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 Hon of Lazv No. ?''
 
 
 "L I E> RARY 
 
 OF THL 
 U N IVLRS ITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 82*5 
 M\22v 
 
 v.\
 
 ;; --^ //) 
 
 THE REBEL ROSE. ^ 
 
 Jl "glotjel. 
 
 Say, pretty Tory, where's the jest 
 To wear that colour on your breast, 
 When that same breast confessing shows 
 The whiteness of the Rebel Rose 2' 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON, 
 
 ^ubXishtrs in ©rbinarj) to ^£r ^^taj^sts the ^ixztxi. 
 
 1888. 
 
 [All Rights Reserved.l
 
 9: 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I, 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. IN THE LOBBY 
 II. ON THE TERRACE . 
 
 III. 'who shall separate us?' 
 
 IV. MARY BEATON 
 
 V. ' IF YOU WERE QUEEN ' 
 VL MADAME SPINOLA AT HOME 
 VIL TOMMY TRESSEL 
 VIII. 'about CHAMPION?' 
 IX. THE PRINCESS AT HOME 
 X. ROLFE BELLARMIN . 
 XI. LITERA SCRIPTA 
 XII. MARY'S RECEPTION . 
 XIII. THE BOTHWELL PART 
 
 I 
 
 35 
 
 57 
 
 69 
 
 86 
 
 102 
 
 125 
 
 143 
 
 153 
 
 188 
 
 214 
 
 248 
 
 273 
 
 ^
 
 THE REBEL ROSE, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN THE LOBBY. 
 
 'WMt^' BELLARMIN, can you tell 
 ,5 me who that handsome girl is?' 
 asked Lady Saxon ; ' I have been 
 watchine her this lonof time. What is she 
 doing here ? and why does she dress in that 
 eccentric fashion ? She looks a cross between 
 a lady-horsebreaker and Mary Queen of 
 Scots.' 
 
 The question was put in the lobby of the 
 House of Commons, on an evening in May, 
 to one of the most rising young men of the 
 Conservative Party. This was Mr. Rolfe 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 Bellarmin, Lady Saxon's latest favourite. She 
 was determirxed to make a victim of him, it 
 was said, and he seemed quite willing to be 
 victimized. 
 
 The lobby was full. A great debate was 
 going on, and many strangers were waiting 
 on the off-chance of somebody leaving his 
 place in one of the galleries and going away, 
 thereby bequeathing a seat to some fortunate 
 successor. Lady Saxon, who was a clever 
 woman, and regarded life from the dramatic 
 point of view, was wont to say that to stand 
 in this inner lobby of the House of Commons 
 on such an occasion was to feel the pulse of 
 England. To-night the very air was excit- 
 ing. An important by-election — an election, 
 that is to say, caused by some unexpected 
 event, such as a resignation or a death — was 
 going on, and its result might be made known 
 at any moment now ; and the result would be 
 one of much moment and significance. Every- 
 one in the lobby seemed to have the shadow 
 of this coming event on his face : every face 
 had its own look of importance and preoccu- 
 pation. Telegrams were flying off by the 
 score from the clicking little room in the outer
 
 IN THE LOBBY. 
 
 lobby. A little mob had collected round the 
 post-office. The floor was strewn with more 
 than its usual quantity of torn paper. Mem- 
 bers were gathered in knots, their hats tilted 
 over their foreheads after the approved fashion 
 of the House of Commons, and were talking 
 earnestly, or chaffing each other noisily. 
 Other members passed to and fro in an alert, 
 eager manner. Only the policemen on duty 
 kept their stolid, bored expression. 
 
 Several ladies were dotted about among: the 
 
 o 
 
 groups. One or two, who waited against the 
 wall while their escorts asked questions or 
 applied for orders, looked a little shy and 
 awkward ; but for the most part the ladies 
 in the lobby seemed sufficiently at ease, and 
 were eagerly snatching at all the information 
 they could get from the various politicians who 
 came in their way. 
 
 English political life was in a curious con- 
 dition just then. An ominous calm prevailed 
 for the moment ; it had followed a storm, and 
 everyone felt that it was sure to be followed 
 by a storm. The Tories were in office, but 
 hardly in power. They had succeeded in 
 turning out Sir Victor Champion, after he had 
 
 I — 2
 
 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 held office for some years ; but they had 
 turned him out only by a small majority, and 
 by the help of votes on which steady, old- 
 fashioned Toryism could not always count. 
 The fire-new, energetic, and compact little 
 band of Tory Democrats, as they chose to call 
 themselves, supplied the votes which turned 
 out Sir Victor Champion, Lord Saxon, and 
 the other Liberal Mihisters of various shades, 
 and put the Marquis of Bosworth, Lord 
 Twyford, and other Tory nobles and gentle- 
 men into office. But the Tories had lost 
 their great statesman, De Carmel, the only 
 man who could stand up against Sir Victor 
 Champion. Lord de Carmel's death had 
 brought Lord Bosworth to the front as leader. 
 Lord Bosworth was a Tory of unbending 
 will and inveterate prejudices ; the political 
 sun must stand still for him ; but then, would 
 it stand still ? people asked. In truth, there 
 seemed a lack of some stimulating purpose on 
 either side. Victor Champion's Ministry had 
 not been Liberal enough for the Liberals out 
 of doors. Champion was kept back by his 
 Whig colleagues, so his Radical adherents 
 and his Tory opponents declared. But it
 
 7.Y THE LOBBY. 
 
 seemed impossible to believe that he would 
 not do his best to get hold of the country 
 again. A good war-cry on either side would 
 be a great thing, everybody said. The trouble 
 with the Tory Government was that if the sun 
 would not stand still for them, neither would 
 the Tory Democrats. The trouble with the 
 Liberals was that they la:jked a cause and a 
 cry. 
 
 The lady who asked the question of Mr. 
 Bellarmin was herself of most striking appear- 
 ance. She was not in her first youth — thirty 
 she frankly owned to, and probably she was a 
 little older. But is it not conceded that a 
 beautiful woman of thirty is at her most 
 dangerous age ? She was extremely hand- 
 some. Hers was a beauty that told of a 
 passionate melodramatic temperament. The 
 most optimistic soothsayer would hesitate to 
 predict for Lady Saxon a life undisturbed by 
 any whirlwind of emotion. She was luxuriant 
 in form, tall — more than commonly tall — and 
 her height was increased by the style in 
 which her bright yellow, rather curly hair was 
 brushed up from the nape of her neck and 
 from her oval forehead, and coiled in a mass
 
 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 on the top of her small, very finely-set head. 
 The upper folds of the coil were so much 
 lighter than the hair beneath that they sug- 
 gested a coronal of gold, such as might have 
 been borne by some early Saxon princess. 
 The coronal was placed, however, a little on 
 one side, thus giving her a certain air of 
 ■defiance and coquetry, bringing to mind, 
 also, the rakishly-worn /c(fpi of a dare-devil 
 young French soldier. Her dark eyebrows 
 and large dark eyes w^ere in curious con- 
 trast with the golden hair, which evidently 
 did not owe its glory to art. Her mouth was 
 ripe and red, and had a slow way of smiling 
 that was one of her oreatest fascinations. She 
 
 o 
 
 was in evening dress, having rushed from 
 dinner to hear her husband speak, and w^ore 
 a long plush mantle, the colour of heliotrope, 
 which was a little thrown back, and showed 
 glimpses of a neck and arms half veiled in 
 lace, and of what sculptors call heroic size. 
 Perhaps a fastidious observer might have said 
 that there was just a little too much of her in 
 every way ; that nature had made her a little 
 too tall, too yellow-haired, too dark-eyed, 
 too handsome ; that there was somcthinor
 
 7.Y THE LOBBY. 
 
 almost oppressive in her beauty ; that there 
 was a faint suggestion of lack of refinement, 
 as in a dinner-table too prodigally adorned 
 with plate and hot-house flowers. 
 
 Lady Saxon was quite entitled to feel at 
 home in this political atmosphere. She was 
 married to the Marquis of Saxon, eldest son 
 and heir of the great Duke of Athelstane, and 
 one of the Whig leaders in the House of 
 Commons. Lord Saxon had been up, and 
 was now down, and his speech was creating 
 some talk in the lobby. Rolfe Bellarmin, 
 when he approached Lady Saxon, had ex- 
 pected that she would say something about 
 her husband's speech, and was surprised to 
 find her mind occupied with the unknown 
 beauty. 
 
 He laughed pleasantly. The laugh bright- 
 ened his fine-featured, poetic, almost melan- 
 choly face, which, when in repose, looked like 
 that of a mediaeval hero of romance. But 
 when he laughed his ringing laugh, and above 
 all when he baited his opponents on the 
 floor of the House in his pugnacious school- 
 boy style, he seemed what he was, a nine- 
 teenth-century Tory Democrat, the leader of
 
 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 the little party which had been instrumental 
 in bringing the Conservatives into office. 
 
 ' That young lady has every right to get 
 herself up as Mary Queen of Scots, Lady 
 Saxon. She is the Honourable Mary Stuart 
 Beaton.' 
 
 'And who is the Honourable Mary Stuart 
 Beaton ?' 
 
 ' You haven't heard of our new Preten- 
 dress ? There was an article about her in 
 T/ie Piccadilly last week. It was called 
 *• Nineteenth-Century Jacobites." ' 
 
 Lady Saxon smiled. ' I like my politics and 
 my scandal at first hand,' she said. * But I'm 
 behind instead of before the newspapers in 
 this case. Mary Stuart ! what does that mean ? 
 I retract my remark about the lady-horse- 
 breaker, since she is a friend* of yours. Her 
 Majesty has a distinguished look, and is 
 certainly very pretty. Tell me about 
 her.' 
 
 Lady Saxon turned a critical gaze upon a 
 little group of ladies and gentlemen who had 
 just been brought into the lobby. Anybody 
 could, have seen at a glance that this par- 
 ticular lady about whom Lady Saxon was
 
 IN THE LOBBY. 
 
 inquiring was the principal figure in the 
 group ; one could as well have failed to pick 
 out Diana herself in the midst of a group of 
 her maiden huntresses. There was, indeed, 
 something of the huntress in this young 
 woman's aspect, in her height — she, too, was 
 taller than the ordinarily tall woman — in the 
 erectness and freedom of her carriage, in her 
 slimness and the poise of her head, and in the 
 clinging robe of black velvet, which fell in 
 straight wide folds from the waist, and looked 
 odd and picturesque in contrast with the more 
 inflated draperies of the fashionable London 
 women. Whether by accident or design, the 
 costume reminded its beholder of that style of 
 dress which we associate with portraits of the 
 Scottish Queen. The stiff long bodice, made 
 with a sort of modern adaptation of the old- 
 fashioned stomacher ; the rosary and cross 
 hanging from the girdle ; the bonnet peaked 
 in front and edged with large jet beads ; the 
 full lace ruffle — all harmonized with a face 
 startlingly Stuart in outline. This nineteenth- 
 century representative of the White Queen 
 bore a curious resemblance to some of the 
 best-known and most authentic portraits of
 
 lo THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 her hapless prototype. She had the oval face 
 and long- slender neck, the rather high fore- 
 head, over which dark brown hair with a ruddy 
 tinge through it parted in natural waves, the 
 ong straight nose, the full, clear, almond- 
 shaped hazel eyes, and fine arched brows, 
 even the little pointed chin with the dimple 
 upon it. The face was full of decision and of a 
 certain innocent pride ; it was not without the 
 shade of proverbial Stuart melancholy. But 
 this was only noticeable when the features 
 were in repose, and then it gave to the coun- 
 tenance a pathos and feminine sweetness that 
 was perhaps its greatest charm. Yet surely 
 the tragic could have no association with this 
 Mary Stuart, whose smile, suddenly illumi- 
 nating the face, was so frank and bright, and 
 whose manner when she talked had almost 
 childlike animation. 
 
 ' Miss Beaton is the lioness of a certain 
 coterie,' answered Bellarmin. ' She holds a 
 sort of court of her own, so they tell me, and 
 gives herself, quite naturally, I suppose, the 
 airs of exiled royalty.' 
 
 ' A queen of the gipsies !' said Lady Saxon 
 scornfully.
 
 INLTHE LOBBY. ii 
 
 * Come now, Lady Saxon, that complexion 
 doesn't look like gipsy blood.' 
 
 ' Charles the Second looked like a gipsy, 
 didn't he ?' Lady Saxon interjected. 
 
 'Well, Miss Beaton doesn't, as you see. 
 If you were a Legitimist, I should tell you that 
 there stands your lawful Queen — your Queen 
 by Divine right. You count yourself English, 
 I suppose, now ?' he added. 
 
 ' I am English, of course,' replied Lady 
 Saxon composedly, ' though I was married to 
 a German.' 
 
 Bellarmin bowed. Certainly Lady Saxon's 
 pronunciation of the letter ' r ' was too trill- 
 like to bear out the current rumour that she 
 was of Teutonic origin. Though many fanci- 
 ful pen-and-ink sketches had been made of 
 Lady Saxon in ' society ' publications, nothing 
 more was known as positive fact about her 
 than that Lord Saxon had married her in 
 Frankfort some eighteen months previously, 
 and that she had been the widow of a certain 
 Baron Langenw^elt, ennobled for scientific 
 discovery. 
 
 ' But tell me,' said Lady Saxon, still looking 
 towards the quasi-royal group, 'tell m^e about
 
 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 this Miss Beaton. What are you talking of? 
 Is it a joke or a mystification, or a case of the 
 bend sinister ?' 
 
 ' Nothing of the sort. I am quite serious. 
 That o^irl is the leeltimate descendant of the 
 Stuarts. You can study her genealogy in the 
 " Almanach de Gotha," Lady Saxon, if you 
 doubt me. She starts from Henrietta Maria, 
 Duchess of Orleans, who, according to 
 scandalous chronicles, was poisoned by her 
 husband. Henrietta Maria left a daughter, 
 married to a Prince of Savoy. Miss Beaton's 
 mother, through whom her Stuart blood runs, 
 was a Bavarian Princess, and she married an 
 Englishman — Lord Beaton — a Legitimist, a 
 Tory of the old school, of the " Divine right," 
 *' Church and King" order.' 
 
 ' In short, a Conservative — like you,' put in 
 Lady Saxon, fixing her dark eyes upon the 
 young man, and smiling one of her enigmatic 
 smiles. 
 
 * Not in the least like me,' returned Bellar- 
 min. ' Like Lord Stonehenge, if you want 
 an Illustration,' and he glanced towards a tall, 
 slight, aristocratic-looking man with a peaked 
 Vandyke beard, who was standing near Miss
 
 IN THE LOBBY. 
 
 Beaton, and was at the moment speaking 
 to a portly white-haired lady, evidently one 
 of Miss Beaton's companions. Lord Stone- 
 henge was a Catholic, a Jacobite by education, 
 whose ancestors paid homage at St. Germains, 
 and whose association with the English Court 
 ended when the dynasty of revolution began. 
 
 ' I am interested in Lord Stonehenge,' said 
 Lady Saxon. ' His place Is not far from a 
 queer little nest of mine. You don't conserve 
 traditions, then, Mr. Bellarmin ? 
 
 * I am a Tory of the new-fangled sort,' 
 replied Bellarmin ; ' that Is, not a Tory at all 
 in the old-fashioned sense — what Lord Saxon 
 would call a Tory. 1 only conserve the tra- 
 ditions which are not rotten enough to crumble 
 away of themselves. There I differ from your 
 leader — your Champion of Christendom, as 
 they call him — who wants to go at established 
 Institutions like St. George at the dragon. 
 Social evolution Is my theory. Lady Saxon, 
 though I and my Progressive Tory Party did 
 turn out you Liberals the other day.' 
 
 'You should be in 02ir camp,' said Lady 
 Saxon, her eyes still gazing into his ; * you 
 have nothing in common with the Tories, and
 
 14 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 you know it. But you like to be master of 
 the situation, Mr. Bellarmin. You love a free 
 fight. You must be always in opposition, 
 showing up abuses and bullying the place- 
 holders. You have it in your power now, 
 while the balance is so even, to turn out 
 any Government. That has been your aim 
 and ambition. Oh, I know ! It is a proud 
 position for so young a man ; but — will it 
 last ?' 
 
 * Till the General Election,' said Rolfe, in 
 a tone rather of question than of assertion. 
 
 * You refused a place in the Ministry ?' 
 continued Lady Saxon. 
 
 'Yes; the place of a Junior Lord,' put in 
 Bellarmin. 
 
 ' Ah well ! you see, Mr. Bellarmin, I do 
 know some political secrets which the news- 
 papers only hint at,' she went on. ' You 
 were quite right not to commit yourself, I 
 may tell you ^/la^.' There was meaning in 
 her tone. 
 
 ' I suppose I understand you, Lady Saxon. 
 You think that Sir Victor Champion will soon 
 ] ave to face the country on a new issue. Well, 
 the time may come to^fdemolish the House
 
 IN THE LOBBY. 
 
 of Lords — fifty years hence, perhaps, but I 
 don't quite see it now.' Bellarmin lowered 
 his voice, and glanced cautiously round. ' I 
 am quite ready to believe that you know 
 a great many political secrets, Lady Saxon. 
 Perhaps you wouldn't mind giving me the 
 straight tip about these mysterious negotia- 
 tions some knowing ones are talking of — of 
 the mine which people say Champion is 
 springing beneath the foundations of the Con- 
 stitution.' 
 
 Lady Saxon's eyes shot out a gleam. 
 
 ' Oh, I cannot tell you anything about that/ 
 she said slowly. She drew a deep breath, 
 and, involuntarily, perhaps, pressed her hand 
 to her bosom. ' Sir Victor Champion is a 
 ereat man,' she said ; ' a man of indomitable 
 will, of infinite resource. His enemies have 
 not done him justice, nor,' she added, *his 
 friends.' 
 
 ' Has he any friends ?' 
 
 * Not so many as worse men ; but those he 
 has are true to him/ said Lady Saxon. 
 
 ' Yet his secrets get out, you see !' Bellar- 
 min answered. 
 
 * You think so ?'
 
 1 6 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 ' I have proved it, have I not ?' 
 
 ' I am amazed, I confess,' said Lady Saxon, 
 after a moment's pause. ' How did you get 
 to know ?' 
 
 ' About these negotiations ?' 
 
 ' If you choose to call them so,' she replied. 
 
 * What else could anyone call them ?' 
 
 ' Well, no matter what they are called ; 
 don't fence with me. Surely we know each 
 other too well for that. How did you get to 
 know ?' 
 
 The shadow of an emotion passed over 
 Bellarmin's face at her appeal, but he shook 
 it off. He was evidently under constraint, 
 and tried to hide what he was feeling under 
 a mask of conventional banter. He laughed. 
 
 ' Come, isn't that rather cool on your part, 
 Lady Saxon ? You want me to tell you 
 everything. And you, who hint at a great 
 deal, but will never really tell one a political 
 secret.' 
 
 * I don't so much want to find out what you 
 know, as how you came to know,' Lady Saxon 
 said emphatically. * After all — If there are 
 traitors in Sir Victor's confidence — men who 
 reveal his most secret purposes '
 
 IN THE LOBBY. 
 
 Lady Saxon seemed moved to generous 
 anger. 
 
 ' Lady Saxon,' said Bellarmin gravely^ 
 ' there was nothing of the kind. There was 
 no underhand revelation of anything. There 
 was no treachery of any sort.' 
 
 Lady Saxon's eyes flashed with a delight 
 which she hastened to conceal. All this talk 
 had been a little fencing match between her 
 and Bellarmin, and, quite unconsciously, Bel- 
 larmin had been vanquished. Lady Saxon had 
 never before heard one word of any negotia- 
 tions going on between Sir Victor and any 
 set of politicians. Bellarmin had taken it for 
 granted that she must be aware of the w^hole 
 matter through her husband, and had had a 
 hope that, by playing a bold game, he might 
 get to know something of Lord Saxon's pur- 
 poses. He gained no addition to his stock of 
 Information. She gained much. She learned 
 that there zuere negotiations. She knew that 
 her husband had not been told anything about 
 them, and, from Bellarmin's last answ^er, she 
 also learned that the negotiations were carried 
 on seml-officially with him on behalf of his 
 party. That was the only construction to be 
 
 VOL. T. 2 
 
 J>
 
 i8 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 put on his declaration that there had been no 
 treachery. 
 
 * Let us come back to our Princess,' said 
 Bellarmin, as if he wished to turn the con- 
 versation. * See how these men are doing 
 homage to her, here in the lobby of the 
 House of Commons,' he laughed. ' There's 
 something odd, and incongruous, and pictur- 
 esque about the whole thing, Lady Saxon. 
 It takes my fancy. It is going back to Sir 
 Walter Scott, and Flora Maclvor, and all 
 that sort of thing. It's dramatic ; it's refresh- 
 ing in these days of the Birmingham caucus 
 and the divided skirt ; don't you think so ?' 
 
 ' I agree with you that Miss Mary Stuart 
 Beaton has a sense of the dramatic,' said Lady 
 Saxon rather absently. 
 
 She would have preferred to talk about this 
 unknown scheme of Champion's, the leader of 
 the Opposition — this great coiip which people 
 said he was meditating, and which was to 
 shatter or cement the Liberal Party. She 
 wanted to talk about practical politics, and not 
 about visionary dynasties. The interest she 
 had felt in Mary Stuart Beaton was imperi- 
 ously expelled by another and more powerful
 
 IN THE LOBBY. 19 
 
 interest — an interest that lay deep, deep at 
 the core of Josephine Saxon's heart. She 
 herself became conscious that her bosom 
 was answering to an emotion not warranted 
 by the mere casual mention of her husband's 
 chief, and she tried to pull herself together. 
 Making a peremptory little sign to Bellarmin 
 to await her pleasure, she suddenly nodded 
 aqd smiled to a lady who came up at that 
 moment. 
 
 * How do you do, Lady Mavis ?' 
 There was a half-whispered colloquy. 
 ' Just come from Polesmere. It was too 
 terrible. We are getting as serious as the 
 Bostonians. Everybody in corners with dic- 
 tionaries, trying to see how many words they 
 could make out of Sardanapalus — that sort 
 of thing. Then guessing words : somebody 
 gave Cupid and Psyche, and Lady Polesmere 
 — the bride — who they say learns her lesson 
 by heart every morning, and is too stupid and 
 too lovely for anything, said, " But who is 
 Psyche ? I never heard of Psyche." ' 
 ' Had she ever heard of Cupid ?' 
 ' Well, my dear, she couldn't come to a 
 better person than you to learn about him. 
 
 2 — 2
 
 20 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 Have you begun your parties yet ? Ask me 
 soon to a little dinner, only don't put me 
 beside one of your horrid Radicals. Since 
 you gave Hodge his vote the Ladies' Gallery 
 has become a bear-garden — a pair of Radical 
 shoemakeresses talking so loudly that It was 
 Impossible to hear any of our side. I spoke 
 to the doorkeeper, but it was of no use ; he 
 couldn't do anything.' 
 
 ' Oh, poor Mr. Samuelson,' Lady Saxon 
 said. * I didn't ever suppose that he had any 
 Radical tendencies.' 
 
 ' All creatures of that sort have Radical 
 tendencies,' Lady Mavis affirmed in a manner 
 that ought to have settled the question. 
 
 * I always fancied that he was a mild Con- 
 servative,' Lady Saxon said. 
 
 'My opinion Is,' Lady Mavis Redhouse 
 gravely declared, ' that doorkeepers ought not 
 to have any political ideas of their own. I 
 do not believe that politics were meant for 
 doorkeepers.' 
 
 Lady Saxon bantered her friend upon cer- 
 tain Primrose League proceedings In the 
 provinces. It was evident that the Tory 
 Party depended mainly upon Lady Mavis
 
 IN THE LOBBY. 21 
 
 Redhouse for its maintenance and consolida- 
 tion. 
 
 Bellarmin marvelled at the frivolity of 
 woman — especially of political woman. 
 
 There were barbed congratulations on Lord 
 Saxon's speech, and parting allusions to coffee 
 on the terrace. 
 
 Rolfe Bellarmin, watching Lady Saxon's 
 face, fancied that he had a clue to the changes 
 in her manner. He did not doubt that she 
 was acquainted with the springs which moved 
 the figures in this game of politics. It was 
 whispered that Lord Saxon, heavy Whig and 
 unimaginative, unambitious leader of the less 
 progressive Liberals, was not in complete 
 sympathy with Champion's bold views on the 
 subject of reform. Bellarmin suspected that, 
 whatever coit^ Champion might be medi- 
 tating, he had not the absolute certainty of 
 Lord Saxon's support. He made a shrewd 
 guess that Champion calculated upon start- 
 ling Lord Saxon into acquiescence, or upon 
 his power of educating his party so secretly 
 and so rapidly, that Lord Saxon would one 
 day find himself in the rear, and comparatively 
 powerless. But in that case, what was Lady
 
 22 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 Saxon's attitude ? She was too clever to 
 be kept in the dark. There were not two 
 opinions on the subject of Lady Saxon's 
 cleverness, though it was often said that she 
 lacked self-control, that she made her likes 
 and her hates too apparent to outsiders. 
 Some of her words just now in reference to 
 Champion gave the impression of unguarded 
 and devoted admiration. Bellarmin had not, 
 however, observed any sign of intimacy be- 
 tween the Liberal chief and the wife of Lord 
 Saxon. Sir Victor was not met in Lady 
 Saxon's drawing-room. Though they were, 
 of course, acquaintances, it would seem that 
 their acquaintance was only superficial. To 
 be sure, there had been hitherto but few 
 opportunities for social intercourse. Lord 
 Saxon's marriage had taken place the last 
 autumn but one. The Liberal Ministry had 
 come into short power in the following sum- 
 mer, and during part of their term of office 
 Lady Saxon had been kept out of the whirl 
 of London life by the birth and death of her 
 first child — a son. She had only taken her 
 place as a leader of fashion in London a few 
 months ago. Her social prominence had been
 
 7.V THE LOBBY. ■ 23 
 
 coincident with the dawn of her friendship 
 with Bellarmin. 
 
 This friendship had constituted a sort of 
 crisis in Bellarmin's career. He began to 
 find out that, Hke other men, he seemed to 
 have a dual nature. He sometimes wondered 
 whether it was to his best or his worst self 
 that Lady Saxon appealed. There were 
 moments when he felt a sense of passionate 
 revolt against her influence, moments when 
 he had thought of marriage as a possible 
 refuge or corrective. But her ascendency 
 remained. No other woman, so far, had been 
 able to enchain even temporarily the young 
 politician's affections. The political atmo- 
 sphere was to him so keen and so necessary 
 a stimulant, that to love outside its radius 
 appeared to him an impossibility. Unmarried 
 girls he found painfully insipid. This is a 
 conclusion to which many a London man 
 arrives even without the splendid contrast 
 presented by a Lady Saxon. The whole 
 situation was piquant. There was a double 
 charm in the fact that the lady of his admira- 
 tion stood in the first rank of his opponents. 
 Could she win him over ? Dared he trust
 
 24 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 himself within the enemy's Hnes ? Was she 
 playing- with him, or was she in heroic 
 earnest ? Was she goddess or diplomatist, 
 or mere every-day excitement-loving coquette ? 
 All this speculation heightened the charm 
 and danger of the position. No definite word 
 had been spoken. The draught was too 
 strong to be taken without consideration of 
 consequences. Bellarmin dallied with the 
 cup ; but the fumes from it were mounting. 
 
 Lady Saxon turned again to Bellarmin, 
 and lightly touched his arm with her gloved 
 finger. 
 
 * When are you coming to see me, to talk 
 of Important things ? To-morrow ?' 
 
 ' You have only to name your own time, 
 always provided that It Is not an hour when 
 the division bell is likely to ring.' 
 
 ' To-morrow ; it is an ofT-day. At six 
 o'clock. I have a great deal to say to you 
 about serious things. Your eyes keep wan- 
 dering to your Stuart Princess,' she added in 
 a bantering tone. * Take care ; remember 
 the fate of Chastelard. Who is that tall man 
 with her — the man with the white moustache 
 and the scar on his forehead ? He looks
 
 7.V THE LOBBY. 25 
 
 the dignified parent in a play. Is he her 
 father ?' 
 
 ' Oh no ! Her father is dead. That is 
 General Falcon, an Englishman, I believe, 
 who was in the Austrian service, and has 
 given up everything to act as her — what shall 
 I say ? — I really don't know — Prime Tvlinister, 
 Master of the Horse, Chief Secretary, 
 manager, factotum — anything you like to call 
 him.' 
 
 ' I don't particularly want to call him any- 
 thing,' answered Lady Saxon, a little disdain- 
 fully. ' I can understand what the office is. 
 A pretty young pretendress — is that what you 
 called her } — wants just such a picturesque, 
 and stately, and unimpeachable sort of per- 
 sonage to introduce her, and manage her 
 affairs. Oh yes, one knows all that !' There 
 was a tinge of bitterness in Lady Saxon's 
 tone. Her hearer might almost have fancied 
 that she herself had known what it was to 
 face the world without an introducer. ' Un- 
 protected youth and beauty are at a dis- 
 advantage in these days. Well, I should 
 imagine that General Falcon's figure and 
 moustache would count for ever so much with
 
 26 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 a jury of British Philistines, and will im- 
 press society greatly. Is your Stuart Princess 
 going to assert her claims to the throne of 
 England ?' 
 
 ' Oh no !' said Bellarmin, again with more 
 eagerness than was quite pleasing to Lady 
 Saxon, for it showed too strong a measure 
 of interest in the lovely unknown. ' I can't 
 think that anything so absurd is dreamed 
 of She has very sensible friends in this 
 country, I hear — some of the Tory Catholic 
 set — and they won't let her be led into non- 
 sense. There is a notion that she has come 
 over to claim some money or estates, or some- 
 thing that once belonged to the ancestral 
 Stuarts.' 
 
 ' You seem to be well up in her affairs. 
 Have you been presented at her court ?' 
 
 ' Not yet ; but I shall get an introduc- 
 tion. I think the whole thing is most in- 
 teresting.' 
 
 * Do you ? I don't, somehow. I can re- 
 member the Tichborne case ; that excited me 
 a little at first, but it became so tiresome. 
 Claimants to anything are bores.' 
 
 ' I would rather look at my Mary Stuart
 
 IN THE LOBBY 27 
 
 than at the gentleman who called himself Sir 
 Roger Tichborne,' said Bellarmin. 
 
 ' No doubt/ Lady Saxon answered coldly. 
 
 ' One can't help admiring her,' Rolfe went 
 on injudiciously. 
 
 ' I think I detest her already,' Lady Saxon 
 said. ' I hate shams of every kind. Perhaps,' 
 she added with a curious burst of candour, 
 which was characteristic of the woman, ' be- 
 cause I'm a good deal of a sham myself.' 
 
 Lady Saxon, in truth, was a litde out of 
 tune. When will men learn, or will they 
 never learn, that women do not delight in 
 hearing the praises of other women ; espe- 
 cially when these praises come from masculine 
 lips that might be employed in saying more 
 appropriate things ? 
 
