly 
 against the window-pane. Having looked 
 at it between her fingers, she flings it into 
 the warm air outside. 
 
 * So you see,' continues she triumphantly, 
 * it's a good thing to startle people. They 
 fall in love with you at once.' 
 
 Here, as if some gay little thought has 
 occurred to her, she lowers her head and 
 looks at her dainty finger-nails, then up at 
 Rylton from under half-closed lids. 
 
 * What a good thing I didn't try to 
 startle yozc /' says she. ' Vou might have 
 fallen in love with me, too.' 
 
 She waits for a second as it were, just 
 time enough to let her see the nervous 
 movement of his brows, and then — she 
 laughs. 
 
 ' I've escaped that bore,' says she, nod- 
 ding her head. She throws herself into a 
 big chair. ' And now, as the parsons say, 
 "to continue"; you were advising me to 
 ask ' 
 
 Your uncle.' 
 
TITA AT OAKDEAN 215 
 
 All the brightness has died out of 
 Rylton's voice ; he looks dull, uninterested. 
 That small remark of hers — what memories 
 it has awakened ! And yet — wotild he go 
 back ? 
 
 ' Chut ! What a suggestion !' says Tita, 
 shrugging her shoulders. ' Don't you know 
 that my one thought is to enjoy myself ?' 
 
 * A great one/ says he, smiling strangely. 
 
 She cares for nothing, he tells himself: 
 notkt7tg f He has married a mere butter- 
 fly ; yet how pretty the butterfly is, lying 
 back there in that huge armchair, her 
 picturesque little figure flung carelessly 
 into artistic curves, her soft, velvety head 
 rubbing itself restlessly amongst the amber 
 cushions. The cushions had been in one 
 of the drawing-rooms, but she had declared 
 he was frightfully uncomfortable in his 
 horrid old den, and had insisted on making 
 him a handsome present of them. She 
 seems to him the very incarnation of 
 exquisite idleness, the idleness that knows 
 no thought. 
 
2i6 THE HOYDEN 
 
 'Very good,' says he at last. 'If you 
 refuse to make up a list of your friends, 
 help me to make up a list of mine. You 
 know you said you would like to fill the 
 house.' 
 
 ' Ye — es/ says she, as if meditating. 
 
 * Of course, if you don't want any people 
 here ' 
 
 'But I do. I do really. I hate being 
 alone !' cries she, springing into sudden 
 life and leaning forward with her hands 
 clasped on her knees. 
 
 ' How few rings you have !' says he 
 suddenly. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 HOW TITA TELLS OF TWO STRANGE DREAMS, 
 AND OF HOW THEY MOVED HER. AND 
 HOW MAURICE SETS HIS SOUL ON ASKING A 
 GUEST TO OAKDEAN ; AND HOW HE GAINS 
 HIS DESIRE. 
 
 * Not one, except this,' touching her 
 engagement ring. ' That you have given 
 me.' 
 
 ' You don't care for them, then ?' 
 ' Yes, I do. I love them, but there was 
 nobody to give them to me. I was very 
 young, you see, when poor daddy died.' 
 
 She Stops ; her mouth takes a mournful 
 curve ; the large gray eyes look with a 
 sort of intensity through the windows to 
 
2i8 THE HOYDEN 
 
 something — something beyond — but some- 
 thing that Rylton cannot see. After all, 
 is she so trivial ? She cares, at all events, 
 for the memory of that dead father. 
 Rylton regards her v^ith interest. 
 
 'He would have given me rings,' she 
 says. 
 
 It is so childish, so absurd, that Rylton 
 wonders why he doesn't want to laugh. 
 But the little sad face, with the gray eyes 
 filled with tears, checks any mirth he might 
 have felt. A sudden longing to give her 
 another ring, when next he goes to town, 
 fills his heart. 
 
 ' Well I what about our guests ?' 
 
 Her tone startles him. He looks up. 
 All the tears, the grief are gone ; she is 
 the gay, laughing Tita that he thinks he 
 knows. 
 
 ' Well, what .^' His tone is a little cold. 
 She is superficial, certainly. ' If you de- 
 cline to ask your friends — -. — ' 
 
 *I don't decline. It is only that I have 
 no friends,' declares she. 
 
TIT A TELLS OF TWO STRANGE DREAMS 219 
 
 There is something too deliberate in her 
 manner to be quite natural, and Rylton 
 looks at her. She returns his glance with 
 something of mockery in hers. 
 
 * It isn't nice to be married to a mere 
 nobody, is it ?' says she, showing her 
 pretty teeth in a rather malicious little 
 laugh. 
 
 * I suppose not,' says Rylton steadily. 
 * I haven't tried it.' 
 
 A gleam — a tiny gleam of pleasure 
 comes into her eyes, but she wilfully re- 
 pulses it. 
 
 ' Oh, you — if anybody. However, you 
 knew before you married me,- that is one 
 comfort.' 
 
 * Why do you speak to me like that, 
 Tita T A frown has settled on Rylton's 
 forehead. It is all such abominably bad 
 form. * You know how — how ' 
 
 * Ill-bred it is,' supplies she quietly, 
 gaily. 
 
 * It is intolerable,' vehemently, turning 
 away and walking towards the door. 
 
220 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' Ah, come back ! Don't go — don't go !' 
 cries she eagerly. She jumps out of her 
 big chair and runs after him. She slips 
 her hand through his arm, and swinging 
 her little svelte body round, smiles up into 
 his face mischievously. ' What's the matter 
 with you ?' asks she. 
 
 'It is in such bad taste,' says Rylton, 
 mollified, however, in a measure in spite 
 of himself. ' You should consider how it 
 hurts me. You should remember you are 
 my wife.' 
 
 * I do. That is why I think I can say 
 to you what I can't say to anybody else/ 
 says Tita quietly. ' However, never mind ; 
 sit down again and let us settle the ques- 
 tion about our guests. Here's a sheet of 
 paper,' pushing it into his hands. ' And 
 here's a pencil — an awfully bad one, any 
 way, but if you keep sticking it into your 
 mouth it'll write. Fm tired of licking that 
 pencil.' 
 
 She is evidently hopeless ! Rylton, after 
 that first crushing thought, gives way, and, 
 
TIT A TELLS OF TWO STRANGE DREAMS 221 
 
 leaning back in his chair, roars with 
 laughter. 
 
 ' And am I to lick it now ?' asks he. 
 