 Meanwhile Miss Mary Stuart Beaton was 
 conducted by Lord Stonehenge, the gentle- 
 man with the Vandyke beard, and some 
 members of the House of Commons, to the 
 entrance of the Legislative Chamber, in order 
 that she might have a front view of the 
 debate. Passing through the outer door, 
 between the great leather chairs where the 
 twin doorkeepers sit, one comes on a sort of
 
 28 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 hall, out of which the division lobbies run, 
 the * No ' lobby on the right of the visitor, 
 the * Aye ' on the left ; straight In front are 
 the swinging brazen doors which open only 
 to Members of Parliament, and within which 
 is the debating chamber Itself. On the ex- 
 treme left of the left-hand door Is a kind of 
 niche, with a small leathern seat. On this 
 seat. In this niche. It Is the privilege of women, 
 and only women, to stand. They are escorted 
 in there, not more than two at a time, by a 
 member of the House ; and standing on that 
 perch, and looking through the plate-glass 
 encased In the brass of the door, they can 
 see Mr. Speaker on his throne and the mem- 
 bers of the Government on the Treasury 
 bench at his right, and leaders of the Opposi- 
 tion at his left, and leaders of Independent 
 parties below the gangway. The Ladies' 
 Gallery, be It observed, Is above and behind 
 the Speaker's chair, and Miss Beaton might 
 go there for ever and not see what the 
 occupant of the Speaker's chair Is like, or 
 how the House looks from the natural or 
 pictorial point of view. 
 
 Miss Beaton had not looked upon this sight
 
 IN THE LOBBY. 29 
 
 before, and she ran across the tessellated 
 pavement of the lobby with the eagerness of 
 a girl anxious to see something new, and the 
 careless freedom of one who has got it well 
 into her mind that she is at liberty to do any- 
 thing that she likes in the way that pleases 
 her. Her escort, ]\Ir. Leven, a Scotch 
 member, descended from a family which had 
 forfeited its title in the rebellion of 1745, was 
 a little behind her ; and her skirts were long 
 and trailing, and he was afraid of treading on 
 them. He had to plunge forward, however, 
 for she was positively about opening the brass 
 door, and calmly entering the sacred precincts 
 of the House itself, where the apparition of a 
 
 woman would create as much bewilderment 
 and consternation as her Intrusion into the 
 
 Mosque of Omar while the services of the 
 
 Mahometans were going on. 
 
 ' This way, please,' he said breathlessly ; 
 
 'not into the House. This little perch — this 
 
 perch here.' 
 
 ' Oh ! am I to mount on that ?' 
 
 ' If you please. Do you know that you 
 
 were going into the House of Commons 
 
 itself ?'
 
 30 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 Mary laughed, not in the least abashed by 
 the knowledge of the sacrilege she had so 
 nearly perpetrated. She mounted lightly to 
 the perch, and studied the front view of the 
 House for a moment in silence. 
 
 * I feel rather ridiculous here,' she said, 
 looking down on Lord Stonehenge. ' I am 
 like a schoolgirl mounted on a penitential 
 stool. I think I am rather too tall for this 
 sort of perch; I'll get down. Oh! what is 
 happening ?' 
 
 Two members were rushing wildly past, 
 and thrusting their way into the House. 
 One of them was waving a telegram in his 
 hand. Miss Beaton remained on her perch 
 for the moment, eager to see and hear. She 
 saw the member who bore the telegram break 
 through the groups who were standing at the 
 Bar, and while the doors of the House were 
 yet swinging open, she could hear him say in 
 quite a loud and excited tone, ' Fourteen 
 hundred majority for Tressel !' Then there 
 was a tremendous burst of cheerinQf from the 
 opposition benches, which was again and 
 again renewed. It utterly bewildered a mem- 
 ber of the Government, who was haranguing
 
 IN THE LOBBY. 31 
 
 from the Treasury bench. He could not 
 at first understand the meaning of this 
 strange Interruption ; did not know what had 
 happened, and stumbled hopelessly in his 
 oration. 
 
 Mary dropped lightly to the floor without 
 touching Lord Stonehenge's reverential hand. 
 She and her escort came out into the lobby 
 again, and ]\Ir. Leven explained the mean- 
 ing of the telegram and the cheering. The 
 election had gone in favour of the Radical 
 candidate by a large majority. But that was 
 not all. The victorious candidate was Tommy 
 Tressel, a very advanced and audacious Radi- 
 cal, an independent, eccentric sort of man. 
 But ^/la^ w^as not all. Tressel had been re- 
 presentative of the constituency for a long 
 time ; but his Radical opinions had been 
 growing more and more pronounced of late, 
 and he had been making furious attacks upon 
 the House of Lords. His opponents taunted 
 him with having betrayed his constituents, 
 and promised him that he should never get 
 into the House again — at least for that con- 
 stituency. The General Election, whenever 
 it came, would settle him, they said. Where-
 
 32 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 Upon Tressel promptly applied for the Chiltern 
 Hundreds — In other words, resigned his seat 
 — and came forward again as a candidate for 
 the same place, in order to give his consti- 
 tuents a chance of saying whether they 
 approved of what he had said and done or not. 
 And now behold he Is sent back to the House 
 with an immense and wholly unexpected 
 majority to encourage him. No wonder the 
 Radicals cheered. 
 
 Yet another Incident occurred. Sir Victor 
 Champion and Lord Saxon were passing out 
 in deep conversation, and the moment Sir 
 Victor was seen, all the Radical members in 
 the lobby set up a wild cheer ; and other 
 Radicals came rushing out of the House, and 
 joined in the cheer, and soon quite a crowd 
 formed around Sir Victor, cheering for him 
 as if he were the hero of the hour. Sir Victor 
 looked pleased ; Lord Saxon scowled. 
 
 * What's the row about now ?' Lord Saxon 
 asked, when the cheering had at last sub- 
 sided. 
 
 ' Oh, Tressel's election, of course !' Sir 
 Victor said carelessly. 
 
 ' But I don't see what w^e have to do with
 
 IN THE LOBBY. 
 
 that ; I mean, what you have to do with It. 
 Why should they cheer you because Tressel 
 has been elected ?' 
 
 Sir Victor said nothing. Lord Stonehenge 
 whispered a word or two to Mary, who nodded 
 assent ; and then he stopped the two states- 
 men, and presented each to Miss Beaton. 
 Lord Saxon, a tall, heavy-jawed man, with a 
 stolid face deeply flushed, a full, reddish 
 beard, and a shambling groom-like way of 
 walking, felt awkward, and looked it, and 
 said only a formal word or two. Sir Victor's 
 eyes darted upon Miss Beaton, and fastened 
 on her face. He felt and showed the deepest 
 interest in the meeting, and before many 
 seconds had made it clear to Mary that he 
 understood all about her historv and orene- 
 alogy. Lady Saxon and Bellarmin watched 
 the movements and gestures of the little 
 group. 
 
 * Come, you had better take your turn, and 
 do homage with the rest,' Lady Saxon said. 
 She was willing to do without Bellarmin now ; 
 she wanted to come in the way of Sir Victor 
 Champion. 
 
 The interview between Miss Beaton and 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 Champion was over. Lord Saxon saw his 
 wife, and came across and spoke to her. 
 
 * I want to know why Sir Victor has not 
 been to see me,' said Lady Saxon, in a low, 
 rapid tone. * Make him come here. You 
 seem annoyed, Saxon. Has anything hap- 
 pened ?' 
 
 * Nothing much — talk to you by-and-by,' 
 Lord Saxon said, brightening a little. 
 
 Then he turned and motioned to Sir Victor, 
 who was about to pass on, merely lifting his 
 hat to Lady Saxon. 
 
 ' My wife wants to speak to you,' he said. 
 Lady Saxon moved forward, and held out her 
 hand. Sir Victor joined them. 
 
 Lady Saxon's opportunity had come.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ox THE TERRACE. 
 
 IR VICTOR was a man the first 
 sight of whom gave one the idea 
 that he trod the earth with a 
 peculiarly firm tread. His walk was not a 
 stride nor a plunge, but an assured, rapid, 
 masterful walk, each foot seeming to take 
 a steady hold of the ground until the other 
 had found its place. Sir Victor moved 
 with the air of one who believes that all he 
 sees belongs to him. He had a large fore- 
 head, strongly marked features, heavy eye- 
 brows, and quick gleaming eyes. His face 
 was almost smooth-shaven. He kept his 
 head .thrown back as he walked. He was not 
 handsome, but he was commanding in appear-
 
 36 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 ance, and few who looked at him would have 
 thought of mentally Inquiring whether he was 
 handsome or not. There was something 
 stern, something tragic about his face. His 
 forehead seemed scarred with the thunder. 
 As with Marcellus in Virgil's poem, dark- 
 some night appeared, amid all his triumph, 
 to gather its black shadow around his head. 
 Women admired him, that was certain — ad- 
 mired him and were afraid of him — admired 
 him all the more because they were afraid 
 of him. 
 
 He had been a very successful man thus 
 
 far. He had entered public life with some 
 
 fortune to back him, but with no aristocratic 
 
 connexions. He had married both fortune 
 
 and rank. His wife had died after a year, 
 
 but his success was assured. His marriage 
 
 had been the turning-point in his career. 
 
 Now he had come to be the maker of peers, 
 
 and the patron even of dukes. He had a 
 
 consuming ambition. His friends said it was 
 
 a noble ambition ; his enemies said that it 
 
 was an ambition ruinous to his country. It 
 
 was not a selfish ambition in the lowest sense, 
 
 but If it led him wrong, It would be likely to
 
 ON THE TERRACE. 27 
 
 do infinitely more harm than any merely 
 selfish ambition could have wrought in such a 
 position as that of a modern English states- 
 man. Had Sir Victor only coveted of^ce, 
 rank, power, influence, for himself, and been 
 content with such acquisitions, he might have 
 had enough to sate the most greedy ambition, 
 and yet have done no great harm to anything 
 except his own nature and his own soul. But 
 the ambition of Sir V^ictor Champion was to 
 have his ow^n name inseparably associated in 
 time to come with some great change wrought 
 in the condition of his country. His admirers 
 insisted that his only desire was to have his 
 name remembered in connection with some 
 great good deed done by or for England. 
 But his enemies would have it that he was 
 resolved to be remembered in history at Eng- 
 land's expense, if he could not be remembered 
 in blessings. Both sides, it is likely, were 
 partly right ; were seized of half the truth. 
 The ambition which identifies our country's 
 glory with our own does not always regard 
 our own glory as identical with that of our 
 country. The aspiring youth who fired the 
 Ephesian dome was only a fool for his pains,
 
 38 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 or a madman ; it is a comfort to reflect that 
 there are not many ambitions like his. But 
 a man of very different quality might have 
 set fire to the temple under the impression 
 that he was only illuminating it while inscrib- 
 ing his own name in letters of flame round its 
 dome. 
 
 Lady Saxon, having got her opportunity, 
 was determined not to lose it. She wanted 
 to bring Sir Victor Champion to her side here 
 in the full light of the House of Commons 
 lobby. She had deeper and much stronger 
 reasons for this desire, but one of her minor 
 and superficial reasons was to inflict a sort of 
 punishment on Bellarmin, who had been think- 
 ing a great deal too much about Miss Beaton, 
 and her claims and her beauty. 
 
 ' We have not met for a long time, Sir 
 Victor,' Lady Saxon said, turning her eyes 
 upon him, and then letting them droop ; * ex- 
 cept in the most casual and commonplace way. 
 We have not met to talk.' 
 
 ' No, we have not been floated together,' 
 Sir Victor answered in a deep melodious 
 voice, which fell caressingly on her ear, and 
 made the blood rush for an instant to
 
 ON THE TERRACE. 39 
 
 her cheek. ' I am glad to find you in 
 town/ 
 
 Lady Saxon looked up again straight into 
 his face. There was something at once 
 seductive and defiant in her glance. Her ex- 
 pression was peculiar. She seemed to be 
 commanding Sir Victor's attention, and to be 
 appealing, at the same time, to a claim upon 
 his sentimental regard, which only he and she 
 understood. Lord Saxon, it was evident, sus- 
 pected no such claim. His heavy head was 
 bent, showing the bull-like conformation of 
 neck, and giving him an appearance of dull 
 obstinacy, in striking contrast with the alert, 
 dominant expression of the Liberal chief. 
 The eyes of both Sir Victor and Lady Saxon 
 turned for a second upon him, and met again. 
 Lady Saxon laughed in a forced manner, but 
 her voice faltered in spite of herself 
 
 * The current has drifted us together at 
 last,' she said ; ' but you might have found 
 me before.' 
 
 * Look here, Josephine,' Lord Saxon broke 
 in, ' I have got to go away for a while, you 
 know. I dare say Champion won't mind see- 
 ing you back to the Ladies' Gallery, or the
 
 40 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 Terrace, If you want to go. I'll meet you 
 later on at Lady Dorrlngton's.' 
 
 'Very well,' she answered, and gave him a 
 smile as she added, ' that means there will be 
 nothing much going on here, and that there 
 is to be a political caucus at the Dorrlngtons* 
 instead. Saxon doesn't often go with me to 
 an evening party.' 
 
 Lord Saxon strode away. 
 
 ' I don't think I need give you the trouble 
 of mounting up to the Ladies' Gallery with 
 me. Sir Victor ; I have heard enough for one 
 night, and it Is hot and stuffy up there. Why 
 do you gaze up in that sort of way ? I think 
 I had better get home, and go on to Lady 
 Dorrlngton's. Shall I see you there 1' 
 
 Sir Victor shook his head. He seemed to 
 be hesitating as to what he should say next. 
 She watched him narrowly. She was eager 
 to see whether he would take her at her word 
 and let her go. 
 
 ' Will you come for a turn on the Terrace ?' 
 he asked at last, in a low tone. ' The night 
 is delightful' 
 
 She could hardly restrain a deep breath of 
 exultation.
 
 ON THE TERRACE. 41 
 
 'Yes, thanks, since you are so good. In- 
 deed, I told one or two women that I should 
 be on the Terrace.' 
 
 ' Come this way,' Sir Victor said, and she 
 swept out of the lobby with him, making, as 
 she passed, a parting bow to Bellarmin, who 
 had just been presented to the mysterious 
 Stuart girl, and who appeared by no means 
 unhappy, even though Lady Saxon w^as leav- 
 ing him. 
 
 Lady Saxon and Sir Victor passed out of 
 the lobby into a corridor lined on both sides 
 with the schoolboard-like numbered lockers 
 in which members keep their papers. They 
 went through a swinging brass door on the 
 left and made their way down a tortuous 
 staircase, darksome as that of a gaol ; and at 
 the bottom of this sordid staircase to another 
 door, which conducted to a stone passage 
 on the right. Wheeling round to the left 
 again, they were at a gate through which 
 they suddenly passed into all the beauty and 
 glory of the soft night of early summer, and 
 found themselves on the Terrace where the 
 river washes the southern walls of Westmin- 
 ster Palace. There was a moon shining,
 
 42 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 but its brightness was dimmed by the amber 
 glow which poured down from the library 
 windows above, and the lamps set at intervals 
 along the balustrade illuminating the wide 
 stone walk. A fitful breeze swept up from 
 the water. The river, closed in here by the 
 two stone bridges with their cavern-like 
 arches and triangular jets of light, had a 
 ripple on it and looked alive. The reflec- 
 tions of the lanterns in the barges lying along 
 the embankment seemed to dance in the 
 depths. Opposite rose the great square 
 blocks of St. Thomas's Hospital with their 
 spectral windows, and the tall gray shot-tower 
 lower down lost itself in the mist. A little 
 steamer puffing and groaning, and the roar 
 of the Charing Cross train, gave life and 
 commonplace reality to the scene, which other- 
 wise had a curious solemnity and impressive- 
 ness. 
 
 * I am always ashamed of that vile dark 
 staircase,' Champion said in his conventional 
 manner, as they walked up to the end and 
 turned again ; ' and yet I think we ought to 
 keep it as it is, if only for the reason that 
 the Terrace looks so much more attractive
 
 ON THE TERRACE. 43 
 
 because of the caverns through which we 
 have to get to it. Don't you think so, Lady 
 Saxon ?' 
 
 ' I have been thinking of many things 
 since w^e came out, but not of that,' she 
 answered. 
 
 Perhaps Sir Victor did not wish to notice 
 the significance of her tone ; or perhaps his 
 mind was occupied with the late election and 
 Tressel's majority ; or perhaps he had thrown 
 off the statesman for a moment, and was en- 
 joying the picturesqueness of the place and of 
 the evening. 
 
 Sir Victor Champion had a quick and 
 vivid interest in almost everything. Cer- 
 tainly there was hardly anything in which he 
 could not promptly get up a genuine interest. 
 He had a liberal knowledge of art, science, 
 history, poetry, romance, the acting drama, 
 architecture, Japanese colouring, and old 
 china. His power of throwing himself from 
 subject to subject gave some excuse for the 
 allegation of his enemies, that a fatal levity, 
 a want of depth and adhesiveness, was 
 destined to mar his best gifts and make his 
 career dangerous to his country. He soon
 
 44 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 became conscious of the beauty of the scene, 
 and found a pleasure in expatiating on it to 
 Lady Saxon. As they walked along the 
 Terrace he began pointing out to her what 
 he regarded as the most interesting objects, 
 and he was launching into quite an eloquent 
 dissertation on the history of Lambeth Palace 
 and the Lollards' Tower. Lady Saxon's 
 bosom heaved with impatience. She had 
 not come there to be told of the Lollards' 
 Tower. 
 
 * We walk together side by side, the first 
 time for years,' she said, in a low tone of 
 impassioned remonstrance ; ' and you can 
 only talk to me about Lambeth Palace ! 
 Victor !' 
 
 Her voice dropped to the lowest, softest, 
 most plaintive note of appeal as she looked 
 into the statesman's face and called him by 
 his name. He stopped and turned to her 
 in some surprise. 
 
 * Lady Saxon ' he was beginning to 
 
 say. 
 
 ' Lady Saxon !' she repeated in low wist- 
 ful protest. 
 
 ' Josephine,' he said. ' Josephine ! How
 
 ox THE TERRACE. 45 
 
 many years is it since I called you by that 
 name ?' 
 
 She did not answer. They had reached 
 the end of the Terrace and turned. Sir 
 Victor glanced at his companion. Lady 
 Saxon in her splendid beauty, with her stately 
 carriage, her arms folded in her rich mantle, 
 and her eyes gazing earnestly into the night, 
 had about her a suggestion of the dramatic 
 which was not without attraction for Sir 
 Victor. His temperament required the 
 stimulant of drama. He wondered what 
 was passing in her mind. He half expected 
 some theatrical outburst ; but it did not come 
 then. 
 
 * Have you noticed those thin white tracks 
 along the lattice-work pattern of the pave- 
 ment ?' she asked quietly. ' There are 
 three of them. See ! the middle one is very 
 distinct.' 
 
 ' They are the marks of many footsteps,' 
 he replied ; ' the tracks of the men who have 
 walked up and down here.' 
 
 ' The tracks of the men who have made 
 and are making history. V021 are of them, 
 Victor. I think that if I were a writer, I
 
 46 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 could compose a poem or a satire by the 
 inspiration of those three narrow paths. 
 Think of the big schemes that have been 
 worked out here in the brains of ambitious 
 men ; and think of the agonies of disappoint- 
 ment some of those men must have suffered 
 as they paced these stones, when their schemes 
 had come to nothing.' 
 
 • Yes,' said Sir Victor. ' You have a quick 
 imagination, Josephine. These stones could 
 tell many a soul's story.' 
 
 * Think of the women who have walked 
 here, too !' Lady Saxon went on ; ^ of the 
 hopes that might be spoken, and of those 
 that might not even be whispered ; the fears 
 and the ambitions for the husband, or for 
 the lover — I wonder how much oftener for 
 the lover — the light flirtations, the intrigues, 
 the heart tragedies. But I don't want to 
 talk of intrigues ; the heart tragedies ! Oh, 
 I've seen enough of the House of Commons, 
 Victor, to know that love often walks along 
 this place masquerading as policy.' 
 
 ' Not with me. I am not one of the 
 politicians who turn the House of Commons 
 into the background of a flirtation.'
 
 ON THE TERRACE. 47 
 
 * Why not ? Politicians, I suppose, are but 
 human, and want some pastime in the intervals 
 of their serious business. Mr. Bellarmin is 
 not the only one of you who finds it here ready 
 to hand.' 
 
 * What makes you Instance Bellarmin ?' 
 
 ' He comes naturally to one's mind. 
 People are talking of him just now. He Is 
 young, handsome, and a power in his way ; 
 and he will be a greater power still, before 
 very long. Remember, he Is the leader of 
 the party which turned us out of office. He 
 has a future.' 
 
 ' You are right,' said Champion thought- 
 fully. 
 
 * A woman who bound him with her chains 
 might feel proud of her captive,' said Lady 
 Saxon. 
 
 ' Report speaks of you as that woman, 
 doesn't It ?' 
 
 * Is that why you have avoided me ?' she 
 asked, In a different tone. * Let us be frank 
 with one another. Surely we have known 
 each other too well for masks to be necessary 
 now.' 
 
 - It w^ould be more prudent to wear them.
 
 48 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 would it not — at any rate in this place ?' he 
 replied, waiting till they had passed through 
 the knots of people who were gathered about 
 the various little tables in the middle of the 
 Terrace. 
 
 * Not at all/ she said. ' No one would 
 be surprised that I should be here with my 
 husband's friend and leader. But tell me, why 
 have you avoided me ?' 
 
 * Because, Josephine, I felt that there might 
 be danger in our intimacy.' 
 
 * Danger !' she repeated ; * to which of us ?' 
 
 * I scarcely know. I was afraid that the 
 position might be painful to you. Our past 
 has some troublous associations. I thought 
 it probable that, as Lady Saxon, you might 
 wish that past forgotten — or at least ignored.' 
 
 * Not one memory of it which links me with 
 you. I cherish these associations ; they are 
 sweeter to me than rank or riches — sweeter 
 to me than anything on this earth. They are 
 myself.' 
 
 'Josephine !' 
 
 * If all that makes the good or ill of my 
 life were to crumble into nothingness t/iey 
 would remain. . . .' She paused and placed
 
 ON THE TERRACE. 49 
 
 herself with her back against the balustrade 
 which fronted the river. The two were in 
 shadow, and far out of hearing of the merry 
 groups scattered here and there by the tea- 
 tables. * Do you ever think of those old days, 
 Victor ?' she went on, in a voice of smothered 
 emotion ; ' those dear old days when we were 
 so much to each other !' 
 
 * I have remembered them always, Jose- 
 phine, with tenderness and gratitude.' 
 
 He, too, spoke with emotion. To a critical 
 listener it might have seemed only the echo 
 of her emotion. 
 
 * You loved me ?' she asked eagerly ; ' even 
 though you left me.' 
 
 * I loved you indeed ; and for many a long 
 
 day I missed you. But ' He hesitated. 
 
 ' You put the case harshly ' 
 
 ' Well, be frank. You owe me that.' She 
 spoke with agitated insistence. 
 
 ' I find a greater difficulty in touching upon 
 the past with Lady Saxon than I might have 
 done with — Madame Langenwelt.' 
 
 * You know that Langenwelt married me 
 after that — because I refused to accept him 
 on any other terms/ she put in coolly. T had 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 become indispensable to him. The trade 
 would have collapsed without me.' 
 
 * He was ennobled ?' 
 
 * Oh yes, a patent of nobility bought out of 
 the proceeds of quack medicines !' She laughed 
 an odd tuneless laugh. ' It's a queer sort of 
 career, isn't it ? Not altogether unlike that 
 of Emma Harte, Lady Hamilton — you re- 
 member — only I'm better educated. I have 
 to thank Langenwelt for that ; and I'm not 
 going to make a mess of the wind-up as she 
 did. Good heavens ! In the days when I 
 exhibited at sixpence a head, who would have 
 dreamed that I should ever have the right to 
 go into dinner h^ior & yoicr wife !' 
 
 ' Josephine,' said Champion, in some em- 
 barrassment and much pity, ' it pains and 
 perplexes me to hear you talk in this wild 
 way. Your outspokenness is alarming. I 
 beg you for your own sake ' 
 
 ' Oh !' she interrupted, with a gesture of her 
 hands as if she would fling away pretences. 
 ' Outspokenness is the most highly priced of 
 luxuries to me. I can't afford to indulge in it 
 often. You shouldn't grudge it to me on an 
 occasion like this. You and I, Victor, have
 
 ON THE TERRACE. 51 
 
 the faculty of appreciating a situation — as they 
 say in the theatres — at least I used to think 
 so. There's something dramatic about our 
 meeting to-night, isn't there ? And to be in 
 this place — of all places — the theatre of your 
 glory ! You sacrificed me that you might 
 play your part here ; and it's only fair, now 
 'my turn has come, that I should be allowed 
 to do a little melodramatic spouting of my 
 own.' 
 
 Again she laughed. 
 
 Just then some passing member took off 
 his hat. Lady Saxon bowed. 
 
 ' A lovely night,' she remarked indifferently, 
 * and so warm for the time of year ! Do we 
 lose anything by enjoying this delicious air ? 
 Who is speaking ?' 
 
 ' You have lost nothing ; only old What's- 
 his-name hammering away still for the Govern- 
 ment. He was awfully put out by the cheers 
 for Tommy Tressel's election — hasn't quite 
 recovered even yet.' 
 
 The mem.ber moved on. Lady Saxon turned 
 again to Champion. She put out her hand 
 and touched his for a second as it rested on 
 the balustrade. 
 
 4—2 
 
 umm "^
 
 52 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 ' You don't know how I've longed for this 
 meeting. I've dreamed of it — I've rehearsed 
 
 it^ I've ' She broke off with a low 
 
 passionate ejaculation. * You don't seem 
 moved. You are your old self still — im- 
 passive — carried away sometimes by your 
 intellect — never by your heart.' 
 
 * And you are still your old self, too,' he 
 answered gently — * impulsive and emotional 
 as you always were.' 
 
 * To you all this is nothing,' she went on 
 bitterly. * A mere episode in a Parliamentary 
 session — as I was in days gone by. But I'm 
 going to be something more than an episode 
 now, Victor. We meet on equal ground. I 
 can be of use to you. I can further your 
 projects. I can be a valuable ally instead 
 of the shame and the hindrance you once 
 thought me.' 
 
 * Ah, Josephine, your reproaches cut me 
 like a knife.' His deep voice, which in debate 
 or invective was Sir Victor's most powerful 
 weapon, thrilled Lady Saxon's ear and heart. 
 * Think of our position f/ien, and you will 
 admit that they are a little unjust. Come. 
 Can we not bury the past ? Can we not
 
 ON THE TERRACE. 53 
 
 make a compact from this night to be friends 
 — dear friends and comrades ?' 
 
 ' You must hear first what I have got to 
 say. Oh, I'm not reproaching you. I think 
 I admire you for your impassiveness, and the 
 cool judgment which made even love subor- 
 dinate to political ambition. I always knew 
 that I couldn't love a man unless he were my 
 master.' 
 
 * Surely your husband is a man whom you 
 can love, and who might make himself your 
 master ?' 
 
 Lady Saxon threw her head back with a 
 cynical disdainful uplifting of her chin. * My 
 husband ! I once read of a woman of whose 
 husband it was said that he was " her slave, 
 her drudge, and her convenience." Lord 
 Saxon is my slave, and he is my ''con- 
 venience." ' 
 
 There was silence between them for a few- 
 moments. Lady Saxon was the first to break 
 it. 
 
 ' I have never loved any man but jou, 
 Victor. I may tell you this, even though my 
 frankness alarms you. You and I are above 
 shams. I only ask you to be frank with
 
 54 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 me — brutally frank, if that is to tell the 
 truth.' 
 
 'I'll be as frank with you, Josephine, as 
 your courage and generosity deserve.' 
 
 ' That is well. Let us talk our minds out for 
 a few minutes only. Yes, I loved you, Victor 
 — as I ca7i love ; and at first, when you left 
 me, I hated you. I wanted to be revenged 
 on you. Then, as I watched your career, I 
 admired you for what you had done. I felt 
 glad and proud that you had bought success 
 even by the sacrifice of me. At a distance, I 
 began to understand you better — to see what 
 your genius had seen so quickly and un- 
 erringly. Your time had come. Your op- 
 portunity was before you to seize or to leave. 
 It was a choice between giving up me, and 
 giving up a grand future. You chose wisely. 
 You gave up — me. You gave up your Agnes 
 Sorel, your Aspasia. Don't you think that 
 is a pretty way of putting it ?' she said sud- 
 denly, with a scornful laugh. ' Well, I thank 
 you. If you hadn't chosen so, what should I 
 be now, instead of being what I am ? You 
 made me Lady Saxon, and I shall have made 
 you Dictator of England.'
 
 ox THE TERRACE. 55 
 
 * No one has ever understood me as you 
 understand me,' he said, with low-toned fer- 
 vour. ' You have a noble, sympathetic soul, 
 Josephine. You, too, feel that compelling 
 force which drives our destinies, and which I 
 have always felt so strongly within me. I 
 have a mission which to me is more than 
 love.' 
 
 ' I know it. I know that I, too, have a 
 mission. Yes, we stand on equal ground 
 now, Victor. We will fight side by side. We 
 mus^ fight — either for or against each other. 
 We breathe the same political atmosphere. 
 Your life is mine. The current has drifted 
 us together. You say, " Let us make a com- 
 pact from this night to be friends and com- 
 rades." Yes ; but on one condition.' 
 
 ' Name it. Whatever you ask shall be 
 agreed to.' 
 
 'You loved me once. I had great influence 
 over you. I am content to take a secondary 
 place ; but I must have no rival there. \\ e 
 will not talk of love— you and I. My burst 
 of melodrama is over. This only I ask you. 
 I know you too well to doubt the truth of 
 your answer. Do you love any other woman ?
 
 56 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 * 1 love no woman in the world, Josephine, 
 unless it be yourself. Since my wife's death, 
 I have given myself up completely to politics, 
 and I have no thought of marrying again. 
 The first place is yours.' 
 
 ' The i-^^^;^^ place,' she corrected. / I will 
 yield the first to England ; but I will not 
 yield it to a woman. There shall be no mis- 
 understanding. This is not a drawing-room 
 conspiracy. I have said that we will not 
 talk of love. Let us bury the past then. 
 So ! The compact is made. Your hand 
 upon it.' 
 
 They clasped hands silently. His was cool 
 and firm. He could feel hers through her 
 glove trembling and feverish.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 * WHO SHALL SEPARATE US ?' 
 
 O W tell me of your plans,' she said 
 impulsively. ' What is in your 
 mind ? What are the prospects 
 of the party ? I want to understand your 
 ambitions — your personal ambition.' 
 
 ^ Personal ambition ?' he said doubtfully. 
 * I don't say that a man is bound to shut his 
 mind and heart against such a feeling ; no, I 
 don't go so far as to say that. But is it not 
 his duty to foster within himself only that 
 truer and nobler ambition which devotes 
 itself to the real greatness of his country, and 
 the abiding happiness of his people ?' 
 
 There was a ring of the House of Com- 
 mons peroration which did not please Lady
 
 58 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 Saxon. ' Are you ashamed of acknowledging 
 your personal ambition to me ?' she said, 
 turning the full light of her eyes upon his. 
 ' Did I not always know you were ambitious? 
 Did I not always urge you to give your ambi- 
 tion full play ? You took me at my word 
 then ? Did I not admire you all the more ? — 
 well, yes, let it be admire — did I not admire 
 you all the more because of your ambition ? 
 Ah ! times and things may have changed, 
 but I shall never forget — I have never for- 
 gotten — the days when it was allowed me 
 to share your ambition. I share no ambition 
 now.' 
 
 ' Yet surely you have conquered for your- 
 self as splendid a position as an Englishwoman 
 could achieve. You are Lady Saxon. You 
 will be Duchess of Athelstane.' 
 
 ' Yes,' she answered ; ' and the triumph is 
 sweet to me, though sometimes — sometimes, 
 Victor, I ask myself whether Bohemia wasn't 
 a pleasanter place to live in than Mayfair. I 
 exult in it, and I scorn it at the same time ; 
 for all that sort of thing isn't my highest am- 
 bition, and never was, and you know it. But 
 we have dropped the curtain on old scenes,
 
 'WHO SHALL SEPARATE US?' 59 
 
 My husband cares about nothing except in a 
 dull, heavy, prosaic way. He doesn't care 
 one straw for the highest prize and the highest 
 fame that political life could give. I always 
 longed to be the wife and the comrade of a 
 fighting man ; and now — well, I don't want 
 to talk of myself, I want to talk of you. You 
 are meditating a great stroke. I know that 
 much. I don't ask you what it Is ; I only ask 
 if I can help you in it.' 
 
 ' Help me ? Without knowing what it Is ? 
 without asking ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' without knowing — without asking, if 
 you wish. It will be enough for me to know 
 that I am helping you In some scheme that 
 holds your heart.' 
 
 ' Josephine, ycu deserve my full confidence, 
 and you shall have it. Yes, I am sick of 
 being one of a party ; I am sick of compro- 
 mise and cold counsel, and postponement, 
 and — and surrender. I am determined to 
 make a great Radical Party and to lead it, as 
 I have never yet been able to lead. The 
 time has come to appeal to the imagination 
 and the passion of the English people. How 
 could such a people be enthusiastic about
 
 6o THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 petty modifications of the suffrage and pedd- 
 ling schemes about local government and 
 county boards ? We have no longer a great 
 party, because we have no longer a great 
 principle. I mean to appeal to the English 
 people on behalf of the first step to the 
 creation of a commonwealth, of an educated 
 democracy.' 
 
 ' The first step ?' she asked, with all the 
 seeming of breathless interest. 
 
 'The abolition of the House of Lords. 
 Let us have our Sovereign and our people ; 
 the Sovereign of the people, with no privi- 
 leged class or chamber to intervene. Loose 
 the bonds of England, and let her go. Then 
 for the first time we shall see what an English 
 commonwealth is capable of attempting and 
 achievine. We shall gather our colonies 
 round us as the bird gathers her young. 
 Come the three corners of the world in arms, 
 and we shall shock them.' 
 
 He spoke in a tone kept purposely low, 
 and his voice dropped to a whisper now and 
 then as they passed in their walk some other 
 promenaders. But his look and manner were 
 full of enthusiasm. He always spoke like a
 
 'WHO SHALL SEPARATE US?' 6i 
 
 man addressing an audience whom he has to 
 persuade and carry with him. 
 
 ' Have you spoken to anyone of this as 
 yet ?' she asked. 
 
 ' Not as yet ; at least not in any distinct way.' 
 
 * Not to Lord Saxon ?' 
 
 * Not to Lord Saxon. He is your hus- 
 band ; but you won't mind my saying that he 
 is not a man to warm to such a scheme. At 
 least, he is not a man with imagination to 
 take to it at once.' 
 
 * You see, it would pull down the House of 
 which he is one day to be a member,' said 
 Lady Saxon thoughtfully. 
 
 * Do you know, I don't think such a con- 
 sideration would influence Saxon in the least,' 
 he said. ' I do him that justice. I am sure 
 that if it could only be got into his mind 
 that it would be for the good of England, he 
 would give the scheme his heartiest support. 
 I hope to be able to convince him that it is 
 for the good of England ; but I don't believe 
 it would do to flash such a proposal on him 
 at the present moment. When it takes shape 
 and he finds that it is a reality, he may then 
 come to it.'
 
 62 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 ' He will never come to it,' Lady Saxon 
 said firmly. * You may make up your mind 
 to that, Victor. Sooner or later, you will 
 have to separate from him.' 
 
 'You think so.' 
 
 ' I am convinced of it. It might be pos- 
 sible, perhaps, through my influence to pull 
 Saxon up to a division on some general 
 declaration of a wish for some reform of 
 that kind.' She paused. ' Beyond that I 
 doubt.' 
 
 * Your influence over him is strong.' 
 
 ' I suppose so. I have not cared to ex- 
 ercise it in political matters.' She seemed 
 to be reflecting. ' I don't know^ ; it might 
 be possible to carry him over the crisis 
 which would oust the Tories. That even 
 would be something worth trying for. I 
 suppose it is your idea ultimately to go to the 
 country.' 
 
 ' Yes, when I have declared my purpose in 
 the House.' 
 
 ' You will not take Saxon with you. There 
 is bound to be a spHt of the party. Well, 
 what then, if it be strengthened from another 
 source } At the worst you can separate
 
 'WHO SHALL SEPARATE US?' 63 
 
 from him. You will be better without the 
 Whigs.' 
 
 He looked at her earnestly, full of admira- 
 tion for her courage and her quick decision. 
 He could not help thinking to himself, ' If I 
 had such a wife !' 
 
 * I know what was passing through your 
 mind this moment,' she said. * You were 
 thinking how it would be with you if you had 
 a wife with courage and ambition.' 
 
 ' I was indeed. How did you know ?' 
 ' I knew — oh, w^ell, because I was thinking 
 at that moment — if I had a husband with 
 courage and ambition. Well, I can help you, 
 I think, Victor.' 
 
 ' I should welcome help from you.' 
 ' I know there is one man whom you would 
 like to bring to your side ; a very different 
 sort of man from my husband.' 
 
 ' There is one man,' Champion said slowly, 
 ' to whom I have even made a sort of over- 
 ture, because he has talents and imagination 
 and any amount of courage, and, I presume, 
 ambition, and because he has a mind free 
 from stupid tradition and inane party preju- 
 dice.'
 
 64 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 * Yes ; we mean the same man,' she said 
 composedly. 
 
 * Are you sure ?' he said, with a certain 
 degree of hesitation. 
 
 'We both mean Mr. Bellarmln.' 
 
 * Yes — you were right just now when you 
 said he had a future. I think highly of him. 
 He Is forming a party which he has purposely 
 pledged to nothing but a name ; and I do not 
 see why Progressive Toryism and Educated 
 Democracy should not be accepted as meaning 
 one and the same thln^.' 
 
 Lady Saxon looked keenly Into his face to 
 see whether he was speaking these words In 
 irony or sarcasm. But he was not ; he 
 was quite in earnest. He had little of the 
 humourist in him. He was considering in 
 all gravity whether the two designations 
 might not, by bold and clever manipulation, 
 be made out to mean the same thing for 
 political purposes. 
 
 ' What has Mr. Bellarmln said ?' she asked. 
 
 ' Hardly anything, so far.' 
 
 ' Of course you didn't speak to him your- 
 self?' 
 
 * Oh no ; that would never do. It Is too
 
 'WHO SHALL SEPARATE US?' 65 
 
 early for that. I got a man to open the 
 thing to him in a tentative sort of way.' 
 
 * Who was the man, Victor ? Tell me.' 
 The manner in which she took possession 
 
 of his confidence had a certain fascination for 
 him. He had for so long been such a lonely 
 man, that her frank assumption of cainaraderie 
 and companionship had a sweet and soothing 
 sound in his ears. 
 
 'Of course I will tell you. It was 
 TresseL' 
 
 * That man ! Victor, you have made a mis- 
 take. Bellarmin would never treat as serious 
 anything coming through TresseL' 
 
 ' I believe Mr. Tressel is profoundly serious. 
 I think he showed it by his pluck in resigning 
 and standing another contest,' Sir Victor said, 
 looking at her with puckered brows. He did 
 not like being told that he had made a mis- 
 take, and especially such a mistake. 
 
 'Very possibly; I know little or nothing 
 about him. You probably know the real 
 man. But the world does not take him 
 seriously ; and Mr. Bellarmin would not have 
 any way of knowing that you had got at the 
 man's true self No ; Bellarmin would not 
 
 VOL. I. - ::
 
 66 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 open his mind to him. You must try again, 
 and through some one else.' 
 
 ' You are the leader now, not I,' he said, 
 with a smile that gave a peculiar sweetness to 
 his melancholy face. 'Well, Josephine, tell 
 me the man you would recommend.' 
 
 ' I don't recommend any man. I don't think 
 it's a man's office. I recommend a woman.' 
 
 The smile passed from his face, and was 
 succeeded by a look of wonder. 
 ' A woman ?' he said slowly. 
 ' A woman, Victor — the one woman who 
 could be trusted in anything that concerned 
 you. I offer you my own wits, such as they 
 are, for this purpose. Let me negotiate with 
 Mr. Bellarmin. See, there he is.' 
 
 She stopped suddenly, and made Champion 
 also stop. She looked towards the doorway 
 of stone through which one comes on to the 
 Terrace from the interior of the House. Bel- 
 larmin was coming out, escorting Miss Beaton, 
 and Miss Beaton's retinue. A peculiar light 
 flashed in Lady Saxon's eyes as she saw the 
 group. 
 
 ' You know who the lady is ?' Sir Victor 
 said, in a low tone.
 
 'WHO SHALL SEPARATE US?' 67 
 
 ' Oh yes ; I have heard. A woman whose 
 friends tell her she is the legitimate Queen of 
 England. What childish absurdity — in days 
 like these, too !' 
 
 * If Bellarmin should become devoted to 
 her,' Sir Victor said, ' she will not be likely to 
 inspire him with much Inclination for the 
 abolition of the House of Lords, and the 
 cause of a Democratic Commonwealth.' 
 
 Lady Saxon looked curiously at him, once 
 again wondering whether he was not speaking 
 in satire. But no ; Sir Victor was quite in 
 earnest. He was considering within himself 
 whether it might not be to the disadvantage 
 of his position if Bellarmin were to be taken 
 captive by the feminine representative of 
 Divine right and the cause of legitimacy. 
 
 ' We must intervene,' Lady Saxon said with 
 alacrity and emphasis. ' He has had no time 
 yet to be influenced by her. He never saw 
 her until to-night.' 
 
 Perhaps, up to this moment, Sir Victor had 
 not been very cordial in his reception of Lady 
 Saxon's generous offer. Champion w^as never 
 much of a believer in the use of the petticoat 
 in politics. In spite of his asseveration to 
 
 5—2
 
 68 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 Lady Saxon, it was said that more than once 
 in his life he had been strongly under the 
 influence of some woman ; but that influence 
 had not shown itself in his policy. Now, 
 however, as he looked at Miss Beaton and at 
 Bellarmin together, and saw how beautiful 
 she was, and how young she was, he did 
 begin to admit to himself that the intervention 
 of a brilliant and fascinating woman like Lady 
 Saxon would have some advantage. He saw 
 that her eyes were lighted already with the 
 flame of battle. He admired her. He felt a 
 pride and a new delight in her professed 
 devotion to him. They continued their 
 walk. 
 
 * You accept my service, Victor ?' Lady 
 Saxon asked. 
 
 ' Most cordially. I put my trust fully in 
 you. Speak to Bellarmin. Tell him as 
 much as you like, or as little.' 
 
 * And we are friends and comrades once 
 more ?' 
 
 * Friends and comrades once more. Who 
 shall separate us ?' 
 
 Just then they turned again, and came 
 towards Miss Beaton and Bellarmin.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 MARY BEATON. 
 
 BRIGHT gleam of Interest lighted 
 up Mary Beaton's eyes when Lord 
 Stonehenge presented Bellarmin. 
 She had been hearing a good deal lately of 
 the bold, brilliant young political free-lance ; 
 but she had not remembered just at that 
 moment that he was so young, and it was 
 with a pleased surprise that she saw the hand- 
 some, well-shaped, well-dressed youth brought 
 to her notice as Mr. Rolfe Bellarmin. Her 
 very first words, much more abrupt than 
 ceremonious, were sweeter to Bellarmln's ear 
 and heart than the most courtly turn of com- 
 pliment. 
 
 ' Mr. Rolfe Bellarmin ! I am delighted
 
 70 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 but I never thought you were so young — and 
 you have done so much.' 
 
 Their eyes met, and hers were all bright- 
 ness and vivacious kindliness. He felt his 
 cheeks flush with a strancre feeline, half 
 modesty, half mere delight. Her frank, sweet 
 expression seemed to single him out at once 
 w^ith especial interest. She held out her hand 
 to him, and he bent over it with the deference 
 he would have shown to the princess of a 
 reigning house. His instinct at once told 
 him that thus he must meet the free and 
 friendly graciousness of her reception. He 
 spoke a few words of gratefulness, of gratifi- 
 cation that she had heard of him, and he ad- 
 dressed her as ' Madame.' He had heard 
 Lord Stonehenge do so, and he assumed that 
 this was done in recognition of her illustrious 
 birth, her claims, and her peculiar position ; 
 and Bellarmin did not find that it qualified or 
 compromised his allegiance to the Sovereign 
 of England to give to this beautiful, interest- 
 ing and most friendly creature any title which 
 her friends wished to adopt for her, and which 
 she was willing to receive. Mary Beaton 
 really felt much interested in him. He was
 
 MARY BEATON. 71 
 
 young, like herself, and there was a glance in 
 his eye which spoke of a vivacity somewhat 
 wanting in those who chiefly surrounded her. 
 
 * Yes, I have heard of you,' she said ; ' and 
 of your party of young Progressives. I like 
 anything fresh and original, Mr. Bellarmin, 
 and I am afraid,' she said in a somewhat 
 lower tone, ' that I have a leaning towards 
 anything which is called young.' 
 
 She threw a somewhat mischievous glance 
 backward at an elderly lady with a prim face 
 and white hair, dressed a la Marquise^ who 
 stood behind her, and at the stately, soldier- 
 like old man whom Bellarmin had described 
 to Lady Saxon as her factotum. General 
 Falcon was gazing at her intently, and sur- 
 prised her glance. A sudden gleam shot from 
 his eyes, and for a moment transformed his 
 calm, severe face, giving it an expression of 
 fierceness, almost of malignity. It was as 
 though he interpreted and resented Miss 
 Beaton's playful look. Both Mary and Bel- 
 larmin were struck by this unexpected fire. 
 Mary laughed lightly. 
 
 * Now, you wouldn't think that General 
 Falcon was touchy on the subject of his
 
 72 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 years ?' she said, in alow tone ; * but I assure 
 you he is as vain as my dear Lady Struthers, 
 who will tell you, if you ask her, why her 
 hair turned gray so prematurely.' She shook 
 her head in an amused manner at the General, 
 who bent his ceremoniously, but did not speak. 
 'All the same, Mr. Bellarmin, I did not ex- 
 pect to find you so young,' Mary went on. 
 ' It's such a strange thing with all you English 
 statesmen and politicians — you are all so old. 
 I mean the others are all so old. I am told 
 of some one who is said to be a rising politi- 
 cian, still quite young ; and I see a man of 
 forty, forty-five, or fifty perhaps. Look at 
 Lord Saxon. I always heard of him as a 
 young man — and look !' 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders with a pretty 
 movement of wonder and protest. 
 
 * Yes, we think Lord Saxon quite a youth- 
 ful and rising politician,' replied Bellarmin ; 
 * and then,' he added, with a glance towards 
 Lady Saxon and the Liberal chief, who were 
 moving off to the Terrace, ' there's Sir 
 Victor.' 
 
 'Oh, tell me about Sir Victor!' Mary cried 
 eagerly. ' It doesn't seem to matter with
 
 MARY BEATOX. 73 
 
 him whether he is young or old. I've heard 
 and read all kinds of things about him. I 
 want to know why he has got the nickname 
 of " Lucifer " ?' 
 
 ' It came out of a joke of Tommy Tres- 
 sel's,' answ^ered Bellarmin. ' Champion was 
 making a speech in one of his most highly 
 wrought moods, just a trifle too highly 
 wrought perhaps ; and he was glorifying his 
 own political career, and showing how abso- 
 lutely consistent it w^as. " My mission is to 
 bring light," he exclaimed, and then Tommy 
 Tressel was heard to murmur dreamily the 
 one word " Lucifer !" So the House laughed, 
 and it stuck to Champion.' 
 
 ' But I thought Mr. Tressel was a devoted 
 follower of Sir Victor Champion's ? Was not 
 that why they cheered Sir Victor so much 
 just now ?* 
 
 ' Oh yes ; but Tressel likes to have his 
 fun with Champion's little weaknesses all the 
 same. He does Champion real service ; he 
 will do anything for him almost, and he pays 
 himself with a laugh every now and then. 
 Another man would expect a baronetcy, or a 
 Privy-Councillorship, or a place in the Ad-
 
 74 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 ministration, or a peerage. Tressel cares for 
 none of these things. He considers himself 
 amply repaid by being allowed to make fun 
 of his chief sometimes.' 
 
 ' Quite a court jester,' Mary said scorn- 
 fully. 
 
 * Well, one doesn't altogether despise 
 Chicot the Jester,' replied Bellarmin ; ' but 
 Tressel is much more than a mere jester. 
 He is one of the most disinterested public 
 men I know.' 
 
 * A man ought to have ambition — a high 
 ambition, I mean. I am attracted by Sir 
 Victor Champion. He has a high ambition, 
 everyone says. Yet it may be a little weari- 
 some sometimes to those around.' Mary 
 spoke in a different tone, as if her mind had 
 been drawn along some new line of thought. 
 ' General Falcon has great ambition for me, 
 and it wearies me sometimes. I think, per- 
 haps, I should like Mr. Tressel now and 
 then to come and say amusing things and 
 make me laugh.' 
 
 Her manner touched Bellarmin. There 
 seemed to him something curiously pathetic 
 in the position of this young girl. ' She
 
 MARY BEATON. 75 
 
 must be lonely,' he thought. All her views 
 of life must be strangely coloured by the 
 conditions under which she had been brought 
 up. He had an odd desire to talk to her 
 about herself — to get at what she really felt, 
 and thought, and hoped for. 
 
 ' There is Lord Stonehenge,' Mary said 
 suddenly. ' Now, he is young ; but yet he is 
 so grave and serious that I never could dare 
 to approach him with the frivolity of youth. 
 I am afraid you were very much shocked 
 just now. Lord Stonehenge,' she added, turn- 
 ing towards him, * when I w^as so near 
 blundering into the very midst of the House 
 of Commons ?' 
 
 * Not so shocked as ]Mr. Leven, who has 
 an intense reverence for the forms and tradi- 
 tions of the House,' said Lord Stonehenge, 
 smiling in his grave, sweet manner. ' Besides, 
 you have an ancestral claim, Madame, to a 
 place on certain occasions in another House.' 
 
 Mary smiled. 
 
 ' We mustn't bring Mr. Bellarmin into 
 our traitorous schemes. I see he is thinkinof 
 already of Tower Hill and the block.' 
 
 ' I think nothing would be more delightful
 
 76 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 than to die on Tower Hill,' Bellarmin an- 
 swered; 'that would be dying like a gentle- 
 man — like a brave loyal Englishman of a 
 better time than ours.' 
 
 * Is that the faith of the Progressive 
 Tories ?' Mary asked. ' Do you speak for 
 your party, Mr. Bellarmin, or only for your- 
 self ? You see, I have learned something of 
 your political phraseology already.' 
 
 Meanwhile General Falcon and Lady 
 Struthers, who was Miss Beaton's gotive^ni- 
 ante, chaperone, Mistress of the Robes or 
 such-like anomalous functionary, had been 
 communincr too^ether. 
 
 ' Madame expressed herself anxious to 
 see the Terrace, Lord Stonehenge,' said 
 Lady Struthers. ' Is the present an appro- 
 priate time for Madame's wish to be grati- 
 fied r 
 
 'Just a moment, my good Struthers,' 
 Madame said, apparently in no impatient 
 anxiety for the Terrace. * I want you to tell 
 me, Mr. Bellarmin ; are there any of your 
 celebrities in the lobby just now ?' 
 
 * Lord Stonehenge has just been saying 
 that there are not any,' General Falcon
 
 MARY BEATON. yy 
 
 observed ; ' and Lord Stonehenge knows 
 everybody.' 
 
 * On the contrary,' Lord Stonehenge gravely 
 Interposed, ' I know very few. I seldom come 
 here. Mr. Bellarmin is ever so much a better 
 guide.' 
 
 ' There Is no one, I'm afraid,' said Bel- 
 larmin. 
 
 Miss Beaton studied the lobby. 
 
 ' What a strange-looking, venerable old 
 man ! I never saw a face like his before. 
 Who Is he ? He Is a celebrity, surely.' 
 
 ' Yes ; In a sense,' replied Bellarmin. 
 * He is an odd sort of person. That Is old 
 Clarence Greenleaf He has sat for one and 
 the same constituency for fifty-seven years. 
 He has never spoken In the House ; there Is 
 a tradition that he once presented a petition. 
 He boasts that he has never missed a divi- 
 sion. The House Is his home. It Is all 
 the world to him. He has neither kith nor 
 kin. He was never married. He knows 
 everybody a little, and nobody well. He 
 likes to make the acquaintance of anyone 
 who Is a celebrity, or Is even talked about. 
 He calls himself a Liberal, but in reality he
 
 78 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 has no politics. I see him looking at you 
 with intense interest. I have no doubt he is 
 planning in his mind how he may get pre- 
 sented to you.' 
 
 * Poor old man !' exclaimed Mary, to whom 
 the picture seemed a pathetic illustration of 
 the life of the House of Commons. 'Will 
 you present him ?^ 
 
 'May I.?' 
 
 ' Oh yes ; if he cares about it.' 
 
 * He will only be too delighted. You may 
 be sure that he knows all about you already.' 
 
 Bellarmin crossed the lobby, and imme- 
 diately returned with Mr. Greenleaf, who 
 came alonsf makingf a succession of solemn 
 bows, and had taken off his hat the moment 
 he first put himself in motion. 
 
 * Madame has been kind enough to say 
 that she wishes you to be presented to her.' 
 
 ' Madame is all graciousness,' the old man 
 said, in a thin, reedy voice, and again bowing 
 lowly before Mary. ' I had the great honour 
 of knowing Madame's father. He sat for a 
 while in this House before he succeeded 
 Madame's honoured grandfather in the title. 
 I had the honour of seeing Madame herself
 
 MARY BEATON. 79 
 
 when Madame was a child, in the palace of 
 my illustrious friend the late Grand Duke of 
 Schwalbenstadt. May I trust that Madame 
 will grace and favour us by making a long 
 stay in England? — which is indeed her country 
 in some sense.' 
 
 * England, I hope, is my country in every 
 sense, Mr. Greenleaf,' Mary said; ' I was not 
 born here ; but it is my country. It was the 
 country of my ancestors.' 
 
 ' Madame cannot claim the country more 
 eagerly than the country claims her,' and he 
 bent again as he might to a queen on her 
 throne. Then Mary bowed, and, so to speak, 
 dismissed him. The old gentleman went 
 away delighted with himself. He had con- 
 trived to let her know, he thought, that he 
 understood her position and her claims ; and 
 without compromising himself had almost 
 given it to be understood that on the whole 
 he rather favoured them than otherwise in 
 his secret heart. Mary, for her part, was 
 amused. 
 
 ' I think Mr. Greenleaf managed his part 
 very prettily,' she said; 'he almost made a 
 profession of true allegiance to me. But I
 
 8o THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 saved him from compromising himself with 
 the Hanoverian people. I stopped him just 
 in time.' 
 
 ' You have made him very happy,' said 
 Bellarmln. * He will become quite a figure 
 at every dinner-party for the next few weeks 
 on the strength of this Interview with you.' 
 
 The young man laughed softly as he spoke, 
 but his laugh had something tender In It, and 
 w^as rather the outcome of that curious com- 
 passion he was beginning to feel than of 
 any sense of amusement at the unconscious 
 assumption of the young Pretendress. 'At 
 any rate, she Is perfectly sincere,' he thought. 
 * I am glad she has faith In herself.' 
 
 Miss Beaton's eyes roved round In eager 
 curiosity. Now they looked up at the groined 
 celling ; now down at the tessellated pave- 
 ment and at the Inscription in Old English 
 letters which surrounded It. ' General Falcon,' 
 she said imperiously, ' why haven't I been 
 here before ? I want to go all over the 
 House.' 
 
 * It can be very easily arranged, Madame,' 
 returned P'alcon. ' I am sure that Mr. Leven 
 or Mr. Bellarmln '
 
 MARY BEATON. 8i 
 
 'Are entirely at your service, Madame/ 
 put in Bellarmin. ' Would you like to see the 
 library and the reading-rooms now, before we 
 go on to the Terrace ?' 
 
 The little party moved along the corridor, 
 Bellarmin and Mary in front, Falcon closely 
 following them. Mary examined the oak 
 presses as she passed, and looked in at 
 open doors, and asked questions about 
 everything, sometimes turning to Falcon as 
 to her recognised protector, more often to 
 Bellarmin. 
 
 ' I like this place,' she said. ' It excites 
 me. Watching people and things here is like 
 seeing the heart of England beating. Isn't 
 it so ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Bellarmin, his eyes fixed 
 upon her. 
 
 * Here is the heart of a crreat nation,' Mary 
 went on enthusiastically ; ' here, in West- 
 minster. Oh ! I wish ' she stopped 
 
 abruptly. 
 
 ' What do you wish ?' asked Bellarmin. 
 
 * Never mind. You people who are at the 
 core of it all, and who sit here and make the 
 laws, don't seem to notice or to care about 
 
 VOL. T. 6
 
 82 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 the wrong and misery that are crying at the 
 very doors of this Westminster/ 
 
 They were about to enter the library, and 
 had just passed the door that leads Into the 
 newspaper- room and the members' tea-room 
 beyond. At the side of this door, the side 
 nearest to the library, stands a desk, beside 
 which members often stop to read letters or 
 to write a hasty note, or to confer with some- 
 body. 
 
 ' Let us not go in just yet,' Bellarmin said; 
 ■" I can't take you Into the library under these 
 new regulations. Let us stop here a moment. 
 I am anxious to hear you on this subject.' He 
 was really much interested in Miss Beaton's 
 views, and was glad to have a chance of 
 knowing how the condition of things in Eng- 
 land impressed her. 
 
 The little party came to a stand accord- 
 ingly. 
 
 ' Oh, I haven't anything to say which can 
 be new to you. I have only my own crude 
 notions. I judge hastily, perhaps, by what I 
 see. Well, for instance, it was only yesterday 
 we walked about some of your streets — 
 General Falcon and I — I like to go about
 
 MARY BEATON. 83 
 
 among the people in that way ; for how could 
 I do any good if I did not know ? We had 
 a friend with us, a lady who is interested in 
 that work ; and we went into some alleys and 
 houses. Oh, Mr. Bellarmin !' Mary stopped 
 short, and clasped her hands excitedly. 
 
 'Well?' he said. 
 
 ' It chills me to the marrow ; it makes my 
 blood freeze, to see these hideous contrasts — 
 this terrible poverty, that lavish wealth. It's 
 like death behind a carnival mask hauntino- 
 one everywhere — when one is driving in the 
 streets and the Park ; when one is going in 
 to smart parties. Oh ! do you remember the 
 face of that man last night ?' She turned to 
 General Falcon and then again to Bellarmin. 
 ' A man was trying to sleep as he cowered in 
 the doorstep of a fine house — and the woman, 
 the girl, the child who was trying to get 
 coppers by sweeping a crossing ! Oh ! what 
 sights for a Christian country ! Thank God 
 that I am not really Queen of England ! No, 
 though — I wish I were, I wish I were Oueen 
 of England only for one day, as somebody 
 was Caliph of Bagdad, or wherever it was. 
 I would do something for the poor. I would
 
 84 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 do something, too^^jfor the rich; for while 
 things go on as they are in England — look 
 you/ she said, sinking her voice to a low, 
 grave tone, ' these rich cannot enter the 
 Kingdom of Heaven.' 
 
 ' What can they do ? They can't help 
 being rich,' Falcon said abruptly. 
 
 * No, can't they ? Can't help being rich ! 
 And people as good as they starving in thou- 
 sands all round them, at their gates, on their 
 doorsteps. And they can't help being rich T 
 she cried, in her childish way, the tears start- 
 ing to her eyes. ' I feel sometimes, when I 
 am sitting down to my good dinner — when I 
 am putting on my jewels — as if I were the 
 most cruel and heartless girl who had ever 
 lived. And I can do so little. They will 
 let me do so little. I think to myself how it 
 will be with me when I stand up before the 
 judgment-seat. Shall I be asked, How much 
 have you ? or, How much have you given 
 away ?' 
 
 ' It is quite true,' said Lady Struthers in an 
 aside to Lord Stonehenge. ' The misery in 
 London preys upon her frightfully. She gives 
 away all that she can. She would have sold
 
 MARY BEATON. 
 
 her jewels if It had not been represented to 
 her that they were heirlooms.' 
 
 Bellarmin heard the aside. Mary had 
 moved to another table. He followed her. 
 * But money given away in thoughtless charity 
 does no good to anyone, the giver or the re- 
 ceiver,' he said. 
 
 ' Thoughtless charity ? No ; but could 
 true charity ever be thoughtless ? And see 
 what you have made of it, what they have 
 made of it, w^hoever they are, who are always 
 preaching against thoughtless charity — yes. 
 and practising very faithfully against it, I 
 haven't the slightest doubt. What have they 
 made of things, and of life here in England — 
 here in London ? Could any thoughtless 
 charity make a worse hand of it ? Can you 
 get me to believe that the condition of things 
 is right and satisfactory in which one woman 
 spends a thousand pounds in flowers for a 
 single ball — the show and pleasure of one 
 night — and another, just as good as she, gets 
 three halfpennies — yes, they told me it is so, 
 three halfpennies ; a penny and a half — for 
 making a shirt.'
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ' IF YOU WERE QUEEN. 
 
 HAT would you do if you were 
 Queen ?' Bellarmin asked. 
 
 He was deeply interested in 
 her vivid faith — in her own power to settle 
 much-perplexed economical problems. 
 