 * No, certainly not.' She is now evi- 
 dently in high dudgeon. She puts the 
 pencil ba'ck in her pocket, and stands 
 staring at him with her angry little head 
 somewhat lowered. * After all, you are 
 right ; I'm horrid !' says she. 
 
 'I'm right! By what authority do you 
 say that ! Come now, Tita !' 
 
 ' By my own.' 
 
 ' The very worst in the world, then. 
 Give me back that pencil.' 
 
 ' Not likely,' says Tita, tilting her chin. 
 * Here's one belonging to yourself,' taking 
 one off the writing-table near. ' This can't 
 offend you, I hope. After all, I'm a poor 
 sort,' says Tita, with a disconsolate sigh 
 that is struggling hard with a smile to gain 
 the mastery. * It's awfully hard to offend 
 me. I've no dignity — that's what your 
 mother says. And after all, too/ brighten- 
 ing up, and smiling now with delightful 
 
222 THE HOYDEN 
 
 gaiety, * I don't want to have any. One 
 hates to be hated !' 
 
 ' What an involved speech ! Well, if 
 you won't give me your pencil, let us get 
 on with this. Now, to begin, surely you 
 have someone you would like to ask here, 
 in spite of all you have said.' 
 
 * Well — perhaps.' She pauses. * I want 
 to see Margaret,' says she, hurriedly, 
 tremulously, as if tears might be in her 
 eyes. 
 
 He cannot be sure of that, however, as 
 her lids are lowered. But her tone — is 
 there a note of unhappiness in it ? The 
 very thought gives him a shock ; and of 
 late has she not been a little uncertain in 
 her moods ? 
 
 * / was going to name her,' says Rylton. 
 
 * Then you see we have one thought in 
 common,' says Tita. 
 
 She has knelt down beside him to look 
 at his list, and suddenly he lays his palm 
 under her chin, and so lifts her face that 
 he can see it. 
 
TIT A TELLS OF TWO STRANGE DREAMS 223 
 
 * What is It, Tita ?' says he. ' Is any- 
 thing troubling you ? Last night you were 
 so silent ; to-day you talk. It Is bad to be 
 unequal.' 
 
 His tone Is grave. 
 
 'The night before last I had a bad 
 dream/ says Tita solemnly, turning her 
 head a little to one side, and giving him a 
 slight glance that lasts for the tiniest frac- 
 tion of a second* 
 
 It occurs to Rylton that there is a litde 
 touch of wickedness in It. At all events, 
 he grows interested. 
 
 ' A bad dream ?' 
 
 ' Yes, the worst !' She nods her small 
 head reproachfully at him. * I dreamt you 
 were married to a princess !' 
 
 ' Well, so I am,' says Rylton, smiling. 
 
 His smile Is a failure, however ; some- 
 thing in her air has disconcerted him. 
 
 ' Oh no ! No, she was not like me ; she 
 was a tall princess, and she was beautiful, 
 and her hair was like a glory round her 
 head. She was a very dream in herself; 
 
224 THE HOYDEN 
 
 whereas I Naturally, that puts me 
 
 out of sorts !' She shrugs her shoulders 
 pathetically. ' But last night ' — she stops, 
 clasps her hands, and sits back on her 
 heels. ' Oh no ! I shan't tell you what I 
 dreamt last night,' says she. She shakes 
 her head at him. * No, no ! indeed, not if 
 you asked m^for ever P 
 
 * Oh, but you must !' says he, laughing. 
 He catches her hands and draws her up 
 
 gently into a kneeling position once more — 
 a position that brings her slender body 
 resting against his knees. 
 
 * Must I ?' She pauses as if in amused 
 thought, and then, leaning confidentially 
 across his knees, says, ' Well, then, I 
 dreamt that you were madly in love with 
 me ! And, oh, the joy of it !' 
 
 She breaks off, and gives way to irre- 
 pressible laughter. Covering her face with 
 her hands, she peeps at him through her 
 fingers as a child might who is bent on 
 mischief. 
 
 * Is all that true ?' asks Maurice, colouring. 
 
TITA TELLS OF TWO STRANGE DREAMS 225 
 
 * What, the first dream or the second ?' 
 
 * I presume one is as true as the other/ 
 somewhat stiffly. 
 
 ' You are a prophet,' says Tita, with a 
 little grimace. * Well now, go on, do. 
 We have arranged for Margaret.' She 
 pauses, and then says very softly, * Darlmg 
 Margaret ! Do you know, I believe she 
 is the only friend I have in the world ?' 
 
 Her words cut him to the heart. 
 
 * And I, Tita, do I not count ?' asks he. 
 
 * You ! No r She gives him a little 
 shake, taking his arms, as she kneels beside 
 him. ' You represent Society, don't you } 
 And Society forbids all that. No man's 
 wife is his friend nowadays.' 
 
 ' True,' says Rylton bitterly. * Most 
 men's wives are their enemies nowadays.' 
 
 * Oh, I shan't be yours !' says Tita. 
 * And you mustn't be mine either, re- 
 member ! Well, go on — we have put 
 down Margaret,' peeping at the paper in 
 his hand, 'and no one else. Now, some- 
 one to meet her. Colonel Neilson ?' 
 
 VOL. I. 15 
 
226 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' Yes, of course ; and Captain Marryatt ?' 
 
 * And Mrs. Chichester to meet Aim.' 
 
 * My dear Tita, Mrs. Chichester has a 
 husband somewhere !' 
 
 ' So she told me,' says Tita. * But, 
 then, he is so very far off, and in your 
 Society distance counts.' 
 
 Rylton regards her with some surprise. 
 Is she satirical ? — this silly child ! 
 
 * You will have to correct your ideas 
 about Society,' says he coldly. * By all 
 means ask Mrs. Chichester here, too ; I, 
 for one, prefer not to believe in scandals.' 
 
 ' One must believe in something,' says 
 Tita. ' I suppose,' pencil poised in hand, 
 ' you would like to ask Mr. Gower ?' 
 
 * Certainly.' 
 
 ' And his aunt ?' 
 
 * Certainly 7iot! 
 
 ' Oh, but / should,' says Tita ; ' she 
 amuses me. Do let us ask old Miss 
 Gower !' 
 
 ' I begin to think you are a wicked 
 child,' says Rylton, laughing, whereon 
 
TIT A TELLS OF TWO STRANGE DREAMS 227 
 
 Miss Gower's name is scrawled down on 
 the list. ' There are the men from the 
 barracks in Merriton ; they can always be 
 asked over/ goes on Maurice. * And now, 
 who else ?' 
 