 ' I can't tell you offhand,' Mary answered, 
 with a certain self-sufficing imperiousness of 
 manner. ' But I can tell you this, Mr. Bel- 
 larmin, I would do something". I would 
 devote my life and my thoughts and my care 
 to it. I would set my heart on settling the 
 question ; and I should end in setding it. I 
 would never rest happy while a single honest 
 Englishman or Englishwoman was starving 
 for want of employment, and hundreds of
 
 'IF YOU WERE QUEEN J S? 
 
 thousands of other EngHshmen and English- 
 women who never wrought one stroke of 
 work in their Hves were sinking into the 
 mere corruption of too much wealth. Yes, if 
 I were Queen — Queens can do so much !' 
 
 * Things are very bad in America — in the 
 United States/ Lord Stonehenge struck in. 
 ^ The contrast between extreme of wealth and 
 extreme of poverty is equally terrible there, I 
 am told.' 
 
 ' Yes,' Mary answered, shifting her ground 
 with quick, sweet, woman-like disregard of 
 logical consistency ; ' but then America has 
 not a Queen. Everything is left there to drag 
 on at the mercy of politicians and political 
 economists and all that ; and there is no pre- 
 siding influence, no presiding sympathy, to 
 intervene and give a chance to something 
 better. Well, I should try, if I had the chance. 
 Now nobody cares. It is everyone for him- 
 self and God for us all — only fancy God being 
 for the set of wretches who were everyone tor 
 himself!' 
 
 She flung her handkerchief on the desk with 
 the air of a sovereign who throws down his 
 truncheon to signify that enough has been
 
 88 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 done in a duel, that the fight is over, and that 
 the combatants must now be parted. 
 
 There was nothing new in what she had 
 been saying. Bellarmin admitted that to him- 
 self. H er logic was crude, her facts were faulty. 
 It was all just the same sort of thing that he 
 had heard many a woman say before. Almost 
 every sweet- natured, intelligent woman in 
 countries like ours has said the same at one 
 time or another. The fact is that women 
 never did, and never will, acknowledge the 
 absolute authority of economic law. The in- 
 telligent women do not go the length of saying 
 that there is no fixed economic law ; only they 
 have the impertinence to suggest that men 
 have not yet got an absolutely certain know- 
 ledge of the exact interpretation of the law. 
 Woman is by nature a mutinous creature, and 
 on this question of political economy she will 
 not allow herself to admit that her husband or 
 her brother or her father is infallible. * They 
 are a poor lot, these women ; they can never 
 reason,' says Mr. Huncks, M. P., after a futile 
 attempt to persuade his wife that the eternal 
 conditions of human society justify starvation 
 and the three-halfpence for the making of a
 
 'IF YOU WERE QUEEX: 89 
 
 shirt. Bellarmin was not without some secret 
 miso^ivine about the woman's view of the 
 subject. He fancied sometimes that she had 
 got hold of her half of the truth, and that the 
 man had not quite got hold of his, and that 
 some day or other an attempt must be made 
 by statesmanship to bring the two halves to- 
 gether in the construction of a sound social 
 system. But even if Bellarmin did not admit 
 to the full all the feminine reasoning of jNIary 
 Stuart Beaton, he was none the less charmed 
 with her fresh sweetness of nature, her gene- 
 rous impulsiveness, her bold self-confidence, 
 her simplicity, her quick and flashing sym- 
 pathy. A man, he thought, felt braver and 
 better for talking to her ; for hearing her talk. 
 
 ' Can you do nothing in the House of Com- 
 mons, Mr. Bellarmin ?' she suddenly asked. 
 
 ' Nothing ; nothing whatever. Nothing, at 
 least, that you would call anything. I am 
 speaking now of what we call independent 
 members. They can't do anything. Even 
 if w^e saw our way to any proposal — and we 
 don't — what could we do ? Put on some 
 motion by the favour of the ballot for a 
 Tuesday night ; and if we succeeded in get-
 
 90 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 ting an early date, bring on our motion, and 
 be counted out.' 
 
 * But why don't you all stand together, you 
 independent members, and not be counted 
 out?' 
 
 * Because,' he answered gravely, ' we Eng- 
 lish are a practical people.' 
 
 Mary said no more, and they passed into 
 another corridor, and after some further 
 wandering, and an attempt to hear part of a 
 speech from the back row of chairs in the 
 Ladies' Gallery, they went down to the Ter- 
 race. As they were going down, a telegram 
 was thrust into Bellarmin's hand. He glanced 
 at it ; this is what it contained : 
 
 *Am coming up to town to-night. Shall be at Spinola's. 
 Be sure to go ; want to talk to you. 
 
 ' Tressel.' 
 
 Lady Struthers thought all that she heard 
 about politics in England very shocking. It 
 was her first visit to the House of Commons, 
 and she asked many questions — wanted to 
 know who the men in wigs were sitting at the 
 table, and why members got up and walked 
 this way and that like a flock of sheep when
 
 IF YOU WERE queen: 91 
 
 the bell rang ; and if it were a division, why 
 weren't Sir Victor Champion and Mr. Bellar- 
 min in their places ; and since it was all of no 
 consequence, what was the good of wasting 
 people's time for nothing ? General Falcon, 
 who, in a quiet way, was amassing a good 
 deal of information, had already made a men- 
 tal note of Tressel as a man who ought to be 
 propitiated on the subject of ^lary Beaton's 
 claims to the forfeited Stuart property. 
 
 These two principal members of Miss 
 Beaton's household differed in one important 
 respect. Falcon was reticent, and made his 
 observations in secret. Lady Struthers blurted 
 out her opinions with an undesirable lack of 
 discretion. People who knew both looked 
 upon Lady Struthers as a harmless, good- 
 natured person, but there were many who re- 
 garded Falcon with vague dislike and distrust. 
 
 As has been seen, Lady Saxon and Sir 
 Victor were passing by when Mary Beaton 
 and her companions came out through the 
 massive doorway on to the Terrace. Mary 
 noticed that Lady Saxon paused in her walk; 
 noticed also the look she turned on Bellarmin. 
 An involuntary movement on Bellarmin's part
 
 92 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 also Struck the young girl. She was going to 
 ask him a question about the regal-looking 
 woman whom she had remarked in the lobby, 
 and whom she concluded to be a person of 
 consequence, when General Palcon pressed 
 rather eagerly forward. 
 
 ' Mr. Bellarmin, can you tell me — who is 
 that lady ?' 
 
 * That is Lady Saxon,' replied Bellarmin, 
 * the wife of Lord Saxon, to whom we spoke 
 in the lobby.' 
 
 ' The wife of Lord Saxon ! Is it possible ? 
 She has not been long married T 
 
 'About two years,' answered Bellarmin care- 
 lessly. ' Why do you ask ?' 
 
 ' Oh, for no particular reason. I fancied 
 that I recognised her as a lady whom I have 
 seen in Schwalbenstadt.' 
 
 ' Lady Saxon's first husband was a German,' 
 said Bellarmin. He turned to Miss Beaton. 
 ' Do you admire Lady Saxon ? She is con- 
 sidered one of the most beautiful women in 
 London.' 
 
 * Yes ; I think her very beautiful,' answered 
 Mary, a little constrainedly. ' But I don't 
 know that I like her. They say, Mr. Bellar-
 
 'IF YOU WERE queen: 93 
 
 min, that women are not fair judges of one 
 another. I am quite sure that I should not 
 Hke to have Lady Saxon for an enemy, or 
 even for a friend.' 
 
 The words made Bellarmin colour a little 
 and wince — almost start. They touched him, 
 even hurt him, in a curious way. Miss Beaton 
 saw that she had given him pain. 
 
 ' Oh, I ask your pardon !' she said earnestly. 
 * I am so sorry — I forgot that Lady Saxon 
 was a friend of yours. I really meant nothing, 
 Mr. Bellarmin ; it was only my absurd, im- 
 pulsive way of saying right out any nonsensical 
 idea that comes into my mind.' 
 
 ' I hope you will always speak to me in the 
 same frank way,' Bellarmin said, he, too, 
 yielding to sudden impulse ; and he spoke 
 the words with a certain emotion which a 
 little surprised Miss Beaton. 
 
 General Falcon was standing near them, 
 looking impatient. Just then a soft sheet of 
 summer lightning enveloped the scene, and 
 there came a long low roll of thunder. 
 
 ' Come, Madame,' General Falcon said im- 
 peratively ; ' it is time to leave this place ; a 
 storm is coming.'
 
 94 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 * My good Falcon, there is no need for 
 haste ; we are near enough to shelter if rain 
 should come.' 
 
 ' But you ought not to remain any longer,' 
 Falcon remonstrated. ' Madame will per- 
 ceive, too, that she is keeping Mr. , this 
 
 gentleman, from his Parliamentary duties, 
 which, I have no doubt, are highly important.' 
 General Falcon spoke in accents of hardly 
 suppressed passion. Miss Beaton looked up, 
 surprised. A cloud gathered on her face. 
 
 ^ You must forgive the zeal of my friend 
 General Falcon,' she said, turning to Bellar- 
 min. ' He is always somewhat too anxious 
 about me.' 
 
 * General Falcon's zeal for you doesn't need 
 any excuse,' Bellarmin answered ; ' it can only 
 recommend him to all your friends.' Bellar- 
 min really felt what he said ; he was not in 
 the least angry with Falcon. 
 
 'The acquaintance is too short for Mr. 
 Bellarmin to presume to call himself one of 
 Madame's friends,' Falcon interposed rudely. 
 
 Bellarmin now, indeed, felt angry, and was 
 on the point of expressing his anger in words- 
 Miss Beaton stopped him with a look.
 
 'IF YOU WERE queen: 95 
 
 * You are forgetting yourself, General Fal- 
 con/ she said coldly and with decision. * I 
 have to ask Mr. Bellarmin, as a favour to 
 me, to forgive your rudeness, and to be- 
 lieve, as I do, that it is not meant to give 
 offence.' 
 
 At this moment Lady Saxon, who had 
 again passed, stopped and turned. Her 
 keen eyes and quick perceptions took in the 
 whole of the little group. She saw the em- 
 barrassed look of Bellarmin ; the enforced 
 composure of Miss Beaton ; the smouldering 
 fury in Falcon's eyes. Another flash of 
 summer lightning illumined and emphasized 
 the living picture. Lady Saxon could not, 
 of course, understand its meaning; but it told 
 her of some existing elements of discord, and 
 she was pleased. She marked out Falcon 
 from that moment as a man to be studied. 
 Then, with the manner of one who yields to 
 a sudden impulse, she advanced towards the 
 group. Lord Stonehenge was with her now, 
 as well as Sir Victor Champion. She came 
 directly to where Miss Beaton stood. 
 
 ' I have asked Lord Stonehenore to make 
 me known to Miss Beaton,' she said. ' My
 
 96 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 husband, I believe, has already had the honour 
 of being presented.' 
 
 Bellarmin felt surprised. It was not like 
 Lady Saxon to seek acquaintanceship with 
 one of her own sex in this informal fashion. 
 Her manner was graceful and winning, and 
 Mary frankly accepted the courtesy, though 
 with a certain dignity which was observed by 
 both Sir Victor and Bellarmin. There was 
 some desultory conversation about the beauty 
 of the night and the summer lightning, and 
 the debate which was going on. General 
 Falcon and Lady Struthers were presented ; 
 and then Lady Saxon and Bellarmin fell back 
 a few steps. She asked him to take her to 
 her carriage, and bade good-night to Miss 
 Beaton, saying that she hoped to be per- 
 mitted to call upon her shortly. 
 
 ' I dare say we shall meet later on this 
 evening,' she said to Rolfe. * Where are you 
 going ?' 
 
 * I am going to Madame Spinola's,' he 
 answered. 
 
 ' Madame Spinola's !' repeated Lady Saxon. 
 * I don't know Madame Spinola.' 
 
 ' I didn't suppose that you ever found your
 
 'IF YOU WERE QUEEN.' 97 
 
 way into Bohemia, Lady Saxon,' Bellarmin 
 said. 'It's a country that befriended me 
 when I was a homeless waif, and I owe it 
 some gratitude. No, I'm afraid I shan't turn 
 up at any of the places that you are going 
 to this evening.' 
 
 ' Good-night,' she said. There was some- 
 thing caressing in her voice. The footman 
 was holding her carriage-door. She stepped 
 forward, then turned her head back, looking 
 at him half over her shoulder. ' Remember 
 to-morrow,' she murmured, still in the same 
 caressing manner. Presently she had stepped 
 into the carriage. The door was closed, and 
 she was whirled oft. 
 
 Rolfe Bellarmin lingered a few minutes in 
 the stone-paved square at the entrance to the 
 Ladies' Gallery. He took out a cigarette and 
 lighted it, and said a few words to the police- 
 man on duty. It was getting late now — the 
 deep notes of Big Ben sounded the quarter 
 to eleven — late, that is, to outsiders. For 
 busy fashionable women with a ball or two 
 on hand, as well as for members of the House 
 of Commons, real night business was only 
 just beginning. 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 Two or three broughams were drawn up in 
 the courtyard. One of these, which had the 
 appearance of a carriage let out by the season, 
 Bellarmin conjectured to be that of Miss 
 Beaton. He wondered if she, too, were going 
 on to some ball, and decided that she was 
 not. Mary Stuart, in her black velvet gown 
 and coif-like bonnet, seemed an incongruous 
 figure against the unpoetic background of 
 London society. Why did she dress like her 
 far-off ancestress ? Was it part of the mas- 
 querade, part of the game ; or only a girlish 
 whim ? Was she rich, or a mere high-born 
 adventuress with whose shadowy claims 
 General Falcon was trading } Rolle recalled 
 all that he had heard, or fancied now that he 
 had heard, of Miss Beaton's parentage and 
 connections. No ; he felt sure that she was, if 
 not rich, certainly not poor. He had a dim 
 recollection of having read in some book of 
 memoirs of an estate left to the Stuarts in the 
 latter days of Anne, by a devotee of their 
 cause, and confiscated by the Hanoverians. 
 There was some reality then in the claims she 
 had come to urge, and about which, in talking 
 to Lady Saxon, he had by some momentary
 
 'IF YOU WERE queen: 99 
 
 freak seemed to know a great deal more than 
 he actually did know. 
 
 The girl interested him. She was old- 
 world, poetic. She appealed to the romantic 
 vein in his nature. She stood out in his 
 imagination like some moonlit statue that once 
 seen is never forgotten. As he strolled irreso- 
 lutely down the covered archway, he had a 
 vague intention of i^^oing to seek her. A 
 curious consciousness of disloyalty to Lady 
 Saxon checked the impulse, and he crossed 
 into Palace Yard, a sudden contrast to the 
 cloistral enclosure he had left. 
 
 There seemed something at once fantastic 
 and work-a-day in the aspect of the place — -a 
 blending of the past and the present ; of the 
 ideal and the actual. Bellarmin had in his 
 nature a greater admixture of the dreamer 
 than he would have been ready to admit. 
 He was struck by this thought to-nio^ht. The 
 great square, with its innumerable lamps, its 
 bustle and movement, the men passing to and 
 fro, the carriages and cabs, the newspaper 
 messengers hurrying with latest intelligence 
 to the shed where their horses stood saddled ; 
 and then the majestic walls of the building, 
 
 7—2
 
 loo THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 the spectral Clock Tower rising aloft, the 
 gray, solemn, time- stained Abbey, which ap- 
 peared so little in keeping with the roar and 
 rush of the London night — all had been 
 suddenly magnetized for him by some new 
 spell of association, and had been perfumed 
 by that essence of poetry, which, ever since 
 Helicon's diviner days, is most often distilled 
 by a woman. 
 
 But Bellarmin did not trace his vague sense 
 of intoxication to its subtle source. He be- 
 lieved that what he felt was a keen thrill of 
 triumph in the success which had made him 
 part of this throbbing life around him, and 
 which had set him here to help in weaving 
 the threads of England's destinies. It seemed 
 only the other day that he had come to West- 
 minster, an obscure youth, with apparently no 
 chance of ever distinguishing himself. And 
 now — now ! 
 
 ' Tve turned out the Liberals, and Champion 
 is making overtures to me,' he said to him- 
 self. And then another thought set his 
 pulses tingling. Lady Saxon's boudoir was a 
 dangerous place ; Lady Saxon was beautiful ; 
 it was her whim to play the game of political
 
 'IF YOU WERE QUEEN.' loi 
 
 intrigue. He knew this ; he had often told 
 himself that ' forewarned is forearmed ;' but 
 already his fancy was revelling in anticipation 
 of the morrow — of the hour in her companion- 
 ship. He half hated himself for this eager 
 longing. There were times when he almost 
 hated Lady Saxon for her influence over him. 
 Her cool fencing excited and irritated him. 
 It was alternate allurement and recoil — pas- 
 time becoming conflict. 
 
 With an effort, he wrenched his mind away 
 from Lady Saxon. He had much of the 
 typical schoolboy's enjoyment of contrast and 
 variety. 
 
 ' Now for Bohemia,' he said half aloud. 
 
 He delighted to jump from serious debate 
 to rollicking fun ; from the atmosphere of 
 pathos and poetry into that of club gossip 
 and drawing-room frivolity. He got into 
 a hansom, and gave the order to drive to 
 Madame Spinola's.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MADAME SPINOLA AT HOME. 
 
 HE Countess Spinola lived in a 
 small old-fashioned house in the 
 Buckingham Palace region. 
 The Countess Spinola was an English- 
 woman married to an Italian, and it was well 
 understood that he and she were poor ; at 
 least, that they had but slender means. 
 According to all received traditions of satire 
 and fiction, Count Spinola ought to be in 
 such circumstances a mere sham nobleman, 
 and his English wife ought to be a woman of 
 real position sacrificed to him. But it was 
 not so in this case ; Count Spinola was un- 
 questionably a man of high and genuine rank, 
 and nobody quite knew what his English wife
 
 MADAME SPIN OLA AT HOME. 103 
 
 had been. Some people said she had been 
 an actress ; some whispered that she had been 
 an artist's model, and that if you wanted to 
 appreciate to the full her claims to be con- 
 sidered beautiful, you had only to go to the 
 South Kensington Museum, and see the 
 painting of Andromeda chained to the rock, 
 which was done by the lately deceased chief 
 of a romantic school of art. But all this was 
 only talk, and no one had anything substantial 
 to say against Madame Spinola, except that 
 she was very pretty, that she was poor, 
 and that nevertheless she and her husband 
 managed to see a good deal of society. Their 
 parties might indeed be said to represent a 
 certain phase of London society, and a book 
 professing to describe London life would 
 certainly not be complete unless it took in 
 Madame Spinola and her set. The Countess 
 Spinola was very pretty, and, oddly enough, 
 she, the Englishwoman, was dark-haired, and 
 her husband, the Italian, was fair. Not many 
 women came to Madame Spinola's parties. 
 Perhaps she was too pretty to make women 
 anxious to go near her. A lady of fashion 
 once laid it down as a canon of good taste
 
 I04 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 that no really well-bred hostess ought to be 
 prettier than every one of her guests. The 
 reason why women kept away from the place 
 could not be because Madame Spinola flirted 
 a little now with this man and now with that, 
 for she did not flirt nearly so much as many 
 ladies did, w^hose drawing-rooms nevertheless 
 had in them more petticoats than pantaloons ; 
 and, indeed, Madame Spinola's flirtations were 
 very general, and so evenly distributed as 
 almost altogether to disarm ill-nature itself. 
 Still, the women did not come much ; only a 
 few came who were well known to Madame 
 Spinola, who were regular ' pals ' of hers, and 
 would have kept to her through thick and 
 thin ; and some, like a certain Mrs. Rivers, 
 who would go to any house at which there 
 was a man to be seen or a supper to be 
 eaten. 
 
 Madame Spinola, however, did not seem 
 much to miss the fair sex. Her house was a 
 rendezvous for agreeable, lively, distinguished, 
 and sometimes fast men. She could hardly 
 be said to give formal parties. She never 
 issued invitations ; but she was at home on 
 certain nights in the season, and her friends
 
 MADAME SPIN OLA AT HOME. 105 
 
 were free to go and see her then, and one 
 might come very late, for the meetings were 
 well kept up. If she anywhere met a man 
 she liked, she told him he might come and 
 see her on any or all of her evenings ; and 
 then he was on the free list, so to speak. If 
 he wished to bring some friend into the circle, 
 he asked Madame's permission, and it was 
 generally given, and the permission put him, 
 too, on the free list. If a man only came 
 once in the season, the Countess was satis- 
 fied ; but if he did not, she gave him to 
 understand that he was not to come any other 
 season. There were some faithful friends 
 who came every night regularly, and stayed 
 till the very end. 
 
 There was alw^ays a little supper very late 
 in a rather small room below-stairs ; Madame 
 Spinola passed round among her guests the 
 word who should go first, when so many had 
 remained as to make it impossible that all 
 should sit down together. Her principle was 
 to send down first those she least cared for ; 
 they did not usually sit very long over their 
 supper, having the disturbing consciousness 
 that others, among whom was the hostess
 
 io6 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 herself, were waiting for a turn. Then those 
 who came last stayed over their supper and 
 their drinks as long as they liked, and cigars 
 and cigarettes were lit up, and people made 
 themselves really happy. The supper was 
 simple, but, in its way, it was dainty : delicious 
 little sandwiches, galantines, and that appe- 
 tizing dish which one meets with so often in 
 New York, but is so rare in its appearance in 
 London — -the real chicken-salad. There was 
 good sound claret ; there were some excellent 
 wines in huge straw-sheathed flagons ; there 
 were brandies and soda; there was really fine 
 whisky. Madame Spinola kept no man- 
 servants ; the waiting was done by two bright 
 and quick-witted, as well as nimble-handed, 
 Tuscan girls. 
 
 It was said that people sometimes played, 
 and played highly and deeply, at Count 
 Spinola's house ; and this was talked of as 
 a possible explanation of Madame Spinola s 
 frequent entertainments. Madame Spinola 
 wore diamonds, fine diamonds. ' Who gave 
 them to her }' folks inquired, with meaning 
 glances and shrugs. If there was any gaming 
 indulged in at the Spinolas', it is certain that
 
 MADAME SPIXOLA AT HOME. 107 
 
 Bellarmin never saw it ; although at one time 
 he was a frequent guest. Perhaps the ex- 
 planation of the entertainments is as simple 
 as that of many a social mystery. Count 
 Spinola, although he had but a small income, 
 certainly had an income, and a regular one ; 
 and the pair had no children, Madame was 
 still very young, very lively, very fond of 
 company, and her husband was very fond of 
 her. Is it not within the limits of bare possi- 
 bility that she may have liked to spend some 
 of her income on a succession of little parties, 
 cheap in themselves, but which often brought 
 her in the season a company that the riches 
 of the richest City stock-broker might have 
 failed to attract to his vast dining-table ? Is 
 it not credible that Count Spinola may have 
 been glad to be able to afford his wife this 
 one pleasure which she so loved, and may 
 even have been willing to pinch himself in 
 other ways that she might not be deprived of 
 this enjoyment ? May he not have admitted 
 to himself that he owed her some recompense 
 for having bound her youth and her charms 
 up with his elderly companionship ? But this 
 IS not the fashion of reasoning in Vanity Fair.
 
 io8 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 ' Now, Mr. Bellarmln, don't you attempt to 
 go away without supper, and don't attempt 
 to go down with the first lot. I won't have 
 it ; you must stay, and you must wait for 
 me. I haven't seen you for ever so long ; 
 and Tommy Tressel is coming, and he's 
 the hero of the hour, is he not ? I am in 
 rare good fortune to-night. Now, your 
 word !' 
 
 * I pledge myself,' Bellarmin said, * to take 
 you down to supper. Hear me swear.' 
 
 Bellarmin was very popular in this circle, 
 and, indeed, in most circles. His good spirits, 
 his bright ways, his flow of talk, his utter 
 freedom from pretentiousness, made him a 
 favourite. He never patronized any man, 
 and he did not carry the tone of the House 
 of Commons always in his voice. He never 
 took account in private life of what a man's 
 politics might be, and therefore he was wel- 
 come to out-and-out Radicals as well as to 
 'no surrender' Tories, and even to pale- 
 blooded, lymphatic Whigs, with whom — Lady 
 Saxon notwithstanding — he was naturally less 
 congenial. One of those who now rushed up 
 most vociferously to greet him was big Ross
 
 MADAME SPIN OLA AT HOME. 109 
 
 Bingley, a journalist, the noisiest, the cheeriest 
 of men. With his big frame, his big head, 
 his big beard, his big voice, his big laugh, 
 Ross Bingley was a living type of bigness. 
 He had been a war correspondent and a 
 resident foreign correspondent, and now he 
 was settled down in London journalism. He 
 hated numbers of men whom he did not know, 
 for Bingley, unlike most journalists, was a 
 fierce politician ; but he liked everyone he 
 knew. He could spend hours in execrating 
 Champion's most devoted followers, and if he 
 had been brought into personal relationship 
 with Champion he would doubtless soon have 
 come to adore him too. He could talk many 
 languages and play on many instruments, and 
 he had been in love a great many times in a 
 great many countries. Now, a London home 
 and a wife claimed him as their own ; his pith 
 helmet, which he used to wear in his war- 
 correspondence days, was, metaphorically 
 speaking, a hive for bees, like that of the 
 noble old warrior in the poem, and Mrs. 
 Bingley ruled him. 
 
 ' Now, Mr. Bellarmin, you must talk to me. 
 No, no. You must not go away ; at least.
 
 no THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 ViOX. just yet. I have not seen you for ever so 
 many ages.' 
 
 This was spoken by Mrs. Rivers, who 
 caught his arm to emphasize her appeal. 
 Bellarmin protested that there was nothing 
 he so longed for in existence as a talk with 
 Mrs. Rivers ; and as he looked into the dim- 
 ming beauty of her eyes and heard her 
 voluble tongue going, he began to moralize 
 mentally, and to preach to himself a little wan 
 and outworn sermon on the nothingness of 
 human hopes. Short, comparatively, as had 
 been his experience of London society, he 
 could almost remember Mrs. Rivers a beauty. 
 She was one of the first of the galaxy of pro- 
 fessional beauties who were publicly recognised 
 as such, and dubbed with that name of doubt- 
 ful compliment. When Bellarmin heard of 
 her, she was the central star of almost every 
 social constellation. Men of rank and fashion 
 and wealth and genius swarmed around her, 
 scrambled to get near her, were proud to be 
 seen with her — even to be seen saluting her 
 in the Park. Now, nobody cared twopence 
 about her ; she had to ask men to come and 
 sit by her ; she had to insist on their talking
 
 MADAME SPIN OLA AT HOME. 
 
 to her ; she had to get up and cross the room 
 to arrive at some particular man who would 
 not arrive at her. In her bright days she had 
 never troubled herself about women, and now 
 women never troubled themselves about her. 
 What had happened in the meantime ? She 
 had ' gone off;' she had gone down ; she had 
 gone out. But there were others who had 
 started as professional beauties with her, who 
 were keeping the field as professional beauties 
 still. She had not quite lost her charms, 
 although her lustre had faded, and her figure 
 had got too firmly set, and her movements 
 were stiffer— at all events, were less supple — 
 than they used to be. She had had a quiet 
 separation from her husband. They did not 
 get on very well together. There was no 
 scandal ; she had never been seriously talked 
 about with any man, but after her separation 
 from her husband she got into a way of 
 drifting about the social world which was fatal 
 to her. She had to make herself too cheap. 
 The allowance from her husband was small, 
 and she knew that if she gave cause for scan- 
 dal it would be stopped altogether. In the 
 days when her beauty was fresher and more
 
 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 prized, she could of course have found 
 admirers who would have lavished money 
 upon her. But if she was not good enough 
 to depend on goodness, neither was she bad 
 enough to depend on badness. She must 
 have society — the society of men ; she must 
 have admiration, or, at all events, the pro- 
 fession of admiration, and she made this too 
 plain. Men began not to care about her — 
 began to avoid her, to think her a bore, even 
 to speak of her as a bore. Women some- 
 times talked of her as ' poor old Mrs. Rivers ;' 
 and she was hardly outside forty yet ! When 
 she went to a party, which in the season she 
 did every night in the week, Sundays in- 
 cluded, her mind was always set on finding 
 some good-natured man to take her home. It 
 was not for the sake, or in the hope, of being 
 flirted with, or made love to, or being com- 
 plimented ; it was wholly and entirely to escape 
 the payment of her cab-fare. If she had to 
 pay all her cab-fares, she could not go out to 
 parties ; and if she could not go out to parties, 
 she could not live. 
 
 Bellarmin was always very kind and good- 
 natured to Mrs. Rivers. He had taken her
 
 MADAME SPIN OLA AT HOME. 113 
 
 home many a time, although he had come to 
 know lonof ao^o what was the reason of her 
 anxiety for escort. She touched him with a 
 curious feeling of pity. He was amused in a 
 half-melancholy way to observe how she suc- 
 ceeded now and then in getting hold of some 
 very young man, to whose vanity it was 
 pleasing to suppose that he was ' mashing ' a 
 married woman, who had been, perhaps even 
 still was, accounted a professional beauty. Soon 
 the very young man dropped off Perhaps he 
 heard someone talk slightingly of ' old Jennie 
 Rivers ; ' and his feeble, factitious love-light 
 went out at once. Another youth would, no 
 doubt, succeed to him; but the succession must 
 every season be more and more interrupted, 
 and at last must come to an end altogether. 
 
 What then would remain for the poor crea- 
 ture who had staked all her earthly happiness 
 on society and on men's admiration ? If she 
 sank into being recognised as a mere bore 
 among men, the women certainly would not 
 invite her to their parties. How could she 
 live without these parties } They formed 
 part of her means of living. She did not 
 very often get asked out to dinner now, but 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 Still she had some dinner invitations ; and 
 when she was not lucky enough to have a 
 dinner on hand, she ate no dinner, and made 
 up for the want as soon as she decently could 
 by going to the refreshment-room of some 
 evening party. There she consumed her 
 sandwiches with only too keen an appetite ; 
 and she drank her wine with a heart as merry 
 as well might be under all the conditions. 
 Sometimes her first really solid meal in the 
 day was made at a ball supper-table. When 
 the season was over, she got invited a good 
 deal to country places still. People in the 
 country regarded her yet as one of the reign- 
 ing queens of society, and were astonished 
 when some irreverent young man or woman, 
 fresh from the West- End of London, de- 
 scribed her as an old bore. There is not, 
 after all, very much that is more truly tragic 
 in the world than such a career, such an 
 ambition, such a game of life, such a failure, 
 such an end. Mrs. Rivers is but the type of 
 many a woman who hangs on to the skirts of 
 London society. 
 
 Mrs. Rivers talked with a curious little 
 emphasis on wholly unimportant words. The
 
 MADAME SPIN OLA AT HOME. 
 
 truth was that she never quite knew what she 
 was talking about, and so got into the way of 
 trying to supply meaning by emphasis. Her 
 mind was as nearly as possible empty of all 
 but her own little schemes, and shifts, and 
 dodges. In her professional-beauty days, 
 men delighted in the vapid chatter which 
 rippled through such full red lips. The lips 
 were full and red still, but somehow the value 
 of a professional beauty depends very much 
 on what society says of her. She may be a 
 beauty still to the cool, impartial eye ; but if 
 society ceases to regard her in that light, then 
 there is no use protesting ; there is an end to 
 her beauty. So men now began to value the 
 chatter at its real worth, now that they had 
 ceased to believe in the loveliness of the lips 
 through which it flowed. 
 