 * The Marchmonts !' 
 
 * Of course.' He pauses. 'And then 
 — there is Mrs. Bethune !' 
 
 ' Your cousin ! Yes !' 
 ' Shall we ask her ?' 
 
 * Why should we no^ ask her ?' She 
 lifts one small, delicate, brown hand, and, 
 laying it on his cheek, turns his face to 
 hers. * Don't look out of the window ; 
 look at me. Why should we not ask 
 her?' 
 
 ' My dear child, there is no answer to 
 such a question as that.' 
 
 * No !' She scribbles Mrs. Bethune's 
 name on her list, and then, ' You particu- 
 larly zatsA her to be asked ?' 
 
 ' Not particularly. Certainly not at all 
 if you object to it.' 
 
 * Object ! Why should I object ? She 
 
228 THE HOYDEN 
 
 is amusing — she will keep us all alive ; 
 she will help you to entertain your 
 people.' 
 
 * I should hope you, Tita, would help 
 me to do that.' 
 
 ' Oh, I have not the air — the manner ! 
 I shall feel like a guest myself,' says Tita. 
 She has sprung to her feet, and is now 
 blowing a little feather she had found 
 upon her frock up into the air. It eludes 
 her, however ; she follows it round the 
 small table, but all in vain — it sinks to 
 the ground. ' What a deas^ of a feather !' 
 says she. 
 
 * I don't like you to say that,' says 
 Rylton. * A £-ues^ in your own house !' 
 
 ' You don't like me to say anything,' 
 says Tita petulantly. * I ^o/d you I was 
 horrid. Well, I'll be mistress in my own 
 house, if that will please you. But,' 
 prophetically, ' it won't. Do you know, 
 Maurice,' looking straight at him with a 
 defiant little mien, * I'm more glad than I 
 can tell you that I don't care a ha'penny 
 
TIT A TELLS OF TWO STRANGE DREAMS 229 
 
 about you, because if I did you would 
 break my heart.' 
 
 ' You have a high opinion of me !' says 
 Maurice. ' That I acknowledge. But, 
 regarding me as you do, I wonder you 
 ever had the courage to marry me !' 
 
 'Well, even yozi are better than Uncle 
 George,' says she. ' Now, go on ; is 
 there anyone else ? The Heriots ! Who 
 are they ? I heard you speak of them.' 
 
 * Ordinary people ; but he shoots. He 
 is a first-class shot.' 
 
 ' Heriot ! It reminds me ' Tita 
 
 grows silent a moment, and now a little 
 flood of colour warms her face. ' I have 
 someone I want to ask, after all,' cries 
 she. 'A cousin — Tom Hescott.' 
 
 * A cousin }' 
 
 *Yes. And he has a sister — Minnie 
 Hescott. I should like to ask them both.* 
 She looks at him. ' They are quite pre- 
 sentable,' says she whimsically. 
 
 ' Your cousins would be, naturally,' says 
 he. 
 
230 THE HOYDEN 
 
 Yet his heart sinks. What sort of 
 people are these Hescotts ? 
 
 * I have not seen them for years/ says 
 Tita — ' never since I Hved with my father. 
 Tom used to be with us always then, but 
 he went abroad.' 
 
 ' To Australia ?' 
 
 * Oh no — to Rome ! To Rome first, at 
 all events ; he was going to India after 
 that.' 
 
 ' For ' 
 
 * Nothing — nothing at all. Just to see 
 the world !' 
 
 ' He must have had a good deal of 
 money I' 
 
 ' More than was good for him, I often 
 heard. But I did like Tom ; and I heard 
 he was in town last week, and Minnie 
 with him, and I should like very much 
 indeed to ask them here.' 
 
 ^ Well, scribble down their names.' 
 
 ' I dare say they won't come,' says Tita, 
 writing. 
 
 Why?' 
 
TITA TELLS OF TWO STRANGE DREAMS 231 
 
 ' Oh, because they know such lots of 
 people. However, I'll try them, any way.' 
 She flings down her pencil. * There, that's 
 done ; and now I shall go and have a ride 
 before luncheon.' 
 
 ' You have been riding all the morning !' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 * Do you never get tired ?' 
 
 * Never ! Come and see If I do.' 
 'Well, I'll come,' says Rylton. 
 
 * Really f cries TIta ; her eyes grow 
 very bright. ' You mean It ?' 
 
 ' Certainly I do. It Is my place, you 
 know, to see that you don't overdo It.' 
 
 ' Oh, how delightful !' says she, clap- 
 ping her hands. ' I hate riding alone. 
 We'll go right over the downs, and back 
 of Scart Hill, and so home. Come on — 
 come on,' running out of the room ; * don't 
 be a minute dressing.' 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 HOW A DULL MORNING GIVES BIRTH TO A 
 STRANGE AFTERNOON. AND HOW RYLTOn's 
 EYES ARE WIDENED BY A FRIEND. 
 
 * Good old day !' says Mrs. Chichester 
 disgustedly. She is sitting near the 
 window in the small drawing-room at 
 Oakdean, watching the raindrops race each 
 other down the panes. 
 
 'What's the matter with it?' asks 
 Mr. Gower, who is standing beside her, 
 much to the annoyance of Captain 
 Marryatt, who is anxious to engage her 
 for some waltzes at the dance old Lady 
 Warbeck is giving in the near future. 
 
 ' What isiit the matter with it f asks 
 
A STRANGE AFTERNOON 233 
 
 Mrs. Chichester, turning her thin shoulders, 
 that always have some queer sort of fas- 
 cination in them, on Gower. She gives 
 him a glance out of her blue-green eyes. 
 She is enjoying herself immensely, in spite 
 of the day, being quite alive to the fact 
 that Captain Marryatt is growing desperate, 
 and that old Miss Gower, whom Tita has 
 insisted on asking to her house party, is 
 thinking dark things of her from the 
 ottoman over there. 
 
 * What's it good for, any way ?' 
 
 ' For the ducks,' says Mr. Gower, who 
 is always there. An answer to any ques- 
 tion under the sun comes as naturally to 
 him as sighing to the sad. 
 
 * Oh, well, I'm not a duck,' says she 
 prettily ; whereupon Mr. Gower whispers 
 something to her that makes her laugh, 
 and drives Captain Marryatt to frenzy. 
 