 * I saw you the other day, Mr. Bellarmin, 
 but you did not see 7ne ; at least, I sup- 
 pose so ; I must hope so. It was in Palace 
 Yard ;' and she laid as much emphasis on 
 the word * Yard ' as if there were serious 
 possibility of his supposing that she had seen 
 him on Palace roof. * You were driving by 
 in a hanso7n! 
 
 8—2
 
 ii6 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 * I do drive into Palace Yard in a 
 hansom pretty often, Mrs. Rivers. I think 
 that I pass a great part of my time in 
 hansoms.' 
 
 * You are so much occupied, so much 
 sought after, I wonder you have time to 
 come here to-night, to honour a company Hke 
 this with your presence. Do you know, I am 
 told that you are invited out to more dinners 
 than any other man in London.' 
 
 ' Nothing of the kind, I can assure you. I 
 am not by any means such a favourite in 
 society. Besides, it wouldn't be any use. I 
 have to dine so often in the House of Com- 
 mons ; I can't help it. If I am in a thing, I 
 like to stick to it, Mrs. Rivers.' 
 
 ' Yes, I see. And how is your beautiful 
 princess ?' 
 
 * My princess !' repeated Bellarmin, with a 
 startled and somewhat displeased glance back 
 at Mrs. Rivers, from whom his eyes had been 
 roaming. 
 
 * Oh, I heard 2^:)ou\, you this evening. The 
 jkjdy who is said to be so like Mary Queen of 
 Scots, and whom the society papers are talk- 
 ing about, and who, they tell me, is going to
 
 MADAME SPIN OLA AT HOME. 117 
 
 set up some claim to the Crown jewels, or the 
 revenue, or the Duchy of Lancaster.' 
 
 ' Or the Crown itself ?' suggested Bellar- 
 min. 
 
 ' Well, I dont know. Perhaps even the 
 Crown itself. But tell me all abotct her. Is 
 she coming here to-night ?' 
 
 * Here ! Oh no !' Bellarmin said, with a 
 sudden wonder that he could not conceal. 
 
 ' Oh no ? How oddoi you, Mr. Bellarmin ! 
 You seem to be quite shocked at my question. 
 But what was there wrong in it ? Why might 
 she not be here ? There is nothing surely in 
 our dear hostess which should make it so 
 very extraordinary that even a young lady of 
 great family should condescend to cross her 
 threshold.' 
 
 ' My dear Mrs. Rivers, I never meant any- 
 thing of the kind. I was presented to Miss 
 Beaton for the first time an hour or two ago, 
 and I am a great friend and admirer of our 
 hostess, as T am a great friend and admirer of 
 yours ; but you know the political ways of 
 people differ so much, that I was a Uttle 
 astonished at the thought of an uncompro- 
 mising representative of Jacobitism and
 
 i8 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 '' Divine Right " being found in this cosmo- 
 politan assembly, where the red Republican 
 lion lies down with the Peace Society- 
 lamb.' 
 
 Mrs. Rivers did not in the least understand 
 what he was talking about ; but she looked 
 up and saw some woman passing who had 
 occasionally slighted her, and she was de- 
 lighted to be seen in apparently deep and con- 
 fidential conversation with the fashionable and 
 brilliant Bellarmin, the enigma of so many 
 conjectures and speculations. At the same 
 moment she thought she detected in Bellar- 
 min's manner a desire to escape, and she 
 could not allow him to go while her critic and 
 enemy was still in sight. 
 
 * But now, Mr. Bellarmin, there is some- 
 thing I wanted so much to ask you about — 
 something very particular indeed — and you 
 can tell me ;' and Mrs. Rivers began exploring 
 all the corners of her mind to discover some- 
 thing on which she wanted to get Mr. 
 Bellarmin's opinion. 
 
 * Delighted, Mrs. Rivers — tell you anything 
 you want to know,' Bellarmin said vaguely. 
 
 But Mrs. Rivers had fastened on to her
 
 MADAME SPIN OLA AT HOME. 119 
 
 hostess, who was passing. ' Kitty, dearest,' 
 she whispered in a tone quite audible to 
 Bellarmin, ' may I stay for the second lot too ? 
 I do so love to hear Mr. Bellarmin, and I 
 want to congratulate Mr. Tressel.' 
 
 ' But, Jennie, love, I am afraid we shan't 
 have room.' 
 
 'Oh, but I mus^ now — I must!'' Mrs. 
 Rivers implored, and her once lovely features 
 underwent an odd little contortion like what 
 children call ' making a face.' She was really 
 on the brink of the fountain of tears. She 
 had been so little used in her bright days to 
 be contradicted and crossed in anything ; the 
 best places had always been for her. 
 
 * You dear old silly !' the good-natured 
 hostess exclaimed, * of course you must have 
 your way. I'll pack off somebody else. Never 
 mind ; I'll manage it somehow. Oh, here is 
 Tommy Tressel ! Tommy, Tommy, we all 
 congratulate you !' 
 
 * How d'ye do, Kitty ?' Mr. Tressel drawled 
 out in languorous accents as he entered the 
 little drawling-room, and with a single glance 
 of his half-closed eyes seemed to take in 
 the individuality of every creature in it.
 
 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 * How do, Bellarmin ? I'm going to have a 
 row with you.' 
 
 * Oh, 1 am so dehghted,' Countess Spinola 
 exclaimed ; ' Tm so glad when you have a 
 row. It is such fun.' 
 
 ' But I am afraid of Tressel,' Bellarmin 
 said ; * I always find that I am bound over to 
 keep the peace when I meet him, as Captain 
 Bobadil found when he was suddenly con- 
 fronted with Downright.' 
 
 ' Now who is Captain What's-his-name, 
 and who is Downright ?' Madame Spinola 
 asked. ' Are these nicknames of men in the 
 House ? Is it true that they call one man 
 "Pussy," and somebody else "the Goat"? 
 What do they call you, Tressel ?' 
 
 ' They call me " Drawl," ' replied Tressel 
 promptly, ' and they call Bellarmin "Rattle."' 
 
 This was pure invention, struck off on the 
 spur of the moment. 
 
 ' You haven't looked at me, Mr. Tressel,' 
 Mrs. Rivers complained, with appealing eyes. 
 
 * Haven't I really, Jennie ? Then I will. 
 Come and let me look at you.' 
 
 This was exactly what Mrs. Rivers would 
 have delighted in; she just wanted Tressel
 
 MADAME SPIN OLA AT HOME. 121 
 
 to sit beside her and look at her. But Tressel 
 turned away immediately, and began to talk 
 to someone else. In Countess Spinola's 
 little drawing room the manners were free. 
 Men went there — at least, men of Mr. Tres- 
 sel's order — because they were wanted to go, 
 and because they liked it. They did not feel 
 under any strict obligation to be attentive to 
 the women they met there. The women were 
 called by their Christian names, as often as 
 not with the addition of the word ' dear.' 
 Mr. Bingley usually went a step further, and 
 called each woman ' darling.' Tressel did not 
 get as far as the use of 'dear' or * darling.' 
 His manner rather said, ' Oh yes, I see you 
 are there ; I suppose I ought to call you 
 "Jennie," and say something nice. There 
 now, I have called you ''Jennie," and said 
 something nice ; run away and play with 
 somebody else.' Yet Mr. Tressel was no 
 woman-hater, or report belied him. 
 
 Tressel — the Honourable Spencer Chris- 
 tian Tressel — was a tall, thin man, with a 
 swaying body. He always looked through 
 life with half-closed eyes ; but he saw a good 
 deal. His profile was aquiline, and in its
 
 122 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 outline thus suggested something of the force 
 of character and the strong individuality 
 which the half-closed eyes and the languorous 
 accent might have hidden or denied. 
 
 Spencer Tressel was the younger son of a 
 nobleman. He had offended his father very 
 early in life by avowing Radical opinions. 
 Good-natured people said he had only assumed 
 these opinions to spite his noble parent, and 
 that if his father had become a Radical, the 
 son would have declared himself converted 
 back to the Tory faith. However that might 
 be, Spencer Tressel stuck to his opinions. 
 He further offended his father by marrying a 
 very poor and very pretty girl. His father 
 made him only a miserable allowance ; his 
 brothers dropped his acquaintance. He dis- 
 covered suddenly that he had great capacity 
 for political writing, and he got an engage- 
 ment to write leading articles for a bright and 
 audacious evening paper. He lived manfully 
 with his wife on his earnings as a journalist, 
 and the pair were as happy as birds in soft 
 spring-time. The happiness was almost as 
 short-lived as a spring-time. The young 
 wife took sickness and died. Tressel dis-
 
 MADAME SPINOLA AT HOME. 123 
 
 appeared from the sight of all friends and 
 acquaintances for a long while. No one 
 knew where he was ; he held communication 
 with nobody. People were beginning to for- 
 get him, when he suddenly turned up in 
 London again. He never made the slightest 
 allusion to the death of his wife, and he never 
 said a word about his long absence. Some 
 time after he told a friend that he meant to 
 marry for money, and he did marry a good- 
 natured, uninteresting widow with an immense 
 fortune. Not long after this second marriage 
 a distant relative of his, who had never taken 
 the slightest notice of him, got into some sort 
 of quarrel with Tressel's father, and, to annoy 
 him, made a will leaving his whole fortune to 
 Tressel, and died soon after the will was 
 made. Probably if this event had happened 
 a little earlier, Tressel would not have married 
 the rich widow. But he was very kind and 
 attentive to her, though he did not in any 
 way give up his life to her. He made poli- 
 tics his business, as he said — his amusement, 
 as others preferred to put it. He was always 
 assailing and denouncing the Peerage, and 
 especially members of that highly privileged
 
 124 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 body who had had the good fortune to 
 serve their country as foreign ambassadors. 
 Tressel's father had been at the head of several 
 embassies. Tressel now had a great house in 
 one of the most fashionable squares, and was 
 understood to be a good deal of a wire-puller 
 in the interests of the extreme Radical Party. 
 Perhaps the principal stimulant to his taste for 
 wire-pulling in this direction was the good of 
 his country, according to his understanding of 
 it; perhaps it was to be found in the fact that 
 whenever a Tory Ministry was displaced, 
 Tressel's father and elder brother straightway 
 had to bundle out of office. 
 
 * Are you going my way, Bellarmin, when 
 you leave this ?' Tressel said, as there set in 
 a general movement and scattering, some 
 guests having come from the supper-room, 
 others preparing to go down. 
 
 ' Going any way — I don't much mind.' 
 
 'Well, walk my way then. Don't let's 
 drive. I hate driving.' 
 
 ' All right,' Bellarmin answered. ' I will 
 discourse with my philosopher.'
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TOMMY TRESSEL. 
 
 HE selected guests, the initiated 
 ones, the guests of this night's 
 second circle, were settling down 
 to the table. Madame Spinola sat at the 
 head. Her husband, who scarcely ever spoke 
 to anyone, took the other end. There were 
 only three women — Madame Spinola, Mrs. 
 Rivers, and a clever eccentric woman of 
 fashion, Lady Cora Mallory, who went in for 
 amusing herself in life, went wherever she 
 pleased, and did not care what people said of 
 her. She was a widow ; she was only thirty 
 years old. She had just enough money to 
 live pleasantly, and she found the ordinary 
 society of the season dull. Bellarmin came
 
 126 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 down to supper, and Tressel, and Bingley, 
 and Colonel Towers and some others. Colonel 
 Towers was a man who lived happily and 
 proudly on the reputation of being managing 
 diplomatist and secret wire-puller to the inner 
 circle of the Conservative Party — at present 
 the party in office. He had been for some 
 time in the House of Commons, and he had 
 never spoken there. Some people believed 
 in Towers and his confidential relations with 
 the Tory chiefs ; others, and they formed the 
 majority, did not. Tressel always affected a 
 profound belief in him. 
 
 * You ask Tressel what he was going to 
 make a row with me for, Madame Spinola,' 
 Bellarmin said, as they were sitting down. 
 
 'Oh yes; yes, Mr. Tressel — Tommy 
 Tressel, what were you going to blow up 
 Mr. Bellarmin for ?' 
 
 ' It's this — do you know that they counted 
 me — at least they counted one of my sup- 
 porters — on his great motion Tuesday night ; 
 and you promised me long ago the support of 
 your whole Progressive Priggism party — ain't 
 that what you call it ? You promised me that 
 the whole five of the Progressive Prigs, your-
 
 TOMMY TRESSEL. 127 
 
 self included, would be in their places to 
 support my man — as I couldn't be there 
 myself.' 
 
 It was a favourite joke of Tressel's to 
 assume that the Progressive Democrats only 
 numbered five : a favourite retaliation of 
 Bellarmin's to talk as if they numbered 
 hundreds. 
 
 'You outrageous humbug!' Bellarmin 
 promptly replied. * Do you pretend to forget 
 that the bargain was conditional ? I promised 
 you all the influence I could bring to bear on 
 the Progressive Tory Party to get some small 
 proportion of them — fifty or sixty, let us say — 
 to keep a house for your man on condition 
 that he let us go to a division the moment he 
 had fired off his own speech. We couldn't 
 stand having the thing argued by solemn 
 blockheads on both sides of the House. 1 
 can stand you, Tressel, on the expediency of 
 extinguishing all our embassies and legations 
 abroad, and it amuses me to hear the anecdotes 
 and the bits of scandal about the pompous old 
 ambassadors and the wives of the secretaries 
 of legation. That sort of thing, my good 
 fellow, is amusing enough ; but I can't stand
 
 128 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 hearing it argued out. Why didn't you get 
 your fellows to hold their tongues ?' 
 
 ' I don't believe you ever showed up at all 
 — better employed up in the Ladies' Gallery, 
 that was about it, wasn't it ? — or out on the 
 Terrace ? If you had been in the House you'd 
 have seen there were lots of fellows on both 
 sides dying to show that they had travelled, 
 and each of them wanted to drag in his 
 imaginary experiences of some particular 
 court or capital. It wasn't that they wanted 
 to argue the thing. They didn't care a bit 
 more about the right or wrong of it than you 
 do, Bellarmin.' 
 
 ' Or than you do, Tressel' 
 
 ' I have thrown my soul into it.' 
 
 * Safest thing you could do with your soul, 
 if you can only manage to keep it there,' said 
 Bingley, with a great jolly laugh at his own 
 joke. 
 
 * Is that you, Bingley ? Didn't see you 
 before. I know you have been trying a joke, 
 because you laughed and no one else did.' 
 
 It was always a great thing when people 
 could get Bellarmin and Tressel together at 
 the supper-table in Count Spinola's house.
 
 TOMMY TRESSEL. 129 
 
 The two chaffed each other unendingly, and 
 the animated rapidity of the one man set 
 curiously off the languorous slowness of the 
 other. 
 
 ' Oddest thing in the world,' Tressel ob- 
 served ; ' the House of Commons will never 
 take either Bellarmin or me at our word. / 
 say that I am a serious politician, and they 
 won't believe that I am. /le says that he is 
 not a serious politician, and they are firmly 
 convinced that he is.' 
 
 ' What do you think about ^Ir. Bellarmin's 
 seriousness ?' the hostess asked. • Do tell us, 
 pray ; Bellarmin won't mind. Will you, Bel- 
 larmin ?' 
 
 There were occasions when the Countess 
 Spinola's manner to men, and her way of 
 speaking generally, did suggest that after all 
 there might be some truth in the story that 
 the pretty creature was the daughter of a 
 washerwoman, and had begun active life as 
 an artist's model. 
 
 ' I shan't mind,' said Bellarmin. ' I'll tell 
 him if he guesses right. Now then, Tressel. 
 Oblige the company.' 
 
 ' I think Bellarmin is one of the most serious 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 I30 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 politicians in the House of Commons — the 
 most serious, I should say, after myself,' said 
 Tressel, calmly taking a rosebud from a vase 
 near him and fastening it into his button-hole. 
 ' He has been devoting himself for several 
 years back with the most indomitable per- 
 severance and energy to the task of finding 
 out what his political opinions are.' 
 
 The two women laughed in a somewhat 
 puzzled manner. 
 
 ^ And he has just this evening discovered 
 that his political opinions are incompatible 
 with allegiance to the reigning house,' con- 
 tinued Tressel solemnly. 
 
 * Good gracious, Tommy Tressel, what do 
 you mean ?' asked Madame Spinola. 
 
 ' The age does well enough for common- 
 place people like you and me, Madame 
 Spinola, but it's too crude and practical for a 
 poetic creature like Bellarmin,' said Tressel 
 gravely. ' Bellarmin has found that England 
 is getting vulgarized by American Repub- 
 licanism and the almighty dollar and the 
 liberty of the press, and all that sort of 
 thing, don't you know. Bellarmin thinks 
 that sentiment and chivalry are dying out,
 
 TOMMY TRESSEL. 
 
 131 
 
 and he can't get along without sentiment and 
 chivalry/ 
 
 Bingley gave a hoarse guffaw. 
 
 ' Quite right, Bingley ; you can't either. 
 Well, Bellarmin intends to revive them by a 
 revolution, a new dynasty — a queen whom he 
 thinks one might die for with some feeling of 
 satisfaction. Tower Hill; the block; a decla- 
 mation on the scaffold ! That's Bellarmin s 
 form nowadays.' 
 
 ' A new dynasty ! not really ? The block ! 
 the scaffold !' cried Mrs. Rivers in horrified 
 accents. * Oh, Mr. Bellarmin !' 
 
 Bellarmin's sense of humour was not easily 
 tickled this evening. He saw nothing amusing 
 in Tressel's joking. He seemed absorbed in 
 the peeling of a peach, which he placed daintily 
 on Madame Spinola's plate. 
 
 ' Go on,' said she to Tressel ; * Ws you that 
 are the rattle now. Mr. Bellarmin doesn't 
 even condescend to answer you. How much 
 of it is serious ?' 
 
 ' Every bit of it,' said Tressel. * Don't you 
 know, Madame Spinola, that there's a regular 
 Jacobite faction in London ? Lord Stone- 
 henge is at the head of it — on my honour, I 
 
 9—2
 
 132 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 assure you — White Cockades, and all the rest 
 of it. Only *' Charlie over the Water" is a 
 fascinating young woman got up after the 
 Mary Stuart pattern. She was in the House 
 this evening, I'm told. Old Greenleaf tumbled 
 up to me on Piccadilly half an hour ago in a 
 state of intense excitement to tell me that he 
 had been presented to her ; and he said that 
 Bellarmin was dangHng at her skirts along 
 the corridors instead of leading his five Pro- 
 gressive Prigs in the House.' 
 
 * By Jove !' exclaimed Bingley, who had 
 caught the name of Mary Stuart, and turned 
 from a whispered conversation with Colonel 
 Towers. ' It's the cheekiest thing I have 
 heard of for a long time. Takes one's breath 
 away, don't it .-^ In a country like this, where, 
 by Jove ! we are all devoted to the reigning 
 house and to every member of it, I say.' 
 
 'We all know that yoit- are, Bingley,' said 
 Tressel languidly. * You are quite a tame cat 
 among the royalties, ain't you now ?' Tressel 
 himself had that reputation, his Radical 
 opinions notwithstanding ; and Bingley, who 
 had never been presented to a single member 
 of the august family, felt that the speech was
 
 TOMMY TRESSEL. 
 
 133 
 
 barbed. ' But suppose now,' Tressel went 
 on, ' that the Prince of Wales was banished 
 from the British dominions, and had to take 
 up his residence in — say, Camden, Oneida 
 Co., I wonder if you'd follow him there into 
 exile.' 
 
 Everyone laughed except Bingley, who said 
 emphatically : 
 
 ' I was talking to Colonel Towers about it, 
 and he quite agrees with me that something 
 ought to be done.' 
 
 * I'm quite with Towers there,' Tressel 
 gravely observed. 
 
 * Oh, you, too, think that something ought 
 to be done, Tressel ?' 
 
 * I think that something ought to be done 
 always ; and, indeed, I am of opinion that 
 something is always done. But in this par- 
 ticular instance, Bingley, what is the emer- 
 gency ?' 
 
 ' Well, haven't you seen that thing in the 
 Park Lane Pictorial f 
 
 ' What thing ?' 
 
 ' The portrait of that audacious foreign 
 woman you are talking about, who presumes 
 to call herself lawful Queen of England/
 
 134 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 * No, I haven't seen that,' said Tressel, 
 now pretending unconsciousness. 
 
 * What does it matter ?' 
 
 ' Oh, this mus^ be your Princess, Mr. Bel- 
 larmin,' Mrs. Rivers whispered. 
 
 'Well, it seems she is a Miss Beaton,' 
 Bingley began, in an explanatory tone. 
 
 * But you said she was a foreigner.' 
 
 ' So she is — at least, her mother was a 
 foreigner, and she herself was brought up 
 abroad.' 
 
 * She is not a foreigner,' Bellarmin inter- 
 posed. ' She is an English lady, the daughter 
 of an English nobleman.' 
 
 * Mr. Bellarmin knows ^// about her,' Mrs. 
 Rivers said, with a little malice in her tone. 
 
 ' I have had the honour of being presented 
 to Miss Beaton; I have the honour of her 
 acquaintance. Look here, Bingley, my good 
 fellow, I would not advise you to get into the 
 way of talking disrespectfully of that young 
 lady. She has a good many friends in Eng- 
 land.' 
 
 ' But why does she call herself Queen of 
 England ?' Madame Spinola asked. 
 
 * I never heard of her calling herself Queen
 
 TOMMY TRESSEL. 135 
 
 of England,' Bellarmin answered. ' Her 
 friends say that she is the legitimate Queen 
 of England ; and so in that sense she is. 
 Only for the Act of Settlement, she would 
 have as much right to be Queen of England 
 as Lord Saxon will have to be Duke of 
 Athelstane when his father dies.' 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Bellarmin; you are talking treason,' 
 Lady Cora exclaimed, with a laugh. ' This is 
 quite delightful ; Jacobitism in the nineteenth 
 century— the White Cockade ! Oh, I like 
 this !' Seated at table as she was, she broke 
 into a rattling version of the famous Jacobite 
 song, nor would anything stay her until she 
 had finished her verse. ' Now then,' she 
 said, ' tell us all about our rightful Queen.' 
 
 ' I am only mentioning dry, hard historical 
 facts,' Bellarmin said ; but his cheek was a 
 little flushed for all that. ' This lady claims 
 to be the heiress of the Stuarts, and she is 
 the heiress of the Stuarts. Nothing on earth 
 can alter that.' 
 
 Count Spinola spoke for the first time. 
 * She stems, I suppose, from Henrietta Maria, 
 Duchess of Orleans ?' 
 
 ' She does.'
 
 136 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 * Oh yes ; then it will be this way,' and he 
 gave a full detailed account of Mary's pedi- 
 gree. Count Spinola was a living, moving 
 ' Almanac de Gotha.' 
 
 ' Exactly,' Bellarmin said ; ' there is the 
 case. If anyone in his senses can deny that 
 this lady is the heiress of the Stuarts, then 
 all I can say is that he would deny any- 
 thing.' 
 
 Bingley was chafing with impatience. * We 
 don't care about that,' he exclaimed. ' What 
 we say is that the Constitution of England 
 has put the reigning family on the throne, 
 and anyone who sets up a claim against them 
 is a traitor and a rebel, by Jove ! and ought 
 to be clapped into the Tower or Newgate, 
 and sent from there to the scaffold.' 
 
 * Very good, Bingley, very good indeed ! 
 Your sentiments do equal honour to your 
 head and heart,' said Tressel. ' But then I 
 knew what they would be, of course, knowing 
 my friend Bingley as well as I do. I don't 
 yet know what the Park Lane Pictorial has 
 been saying about this young and lovely 
 creature. She is lovely, ain't she ? I haven't 
 much curiosity on the subject of the Stuart
 
 TOMMY TRESSEL. 137 
 
 pedigree, but I do feel some curiosity about 
 ^/laL May I be allowed to know what she 
 is like ?' 
 
 ' Look at this,' said Bingley, handing him 
 the paper. 
 
 The Par^ Lane Pictorial was a journal of 
 which Bellarmin had never \o his recollection 
 heard before. It was now passed from hand 
 to hand, and eagerly studied by each pos- 
 sessor in turn, so that it was some time 
 before it reached Bellarmin. When it got 
 to him he found that it was a pretentious- 
 looking * society paper,' which published 
 weekly portraits of distinguished and fashion- 
 able and beautiful women; and the portrait 
 in this number was that of Mar)' Beaton, 
 evidently taken from a photograph. Beneath 
 the portrait was an inscription in Latin, set- 
 ting forth Mar)''s parentage and pedigree, 
 and declaring her — ' the law for constituting 
 the succession alone standing in the way ' — 
 Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, Defender 
 of the Faith. A short memoir accompanied 
 the portrait. Bellarmin saw the whole thing 
 with unspeakable dissatisfaction. It was most 
 unlucky, he felt convinced ; its appearance
 
 138 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 was most untimely. It would set people 
 against her ; it would be assumed by those 
 who did not know anything about her to be 
 published with her authority and connivance. 
 
 There was something about it which seemed 
 to him utterly out of harmony with what he 
 supposed were Mary Beaton's own feelings 
 and temper. It was not of any political or 
 personal responsibility on Mary's part that 
 Bellarmin was thinking ; but there was a 
 vulgarity about such an appeal to publicity 
 which he felt sure would be bitterly hurtful 
 to her nature. As to her claims, Bellarmin 
 did not suppose that anything could do much 
 good or harm to them ; but he shuddered to 
 think of what might be said in public and 
 private about this ill-omened publication. 
 Then he pulled himself up with almost a 
 laugh at his own concern about a woman to 
 whom he had spoken for the first time a 
 little while before. 
 
 * Well, what do you think of that ?' Bingley 
 asked impatiently of Tressel. 
 
 ' Simply a statement of fact, it seems to me.' 
 
 ' Of course it's a mere statement of fact,' 
 said Bellarmin.
 
 TOMMY TRESSEL. 139 
 
 ' You see,' Tressel continued, ' all that this 
 says is, that except for the Act of Settlement 
 this young lady would have a rightful claim 
 to the throne of England. But that's so, 
 ain't it ? And where is the crime in say- 
 ing it ?' 
 
 ' But at such a time; and in such a way, to 
 put out a portrait of this w^oman in their 
 windows, and a Latin proclamation under it) 
 declaring her Queen of Great Britain and 
 Ireland and Defender of the Faith ! Why 
 the publisher ought to be taken out and shot 
 — shot before his own door.' 
 
 ' I must say,' interposed Colonel Towers, 
 ' I do think that you two men make far too 
 little of this. Do you think they would stand 
 this sort of thing in any other country ?' 
 
 ' Such a thing might do some harm in a 
 foreign country ; don't see how it could do 
 any harm here,' Tressel said drily. 
 
 ' I don't know. I am not by any means of 
 your opinion. I think I must talk to some 
 of the chiefs about this. These are strange 
 times. There is a great deal of restlessness 
 everywhere.' 
 
 ' Suppose you put a question in the House
 
 I40 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 about it, Towers/ Tressel suggested, with a 
 keen glance at Bellarmin. Nothing would 
 have delighted Tressel more than to see 
 Towers make a fool of himself. 
 
 * I should hardly like to do that,' replied 
 Towers, with a look of great solemnity ; ' at 
 least, not without taking advice — in a manner, 
 getting authority. It would hardly do in 
 my case, Tressel. Of course, I am not in 
 office ' 
 
 ' And a great shame, too,' Tressel inter- 
 jected. 'So we all say, I can assure you.' 
 
 * I don't know, Tressel ; I don't know, 
 really. These things are difficult to manage ; 
 and there are so many men who want office, 
 you know, and have to be conciliated. I 
 always make it a point when a Ministry of 
 our men is being formed — I always make it a 
 point to say to our chief, Lord Bosworth, 
 'Never mind me — never mind about me; 
 you know I would rather be out of office than 
 in, so far as personal feeling goes. Provide 
 for the men who want office; Til work with 
 you all the same — ^you'll give me your con- 
 fidence all the same.' 
 
 ' And he does, of course, just the same,'
 
 TOMMY TRESSEL. 141 
 
 Tressel said ; ' I haven't the slightest doubt 
 of />^^/.' 
 
 'Yes, yes, just the same.' 
 
 ' But about this Princess. Do make a row 
 in the House about her, Towers — do now,' 
 the hostess appealed to him. ' It would be 
 such fun — such capital fun. And won't you 
 get me a seat in the Ladies' Gallery ? I 
 should love to be there.' 
 
 ' I think it is rather a matter for Tressel,' 
 Colonel Towers suggested. ' You see, 
 Tressel goes m for being independent ; he 
 doesn't acknowledge any authority ; he has 
 no responsibility. Besides, you go in fur out- 
 and-out Radicalism, Tressel — sort of disguised 
 Republicanism, isn't it ? — so it would come 
 better from you, perhaps. You can't be 
 supposed to have any sympathy with the 
 sentiment of divine right.' 
 
 ' There I can't quite agree with you. 
 Towers. I go in for sentiment ; I am alto- 
 gether a man of sentiment.' 
 
 Most of the company screamed with 
 laughter at this announcement. Tressel 
 went blandly on : 
 
 ' I am a man of sentiment altogether. I
 
 142 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 am touched with the melancholy beauty of 
 that hopeless claim, that lost cause ; and then 
 I am a slave to the charm of female loveli- 
 ness. No, Towers ; I can't do it : for you, 
 on the contrary, I should think your duty was 
 clear.' 
 
 ' Does she go to the House ?' Mrs. Rivers 
 asked confidentially of Bellarmin. 
 
 ' I believe she went there for the first time 
 this eveninof.' 
 
 ' Will you take me down to see her ? Oh, 
 please do !' 
 
 ' My dear Mrs. Rivers, she is not on show ; 
 and even if she were, I am not her show- 
 man.' 
 
 * Now I Aave made you angry — oh yes, I 
 have; I can see it; but, indeed, Mr. Bellar- 
 min, I meant nothing.' 
 
 ' I am quite sure of that,' Bellarmin said. 
 
 * Anyhow, you will look into this thing, 
 Towers,' Bingley shouted ; ' you won't let it 
 drop out of sight. Mind, I reckon on you. 
 If you don't, I'll get someone else ; it shan't 
 be allowed to pass unchallenged, I can tell 
 you.'
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 'about champion?' 
 
 ELLARMIN and Tressel were 
 walking through the Green Park 
 ' They are badly advising that 
 girl,' Tressel said abruptly. 
 
 ' Who are they ?' 
 
 ' I don't quite know ; the people, whoever 
 they are, who have her in hand. Why did 
 they get that thing put into the Park Lane 
 Pictorial ? Why such a thing anywhere ? 
 and, in any case, why the Park Lane 
 Pictorial 7 
 
 ' Oh, they know nothing about it.' 
 
 * Don't they } You bet they do ; someone 
 does. If I know anything about anything, I 
 know that the Park Lane Pictorial never
 
 144 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 published that portrait and that memoir, and 
 the whole lot of it, without being well paid.' 
 