 He comes forward. 
 
 * Lady Rylton is talking of getting up 
 something to pass the time,' says he, 
 regarding Mrs. Chichester with a frowning 
 
234 THE HOYDEN 
 
 brow — a contortion that fills that frivolous 
 young woman's breast with pure joy. 
 
 * May the heavens be her bed !' says 
 Mr. Gower, who has spent some years in 
 Ireland, and has succeeded in studying 
 the lower orders with immense advantage 
 to himself, but not very much to others. 
 He has, at all events, carried off from 
 them a good deal, of the pleasant small- 
 talk, whereas they had only carried off 
 from him a wild wonder as to what he 
 was and where born, and whether he ought 
 or ought not to be inside a lunatic asylum. 
 They had carried off also, I am bound to 
 add, a considerable amount of shillings. 
 ' Lady Rylton !' to Tita, who has just 
 come up, * is this a reality or a mere 
 snare ? Did you say you thought you 
 could put us successfully through this 
 afternoon without reducing us to the 
 necessity of coming to bloodshed T Here 
 he looks, first at Captain Marryatt, who 
 providentially does not see the glance, and 
 then at Mrs. Chichester, who laughs. 
 
A STRANGE AFTERNOON 235 
 
 * I'm not sure. I haven't quite thought 
 it out,' says Tita. ' What would you sug- 
 gest, Margaret?' to Miss Knollys. 'Or 
 you, Tom ?' to a tall young man who has 
 followed in her quick little progress across 
 the room. 
 
 He is her cousin, Tom Hescott. He is 
 so very much taller than she is, that she 
 has to look up at him — the top of her head 
 coming barely to a level with his shoulder. 
 She smiles as she asks her question, and 
 the cousin smiles back at her. It suddenly 
 occurs to Sir Maurice, who has strolled 
 into the room (and in answer to a glance 
 from Mrs. Bethune is going to where she 
 stands), that Tom Hescott is extraor- 
 dinarily handsome. 
 
 And not handsome in any common way, 
 either. If his father had been a duke, he 
 could not have shown more breeding in 
 look and gesture and voice. The fact that 
 * Uncle Joe,' the sugar merchant, was his 
 actual father, does not do away with his 
 charm ; and his sister, Minnie Hescott, is 
 
236 THE HOYDEN 
 
 almost as handsome as he is ! All at once 
 Rylton seems to remember what his wife 
 had said to him a few weeks ago, when 
 they were discussing the question of their 
 guests. She had told him he need not be 
 afraid of her relations ; they were present- 
 able enough, or something like that. 
 Looking at Tom Hescott at this moment, 
 Sir Maurice tells himself, with a grim smile, 
 that he is, perhaps, a little ^oo presentable 
 — a sort of man that women always smile 
 upon. His grim smile fades into a distinct 
 frown as he watches Tita smiling now on 
 the too presentable cousin. 
 
 'What is it?' asks Mrs. Bethune, 
 making room for him in the recess of the 
 window that is so cosily cushioned. * The 
 cousin ?' 
 
 ' What cousin ?' demands Sir Maurice, 
 making a bad fight, however ; his glance 
 is still concentrated on the upper part of 
 the room. 
 
 * Why, /ter cousin,' says Mrs. Bethune, 
 laughing. She is looking younger than 
 
A STRANGE AFTERNOON 237 
 
 ever and radiant. She is looking, indeed, 
 beautiful. There is not a woman in the 
 room to compare with her ; and few in all 
 England outside it. 
 
 The past week has opened out to her a 
 little path that she feels she may tread with 
 light feet. The cousin, the handsome, the 
 admirable cousin ! What a chance he 
 affords for — vengeance ! vengeance on that 
 little fool over there, who has dared to step 
 in and rob her — Marian Bethune — of her 
 prey ! 
 
 ' Haven't you noticed i^' says she, laugh- 
 ing lightly, and bending so close to Rylton 
 as almost to touch his ear with her lips. 
 * No .? Oh, silly boy !' 
 
 * What do you mean ?' asks Rylton a 
 little warmly. 
 
 * And after so many days ! Why, we 
 all have guessed it long ago." 
 
 * I'm not good at conundrums,' coldly. 
 
 * But this is such an easy one. Why, 
 the handsome cousin is in love with the 
 charming little wife, that is all.' 
 
2-,8 THE HOYDEN 
 
 ' You say everyone has been talking 
 about it,' says Rylton. His manner is so 
 strange, so unpleasant, that Marian takes 
 warning. 
 
 ' Ah ! That was an exaggeration. One 
 does talk much folly, you know. No — no ! 
 It was I only who said it — at least' — 
 hesitating — * I think so.' She pauses to 
 let her hesitation sink in, and to be as 
 fatal as it can be. ' But you know I have 
 always your interests at heart, and so I 
 see things that, perhaps, others do not 
 see.' 
 
 * One may see more than ' 
 
 * True — true ; and of course I am wrong. 
 No doubt I imagined it all. But, even if 
 it should be so,' laughing and patting his 
 arm softly, ' who need wonder ? Your 
 wife is so pretty — those little things often 
 are pretty — and he is her cousin — they 
 grew up together, in a sense.' 
 
 * No, I think not.' 
 
 ' At all events, they were much together 
 when she w^as growing from child to girl. 
 
A STRANGE AFTERNOON 239 
 
 And old associations — they ' She 
 
 stops as if some dart has struck her. 
 Rylton looks at her. 
 
 ' Are you ill?' says he sharply. 'You 
 look pale.' 
 
 ' Nothing, nothing.' She recovers her- 
 self and smiles at him, but her face is 
 still white. ' A thought, a mere thought 
 — it cannot be only Tita and her cousin 
 who have old associations, who have — 
 me77toyies! 
 
 Her eyes are full of tears. She leans 
 toward him. This time her lips do touch 
 him — softly her lips touch his cheek. The 
 curtains hide them. 
 
 ' H3.YQ you no memories ?' says she. 
 
 ' Marian ! This is madness,' says 
 Rylton, turning suddenly to her. In a 
 sense, though without a gesture, he re- 
 pulses her. She looks back at him ; rage 
 is in her heart at first, but, seeing him as 
 he is, rage gives place to triumph. He 
 is actually livid. She has moved him, 
 then. She still has power over him. Oh 
 
240 THE HOYDEN 
 
 for time, time only ! And he will be hers 
 again, soul and body, and that small sup- 
 planter shall be lowered to the very dust ! 
 
 # * * * # 
 
 ' Oh, how^ delightful ! The very thing,' 
 says Mrs. Chichester, clapping her hands. 
 
 The conversation at the other end of 
 the room is growing merrier ; Tita, in the 
 midst of a small group, has evidently 
 been suggesting something in a most 
 animated fashion. 
 
 ' We should have to put all the things 
 back,' says Minnie Hescott, glancing round 
 her at the small chairs and tables that 
 abound. 
 
 ' Not at all — not at all,' says Tita gaily ; 
 * we could go into the smaller dancing- 
 room and have it there.' 
 
 ' Oh, of course ! Splendid idea !' says 
 Minnie. 
 
 She is a tall, handsome young creature, 
 standing fully five* feet five in her dainty 
 little black silk stockings. Her eyes are 
 dark and almond-shaped like her brother's, 
 
A STRANGE AFTERNOON 241 
 
 and there is a little droop at the far 
 corners of the lids that adds singularly to 
 their beauty ; it gives them softness. Per- 
 haps this softness had not been altogether 
 meant, for Mother Nature had certainly 
 not added gentleness to the many gifts 
 she had given Miss Hescott at her birth. 
 Not that the girl is of a nature to be 
 detested ; it is only that she is strong, 
 intolerant, and self-satisfied. She grates a 
 little. Her yea is always yea, and her 
 nay, nay. She would always prefer the 
 oppressed to the oppressor, unless, per- 
 haps, the oppressor might chance to be 
 useful to herself. She likes useful people. 
 Yet, with all this, she is of a merry nature, 
 and very popular with most of her ac- 
 quaintances. Friends, in the strictest sense, 
 she has none. She doesn't permit herself 
 such luxuries. 
 
 She had been at once attracted by Tita. 
 Naturally Tita would be useful to her, so 
 she has adopted her on the spot. Baronets' 
 wives are few and far between upon her 
 
 VOL. I. 16 
 
242 THE HOYDEN 
 
 visiting list, and to have an actual cousin 
 for one of them sounds promising. Tita 
 will probably be the means of getting her 
 into the Society for which she longs ; 
 therefore Tita is to be cultivated. She 
 had told Tom that he must be very 
 specially delightful to Tita ; Tom, so far, 
 has seemed to find no difficulty in obeying 
 her. To him, indeed, Tita is once more 
 the little merry, tiny girl whom he had 
 taught to ride and drive in those old, 
 good, past, sweet days, when he used to 
 spend all his vacations with his uncle. 
 
 * Will you come and help us ?' says 
 Tita, turning to Gower. 
 
 That young man spreads his arms 
 abroad as if in protestation. 
 
 ' What a question from you to me !' 
 says he reproachfully. 
 
 ' " Call, and I follow ; I follow, ^kou^/i I die !" ' 
 
 ' You're too silly for anything,' returns 
 she most ungratefully, turning her back 
 upon him. 
 
A STRANGE AFTERNOON 243 
 
 * '' 'Twas ever thus," ' says Mr. Gower, 
 who seems to be in a poetical mood. 
 ' Yet what have I done ?' 
 
 * Oh, nothing — nothing !' cries Tita 
 petulantly. 'It is only the day! Surely 
 it would depress anyone !' 
 
 Her eyes have wandered down the 
 room, and are now fixed upon the curtains 
 that hide the window where Mrs. Bethune 
 and her husband are conversing. 
 
 ' Anyone but me f says Mr. Gower, 
 with an exalted air. * I was up early this 
 morning to ' 
 
 ' Up early ! I like that ! When were 
 you up ?' asks Mrs. Chichester, between 
 whom and Randal there is always a 
 living feud. ' Why, you can't get up 
 even on Sundays, I hear, to be in time for 
 service !' 
 
 ' What it is to be clever !' says Mr. 
 Gower, looking at her with enthusiastic 
 admiration. * One hears so much ' — pause 
 — ' that isn't true !' 
 
 * That's a mere put off,' says she. * When 
 
244 r^^ HOYDEN 
 
 were you up this morning ? Come now — 
 honour bright !' 
 
 *At shriek of day,' says Gower with 
 dignity. ' Were you ever up at that time ?' 
 
 ' Never !' says Mrs. Chichester, laughing. 
 
 She has evidently that best of all things 
 — a sense of humour ; she gives in. 
 
 ' Well, I was. I wish I hadn't been,' 
 says Mr. Gower. 'When I opened my 
 window the rain beat upon me so hard 
 that I felt it was a sort of second edition 
 kind of thing when I took my bath later 
 on.' 
 
 ' I'm so sorry the weather is turning out 
 so horrid,' says Tita. 
 
 * I don't see why you should ever be 
 sorry about anything,' says Tom Hescott, 
 in his slow, musical voice. 
 
 ' Don't you ?' She turns to him in a 
 little quick way — a way that brings her 
 back to that hateful window down below 
 there. * You are right,' she laughs gaily. 
 It seems as if she had really cast that 
 window and its occupants behind her for 
 
A STRANGE AFTERNOON 245 
 
 ever. * Well, I won^ be. By-the-by, I 
 told you all that we are to go to a dance 
 at Lady Warbeck's on Thursday week ? 
 Thursday ! — yes. Thursday week.' 
 
 ' I remember ! How delightful !' cries 
 Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 * Lady Warbeck ! I know her/ says 
 Gower ; ' she has a son !' 
 
 ' Yes — a son.' 
 
 * Oh, do go on ! Lady Rylton, do tell 
 us about him,' says Mrs. Chichester, who 
 is ever in search of fresh fields and pastures 
 new. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 how tita suggests a game of blind 
 man's buff, and what comes of it. 
 
 * Well, I hardly can,' says Tita, struggling 
 with her memory. ' He seems a big man, 
 with — azrs, you know, and — and ' 
 
 * Trousers !' puts in Mr. Gower. ' I 
 assure you,' looking confidentially around 
 him, 'the checks on his trousers are so 
 loud, that one can hear him ra^^/e as he 
 walks.' 
 
 * Oh ! is that the Mr. Warbeck ?' says 
 Minnie. * I know ; 1 met him in town 
 last July.' 
 
 ' You met a hero of romance, then/ says 
 Gower. ^ That is, a thing out of the 
 common.' 
 