 * Oh, but that is impossible. She would 
 never listen to such an idea.' 
 
 Bellarmin spoke with angry surprise. 
 
 ' She wouldn't, eh ? Well, you ought to 
 know, I suppose — better than I, at any rate.' 
 
 Tressel cast a keen glance at Bellarmin's 
 face as he spoke. 
 
 * Anybody who knew anything of her would 
 know that. As a matter of fact, I judge from 
 inference only. I met her for the first time 
 in the House of Commons to-night.' 
 
 ' Yes, very good. Then somebody about 
 her is doing things without her knowledge ; 
 and she ought to be put on her guard.' 
 
 ' Lord Stonehenge certainly would not 
 tolerate anything of the kind,' Bellarmin 
 said. 
 
 ' No, no ; of course he wouldn't. In point 
 of fact, no one who knows London would do 
 it. But the people who have this girl in hand 
 don't all of them know London. Anyhow, 
 there it is. You had better give someone the 
 straight tip, or tell her yourself.' 
 
 ' You speak as if you had some knowledge
 
 'ABOUT CHAMPION?' 145 
 
 of her affairs,' said Bellarmin, with an interest 
 which he could not disguise. 
 
 ' I have some knowledge of the affairs of 
 most people,' replied Tressel, ' and I am 
 always, in a quiet way, on the look-out for 
 information ; there's no knowing when it 
 may come in handy ... A habit acquired in 
 journalism ; and not a bad training for a 
 politician. Try it. I do happen to know 
 something about Miss Beaton's claims and 
 Miss Beaton's adherents — Stonehenore amone 
 them.' 
 
 ' Does he want to marry her ?' Bellarmin 
 asked abruptly. 
 
 * Don't think so ; no, Stonehenge is a 
 dreamer, a man of chimeras ; like many of 
 these Catholic people, a man who half 
 believes in the King's Evil and the virtue of 
 royal touch — by a Legitimist Sovereign, of 
 course. A man who cherishes, as a sacred 
 heirloom, the historic wig of his Majesty 
 Charles the Second ! No, Stonehenge doesn't 
 want to marry her. They are only hoping to 
 put the thin end of the wedge in — by the 
 way, did anyone ever try to put the thick 
 end of the wedge in ?' 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 145 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 ' If it were not too ridiculous, one might 
 imagine some deep-laid scheme.' 
 
 ' Oh, there won't be a civil war just yet, 
 unless you start it — you might turn the Irish- 
 American energies in that direction. Not a 
 bad notion ! A second Stuart hid for the 
 Irish support! Stonehenge isn't such a fool, 
 though he is a Legitimist. There may be a 
 plot against the throne in the brain of that 
 white-moustached old ass who got the sabre- 
 cut at Solferino. Why always a sabre-cut ?' 
 added Tressel meditatively. ' Have you ob- 
 served that Fanatics, Foreign Fenians, and 
 Legitimist Agitators, which all comes to much 
 the same thing, have generally — in novels and 
 out of them — got a sabre-cut somewhere ? 
 Why not a bullet-hole ? However, a bad 
 whist-player will try to force his enemy's hand 
 with the ten of trumps. . I dare say that's the 
 General's notion.' 
 
 * But Miss Beaton's claims ? Has she any 
 at all — any that are real ? I have heard 
 something of an ancestral estate.' 
 
 ' Oh yes ; she has a do7id fide claim on an 
 estate in the palatinate of Lancaster, left by a 
 Stuart adherent in the latter days of Anne,
 
 'ABOUT CHAMPION ?' 147 
 
 when the old woman herself seemed inclined 
 for a Stuart restoration. It was left to the 
 eldest princes in the Stuart family, and in 
 default, to the eldest succeeding princesses 
 of the line. There's the whole pretension in 
 an historical nutshell.' 
 
 ' Well T said Bellarmin. 
 
 ' Well ! The Hanoverian Ministers simply 
 seized the property for the Crown. It's con- 
 ceivable, however, that a Prime Minister of 
 England — say, an enthusiast like Champion, 
 possessed with fantasies of reform — might be 
 wrought upon to recognise the claim on the 
 part of the undoubted representative of the 
 Stuarts — merely as a family possession. 
 However, enough about that. Now, what 
 about Champion }' 
 
 ' About Champion ?' 
 
 ' Quite so. About Champion. Are you 
 coming to terms with him ? You may speak 
 out with me. I know all about it ; and I saw 
 Champion to-day, and he particularly wished 
 me to see you in an easy informal sort of way, 
 and get to know what your ideas are on the 
 whole subject. First, the thing itself; next 
 the time when.' 
 
 10 — 2
 
 148 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 Bellarmin was silent for awhile. He was 
 surprised to hear that Sir Victor had made 
 Tressel his confidant on such a subject. Bel- 
 larmin himself was inclined to believe in 
 Tressel on the whole as a sincere and serious 
 politician ; but he never supposed that a man 
 with the intensity of conviction and the lack 
 of humour which alike characterized Champion 
 could be got to put himself and his schemes 
 fnto the power of a teller of scandalous anec- 
 dotes and a maker of cynical jokes. 
 
 * I see that you are a little astonished, my 
 youthful politician, to think that Champion 
 should make me his emissary. It does seem 
 odd, doesn't it ? But I managed to work it 
 out of him and to work myself into him. I 
 have my peculiar advantages, don't you see ? 
 and I got him to see them. I talk to every- 
 body, and so nothing is inferred from my 
 talking to anybody. Then I am not a serious 
 politician ; everybody says that, and what 
 everybody says must be true. Therefore, of 
 course, nobody would believe that so tremend- 
 ously serious a politician as Lucifer would 
 think of taking me into any confidence. Then 
 if I were to let out the secrets, nobody would
 
 'ABOUT CHAMPION?' 149 
 
 give them a moment's attention — seeing it's 
 me, don't you know ? Then again, if the 
 worst came to the worst, I could be disavowed 
 so easily. Oh, it's only Tressel's absurd talk 
 — nobody minds ///;;/, and the thing is at an 
 end, don't you see ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; there is a good deal in what you 
 say. But this is a serious business. Has 
 Champion told any of his colleagues in 
 office ?' 
 
 ' Not one. Most of them are mere pup- 
 pets, whom he can set in motion when he 
 likes, and move in any direction he pleases. 
 Saxon he is a little afraid of ; but he thinks 
 it safest to keep Saxon in the dark for the 
 present. Saxon is the sort of man who 
 accepts accomplished facts. If Champion 
 can say to him, " Look here, this is a definite 
 policy, to which I am pledged in my own 
 mind : will you go with me or desert me ?" 
 he thinks there would be his best chance for 
 nailing Saxon.' 
 
 ' Well, what does Champion want of 
 me ?' 
 
 * Champion thinks you are a clever young 
 fellow, with some fresh ideas and plenty of
 
 ISO THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 gOj who has made enormous strides in the 
 poHtical race, and has the faculty of keeping 
 the House amused by showing it game. 
 The House always likes that. He thinks 
 you must be about as tired of the stupid old 
 ways as he is himself. That's why I stick to 
 Champion ; because he wants to do some- 
 thing new and plucky. Champion thinks 
 that you would have wit enough to see that 
 some reform of this absurd old anomaly must 
 be made soon, and that a clean sweep would 
 be as easily done as a little trimming and 
 clipping. He fancies that you are a sort of 
 man who would rather be identified with a 
 great reform, which is inevitable, than care 
 about the barren honour of opposing it. He 
 thinks Progressive Toryism might very pro- 
 perly include in its progress a march over the 
 ruins of the House of Lords. He wants to 
 form a new party ; and he is eclectic ; and he 
 wants you to belong to it. Will you see 
 him ?' 
 
 ' No, I think not. I don't see the use ; I 
 don't fancy I could do him any good — ^just 
 now, at all events. The House of Lords, as 
 it is now constituted, has got to go. Every-
 
 'ABOUT CHAMPION?' 151 
 
 one with the prophetic eye must see that. I 
 should Hke my Progressive Tories to have a 
 hand in the construction of the new Chamber, 
 whatever it is to be — of course Champion 
 would eo for some sort of Second Chamber ?' 
 
 ' Oh yes ; / wouldn't, if I could ; but he is 
 strong on it, and I don't much mind either 
 way.' 
 
 ' But I doubt about the time ; and I am 
 inclined to think that Champion's notion of 
 springing this scheme upon his old colleagues 
 will lead to a smash. I don't see my way to 
 it, Tressel ; that's all I can say. If I were 
 to advise him, I should tell him he ought to 
 take Lord Saxon into his confidence at 
 once.' 
 
 ' He won't do that. Look here, Bellarmin, 
 it's not Lord Saxon I'm afraid of, so far as 
 this business is concerned.' 
 
 ' No. Who else ?' 
 
 ' Lady Saxon. I've some reason to sus- 
 pect that she and Champion are old pals, 
 and he would be easily managed by a clever 
 woman like that.' 
 
 ' I don't believe there is an atom of 
 foundation for your suspicion about her and
 
 ^52 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 Champion— about their having been friends 
 before her marriage,' said Bellarmin hastily, 
 yet with an uneasy recollection of the con- 
 ference on the Terrace. 
 
 ' All right,' said Tressel. ' Good-night.'
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. 
 
 ARY BEATON lived in a wonder- 
 ful litde house, very near the walls 
 of old Kensington Palace. It was 
 only chance which had given her a domicile ; 
 but it seemed sometimes to her, when she was 
 in a mood of exaltation, that the hand of 
 Providence itself had settled her down in the 
 immediate neighbourhood of the Palace where 
 Queen Anne died, beneath the very shadow 
 of its walls. 
 
 The house General Falcon and Lady 
 Struthers had succeeded in getting possession 
 of was a long ancient low-roofed building. 
 It had only one story above the ground- 
 floor, and that upper story held only bed-
 
 154 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 rooms. The whole day-life and evening-life 
 of the house was therefore on the ground- 
 floor ; and the reception-rooms ran out of one 
 another in a quaint and curious way. In 
 each room there were long low windows, 
 some of them shadowed by the trees of the 
 Kensington Gardens ; some of them looking 
 on the walls of Kensington Palace. 
 
 When it was decided that Mary Beaton 
 should come over to England and set up her 
 claims there, General Falcon went on in 
 advance to find a suitable dwelling for her; 
 and, after a while, Lady Struthers came to 
 help him in his quest. General Falcon de- 
 cided from the beginning that the heiress of 
 the Stuarts could not condescend to occupy 
 any house in one of the new and fashionable 
 quarters. Belgrave Square he put aside, 
 afier some consideration, rather as being 
 under the social and historical condition un- 
 desirable, than because the rental was beyond 
 Mary's means, though that was certainly the 
 case. It had, of course, the traditional attrac- 
 tion, to a Legitimist, that it was the scene of 
 the famous pilgrimage to do homage to 
 Charles the Tenth. But times had changed
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. 155 
 
 since that time, and General Falcon could 
 not find any fragrance of divine right and 
 exalted self-sufficing legitimacy lingering 
 now along the stuccoed lines and ridges of 
 Belgrave Square. Eaton Square he held to 
 be as utterly out of the question as Cromwell 
 Road itself. Park Lane would not do ; it 
 was occupied far too much by hangers-on to 
 the Hanoverians, as he put it, and by the 
 aristocracy of birth and of money who habi- 
 tually went to Court. There was too strong 
 a savour of Marlborough House about it for 
 his purpose, he thought. So, when after the 
 coming of Lady Struthers, and when things 
 seemed well-nigh desperate, a strange chance 
 threw the long low old-fashioned house at 
 Kensington in his way, Falcon thought he 
 saw the finger of Providence distinctly inter- 
 vening for his guidance. He took Lord 
 Stonehenge into council, and they arranged 
 for a long tenancy of the house. 
 
 Everything was prepared for Mary's re- 
 ception by the Dowager Lady Stonehenge, 
 Lady Struthers, and General Falcon in per- 
 manent council ; and when all was done, 
 Lady Struthers and Falcon went back to
 
 156 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 bring their young mistress to her London 
 home. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the dehght of Mary- 
 Beaton when she first ranged through the 
 rooms of that deh'ghtful old house. She 
 thought she could never have enough of it. 
 She studied all its peculiarities, and all its 
 views and glimpses. She kissed Lady 
 Struthers a dozen times in her rapture ; she 
 felt almost inclined to kiss dear old Falcon 
 too, so she told Lady Struthers in private 
 confidence. With all her little dignities and 
 airs, Mary was a thorough girl. 
 
 Mary was very fond of Lady Struthers, 
 after a fashion ; but it was not surprising that 
 she sometimes found this scion of the aris- 
 tocracy a little tiresome. Lady Struthers 
 prided herself on the length of her pedigree. 
 Her mother had belonged to a noble High- 
 land Catholic family, and she herself had 
 married, she considered, beneath her rank. 
 Sir Peter Struthers had begun his career as 
 an apothecary's assistant, and had ended it as 
 a Court physician. He had doctored various 
 foreign royalties. He had died after making 
 an unaccountable, and to his wife, eminently
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. 157 
 
 unsatisfactory will, by which the bulk of his 
 fortune had gone to his children by a former 
 marriage, while Lady Struthers was left but 
 a moderate annuity, and the consoling re- 
 flection that she was suffering lor having 
 demeaned herself by such a union. 
 
 It had seemed natural enough that Lady 
 Struthers should accept the position of 
 governess to Miss Beaton ; and at the Court 
 of Schwalbenstadt, where the young lady was 
 brought up, Lady Struthers had revelled in 
 titles and high life, and had become so accus- 
 tomed to addressing her acquaintances as 
 princess, countess, or baroness, as the case 
 might be, that she found some difficulty in 
 adapting herself to humbler society in 
 England. It was a disappointment to Lady 
 Struthers that Miss Beaton's claims were not 
 at once recognised, and that she did not 
 immediately receive invitations to all the 
 greatest houses. The Catholic coterie was 
 all very well, and Lord Stonehenge had 
 proved himself a valuable ally ; but Lady 
 Struthers wanted and expected something 
 more than that. 
 
 General Falcon and Lady Struthers had
 
 158 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 this in common, and perhaps almost this only, 
 that they were both devoted to their young 
 mistress. They had watched her growth up 
 from childhood with pride and delight. They 
 had bent before her pretty wilful ways, ad- 
 mirinof her the more for them. Would she 
 be a Stuart if she were not wilful ? They 
 had yielded her an exaggerated deference, 
 exulting in the thought that her nature was 
 too sweet for adulation to spoil it ; and even 
 when scolding her for her shortcomings, and 
 tutoring her in what they conceived to be the 
 duties of her position, they had never suc- 
 ceeded in inspiring her with any whole- 
 some awe of themselves. Gradually Lady 
 Struthers's supremacy had waned ; now she 
 was a mere picturesque dummy — for she was 
 certainly very picturesque with her snowy 
 hair and her stately presence — an amiable 
 chaperone whose ideas of propriety never in- 
 terfered with her charge's inclinations. 
 
 General Falcon, however, seemed with 
 }ears to become more exacting and more 
 tenacious of such authority as he held over 
 Miss Beaton. In truth, Mary sometimes felt 
 a little puzzled by his manner, and impatient
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. 159 
 
 of his system of surveillance. His humour 
 was by turns querulous, suspicious, and 
 curiously emotional — tender, even impas- 
 sioned. She would have been more annoyed 
 by the ill-temper, were it not that the tender- 
 ness appealed to her warm heart, and to all 
 that was romantic and queen-like in her 
 nature. His affection, she thought, was 
 something more than mere personal devo- 
 tion. It was devotion to the memory of her 
 dead parents ; to a cause. It was the living 
 example of that mysterious poetic fascination 
 which the Stuarts had always exercised over 
 their followers. 
 
 The day after the visit to the House of 
 Commons, Mary was in her own room, her 
 peculiar place of retreat, some time before the 
 regular breakfast-hour. It was her custom, 
 after the fashion of the Continent, to have 
 her coffee alone in the room early, and then 
 to meet her household circle at a set dejeuner 
 a la foti7'chette about noon. She seldom saw 
 General Falcon till the time of the midday 
 meal, and after that they usually began and 
 got through the business they had to do — a 
 business which generally consisted in con-
 
 i6o THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 sideringand dismissing absurd and impossible 
 suggestions from unthinking and unsolicited 
 advisers. On this particular morning, how- 
 ever, General Falcon sent a formal message 
 to say that it would gratify him if Madame 
 would kindly allow him to wait on her. In 
 all superficial intercourse he treated her with 
 an almost exaggerated ceremony. Madame 
 at once accorded the interview, and Madame 
 shrugged her shoulders and pursed her lips 
 and pouted, well knowing that she was to be 
 scolded. She did her best to escape censure ; 
 she met Falcon with a look of sweet disarming 
 welcome, but Falcon was not to be disarmed. 
 
 As he entered — gray, erect, with the scar 
 on his forehead conspicuously white — Mary 
 thought she had never seen his face sterner 
 or more ill-tempered. She was puzzled by a 
 certain air of excitement and forced self- 
 repression which she noticed in him. 
 
 ' What now, I wonder,' she murmured half 
 aloud, and with a mocking accent ; ' London 
 air is too stimulating for the General's nerves. 
 Come, something is wrong,' she went on in a 
 louder tone. 'Well, let us have it out. What 
 have I been doino- ?'
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. i6i 
 
 Falcon was silent for a few moments. 
 
 ' I am afraid that you shocked Lord Stone- 
 henge and Mr. Leven last night,' he said. 
 ' You were near going actually into the House 
 of Commons ; and you only laughed and 
 made fun of it.' 
 
 ' Well, there was nothing to weep over, was 
 there ? Why should Lord Stonehenge care ? 
 He is one of us. As for Mr. Leven ' 
 
 ' And then you kept rambling about the 
 Terrace with Mr. Bellarmin, as if you were a 
 schoolgirl. A man like Lord Stonehenge 
 could not approve of that.' 
 
 Mary gave up all thought of conciliation. 
 * I wish you would not speak to me as if I 
 were a schoolgirl,' she said petulantly. 
 
 * I wish you would not act as if you were a 
 schoolgirl,' he answered as petulantly. ' I 
 wish you would try to remember that you are 
 not of the schoolgirl's age or of the ordinary 
 schoolgirl's position ' 
 
 ' I wish you would try and remember my 
 position a little more than you do. You 
 scold me in a very disrespectful and dis- 
 agreeable fashion. What have I done that 
 was so bad ? Come, tell me of all my faults ; 
 
 VOL. I. II
 
 1 62 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 and Heaven send me patience to listen. 
 Give me a bead-roll of them. But stay a 
 moment. I presume the task will be pretty 
 long. Let us make ourselves comfortable.' 
 
 She pushed a soft and heavy armchair 
 towards him with an air of mock humility, 
 and settled herself on a great heap of cushions 
 converted to the duty of an ottoman. She 
 settled herself down very comfortably, un- 
 furled her fan, and waved it gently before her 
 face. She did not look at Falcon — her eyes 
 were upturned. Had she looked, indeed, she 
 might have been surprised by the gaze bent 
 upon her : a fierce, melancholy longing, almost 
 tragic in its intensity. It was as though 
 Falcon had dropped his mask for a moment, 
 and allowed play to the emotion he had been 
 trying to conceal by his petty fault-finding. 
 His eyes literally devoured her, and his face, 
 lighted by the gleam of ardour, seemed for an 
 instant youthful once more. But Mary saw 
 nothing of this ; she appeared to be languidly 
 studying the painted ceiling. There was a 
 minute of silence, and then she said : 
 ' I am waiting, General Falcon.' 
 ' Waiting !* he said dreamily, pulling him-
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. 163 
 
 self together with a start, and turning his 
 eyes away. ' For what, Madame ?' 
 
 ' Waiting to be lectured ; to be scolded ; to 
 be told of all my various sins of omission and 
 commission. Won't you tell me ? I only 
 want to be put right. I'll promise not to be 
 aggravating,' she said coaxingly. 
 
 * Oh, it isn't any use !' he exclaimed with 
 sudden sharpness. * I haven't any influence 
 over you — now ; any longer. I had better 
 give up.' 
 
 ' General Falcon,' said Mary solemnly, 
 ' what would you have ? Did not I play my 
 part properly last night ? You said that you 
 wanted me to know influential people in the 
 political world — people who would take up 
 my claims and see the justice of giving me 
 back the estate which these Hanoverians con- 
 fiscated. Well, isn't Sir Victor Champion an 
 influential personage ? You are extremely 
 unreasonable. '' Thou shalt praise me to- 
 day, O Caesar !" This was the least that I 
 expected.' 
 
 * Madame, it is not for the descendant of 
 the Stuarts to boast of an introduction to an 
 adventuress like Lady Saxon.' 
 
 II — 2
 
 i64 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 ' rm not boasting, General. Quite the 
 contrary. I behaved prettily to Lady Saxon 
 last night from a sense of duty — and indeed 
 I thought I had put quite the right infusion 
 of "dignified reserve" — that's your phrase — 
 into my manner. Is she an adventuress ? 
 Then my instinct did not deceive me. It's 
 always so comforting to know that one may 
 put trust in one's instinct. Of course I should 
 have supposed her to be a very great and 
 high-born lady, if it hadn't been for my little 
 inward monitor which labelled her with a big 
 '' D," Doubtful. What do you know about 
 Lady Saxon, General Falcon ?' 
 
 ' Enough to make use of her.' 
 
 * You are dreadfully melodramatic. Tell 
 me the mystery. I adore a mystery/ 
 
 * There is none,' said Falcon. * Let me 
 advise you, Madame, to treat this lady with 
 a certain amount of reserve, not to become 
 too intimate with her — not, for example, to 
 discuss your private affairs with her, your 
 likes and dislikes, your theories, your feelings. 
 Yes, it is the want of that dignified reserve in 
 your manner which I complain of. In your 
 conversation with Mr. Bellarmin '
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. 165 
 
 ' Ah, I understand,' Mary interrupted with 
 scornful amusement. ' You are jealous ot 
 Mr. Bellarmin. That's it. You are jealous 
 because he is young and good-looking, and 
 famous and agreeable, and because he inter- 
 ests me. . . . Good gracious ! What have I 
 said now ?' 
 
 A sudden wave of red rushed to Falcon's 
 face and overspread his forehead, except 
 where the scar seamed it, leaving his cheeks 
 pallid. His eyes flashed angrily. He bit 
 his moustache and rose abruptly. 
 
 * Madame, I was right when I accused you 
 of levity.' 
 
 ' And I, when I told you that you were 
 melodramatic,' she retorted. ' What did you 
 object to in my conversation with Mr. Bellar- 
 min ?' 
 
 He made an impatient gesture, and moved 
 a few steps from her without answering. 
 
 ' Oh, I know ! You want me to be stiff 
 and formal and superficial to everyone but 
 yourself. You did not like my talking to 
 him so openly about what I thought of the 
 poor people and the state of England — and 
 everything. Why, I wonder ? General Fal-
 
 [66 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 con, for Heaven's sake let me be myself 
 sometimes — -a young woman with heart and 
 sympathies and — yes — some wish to amuse 
 herself I want to have a taste now and then 
 of a girl's natural life. I am tired of this 
 sham sovereignty. I am weary of it all.' 
 She spoke with impetuous warmth. General 
 Falcon had stepped nearer her again. He 
 did not look at her. His face, still working 
 with some untold emotion, was turned to- 
 wards the window. 
 
 * God knows that I am weary of it, too !' 
 he cried, with a burst of passion. 
 
 There was silence for a moment or two. 
 * You speak strongly, General,' said Mary, 
 with a puzzled, wistful glance at him. ' Are 
 you tired of me ?' 
 
 He turned to her with a gesture of apology. 
 
 ' Forgive me, Madame. I forgot myself.' 
 
 ' Why are you unhappy ? Are you tired 
 of me ?' Mary repeated. 
 
 * Well — yes — in a manner.' The General 
 spoke now in a forced, mechanical voice, 
 dropping out the words slowly, as if he were 
 deliberating while he uttered them. ' I am 
 not tired o{ yoti ; but I am tired of trying to
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. 167 
 
 make you do the right thing and see things 
 in the right way. . . And I see that you rebel 
 against the restraint — I see that I bore you; 
 I see that my influence over you is weaken- 
 ing day by day — and — yes, I get tired and 
 sore and sorry ; and I don't see what is to 
 come of it/ 
 
 He threw himself into his chair with a 
 heavy sigh. 
 
 ' My father would be grieved if he could 
 know of this,' Mary said softly, more as if she 
 were talking to herself than remonstrating 
 with Falcon. ' He would be so sorry. If 
 he could only have known that the friend 
 he loved best and trusted most would come 
 to weary so soon of the task of taking care of 
 his daughter !' 
 
 ' How dare you talk in that way !' Falcon 
 exclaimed, starting forward tremulous and 
 excited. ' You — you are a wicked girl — a 
 wicked, heartless girl, to play upon me like 
 this — to bring up your father's name — to say 
 that I have wearied of taking care of you, when 
 you know that I only live for you — Oh, say 
 what you please, torture me as you choose ; 
 but don't cry — don't, don't begin to cry !'
 
 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 For there were tears in the girl's brown 
 eyes, and she put up her handkerchief to hide 
 them. General Falcon sat like one terrified, 
 not knowing what to say or do. After a 
 moment or two, Mary looked at him with a 
 serious face and eyes that were still moist and 
 wistful. 
 
 ' General Falcon,' she said, ' tell me, what 
 is it that you want } You cannot make me 
 Queen of England, you know.' 
 
 * I can't make you Queen of England,' he 
 repeated ; and his eyes were fixed upon her 
 with a rapt gaze that seemed more befitting a 
 lover than an elderly guardian. ' Would I if 
 I could } I have dreamed so many wild 
 dreams, Mary — dreams in which you were 
 the central figure — dreams of glory and of 
 poetry, and of love.' His voice dropped in a 
 sort of caressing cadence, and the girl started 
 and blushed. ' I have dreamed so much,' he 
 went on, ' that sometimes I can hardly tell 
 the real from the unreal — the possible from 
 the impossible. I often think that dreams are 
 my only real life.' 
 
 * General Falcon,' said Mary, in a soft voice 
 of compassion, ' you idealize me, you know
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. 169 
 
 You mustn't do that. Tm only a girl ; and a 
 very frivolous girl sometimes, as you tell me 
 yourself.' 
 
 * Mary Stuart was only a girl when she 
 came to Holyrood ; but she had in her face 
 and her voice that magic which made men 
 forget that she was the queen, and made them 
 dream wild dreams of ambitious love and 
 daring deed — ay, and do the deeds ! There 
 are women still who have such magic, my 
 Princess — women with the dangerous gift of 
 fascination by which a man may be turned 
 into a madman or a hero. You are one of 
 these, Mary. You have that gift ; but there 
 clings round you something more than the 
 magic of the woman. There is the magic of 
 an historic cause.' 
 
 * I know it/ replied Mary soothingly. ' I 
 like to feel that some of the romance of the 
 dead and gone Stuarts is revived in me ; and 
 there are moments — oh, many, many — in 
 which I am proud and glad to be a Stuart. 
 You must not think that I undervalue your 
 devotion, or that I don't know what it means.' 
 
 ' Do you know what my devotion means, 
 Madame ? My Princess, my Queen, if you do
 
 I70 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 know, you are wiser than poor old Falcon, 
 who makes himself wretched in trying to 
 understand it/ 
 
 He laughed a quavering, uncertain laugh. 
 
 ' Devotion like yours is the birthright of 
 the Stuarts,' said Mary affectionately, touching 
 his hand lightly as she spoke. * I accept it 
 as such, dear old friend, and I will try to tease 
 you no more. Dream no more dreams, Falcon, 
 about ma^ic charms and heroic deeds and im- 
 possible thrones. Make me glorious and rich 
 if you please, in a matter-of-fact nineteenth- 
 century fashion. Curry favour if you like with 
 her Majesty's Ministers, present and to come, 
 and settle me in my historic inheritance with 
 my historic thousands. In good truth, Falcon,' 
 she added, with a laugh, ' I think we shall 
 need them ; for though this house isn't a 
 palace, and I am not a pauper, I am quite 
 certain that we spend more than we ought' 
 
 ' You mus^ spend money,' Falcon answered 
 impatiently. ' You must keep up an estab- 
 lishment.' 
 
 ' It seems to me, my good General, that I 
 myself am something of an adventuress. I 
 fancy that my Stuart dignity might be sup-
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. 171 
 
 ported without a hall-porter and with a fewer 
 number of men in livery ; and that I might 
 have a better chance of heaven, and should 
 be a worthier daughter of the Mother Church, 
 if I spent more in charity and less upon this 
 vain state and show. But we have talked of 
 this often enough ; and now I hope that our 
 quarrel is over for to-day/ 
 
 * Yes, thank Heaven !' murmured Falcon, 
 in a relieved tone. 
 
 He seemed to have descended to the nine- 
 teenth-century level. His emotion was past 
 now ; and he leaned back composedly in his 
 chair. Mary came and sat herself on one of 
 the broad arms of the chair, and laid her left 
 hand caressingly on his shoulder. At first 
 he winced at the touch ; then, as if with an 
 effort, he put up his right hand and placed it 
 on hers. 
 
 * Yes, dear old friend,' Mary said ; ' you 
 shall give me the list of all my sins, offences, 
 and negligences — but no more now. Some 
 other time. I am going to coax you. I have 
 a great, great favour to ask of you. You wi// 
 take me to the East-End and let me see the 
 sort of life that goes on there ? Come, promise
 
 172 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 now. I'll be as sweet as honey to you for a 
 whole week if you will say that I may go.' 
 
 She bent down and looked into his face 
 with a childlike coquetry that was irresistible, 
 at least to General Falcon. He gazed at her 
 fondly, admiringly. Then he moved his hand 
 from hers and timidly touched her soft cheek. 
 The contact might have been magnetic, he 
 withdrew his hand again so quickly ; and he 
 gave a sort of shuddering sigh. 
 
 * Promise,' insisted the girl. 
 
 ' Yes, you shall go,' he answered. ' You 
 shall go with me — alone with me.' There 
 was a wildness in his manner of pronouncing 
 the last words of which he himself seemed 
 to become conscious, for he added in a 
 different tone, and after a moment's pause, 
 ' Perhaps it is as well that you should see for 
 yourself what life is.' 
 
 ' Exactly my own notion, and what I have 
 been trying to impress upon you ever since 
 we came to London. I want ever so much 
 to see an East-End music-hall ; and I don't 
 want to be seen and known. Listen. May 
 I go in boy's clothes ? I should like that, 
 because I should be so much more free ; and
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. 173 
 
 nobody could suspect who I was — don't you 
 see ?' 
 
 * I am afraid that you would never be fit 
 for a queen,' he said, in a half-melancholy 
 remonstrance. 
 
 * Ay, every inch a queen !' she said ; and 
 she sprang to a standing position, and stood 
 before him straight as a spear, tall, with one 
 hand raised to her forehead as if she were 
 placing a crown there, and the other held on 
 her bosom as though it grasped the symbolic 
 orb. 
 