A GAME OF BLIND MAN'S BUFF 247 
 
 ' I know him too/ says Mrs. Chichester, 
 who has been thinking. * A big man, a 
 sort of giant ?' 
 
 * A horrid man !' says Tita. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester looks at her as if 
 amused. 
 
 ' Why horrid ?' asks she. 
 
 ' Oh, I don't know,' says Tita, shrugging 
 her shoulders. * I didn't like him, anyway.' 
 
 ' I'm sure I'm not surprised,' says Tom 
 Hescott. 
 
 He takes a step closer to Tita, as if to 
 protect her. It seems hideous to him that 
 she should have to discuss — that she should 
 even have known him. 
 
 * Well, neither am I,' says Mrs. 
 Chichester. * He ts horrid, and as ugly 
 
 as the ' She has the grace to stop 
 
 here, and change her sentence. * As ugly 
 can be.' 
 
 It is a lame conclusion, but she is con- 
 soled for it by the fact that some of her 
 audience understand what the natural end 
 of that sentence would have been. 
 
248 THE HOYDEN 
 
 * And what manners !' says she. * After 
 all,' with a pretty little shake of her head, 
 ' what can you expect of a man with hair 
 as red as a carrot ?' 
 
 ' Decency, at all events/ says Tom Hes- 
 cott coldly. 
 
 ^Oh! That— last of all,' says Mrs. 
 Chichester. 
 
 * Lady Warbeck is a very charming old 
 lady,' says Margaret Knollys, breaking 
 into the conversation with a view to 
 changing it. 
 
 * Yes,' says Mrs. Chichester. She laughs 
 mischievously. ' And such a delightful 
 contrast to her son ! She Is so good.' 
 
 ' She's funny, isn't she ?' says Tita, 
 throwing back her lovely little head, and 
 laughing as If at some late remembrance. 
 
 ' No ; good — ^-ood /' insists Mrs. 
 Chichester. ' Captain Marryatt, were you 
 with me when she called that day in 
 town ? No ? Oh ! we/// with a little 
 glance meant for him alone — a glance that 
 restores him at once to good humour, and 
 
A GAME OF BLIND MAN'S BUFF 249 
 
 his position as her slave once more — ' you 
 ought to have been/ 
 
 ' What did she say, then ?' asks Minnie 
 Hescott. 
 
 ' Nothing to signify, really. But as a 
 contrast to her son, she is perhaps, as 
 Lady Rylton has just said, " funny." It 
 was about a book — a book we are all read- 
 ing nowadays ; and she said she couldn't 
 recommend it to me, as it bordered on im- 
 propriety ! I was so enchanted.' 
 
 * I know the book you mean,' says Mrs. 
 Bethune, who has just sauntered up to 
 them in her slow, graceful fashion. 
 
 ' Well, of course,' says Mrs. Chichester. 
 * Such nonsense condemning it ! As if 
 anybody worried about impropriety now- 
 adays. Why, it has gone out of fashion. 
 It is an exploded essence. Nobody gives 
 it a thought.' 
 
 'That is fatally true' says old Miss 
 Gower in a sepulchral tone. She has been 
 sitting in a corner near them, knitting sedu- 
 lously until now. But now she uplifts her 
 
250 THE HOYDEN 
 
 voice. She uplifts her e3^es, too, and fixes 
 them on Mrs. Chichester the frivolous. 
 * Do your own words never make you 
 shiver ?' asks she austerely. 
 
 * Never,' gaily ; ' I often wish they would 
 in warm weather.' 
 
 Miss Gower uprears herself. 
 
 * Be careful, woman ! be careful !' says 
 she gloomily. ' There is a warmer climate 
 in store for some of us than has been ever 
 known on earth !' 
 
 She turns aside abruptly, and strides 
 from the room. 
 
 Randal Gower gives way to mirth, and 
 so do most of the others. Mrs. Chichester, 
 it is true, laughs a little, but Tita can see 
 that the laughter is somewhat forced. 
 
 She goes quickly up to her and slips her 
 hand into hers. 
 
 ' Don't mind her/ says she. * As if a 
 little word here and there would count, 
 when one has a good heart, and I know 
 you have one. We shall all go to heaven, 
 I think, don't you ? Don't mind what she 
 
A GAME OF BLIND MAN'S BUFF 251 
 
 hinted about — about that other place, you 
 know/ 
 
 * Eh ?' says Mrs. Chichester, staring at 
 her as if astonished. 
 
 ' I saw you didn't hke it,' says Tita. 
 
 * Well, I didn't,' says Mrs. Chichester, 
 pouting. 
 
 ' No, of course, one wouldn't.' 
 
 ^ One wouldn't what ?' 
 
 ^ Like to be told that one would have to 
 go to — you know.' 
 
 ' Oh, I see,' says Mrs. Chichester, with 
 some disgust. ' Is that what you mean ? 
 Oh, I shouldn't care a fig about that !' 
 
 * About what, then ?' asks Tita anxiously. 
 'Well, I didn't like to be called a 
 
 woman P says Mrs. Chichester, frowning. 
 
 ' Oh !' says Tita. 
 
 ' Lady Rylton, where are you ? You 
 said you were going to get up blind man's 
 buff,' cries someone at this moment. 
 
 ' Yes, yes, indeed. Maurice, will you 
 come and help us T says Tita, seeing her 
 husband, and going to him gladly, as a 
 
252 THE HOYDEN 
 
 means of getting out of her ridiculous in- 
 terview with Mrs. Chichester, which has 
 begun to border on burlesque. 
 
 * Certainly,' says Sir Maurice ; he speaks 
 rapidly, eagerly, as if desirous of showing 
 himself devoted to any project of hers. 
 
 ' Well, then, come on — come on,' cries 
 she, gaily beckoning to her guests right 
 and left, and carrying them off, a merry 
 train, to the ballroom. 
 
 ' Now, who'll be blinded first ?' asks 
 Mr. Gower, who has evidently constituted 
 himself Master of the Ceremonies. 
 
 * You r cries Miss Hescott. 
 
 * Not at all. There is only one fair way 
 of arranging that,' says Tita. ' I'll show 
 you. Now,' turning to her husband, 
 * make them all catch hands, Maurice — all 
 in a ring, don't you know — and I'll show 
 you.' 
 