 General Falcon had in his time seen many 
 queens and empresses, and princesses of all 
 sorts, nationalities, and even colours ; but he 
 thought in his heart that he had never looked 
 on so queenly a form as that which now stood 
 before him and challenged impeachment of 
 its right to sovereign state. 
 
 Mary threw herself down upon her 
 cushions again. 
 
 ' I want to go to Court !' she said de- 
 fiantly. 
 
 * To Court ! But, Madame, surely you 
 don't think of what you say ?' 
 
 * Indeed, Falcon, I am afraid I very seldom
 
 [74 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 think of what I am saying, or at least of what 
 I am going to say. I do now and then begin 
 to think of what I have said after I have 
 said it, and the reflection is not always 
 encouraging. But I mean what I am saying 
 this time ; I want to go to Court.' 
 
 ' If you wish to be presented at Court 
 merely as the Honourable Mary Stuart 
 Beaton, daughter of an English baron, I 
 presume that could be arranged/ Falcon said 
 doggedly. ' But I should hardly have 
 thought you would condescend to such a 
 performance.' 
 
 ' I want to see the sight, but I suppose it 
 wouldn't be the proper thing. It would be 
 like a recognition of the Hanoverian family. 
 No ; we must not do that. But I want to 
 see the Queen in private ; do you think you 
 could manage that ?' 
 
 ' See the Queen in private ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; I want to talk to her about the 
 condition of England — the poverty, the 
 misery ! I am sure she could do some- 
 thing if only her eyes were opened to the 
 real truth. I am sure she is not allowed to 
 know anything about the wretched condition
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. 175 
 
 of SO many of her subjects — I mean of the 
 people who are her subjects for the time. 
 You may be certain that her Ministers, and 
 her courtiers, and the ladies who are about 
 her, take good care to keep her in perfect 
 ignorance of the truth. Well, / want to see 
 her, and tell her all. It is my duty. I must 
 not stick at points of etiquette where such 
 interests are concerned.' 
 
 Falcon smiled compassionately. 
 
 ' Madame, you may take it from me that 
 the Queen knows as well what is going on 
 all over the country as any man or woman in 
 the land. She has the newspapers read to 
 her regularly ; she keeps herself thoroughly 
 informed.' 
 
 ' Yes, read to her — there it is, you see ; 
 you admit it yourself. Read to her ! Of 
 course they only read the pleasant parts ; 
 they leave out all that could distress her, or 
 make her think that she had duties to per- 
 form which they don't want her to be troubled 
 about. / understand these things, General. 
 Why, I remember so well when I was at 
 the Residenz in Schwalbenstadt, the news- 
 papers were all carefully examined before
 
 176 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 they came under the eyes of the Grand Duke, 
 or the Grand Duchess. The Ministers and 
 Court people would not let either of them 
 know a word that would give tkem any 
 trouble. / let the Grand Duchess know all 
 the truth of some stories, I can tell you ; and 
 how the Court people hated me for it ! Ah, 
 yes ; / know.' 
 
 Mary Beaton sighed with the air of one 
 on whom long and varied experience has 
 forced the knowledge of hard realities. 
 General Falcon became more compassionate 
 than ever. 
 
 ' My dear child,' he said, with father- 
 like tenderness, 'this Court here is not in 
 the least like any of the little Courts you 
 have seen. The Queen knows everything; 
 and if there was anything in her power to 
 do, she would do it.' 
 
 Mary dropped the discussion, but did not 
 feel satisfied. After a moment of silence, 
 she began again : 
 
 ' I should like to know the Princess of 
 Wales, General.' 
 
 General Falcon was becoming impatient. 
 
 * Madame, you must know very well that
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. 177 
 
 sort of thing can't be for the present. Why- 
 do you let such ideas get into your head at 
 such a time ?' 
 
 ' Well, we are all so dull here. You are a 
 brave soldier and a good, dear friend, Falcon ; 
 but you are not lively. Come now, are you ? 
 You know you are not.' 
 
 ' No ; I am not lively,' Falcon admitted 
 grimly. 
 
 ' And Lady Struthers, dear thing — she is 
 very obliging, and knows languages, and has 
 an exalted and very proper notion of '' the 
 high life," as they say in French novels, 
 Mary laughed softly ; ' but you wouldn't call 
 her a very amusing companion, would you ? 
 And I'm tired of the people we have to meet, 
 and the solemnity of it all. Everything so 
 ordered, and so stately, and so cold, and such 
 a sham. If one were a queen actually — a 
 queen reigning — I suppose one would pull 
 one's courage about one grandly, and put up 
 with it. But to me, and as we are here, it 
 has no reality. It is all stiff, chilly, stupid ! 
 I want to be amused ; and, yes, I want some- 
 one to admire.' 
 
 Falcon looked suddenly at her ; she caught 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 the expression of his face, and broke again 
 into a Httle peal of musical laughter. Falcon's 
 features were convulsed as they had been a 
 little while ago ; and he kept his eyes down 
 as if afraid they would betray him. 
 
 * Positively,' said Mary, 'your look means, 
 "Why don't you admire me .^" You vain old 
 hero ! Well, I do admire you very much ; 
 but then I am so accustomed to you that I 
 don't think of you. What I mean is that I 
 want to see someone from the world outside 
 whom I could admire as a hero.' 
 
 * Madame !' burst fiercely from Falcon's 
 lips. Then he checked himself, and laughed 
 discordantly. ' Exactly,' he said ; ' you are 
 so accustomed to me that you don't think 
 about me. What if some day I were to do 
 something which would force you to take me 
 into account in your life — something wild, 
 daring — if I were to act one of those dreams 
 1 spoke of just now ? You would be obliged to 
 think about me then, Madame.' 
 
 ' What sort of dream ? I don't understand 
 you to-day. General Falcon,' Mary spoke 
 uneasily. ' Of course, I take you into account 
 in my life. Don't you know that I'm very
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. i-jc) 
 
 fond of you ? You don't need telling, surely. 
 And now that I haven't a single relation left, 
 you are closer to me than anyone else In the 
 world. But I don't think of you In a — in a 
 girl's way, General.' 
 
 ' No ; you don't think of me in a girl's 
 way,' he repeated with a sardonic emphasis. 
 * Well, let us look around. There's Lord 
 Stonehenge. Everybody who knows Lord 
 Stonehenge must admire him.' 
 
 ' Oh, Lord Stonehenge ! yes, indeed. I 
 do admire him very much. He is a man of 
 gold. He knows everything one could want 
 to know. He is ever so kind ' 
 
 ' He Is very handsome,' Falcon interjected, 
 as if he were saying, ' Don't pretend to for- 
 get that.' 
 
 * He is very handsome ; yes, that one sees,' 
 she admitted. ' He is not very young.' 
 
 ' Quite young for such a man,' Falcon de- 
 clared authoritatively. * He is only just over 
 forty.' 
 
 ' Only just over forty !' Mary made a little 
 grimace. ' Oh yes, I admire him ; I think 
 he is a little shy of me ; and do you know, 
 my good Falcon, an idea has once or twice 
 
 12 — 2
 
 i8o THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 come Into my mind that some of you are 
 making up a little scheme to marry me to 
 Lord Stonehenge ?' She spoke with the 
 utmost composure, and looked quietly into 
 Falcon's eyes, waiting for a reply. Falcon 
 appeared embarrassed. 
 
 ' Madame,' he said gravely, ' if any hint of 
 that kind were to reach Lord Stonehenge's 
 ears, he would be shocked and horrified.' 
 
 Mary glanced at herself in the glass and 
 smiled. 
 
 * You understand quite well,' he replied 
 almost gruffly. ' Lord Stonehenge would 
 regard it as presumption on his part to lift his 
 eyes to the daughter of the Stuart kings. It 
 would be impossible for him to devote himself 
 as he does to you and your cause if any such 
 talk were to get about. I beseech you, 
 Madame, to guard your impulsive utter- 
 ances.' 
 
 * I observe, my dear General, that you 
 have not disclaimed the intention all the 
 same/ Mary said quietly. ' I never supposed 
 that Lord Stonehenge was a party to it, or to 
 anything half so amusing. Suppose that I 
 were to take a liking to him,' she added — * to
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. i8i 
 
 fall in love with him — what would have to be 
 
 done then ? Should I have to propose to 
 him ? And suppose his modesty and his 
 devoted allegiance were to compel him to 
 refuse, where should I be then ?' 
 
 * I don't think you ought to talk in that 
 way, Madame.' 
 
 * Well, let us talk in some other way. I 
 wish you would tell Lady Struthers to write 
 and ask Mr. Bellarmin to dinner.' 
 
 ' Mr. Bellarmin !' 
 
 ' Yes ; I think he is very clever, and he 
 amuses me ; and I'm sure he has a career 
 before him, and he isn't like everybody else. 
 I want him to dine here, General, or some- 
 where else where I am to be. I want him 
 asked to Lord Stonehenge's when we go 
 down there. See about that, General Falcon.' 
 
 ' I have no doubt, Madame, that whatever 
 you insist upon can be done. But I would 
 have you remember that some people call Mr. 
 Bellarmin a political adventurer.' 
 
 ' What is an adventurer, General, in poli- 
 tics ? You say Lady Saxon is an adven- 
 turess. I have a notion that I am a political 
 adventuress. Now, how do you define a
 
 i82 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 political adventurer ? Is it one who goes in 
 quest of adventures, and to whom life is only 
 a game ? I wish I were a man, and an 
 adventurer in that sense. It must be de- 
 lightful.' Mary allowed a half sigh to escape 
 her. 
 
 ' Well, what we call a political adventurer 
 is a man who has no fixed principles ; who 
 goes into politics rather to advance himself 
 than to advance any great cause.' 
 
 * But, my good General Falcon, what an 
 immense number of adventurers there must 
 be in English political life ! I never name 
 any public man without being told by some- 
 body that he is utterly unprincipled, that he 
 has no good purpose whatever, that he is 
 only thinking of himself and of his own 
 ambition, and so forth, and so forth. I don't 
 see in that case how Mr. Bellarmin can be 
 any worse than most other men ; and he has 
 certainly the advantage of being young and 
 handsome and agreeable. He may amend, 
 Falcon. He may repent. He may develop 
 wonderful principles some day ; he may be 
 the moral hero of the coming England. 
 Meantime, let us have him to dinner.*
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. 183 
 
 * Madame is mistress in her own house- 
 hold.' 
 
 ' Is she, Falcon ? Really now, is she ?' 
 Mary smiled at him mischievously ; she had 
 apparently forgotten her promise not to tease 
 him. ' I am so glad to hear it ; for there are 
 times, do you know, when I should not quite 
 have thought it.' 
 
 Mary Beaton was, it must be owned, in a 
 somewhat provoking mood to-day. Falcon 
 stood under severe self-restraint. 
 
 * I hope,' he said, ' that neither Lady 
 Struthers nor I have been unduly inter- 
 fering.' 
 
 ' Oh no, no, my dear creatures, you have 
 been absolute perfection. I fancy you are a 
 good deal too near perfection for me. But 
 you will remember Mr. Bellarmin, Falcon ? 
 I am sure that he is not by any means perfec- 
 tion, and he will suit me all the better for that.' 
 
 ' I will speak to Lord Stonehenge,' said 
 Falcon stiffly. 
 
 ' Thanks. And now about the East-End.' 
 
 ' That shall be arranged, Madame, since 
 you are set upon it — a little, perhaps, after 
 the Stonehenge visit/
 
 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 ' And mind — I shall wear boy's clothes. 
 Now you know you have promised ; and in 
 return / have promised — to admire you — to 
 consult you — to adore you — seriously, to be 
 so sweet to you, General, and so good ! I 
 shall never believe in your affection again if 
 you are going to be as inflexible and as un- 
 yielding about the proprieties as you try to 
 be on most occasions.' 
 
 ' Unyielding about the proprieties ! And 
 I have consented to allow the heiress of the 
 Stuarts to go to an East-End music-hall in 
 boy's clothes ! Unyielding ! Oh, Mary, my 
 Princess, you see too well how blind and 
 foolish are my affections.' He rose and strode 
 up and down the room. Mary looked at him 
 with amusement, in which there was a faint 
 trace of perplexity. 
 
 ' Now, General, if you must be theatrical, 
 imagine that I am the Queen of Scots as an 
 archer of the Guard. You know she was up 
 to a good many pranks. It's in the Stuart 
 blood ; that reflection will comfort you. I 
 know you like to please me,' she went on in 
 a different tone ; ' and 1 suppose I do like to 
 try your patience sometimes. There's not
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. i&S 
 
 the least doubt that when I get married I 
 shall try my husband's patience and temper 
 terribly. You don't like me to talk of marry- 
 ing, General ; but I suppose that 1 7;iay take 
 a husband some day ? I'm not in the Act of 
 Settlement, you know ; and there's nothing to 
 prevent me from marrying a shoeblack.' 
 
 ' Indeed, Madame,' he exclaimed bitterly, 
 ' I have almost brought myself to believe that 
 your marriage would be the best thing for 
 you and for me. I shall at once set about 
 introducing suitors to your notice.' 
 
 ' That's right. Understand, I shall want 
 to govern this husband absolutely. I shall 
 take positive delight in conquering him and 
 taming him, and making him obedient and 
 submissive ' 
 
 ' Yes ; and you will despise him if he is 
 obedient and submissive,' said Falcon, with a 
 melancholy laugh. 
 
 ' I wonder would that be so, do you think ? 
 I don't know at all. I haven't followed out 
 my track of thought so far. 1 have only got 
 to the subjugation point ; I have enjoyed in 
 advance many a triumph over his complete 
 subjugation and his final acknowledgment that
 
 i86 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 he was subjugated ; that he was my captive 
 and my slave, and so forth. But I haven't 
 studied the question beyond that point. That 
 has been my sky-Hne, my horizon. I haven't 
 asked myself how I should feel to my slave 
 when he had meekly put on his collar and 
 accepted his yoke. You don't like all this 
 nonsense, do you, Falcon ? I can see by the 
 look on your face that you disapprove of it 
 highly !' 
 
 * Excuse me, Madame. I was not ventur- 
 ing to express disapproval or approval ; but I 
 would remind you that I came at this early 
 hour to talk over some matters of business 
 before luncheon — and that luncheon-time is 
 now near at hand.' 
 
 ' You are right, General Falcon ; your 
 words recall me to myself, as the people say 
 in the plays. Well, let us get to business. I 
 dismiss my phantasies and my, as yet, un- 
 tamed husband. Go on, I am all attention.' 
 
 So General Falcon went into a great 
 number of questions of policy and expendi- 
 ture, and so on ; and one might have fancied, 
 from the way in which Mary lolled carelessly 
 upon the cushions and toyed with the fan in
 
 THE PRINCESS AT HOME. 187 
 
 her hand, that she was not Hstening to a 
 word he said ; but she every now and then 
 drew her eyebrows together and interrupted 
 him with a shrewd question, or made a quiet 
 keen suggestion which showed that she was 
 not altogether the frivolous girl that she 
 seemed.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ROLFE BELLARMIN. 
 
 ELLARMIN lived in St. James's 
 Place, a small street opening out 
 of stately St. James's Street. His 
 was not an august habitation. He was not 
 rich; his father allowed him enough money 
 to live like a gentleman in London, to pay for 
 gloves and cabs and all the rest of it, and was 
 willing to make such an allowance to him for 
 ever. But, as our readers will see, Bellarmin 
 had not yet opened out any career for himself 
 in a paying sense. He had been drawn into 
 political life and had made a mark there, and 
 he meant to stick to it. Up to the present, 
 however, he had not got any money out of it; 
 and therefore he took care not to live extrava-
 
 ROLFE BELLARMIN. 189 
 
 gantly. His lodgings consisted of a sitting- 
 room, a bedroom, and a bath-room. The 
 sitting-room was rather small, and it was 
 encumbered, as is the sitting-room of every 
 bachelor member of Parliament, with piles of 
 blue-books and Parliamentary papers of all 
 kinds. Newspapers, of course, were scattered 
 all around. The chairs, the sofas, the tables, 
 the floor were encumbered with books and 
 papers. The books that Bellarmin kept in 
 his sitting-room were not, however, the books 
 that he read. They were the books that he 
 intended to read, or that he told himself he 
 intended to read. They were first the blue- 
 books, and then the works of various kinds 
 which Bellarmin meant to study in order to 
 supplement the knowledge to be derived from 
 the blue books. For example, there came to 
 him the latest blue-book on the affairs of 
 South Africa. Now to understand and to 
 test the statements in the blue-book, it seemed 
 necessary to get a number of non-official books 
 about South Africa ; and Bellarmin got them 
 with full Intent to read them. But then came 
 In the blue-book on bi-metallism ; the blue- 
 book on our dealings with Russia In relation
 
 I90 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 to the Afghan Boundary ; the blue-book on 
 the employment of pit-brow girls ; and on all 
 these and various other subjects Bellarmin 
 wanted to get additional information, and so 
 orot in additional books from the London 
 
 o 
 
 Library. When he set out on his political 
 career he wanted to study everything — to 
 know everything. But then came in the 
 social attractions — the dinners, the luncheons, 
 the garden-parties, the visits to country houses, 
 the race-weeks here and there ; and Bellarmin 
 wanted to accomplish all that too. Arthur 
 Pendennis said of himself and his position in 
 London Society, ' I am in the swim, and, by 
 Jove ! I like it.' Bellarmin was in the swim, 
 too, and, by Jove ! he liked it. One result 
 was that the blue-books got less and less 
 studied, and that they accumulated more and 
 more. Bellarmin was loath to acknowledge 
 even to himself that he had abandoned any 
 particular subject, and so he would not get 
 rid of the blue-books which he had once 
 fondly believed that he could master. Nor 
 had his acquaintance with Lady Saxon, nor 
 had his appreciation of the charms of Mary 
 Beaton's society tended in any w^ay to expand
 
 ROLFE BELLA RM IN. 
 
 [91 
 
 his opportunities for the study of the South 
 African question, and bi-metalHsm and the 
 work of the pit-brow girls. 
 
 The books which he said he must not 
 allow himself time to read, but which he did 
 read pretty often nevertheless, were all in his 
 bedroom — a room comparatively large for a 
 set of London apartments. There were the 
 books that he loved ; a few of the classics of 
 ancient and the classics, too, of modern days. 
 There also were various novels and memoirs 
 and biographies got from Mudie's Library and 
 never destined to be classic at all, but which 
 Bellarmin sent for because people were talk- 
 ing about them, and in such matters, too, his 
 ambition was to know everything. 
 
 On the walls of his sitting-room were dis- 
 played the ordinary West-End lodging-house 
 frames and engravings. But in his bedroom 
 he had some really fine etchings given to him 
 by artists or bought by him here and there, 
 and some curious swords and pistols and fans 
 and bronzes ; and he had a long japanned 
 box which contained his Court suit, cocked 
 hat and all. 
 
 The mantelpiece in his sitting-room was
 
 192 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 littered with letters and cards of invitation. 
 There was no mirror there ; this was an 
 alteration Bellarmin had insisted on. He 
 could not stand the lodging-house looking- 
 glass over the lodging-house chimneypiece. 
 So he had the glass taken away, and he 
 substituted for it a screen which he well- 
 nigh covered with photographs of celebrated 
 persons, and of men and women who were 
 personally interesting to him. But there was 
 no photograph of Lady Saxon there. Doubt- 
 less she must at some time or other have 
 given him one ; but if so, he did not display 
 it ; probably he kept it treasured apart and 
 away somewhere. 
 
 Was there In life anywhere a happier man 
 than Rolfe Bellarmin ? He was young, he 
 was handsome ; he had a graceful figure, 
 slender but vigorous, and there was an almost 
 antique air of good-breeding about him, 
 although he was nothing of an aristocrat by 
 birth, but, indeed, only the second son of a 
 very successful business man in one of the 
 great provincial cities. The Bellarmins, to 
 be sure, were understood to have good blood 
 in their veins, even though of later years some
 
 ROLFE BELLARMIN. 193 
 
 of them had succeeded and some of them had 
 failed in the effort to make money in the ways 
 of commerce and industry. Rolfe's father had 
 a great ambition, not for himself, but for his 
 sons ; and, as the elder loved business and 
 the younger detested it, he resolved to make 
 a liberal allowance to Rolfe and start him in 
 life as a gentleman. Rolfe took to the calling 
 very kindly. He passed through the training 
 of a public school and a university in the 
 regular fashion; but he had some extra 
 studies in Paris and Bonn as well ; and then 
 he went boldly into politics. He had the gift 
 or the genius of success. He threw himself 
 upon a constituency, and was elected. No 
 one expected him to make much of a figure 
 in Parliament. He seemed cut out for mere 
 social success ; but he contrived to play a 
 conspicuous political part from the very be- 
 ginning. There was something winning 
 about his youth, his bright ways, his refined, 
 mediaeval-looking face, and his well-modulated 
 voice ; and, let it be added, his audacity, 
 which was in such odd contrast to his ap- 
 pearance. He had an absolute faith in himself. 
 After he had made his first speech — which 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 was what someone called ' a rattling success ' 
 — a friend of long experience in Parliament 
 cautioned him that he must take more pains 
 to catch the tone of the House. ' Catch the 
 tone of the House !' was the reply of that 
 brazen youngster — 'that abominable sing- 
 song ? Not if I know it. Let the House 
 catch my tone — if it likes, or if it can.' The 
 sage adviser shuddered ; but young Bellarmin 
 went his own way, kept to his own tone ; and 
 before two sessions he had a little knot of 
 imitators. He was always taking divisions, 
 moving adjournments, coming boldly up to the 
 rescue of some forlorn ' independent member ' 
 to whose Tuesday evening crotchet no one but 
 Bellarmin would think of giving countenance. 
 He despised no one ; he made friends every- 
 where. He soon attracted the notice of the 
 Conservative leader — for Rolfe had gone in 
 as what he liked to call a ' Progressive Tory ;' 
 and the leader was pleased with his buoyancy, 
 his brilliant animal spirits, his evident delight 
 in all the life and all the ways of the House 
 of Commons. Bellarmin had a good stock of 
 more or less superficial information on almost 
 all subjects likely to come up in Parliament.
 
 ROLFE BELLARMIN. 195 
 
 He knew enough of most things to be able to 
 make some use of any fresh facts ; at all events 
 he knew enough to be able to talk without 
 talking obvious nonsense. 
 
 One evening he came in rather late, flush 
 from a dinner-party, with gorgeous flower in 
 faultless dress-coat. A debate was obviously 
 breaking down ; the Conservatives, then in 
 Opposition, were trying to make something 
 out of a foreign question on which a motion 
 had been put down for papers ' on going into 
 Committee of Supply.' The Government had 
 laid some papers on the table to meet the 
 demand ; had, in legal phrase, paid so much 
 into court, and the Opposition did not seem 
 able to carry on the discussion in face of that 
 fact. The leader, for reasons of his own, 
 particularly wished it to be carried on for the 
 whole evening. Some of his weighty men, 
 his big guns, were not yet on the field, and 
 he kept looking anxiously at the doors. 
 
 In came Bellarmin. 'Ask Bellarmin to 
 speak,' the leader said, in a voice low as an 
 evening breeze, but distinctly audible to 
 Bellarmin as well as to the party whip, for 
 whom it was intended. 
 
 13—2
 
 196 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 Bellarmin felt his cheek glow with pride 
 and delight. To be thus specially invited to 
 take part in a failing fight by his leader was 
 a compliment such as one might have had 
 from a Csesar or a Napoleon on the field of 
 some desperate battle. 
 
 The whip came to Bellarmin. ' Chief 
 wants you to speak,' he whispered. 
 
 'What is it all about?' asked Bellarmin 
 breathlessly. ' What am I to say ?' 
 
 * Oh, it's right — information in papers 
 wholly insufficient ; pitch into Ministry — you 
 know,' was the comprehensive and luminous 
 reply; and the whip scuttled away after having 
 thrust a blue-book into Bellarmin's hand. 
 
 Bellarmin began to read, the letters all 
 dancing before him. Just at that moment 
 the Minister who was speaking came to an 
 end of his discourse with the declaration that 
 he was convinced the universal judgment of 
 the House would admit that the Government 
 had produced ample and sufficient informa- 
 tion for the guidance of all honourable 
 members, and that the House might now 
 be- permitted without further delay to get 
 into the business of supply.
 
 ROLFE BELLARMIN. 197 
 
 The hint was enough for Bellarmln. The 
 moment the Minister sat down — in deed, before 
 he had got to his seat — Bellarmin leaped to 
 his feet after the manner of one who has 
 been choking all the evening with the hitherto 
 vain desire to unburthen his soul of some- 
 thing it is his duty and mission to say. 
 
 'Mr. Speaker,' he began, 'the right 
 honourable gentleman who has just sat 
 down has been talking of the ample and 
 sufficient information contained in the pages 
 of the blue-book which I hold in my hand. 
 Ample and sufficient information ! I wonder 
 if the right honourable gentleman really 
 believed that he could either cajole or bully 
 the House into an acceptance of the contents 
 of this worthless book as ample and sufficient 
 information ?' 
 
 The Minister in question was a man of 
 violent temper, and Bellarmin knew this, and 
 expected some interruption, which might give 
 him a chance of even a momentary glimpse 
 into the contents of the blue-book. The 
 Minister sprang to his feet. 
 
 ' I rise to order, Mr. Speaker,' he said, in 
 a tone of half-suppressed fury ; ' I wish to
 
 19^ THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 ask you, sir, if it is in order for an honourable 
 member to charge a Minister of the Crown 
 with a desire to cajole or bully the House of 
 Commons ?' 
 
 Bellarmin did not care three straws how 
 the point of order was decided. He was 
 only trying meanwhile to get some rapid 
 notion of the general subject of the blue- 
 book. Up to this moment he did not know 
 whether it was a question of home or foreign 
 politics. Now, to his immense relief, he saw 
 it had something to do with Russia. 
 
 His chief, appreciating the situation, came 
 to his assistance in good time. 
 
 'On that point of order, Mr. Speaker,' he 
 blandly said, * may I direct your attention to 
 the fact that my honourable friend ' — oh, 
 how Bellarmin's young heart beat with pride 
 to hear the great Conservative leader speak 
 of him as ' my honourable friend '! — * did not 
 accuse the right honourable gentleman of 
 any desire to cajole or bully the House.' 
 
 Cries of 'Oh, oh!' from the ministerial 
 benches interrupted the orator, and now the 
 House began to fill in the eager hope of a 
 scene of some kind.
 
 ROLFE BELLARMIN. 199 
 
 ' I do not understand the meaning of these 
 interruptions,' the Conservative chief went 
 calmly on ; ' I fancy the honourable gentle- 
 men who indulge in them do not understand 
 their meaning any more than I do. I said 
 that my honourable friend did not charge 
 the right honourable gentleman with any 
 desire to cajole or bully the House. My 
 honourable friend put a mere hypothesis.' 
 There were new cries of * Oh, oh !' ' Yes, I 
 repeat it ; a mere hypothesis. He merely 
 asked whether the right honourable gentle- 
 man really believed that he could either 
 cajole or bully the House into a certain 
 belief — into the belief that these papers 
 contain ample and sufficient information.' 
 
 This ingenious interpretation was greeted 
 with delighted cheering from the benches of 
 Opposition, and much laughter and divers 
 manifestations of various emotion from other 
 quarters. 
 
 The Speaker rose with becoming gravity, 
 and said that although it might have been 
 better perhaps if some other form of expres- 
 sion had been used, he could not take it 
 on himself to declare that the honourable
 
 200 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 member had been actually transgressing the 
 rules of order. 
 
 Bellarmin had got all he wanted ; he had 
 seen that the blue-book was something about 
 Russia, and was quite content. 
 
 Once fairly started on the designs of Russia 
 and the danger to England from a Ministry 
 blind or indifferent to such designs, there was 
 no reason why Bellarmin should not go on 
 talking for hours. Every now and then he 
 read at random from the blue-book some 
 paragraph or passage, and then demanded of 
 the House, in language of indignant elo- 
 quence, whether such pitiful crumbs of infor- 
 mation doled out to Parliament on such a 
 subject could be held to satisfy the just 
 demands of the House of Commons, or to 
 fulfil the duty of a Government. Not half a 
 dozen members in the House had read one 
 line of the blue-book, or had the least idea 
 whether the information contained in this or 
 that paragraph was ample or inadequate. 
 The Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs 
 could be seen rapidly fluttering the pages of 
 his blue-book to get at some of the passages 
 which Bellarmin was criticising ; but before
 
 ROLFE BELLARMIN. 201 
 
 he had quite time to possess himself of the 
 meaning of one paragraph Bellarmin was off 
 to another. 
 
 At last Bellarmin's chief, who was listening 
 with a bland and smiling face, saw that his 
 heavy men had come up. ' Tell Bellarmin 
 he may stop whenever he likes,' he whispered; 
 and Bellarmin, winding up with some sen- 
 tences of glowing patriotic passion, sat down, 
 much relieved, and wondering within himself 
 what he had been saying all the time. ' That 
 was very well done,' his chief whispered, 
 turning round in his place to nod to Bellar- 
 min ; and Bellarmin felt, like Othello, that ' if 
 it were now to die, 'twere now to be most 
 happy.' 
 
 Bellarmin had now got far beyond that 
 stage of his career when a ^our de force of 
 this kind could be expected of him. He was 
 the recognised leader of a party ; a small 
 party, it is true, but a party that had con- 
 siderable influence in putting the Liberals out 
 of office, and had at present much influence 
 in enabling the Conservatives to stay in office. 
 Bellarmin's little group was composed almost 
 altogether of young men. They had faith in
 
 202 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 what they believed to be the principles of 
 Progressive Toryism. Progressive Toryism, 
 they held, could do everything for England 
 by taking necessary reform in time. Pro- 
 gressive Toryism must move with the age ; 
 must invigorate itself with the spirit of the 
 time. Progressive Toryism was great in 
 catch-words. Why not ? Youth always has 
 faith in catch-words. 
 
 When Progressive Toryism proudly pro- 
 claimed that ' we march with the movement 
 of the times,' Progressive Toryism was as 
 well satisfied as though it were really march- 
 ing ; in fact, was quite assured that it was 
 marching. Bellarmin represented the ju- 
 ventus mundi of Toryism ; the youthful 
 ardour which, believing it could not live with- 
 out a principle, was satisfied to live with a 
 catch -word. It was the old story of Ixion 
 and the cloud. Ixion believed he was em- 
 bracing Juno while he was only throwing his 
 futile arms around a cloud. Bellarmin and 
 his friends believed they had got firm hold of 
 their principle, and were all the time in pos- 
 session only of their catch-word. The elders, 
 for the most part, had found out long ago
 
 ROLFE BELLARMIN. 203 
 
 that they could get on very comfortably with- 
 out either catch-word or principle. 
 