 They all catch hands ; there is a slight 
 tussle between Captain Marryatt and Mr. 
 Gower (who is nothing if not a born 
 nuisance wherever he goes), as to which 
 
A GAME OF BLIND MAN'S BUFF 253 
 
 of them is to take Mrs. Chichester's right 
 hand. This, providentially, is arranged 
 by Mr. Gower's giving in, and consenting 
 on a grimace from her to take her le/^ 
 hand. Not that he wants it. Tom Hes- 
 cott has shown himself desirous of taking 
 Tita's small fingers into his possession for 
 the time being, at all events — a fact pointed 
 out to Rylton by Mrs. Bethune with a 
 low, amused little laugh ; but Tita had 
 told him to go away, as she couldn't give 
 her hand to anybody for a moment, as she 
 was going to have the conduct of the 
 affair. 
 
 ' Now, are you all ready ?' asks she, and 
 seeing them standing in a circle, hands 
 entwined, she runs suddenly to Maurice, 
 disengages his hand from Mrs. Bethune's 
 with a little airy grace, gives her right 
 hand to the latter, and the left to Maurice, 
 and, having so joined the broken ring 
 again, leans forward. 
 
 * Now,' cries she gaily, her lovely little 
 face lit up with excitement, * who ever the 
 
254 THE HOYDEN 
 
 last word comes to, he or she will have to 
 hunt us ! See ?' 
 
 She takes her right hand from Mrs. 
 Bethune's, that she may point her little 
 forefinger at each one in succession, and 
 begins her Incantation with Mr. Gower, 
 who is directly opposite to her, nodding 
 her head at each mystic word ; and, 
 indeed, so far as the beginning of it goes, 
 this strange chant of hers mystifies every- 
 body — everybody except Tom Hescott, 
 who has played this game with her before, 
 in the not so very distant past — Tom 
 Hescott, who Is now gazing at her with a 
 most profound regard, all his soul in his 
 eyes, oblivious of the fact that two pairs of 
 eyes, at all events, are regarding kim very 
 curiously. 
 
 ' Hena, Dena, Dina, Dus.' 
 
 ' Good heavens !' Interrupts Mr. Gower, 
 with extravagant admiration. ' What com- 
 mand of language ! I ' — to Miss Hescott 
 — ' didn't know she was a linguist, did 
 
 you ?' 
 
 ' Calta, Wheela, Kila, Kus.' 
 
A GAME OF BLIND MAN'S BUFF 255 
 
 * Oh, I say !' murmurs Mr. Gower faintly. 
 
 • It can't be right, can it, to say '^ cuss 
 words " at us like that ? Oh, really, Rylton, 
 would you mind if I retired }' 
 
 * Hot pan, Mustard, Jan, 
 Tiddledum, taddledum, twenty-one. 
 You raise up the latch, and walk straight out.' 
 
 The last word falls on Tom Hescott. 
 
 * Out' comes to him. 
 
 * There, Tom ! You must be blind- 
 folded,' says Tita delightedly. * Who's 
 got a big handkerchief?' 
 
 * I wouldn't stand that, Hescott, if I 
 were you,' says Colonel Neilson, laughing. 
 
 * What is it ?' asks Tom, who is a little 
 abstracted. 
 
 ' Nothing much,' says Mrs. Chichester 
 mischievously. * Except that Lady Rylton 
 says your head is so big that she has sent 
 to the housekeeper for a young sheet to 
 tie it up in.' 
 
 Hescott smiles. He can well afford his 
 smile, his head being wonderfully hand- 
 
2 56 THE HOYDEN 
 
 some, not too small, but slender and beauti- 
 fully formed. 
 
 * Give me yours,' says Tita, thrusting 
 her hand into her husband's pocket and 
 pulling out his handkerchief. 
 
 The little familiar action sends a sharp 
 pang through Mrs. Bethune's heart. 
 
 * Now, Tom, come and be decorated,' 
 cries Tita. Hescott advances to her, and 
 stops as if waiting. * Ah !' cries she, ' do 
 you imagine I could ever get up there !' 
 
 She raises both her arms to their fullest 
 height, which hardly brings her pretty 
 hands even to a level with his forehead. 
 She stands so for a moment, laughing at 
 him through the gracefully uplifted arms. 
 It is a coquettish gesture, though certainly 
 innocent, and nobody, perhaps, would have 
 thought anything of it but for the quick, 
 bright light that springs into Hescott's 
 eyes. So she might stand if she were 
 about to fling her arms around his neck. 
 
 * Down on your knees,' cries Tita, giving 
 herself the airs of a little queen. 
 
A GAME OF BLIND MAN'S BUFF 257 
 
 Hescott drops silently on to them. He 
 has never once removed his gaze from 
 hers. Such a strange gaze ! One or two 
 of the men present grow amused, all the 
 women interested. Margaret Knollys 
 makes an involuntary step forward, and 
 then checks herself. 
 
 ' There !' says TIta, who has now bound 
 the handkerchief over Hescott's eager eyes. 
 ' Now are you sure you can't see ? Not 
 a blink ?' She turns up his chin, and 
 examines him carefully. ' Tm certain you 
 can see out of this one/ says she, and pulls 
 the handkerchief a little farther over the 
 offending eye. ' Now get up. " How 
 many horses in your father's stable ?" ' 
 
 This is an embarrassing question, or 
 ought to be, as Mr. Hescott's father is 
 dead ; but he seems quite up to it. Indeed, 
 It now occurs to Sir Maurice that this 
 cannot be the first time he has played 
 blind man's buff with his cousin. 
 
 * '* Three white and three gray." ' 
 
 ' An excellent stud !' says Mr. Gower. 
 
 VOL. I. 17 
 
258 THE HOYDEN 
 
 But Tita is not thinking of frivolities. 
 Like Elia's old lady, the 'rigour of the 
 game ' is all she cares for. She gives 
 Tom Hescott one or two little turns. 
 
 ' '' Then turn about, and turn about," ' 
 says she, suiting the action to the word, 
 * ** And you won't catch ??ie till May-day." ' 
 
 With this, she gives him a delicate little 
 shove, and, picking up the train of her 
 gown, springs lightly backwards to the 
 wall behind her. 
 
 And now the fun grows fast and furious. 
 Hescott, who, I regret to say, must have 
 disarranged that handkerchief once for all, 
 is making great running with the lady 
 guests. As Mr. Gower remarks, it is per- 
 fectly wonderful how well he and Marryatt 
 and the other men can elude him. There 
 is no difficulty at all about it ! Whereas 
 Mrs. Chichester is in danger of her life at 
 any moment, and Mrs. Bethune has had 
 several narrow escapes. Tita, who is 
 singularly nimble (fairies usually are), has 
 been able to dart to and fro with com- 
 
A GAME OF BLIND MAN'S BUFF 259 
 
 paratlve ease ; but Margaret Knollys, who, 
 to everybody's immense surprise, is enjoy- 
 ing herself down to the ground, was very 
 nearly caught once. 
 
 ' That was a near shave/ says Colonel 
 Neilson, who happens to be near her when 
 she runs, flushed and laughing, to the 
 doorway. And then — ' How you are en- 
 joying yourself!' 
 
 ' Yes. Isn't it foolish of me ?' says she ; 
 but she laughs still. 
 
 ' It is the essence of wisdom,' says 
 Neilson. 
 
 Here a little giggle from Mrs. Chichester 
 tells of ^er having been nearly caught. 
 And now, now there is a skirmish down 
 there, and presently they can see Hescott 
 drawing Tita reluctantly forward. 
 
 Tita is making frantic signs to Mr. 
 Gower. 
 
 ' It's not a fair capture unless you can 
 guess the name of your captive,' says 
 Gower, in answer to that frantic if silent 
 appeal. 
 
26o THE HOYDEN 
 
 Hescott raises his right hand, pretends 
 to feel bh'ndly in the air for a moment, 
 then his hand falls on Tita's sunny little 
 head. It wanders on her short curls — it 
 is a very slow wandering. 
 
 Mrs. Bethune looks up at Rylton, who 
 is standing beside her. 
 
 * Do you still doubt ?' asks she, in a low 
 whisper. 
 
 * Doubt ! I am a past master at it,' 
 says he bitterly. * I should be ! Vote 
 taught me !' 
 
 * I ! Oh, Maurice !' 
 
 'Yes — you! Yesterday, as it seems to 
 me, I believed in everyone. To-day I 
 doubt every soul I meet.' 
 
 At this point Hescott's ' doubts,' at all 
 events, seem to be set at rest. His hand 
 has ceased to wander over the pretty head, 
 and in a low tone he says : 
 
 * Titania !' 
 
 This word is meant for Tita alone. A 
 second later he calls aloud : 
 ' Lady Rylton !' 
 
A GAME OF BLIND MAN'S BUFF 261 
 
 But Maurice and Mrs. Bethune, who 
 had been standing just behind him, had 
 heard that whispered first word. 
 
 ' Oh, you are right/ says TIta petulantly. 
 ' But you would never have known me but 
 for my hair. And I /m^e being blindfolded, 
 too. Maurice, will you take it for me ?' 
 holding out to him the handkerchief. 
 
 * No !' says Rylton quietly, but de- 
 cisively — so decisively that Mrs. Chichester 
 suddenly hides her face behind her fan. 
 
 ' What a No !' says she to Captain 
 Marryatt. ' Did you hear It ? What's 
 the matter with him ?' 
 
 ^ He's jealous, perhaps,' says Captain 
 Marryatt. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester gives way to wild, if 
 suppressed, mirth. 
 
 * Heavens ! Fancy being jealous of one's 
 own wife !' says she. * Now, if it had been 
 anyone else's ' 
 
 * Yes, there would be reason In that !' 
 says Captain Marryatt, so gloomily that 
 her mirth breaks forth afresh. 
 
562 THE HOYDEN 
 
 He is always a joy to her, this absurd 
 young man, who, in spite of barbs and 
 shafts, follows at her chariot wheels with a 
 determination worthy of a better cause. 
 
 Gower, who also had heard that quiet 
 * No,' had come instantly forward, and en- 
 treated Tita to blindfold him. And once 
 more the fun is at its height. Hescott, as 
 compared with Randal Gower, is not even 
 171 it in this game. The latter simulates 
 the swallow, and even outdoes that wily 
 bird in his swift dartings to and fro. Great 
 is his surprise, and greater still his courage 
 — this last is acknowledged by a// — when, 
 on a final swoop round the room with arms 
 extended, he suddenly closes them round 
 the bony form of Miss Gower, who had 
 returned five minutes ago, and who, silent 
 and solitary, is standing in a distant corner 
 breathing anathemas upon the game. 
 
 Everyone stops dead short — everyone 
 looks at the ceiling ; surely it mzcs^ fall ! 
 There had been a general, if unvoiced, 
 opinion up to this that Mr. Gower could 
 
A GAME OF BLIND MAN'S BUFF 263 
 
 see ; but now he is at once exonerated, and 
 may leave the dock at any moment with- 
 out a stain upon his character. 
 
 * Come away ! come away !' whisper two 
 or three behind his back. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester pulls frantically at his 
 coat-tails ; but Mr. Cower holds on. He 
 passes his hand over Miss Cowers gray 
 head. 
 
 * It is — it is — it 772zis^ be !' cries he, in 
 a positive tone. ' It ' — here his hand flies 
 swiftly down her warlike nose — * it is 
 Colonel Neilson !' declares he, with a shout 
 of triumph. 
 
 * Unhand me, sir !' cries Miss Cower. 
 She had not spoken up to this — but to 
 
 compare her to a man ! She moves 
 majestically forward. Cower unhands her, 
 and, lifting one side of his would-be blind, 
 regards her fixedly. 
 
 ' It was the nose !' He looks round 
 reproachfully at Neilson, ' Just see what 
 you've let me in for !' says he. 
 
 ' Don't talk to me, sir !' cries his aunt 
 
264 THE HOYDEN 
 
 indignantly. 'Make no excuses — none 
 need be made ! When one plays de- 
 moralizing games in daylight, one should 
 be prepared for anything ;' and with this 
 she once more leaves the room. 
 
 ' Ah, we should have played demoralizing 
 games at midnight,^ says Mr. Gower, who 
 doesn't look half as much ashamed of him- 
 self as he ought, ' then we should have 
 been all right.' 
 
 Here somebody who is standing at one 
 of the windows says suddenly : 
 
 ' It is clearing!' 
 
 * Is it ?' cries Tita. ' Then I suppose 
 we ought to go out ! But what a pity we 
 couldn't have another game first !' 
 
 She looks quite sorry. 
 
 * You certainly seemed to enjoy it,' says 
 Sir Maurice with a cold smile, as he passes 
 her. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 BIt.LING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. 
 
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