 Bellarmin's social success was not the least 
 wonderful part of his career. He had come 
 up to London almost unknown ; he never 
 saw the interior of the House of Commons 
 until the day when he came to take his seat 
 there as a member of Parliament. He sud- 
 denly found that he had the gift of knowing 
 people ; the gift of being taken up by society. 
 He had not been aware that he had this gift ; 
 he had not thought anything about it. He 
 wanted to be in the political world ; he was 
 ambitious of a seat in Parliament ; and he 
 had vague notions that when he got into the 
 House of Commons he should be able to do 
 something in some line or other ; but he had 
 not bestowed one thought on mere success in 
 society. He got suddenly taken up, how- 
 ever, by this and that great house. He soon 
 became a man whom it was the right sort of 
 thing, the necessary thing, to have at people's 
 houses. * We must have Mr. Bellarmin, of 
 course,' smart people said, all the more be- 
 cause it was not by any means easy to have 
 Mr. Bellarmin.
 
 204 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 Bellarmin enjoyed all this mightily. He 
 had not quite got over, even yet, the delight 
 of seeing his name in the newspapers. The 
 one thing he wanted was someone to write 
 to and tell all about his success ; his speeches 
 in the House of Commons, his dinners, his 
 luncheons, his visits to great country houses. 
 His brother would not care a straw for 
 hearing anything of the kind ; and although 
 he knew his father would feel gratified by the 
 fullest accounts of his son's success, yet some- 
 how Bellarmin felt ashamed to say much to 
 him on the subject when he wrote home. 
 Many times he found himself wishing that he 
 had a sister to whom he could send lono^ con- 
 fidential letters telling her about his good 
 fortune and his enjoyment of life ; telling her 
 what the newspapers said about him, and 
 what various great ladies said to him, and 
 how kind they all were, and how easy after 
 all it was to get on in good London society. 
 One can write these things to one's sister. 
 To a sweetheart one can't exactly ; she would 
 be sure to think her lover was forgetting her 
 in the society of people much smarter than 
 she ; she would be jealous of the great ladies,
 
 ROLFE BELLARMIN. 205 
 
 and would assume that they were, as a matter 
 of course, young ladies and handsome, and 
 that they were making love to the lover — 
 and that the lover was falling in love with 
 them — and the sweetheart would let all this 
 be seen only too plainly in her letters ; and 
 then the lover would write about such things 
 no more, and would keep all his little tri- 
 umphs to himself. But the sister would not 
 mind, even though the kindly great ladies 
 were all young and lovely ; the sister would 
 never feel jealous or think herself forgotten ; 
 and she would read with delighted e)es every 
 word of praise that was spoken of her brother, 
 and would never for a moment think him 
 egotistic or grow tired of his writing always 
 about himself. So Bellarmin just wanted a 
 sweet sister to write letters to ; and in the 
 fulness of his still young and fresh heart he 
 once let out as much to Lady Saxon. She 
 looked at him out of her deep eyes, and said : 
 ' Let me be your sister, Mr. Bellarmin. I 
 am sure I should like to have such a brother; 
 and I have no brother.' 
 
 * Come to me to-day, best of brothers, at
 
 2o6 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 three o'clock ; I want to talk to you about 
 something very important and interesting ; 
 don't fail me on any account.' 
 
 This was the whole of a first little letter 
 signed ' J. S.' which Bellarmin received after 
 the compact was made. It was the prelude 
 to a volume. Lady Saxon had taken on her- 
 self the part of a sister ever since the day 
 when she invited him to put a brother's con- 
 fidence in her. She was too young as yet 
 even to affect that mother's place in a young 
 man's interest which coquettish matrons 
 sometimes find very attractive with youth. 
 But the sister's part was suitable to any age, 
 and allowed of a charming and easy fami- 
 liarity between her and her adopted brother. 
 It was the part of an elder sister decidedly, 
 and permitted Lady Saxon to take the initia- 
 tive in giving advice, or even administering 
 reproof when occasion suggested. She saw 
 that Bellarmin very much enjoyed the position 
 thus given to him, and was quite delighted to 
 be petted as a brother or even scolded as a 
 brother. The scolding, indeed, was only 
 petting in another and sometimes a more
 
 ROLFE BELLARMIN. 207 
 
 captivating form. What could be more de- 
 lightful to a young man than to be sent for 
 to the boudoir of a beautiful and clever woman 
 in order to receive a scolding for not having 
 done something which, according to her 
 judgment, would have been for his political 
 and personal advancement ? 
 
 Lady Saxon seemed to move in an atmo- 
 sphere of sensuous emotion. She carried her 
 atmosphere with her, around her, wherever 
 she went. Her looks, her movements, her 
 figure, her voice, all gave out with them that 
 bewitching sense of womanhood, of woman's 
 sex, which is so magnetic to the temper of a 
 young man. The quietest, most ordinary 
 words she spoke seemed to ask the man 
 whom she was addressing, ' Why don't you 
 make love to me ? I know you are longing 
 to do it. I look into your eyes with mine, 
 and I read all your feelings there. Come, 
 make love to me ; I shall not be angry ; you 
 may get nothing else by it, but at least you 
 shall not get a scolding nor a lecture on 
 morality.' This was one of Lady Saxon's 
 fascinations. She seemed to put herself 
 frankly on man's level, to accept him and his
 
 2o8 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 passions without affectation of thinking him 
 any better than he was. She won many a 
 man's heart by letting him plainly see that 
 she quite understood his sensuous feeling 
 towards herself ; that she did not blame him 
 for it, that she knew it could not be other- 
 wise ; that she knew what he would have if 
 he could, and that although he was not to 
 have it, yet he was not to be censured by her 
 in any way because of his impulses and his 
 desires. She was not, in truth, a passionate 
 woman. Had she been so, she could not have 
 exercised over so many men the supremacy 
 which she enjoyed so much. The lion-tamer 
 does not feel the fierce rage of the lion. Had 
 she been a passionate woman, she could not 
 possibly have escaped the scandal which, so 
 far at least, had not seriously affected her 
 fame. 
 
 Short as had been Lady Saxon's career in 
 London, she was already notorious for daring 
 flirtation. There were men who envied 
 Rolfe Bellarmin his position, and there were 
 men who, it was whispered, shared the posi- 
 tion with him. Lady Saxon had more than 
 one elder brother in the political world.
 
 ROLFE BELLARMIN. 209 
 
 Society wondered and speculated upon the 
 meaning of Lord Saxon's complaisance. 
 Was he still infatuated, blind, or only in- 
 different ? Lord Saxon was a man whose 
 feelings it was difficult to guess. Habitually 
 silent, heavy and awkward, he looked utterly 
 unemotional. He was supposed to be entirely 
 engrossed In politics. He had never been a 
 London man in the conventional sense. He 
 was scarcely known in fashionable drawing- 
 rooms. His early manhood had been stormy, 
 and it was said that he had occasioned con- 
 siderable uneasiness to the Duke his father. 
 He had gone for racing, had patronized ballet- 
 girls, had committed follies. He had built a 
 theatre at the command of a beautiful bur- 
 lesque actress, who had a great reputation 
 for ruining men. She did not quite ruin 
 Lord Saxon. She deceived him, and he 
 found her out, and from that time a change 
 took place in his manner of living. He gave 
 up racing and ballet-girls and theatres, and 
 took to politics instead. He had become, in 
 a certain sense, a power In politics. He was 
 looked upon as a sort of skid to the Liberal 
 wheel, and likely to retard any violent inno- 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 2 10 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 vatlons. He was slow to make up his mind 
 as to the course he would pursue, and equally 
 slow to swerve from it. He was always 
 opposed to wars and daring schemes of re- 
 form. He could make a weighty speech, the 
 result of deliberate preparation and careful 
 verification of facts and statistics. But his 
 delivery was awkward and hesitating, his 
 voice monotonous, and he had none of that 
 magnetic sympathy, that spontaneity and 
 adaptiveness to the hour, which distinguished 
 his enthusiastic and impulsive colleague. Sir 
 Victor Champion. He worked hard, and 
 took as much pains in acquiring statistical 
 information as if he had been qualifying for 
 an examination in political economy. He had 
 serious ideas as to the duties of landed pro- 
 prietors, and the abuse of aristocratic privi- 
 leges. He had little time for social, or, it 
 might even be said, for domestic enjoyment. 
 In the early days of his reformation ambitious 
 mothers had made a dead set at him, but to 
 no avail ; and he had so long been given up 
 as a match that the sudden announcement of 
 his marriage was a shock, rather than a dis- 
 appointment. No one knew anything about
 
 ROLFE BELLARMIN. 
 
 the affair till it was an accomplished fact. 
 The Baroness Langenwelt had never been 
 heard of till she appeared as Lady Saxon, 
 and burst in her wonderful beauty on English 
 society, an ample justification of any act of 
 folly. 
 
 Lord and Lady Saxon did not go about a 
 great deal together, and Lady Saxon had 
 admirers, but that was all. Lady Saxon was 
 a very clever woman — far too clever a woman 
 to allow her influence to become weakened 
 by disuse. She knew the man she had to 
 deal with — knew his weakness and his 
 strength, knew that she had captivated him 
 in the first instance by her daring independ- 
 ence, her impulsive frankness, and a certain 
 imperious air of mastery combined with that 
 peculiar sensuous witchery that has been 
 spoken of She knew that she was not the 
 more likely to retain her hold upon him by 
 adopting the attitude of a patient Grizel. 
 The Cleopatra part was much more effective, 
 and she could play it well. Perhaps she 
 had spoken truly when she described her 
 husband as her slave and her convenience. 
 She had only to exert her power of fascina- 
 
 14—2
 
 212 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 tion, and she could bend the great, heavy, 
 sullen-looking creature in whichever direction 
 she pleased. But she did not always please 
 to exert herself, or even to disguise the fact 
 that he bored her supremely. She bade him 
 do this or do that ; attend her or absent him- 
 self, and he obeyed, rewarded by a contemp- 
 tuous smile or caress. It was her mood just 
 now to be deeply interested in politics, and 
 to keep him closely in that groove. She had 
 an ambition to open a salon, and to make her 
 drawing-room a rallying-point of the Liberal 
 camp. She wished to attract Champion to 
 her house. She urged her husband to invite 
 him — to insist upon his coming. But Cham- 
 pion did not come. His personal relations 
 with Lord Saxon were not of an intimate 
 kind. He evaded the invitations, pleaded 
 disinclination for society. And then Lady 
 Saxon had a wild, vindictive longing to make 
 her power felt somehow ; to undermine his 
 influence ; to split his party. She had a 
 vague intention of working against him — of 
 using Bellarmin as a weapon. But first she 
 must discover, if any opportunity of discovery 
 presented itself, whether Champion was in
 
 ROLFE BELLARMIN. 213 
 
 very truth indifferent as he seemed. She 
 would make the opportunity, and for this 
 reason she frequented the House of Com- 
 mons. Her humour was of this kind, when 
 suddenly, by favouring chance, she and Cham- 
 pion were drawn together for the first time 
 since they had been lovers. And now her 
 mood in relation to Bellarmin had changed.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 LITERA SCRIPTA. 
 
 :ORD AND LADY SAXON lived 
 in Seamore Place. There was a 
 stately, forbidding-looking mansion 
 in St. James's Square ready for their occupancy 
 when the old Duke should be called to a 
 better world ; but this was an event which, for 
 other than filial reasons, Lord Saxon would 
 gladly see postponed as long as possible. 
 He was not anxious to change his seat in the 
 House of Commons for one in the House of 
 Lords. 
 
 Lord Saxon before his marriage had a set 
 of rooms in Athelstane House, in which man- 
 sion the Duke and Duchess and their un- 
 married daughters only lived for a few weeks
 
 LITER A SCRIPT A. 
 
 in the season ; but though there was space 
 and to spare for two estabHshments, it did 
 not suit Lady Saxon to be domiciled even for 
 a few weeks under the same roof as the 
 Duchess. 
 
 Lady Saxon had an Oriental taste which 
 she had exercised in the decoration of her 
 house in Seamore Place. She was fond of 
 bizarre effects and brilliant colouring, and 
 when she appeared in public liked to be seen 
 with a retinue. Her private apartments; 
 which looked out upon the Park, were fur- 
 nished after her own fancy. It was her 
 custom to receive her intimate friends here 
 when she returned from her drive at six 
 o clock ; and to have the entree at this hour 
 was quite a different thing from being invited 
 to Lady Saxon's formal parties. 
 
 Bellarmin had often passed through the 
 Moorish anteroom, with its wonderful ara- 
 besque ceiling, its fretwork carving, its hang- 
 ing lamps in filigree silver, its huge vases 
 and magnificent draperies ; and he knew the 
 pretty little Japanese waiting-maid. Lady 
 Saxon's latest caprice, who stood outside her 
 mistress's boudoir and looked as though she
 
 2i6 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 had just Stepped out of * The Mikado.' She 
 ushered him into a most strange and luxurious 
 apartment, the walls of which were hung with 
 red and gold peacocks embroidered upon a 
 blue satin ground, where each low chair 
 and divan was a marvel of exquisite embroi- 
 dery ; and each cabinet, bronze and bit of 
 lacquer-work might have taken its place in 
 the South Kensington Museum. 
 
 But Lady Saxon's sanctum was not in the 
 least like a show-room in a museum. It WcxS 
 very gorgeous, but the eye rested nowhere 
 on an inharmonious spot of colouring, a piece 
 of defective grouping, or an incongruous 
 etiect. Lady Saxon's old Tokio and Satsuma 
 ware was the joy and envy of connoisseurs, 
 but it did not obtrude its costliness, and 
 merely blended agreeably with the back- 
 ground. No one would have suspected that 
 the quaintly-shaped pottery bowls, which were 
 filled with hothouse flowers, or enclosed palms 
 and tropical plants, were almost unique as 
 specimens of their period. 
 
 On first entering this room, Bellarmin had 
 felt a sense of bewilderment, so many uncanny 
 monsters peered at him from walls and tables.
 
 LITER A SCRIPT A. 217 
 
 Lady Saxon had a fine taste in monstrosities. 
 Sea serpents, with grotesque human heads, 
 twined the legs of the tea-table ; dragons 
 guarded the fireplace ; demons with tails and 
 fins climbed over the chairs, or did duty as 
 footstools ; strings of hideous ivory masks 
 festooned the drapery of the mantelpiece. 
 But after a time the confusion of colouring, 
 the demons and the monsters wrought them- 
 selves into the curious fascination of the place 
 and of its occupant. 
 
 Lady Saxon called this room her confes- 
 sional, and certainly it seemed a spot which 
 might well invite confidences of a tender kind, 
 and she herself appeared a fitting priestess of 
 such a shrine. She sat in a low, wide lounge, 
 propped up by gold-embroidered cushions, 
 and she wore a sort of robe of some rich 
 velvety material of a deep yellow colour, 
 which toned with her yellow hair. She 
 looked, Bellarmin thought, like some wonder- 
 ful orange-coloured Hly or orchid, such as he 
 had seen in tropical houses. There was in 
 her whole appearance — in her glowing eyes, 
 her slow smile, the soft undulations of her 
 form, something rare, exotic, and enervating
 
 2i8 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 to the senses. She did not rise as he came 
 in, but held out her hand to him with a wel- 
 coming look. At the sight of her a glow 
 suffused his being. It was a kind of intoxica- 
 tion. He longed to press her hand to his 
 lips; but upon this he could not venture. 
 Lady Saxon, in spite of her audacity, had an 
 imperious way of dealing with her admirers, 
 and of keeping them at a respectful distance. 
 She was always on guard, even when she 
 seemed most open to attack. 
 
 In her hand she held a copy of the Park 
 Lane Pictorial, and it was open at the por- 
 trait and bio.i^raphy of Mary Beaton. 
 
 ' You see,' she said, ' I am studying the 
 genealogy and the claims of our heroine of 
 last night. It's all very ridiculous.' 
 
 Bellarmin took a chair near her. ' Yes,' 
 be said, with a faint hesitation, ' it is ridicu- 
 lous.' 
 
 ' But it is picturesque,' Lady Saxon went 
 on. * Your Mary Stuart is delightfully 
 picturesque. The old gentleman with the 
 scar is picturesque too, and so is the white- 
 haired housekeeper, who talked so much of 
 the Grand Duchess of Schwalbenstadt. I
 
 LITERA SCRIPT A. 219 
 
 think that if I were to ask the Princess and 
 her suite to one of my parties, people would 
 find them attractive. This would be an odd 
 house, wouldn't it, for your Pretendress to 
 make her debut in ? I shall ask Miss Beaton 
 to dinner; and I shall invite some highly 
 respectable members of the House of 
 Commons, and a detachment from the Lords, 
 to come and inspect the claimant to the 
 throne of Great Britain.' 
 
 Lady Saxon's laugh jarred upon Bellarmin. 
 He did not want to talk of Mary Beaton. 
 Her name seemed as much out of place here 
 as at Madame Spinola's. 
 
 * The people who put that thing into the 
 Park Lane Pictorial have done her an injury 
 and an injustice,' he said, with some warmth. 
 * Such a flourish of trumpets is absurd. She 
 can't help being a Stuart ; and there's the 
 beginning and end of it all.' 
 
 'Is it ? Then why is she here ? She 
 might just as well have stayed in Schwalben- 
 stadt.' 
 
 ' One finds it conceivable that Miss Beaton 
 might wish to see her own country,' said 
 Rolfe. ' Her father was an English baron.
 
 220 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 But I believe there is a claim,' he added, 
 'to a property in the North which was con- 
 fiscated.' 
 
 *Ah!' said Lady Saxon. 'And it is in- 
 tended that some chivalrous young member 
 with influence in the House should bring 
 forward a motion for inquiry and restitution ! 
 Is that to be your part, Mr. Bellarmin ? In 
 the meantime, Liberal and Tory politicians 
 are to be attracted and conciliated. I should 
 say that Miss Beaton might have a very 
 good chance of getting her claims recognised 
 
 if ' she paused as though she were 
 
 deliberating. ' No, no, Rolfe ; there are 
 graver issues than that coming up. There 
 is something more important for you to do 
 than play the part of political paladin to a 
 pretty ambitious girl.' 
 
 * I have neither wish nor intention to play 
 the part of paladin, Lady Saxon. Tell me 
 of these graver issues, if we are to talk 
 politics.* 
 
 Lady Saxon leaned back against her 
 cushions, and looked at him thoughtfully 
 for a minute or two. Bellarmin sometimes 
 wondered if her eyes actually had some
 
 LITER A SCRIPT A. 221 
 
 magnetic quality, and if she were conscious 
 of it, and made use of it. Certainly they 
 affected him peculiarly. 
 
 ' Yes, we are to talk politics,' she said ; 
 'and first I am going to give you some 
 tea.' 
 
 There was a tray near her, with a silver 
 service, and a tiny crystal liqueur -flask. 
 
 * Koto,' Lady Saxon called, and the Japanese 
 girl appeared with some fresh tea. Lady 
 Saxon poured out a cup and gave it to 
 Bellarmin. He did not refuse the little glass 
 of liqueur that Koto handed him. 
 
 ' I will see no one,' said Lady Saxon. 
 
 Koto made an obeisance and disappeared, 
 and Lady Saxon and Bellarmin were alone 
 again. 
 
 Lady Saxon had put dow^n the Park Lane 
 Pictorial, and now leaned forward, her hands 
 clasped on her knee, still looking intently at 
 him. ' Have you anything to confess to- 
 day ?' she asked abruptly. ' There's some- 
 thing on your mind. Come, out with it.' 
 
 His voice trembled a little, and his eyes 
 seemed unable to move themselves from hers. 
 
 * I have something on my mind, and in my
 
 222 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 heart, at this very moment. Are you really 
 not afraid to know what it is ?' 
 
 * Afraid ! I was never afraid of anything 
 in my life, or of anybody, except myself. Go 
 on. I shan't flinch, however dreadful it 
 may be.' 
 
 ' I shouldn't mind that. I shouldn't mind 
 if you showed some sort of feeling, so long 
 as you were not scornful and angry, and 
 didn't forbid me to come near you. I'm a 
 mortal coward if there's a risk of losing your 
 friendship.' 
 
 ' Oh, that would stand a shock,' she 
 answered softly. ' I think I can promise 
 you that, short of murder or high treason, 
 you won't lose my friendship — if you care to 
 keep it. I like you, Rolfe Bellarmin. I am 
 proud of you — I wish you success and happi- 
 ness. I have your career as close to my 
 heart, I am as fond of you as if — if you were 
 my brother.' 
 
 ' Oh,' he exclaimed, ' that's it ! I don't 
 want to be your brother ! That relation is 
 impossible with you. Why are you so kind 
 to me, Lady Saxon ? Why do you encourage 
 me to say daring things ?'
 
 LITERA SCRIPT A. 223 
 
 ' Because I want to inspire you to do them ; 
 because I am daring and ambitious for myself 
 and for those whom I admire. Now I've 
 one virtue, Mr. Bellarmin, and that is frank- 
 ness ; and I am going to be frank with you. 
 I can read your thoughts, and I'll read them 
 to you, if you'll let me.' She gently furled 
 and unfurled a fan of yellow feathers which 
 had lain beside her, and w^ent on very de- 
 liberately : ' You are in a state of irritation 
 against me, against circumstances, against 
 everything. You are angry because w^e are 
 only what we are ; you are distrustful of your- 
 self, and you are distrustful of me. In spite 
 of what you said a moment since, you have 
 an impulse to end everything, to keep away 
 from me, and to break off in a highly vir- 
 tuous and melodramatic fashion our harmless 
 and pleasant friendship. You want to have 
 done with this brotherly and sisterly sham — 
 that's what you call it yourself. You fancy 
 yourself the good young hero from the 
 country, who falls a prey to the London Peg 
 Woffington. That's how it is, Rolfe.' She 
 touched his cheek with the feathers of her 
 fan, and looked into his e}es with more of
 
 224 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 tender reproach than mirth. ' But, my dear 
 boy, you are no more the virtuous hero from 
 the country than I am Peg Woffington. It 
 went out of date, all that kind of sentiment, 
 before you came into Parliament. Progres- 
 sive Toryism must keep pace with the times, 
 you know.' 
 
 * Oh, Lady Saxon, don't be cruel to me !' 
 The younor man reddened, and put out his 
 hand imploringly. 
 
 * I am a good thought-reader, then ? Well, 
 I never pretended to be younger than I am, 
 and to be stupid and to know nothing of 
 men and their moods. To do myself justice, 
 Rolfe, I may say that I never in my life 
 pretended more than was absolutely neces- 
 sary.' 
 
 * You shouldn't laugh at me,' he said, rather 
 sullenly. 
 
 * I didn't mean to laugh at you, my poor 
 boy, and I think I understand young men. 
 Experience is my magic. It's the only sort 
 of magic labelled *' that is the genuine 
 article," mind that. This brother and sister 
 business, Rolfe, is difficult to keep up. You 
 are quite right. It is a sham. But, my
 
 LITER A SCRIPT A. 225 
 
 brother, when one cannot have realities one 
 must make the best of shams.' 
 
 There was a note of plaintive regret in her 
 voice, which dropped in sighing cadence. 
 Bellarmin fancied that her eyes were tearful. 
 He imprisoned the hand and the slowly 
 swaying fan. She let her hand remain in his 
 for a few moments, then gently withdrew it, 
 and shook her head sadly. New purposes 
 and plans were in her mind since she last 
 received Bellarmin in her confessional. She 
 had made her compact with Victor Champion. 
 
 ' I can't be your brother !' he exclaimed 
 passionately. ' My feeling towards you isn't 
 in the least brotherly, I'm quite certain of 
 that ; though what I do feel about you in the 
 very depths of my heart puzzles me a great 
 deal more than Lord Bosworth's foreign 
 policy. Look here, Lady Saxon, you won't 
 mind bluntness, I know. I'm not fool enough 
 to imagine that what I feel or don't feel 
 makes any difference to you. If I thought 
 you really cared an iota, I shouldn't think for 
 an instant about what was good or bad for 
 myself. But / can't do the Platonics. I 
 want to take your hand — I want a thousand 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 226 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 mad things — Heaven knows what I want ; / 
 don't !' Rolfe spoke in a quick, boyish, 
 agitated manner, looking at her straight all 
 the time, but she kept her eyes on her fan. 
 * A man who wouldn't lose himself, risk 
 everything, give up everything, for a woman's 
 sake is a cad,' the young fellow cried ; * but 
 when there's no question of that, and the 
 woman doesn't care, and he is only certain at 
 best of hurting himself severely, and perhaps 
 of being laughed at ' — he broke off. 
 ' Well ?' she asked calmly. 
 ' He had better not make any pretences to 
 her or to himself I think you are dangerous 
 to me, Lady Saxon, and that's the truth — 
 complimentary or uncomplimentary, as you 
 may take it.' 
 
 ' I will take it as complimentary,' she 
 answered, ' since I want to believe that you 
 are not making pretences, but have a real 
 feeling for me.' 
 
 4 /lave a real feeling for you. It's horribly 
 real, and that's the worst of it. But I should 
 not feel like that about you if you were my 
 sister ; I should be very sorry if anyone felt 
 for my sister — supposing I had one — in that
 
 LITERA SCRIPT A. 227 
 
 way. Being with you is like taking opium — 
 one wants more and more of it. Yes, the 
 thought has come into my mind more than 
 once lately that it wouldn't be a bad thing if 
 I were to give up altogether, and run away 
 and keep away until I am cured.' 
 
 ' And then, after a month or so, come back 
 and marry some charming girl with a fortune, 
 or a rich widow — she need not be too young 
 — that would be a certain way of advancing 
 your career ! You might indulge in the 
 luxury of political principles then. You have 
 an example before you.' 
 
 ' In Sir Victor Champion,' he answered in 
 her own vein. ' Providence might not be 
 equally kind to me.' 
 
 Lady Saxon gave a little laugh. ' So, on 
 your way here you were meditating how to 
 make your escape ? You needn't let it trouble 
 you any longer. From this moment, Mr. 
 Bellarmin, you are free. I release you from 
 all vows and promises. This has been your 
 prison, and I have been your gaoler. Well, 
 give a last look round, and take your liberty.' 
 
 She glanced about the pretty fantastic room 
 and up at the embroidered peacocks. He 
 
 15—2
 
 228 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 followed her eyes, then rose and stood by the 
 mantelpiece, where he seemed lost In the ex- 
 amination of one of the grotesque ivory faces. 
 
 'You are free,' she repeated, pointing with 
 her yellow fan as she spoke. 'Why don't 
 you go ?' 
 
 ' I don't mean to take my liberty,' he 
 answered stolidly, looking at her straight ; 
 * not now — not in this way. I am ashamed 
 of what I said to you.' 
 
 ' Why — if it was true ? I dare say that my 
 influence is pernicious. Are you sure that you 
 don't mean politically and not morally ?' 
 
 ' Perhaps.' 
 
 ' Do you take me for a Delilah ? Are you 
 afraid of being drawn by my wiles from the 
 straight paths of Progressive Toryism into 
 crooked Liberal ways ? Oh, my poor boy ! I 
 am a more disinterested counsellor than any 
 of the rest of them. / don't make my living 
 by politics.' 
 
 He echoed her laugh, but in a remorseful, 
 discomfited fashion. 
 
 * How cruel you are ! I don't deserve your 
 taunts. You know well that your sympathy 
 and counsel are inexpressibly valuable to me.'
 
 LITER A SCRIPT A. 229 
 
 ' Then why give them up ? Why make 
 difficuhies by saying things you don't mean ?' 
 Her voice had become plaintive again. ' I am 
 ambitious for you, Rolfe — not for the party.' 
 
 ' Oh, don't you see ? Don't you know ?' 
 he cried, starting to his feet. ' You mus^ 
 know how it is I* 
 
 Lady Saxon's manner changed suddenly. 
 In her rippling laugh there was a sound of 
 mockery. 
 
 * Do I see ? Do I know ? Oh, how poor 
 our English language is ! One realizes that in 
 private theatricals and the great moments of 
 life. All this peroration, and the climax not 
 arrived at yet! In French, it would have 
 gushed out with all the spontaneity and natural- 
 ness in the world. "Je t'aime!'" and she 
 clasped her hands dramatically on her bosom. 
 
 * Or '' I 'o t' amo ;" or — do you know Spanish, 
 Mr. Bellarmin ?' 
 
 She stopped, seeing his white face. Rising, 
 she stood before him and laid her hand on 
 his arm, looking at him with a sort of caressing 
 command. She was almost as tall as he. 
 
 * Well then,' he said fiercely, * in plain 
 English and without peroration, I ^Azn^ I
 
 230 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 love you — I am afraid I do — yes, and it's not 
 a sentiment that I'm proud of.' 
 
 Lady Saxon did not in the least resent his 
 roughness. 
 
 * My poor Rolfe,' said she. moving back 
 slowly to her seat, ' I'm not going to be 
 melodramatic or to let you be melodramatic 
 either. Do you think those three words 
 haven't been said to me in most of the 
 European languages, and do you think I am 
 any the worse wife to Lord Saxon on that 
 account ? Of course I knew that the Platonic 
 mood would not last. It never does last. 
 People make up their minds to separate — or 
 — they don't. Either way, there is an end to 
 the Platonics. But what then ? Would it be 
 such a serious thing even if you did love me ? 
 I also — love you !' 
 
 * Josephine !' 
 
 * Yes, in a manner — in a sort of fashion. 
 But I love some other things far better. I 
 love my ambition for you best of all.' 
 
 This last shot of hers told upon him. 
 Where is the ambitious man who does not 
 delight to hear from the lips of a beautiful 
 woman that his fame is dearer to her even
 
 LITERA SCRIPTA 
 
 than himself? But with all his delight, and 
 the sudden revulsion from his fervid mood, 
 there came to the young man — he was still 
 very young — a pang of distrust in his own 
 capacity, a dread, amid all the confused pain 
 and rapture, that the woman's enthusiasm was 
 rating him far too high. 
 
 ' Dear Lady Saxon,' he said tenderly, and 
 he touched her hand as he spoke, ' you are 
 very good to me. I'll try to talk sensibly and 
 not to worry you about my feelings.' 
 
 The touch and the tone had something 
 remorseful in them. The passion had gone 
 from his voice. Somehow she had calmed 
 his heated mood. She had wished to turn 
 him in another direction from that to which 
 he was tending, and he answered obediently 
 to the rein. 
 
 ' You mustn't expect too much from me,' 
 he went on. 'You mustn't think too much 
 of what I can do in politics. You must not 
 indeed.' 
 
 ' What man of your years,' she asked Im- 
 patiently, ' has made such a place for himself 
 in the House of Commons } Why, you are 
 only a boy !'
 
 232 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 ' Yes, perhaps there it is — a sort of political 
 infant phenomenon ; and we know what the 
 infant phenomenon grows up to. I was very 
 young when I first got into the House — and 
 quite unknown ; and I had plenty of school- 
 boy cheek, and little reverence for my seniors 
 — except one — De Carmel — who \yas my hero 
 and my ideal — and I rattled away at anything ; 
 and I could do the thing easily and talk 
 nonsense fluently, and I suppose I talked 
 better than people expected, and so I was 
 set down as a rising young man. But one 
 can't always be a rising young man, can one ? 
 and I sometimes doubt whether I have any- 
 thing better to show after these years than I 
 had in my first session.' 
 
 He lowered his voice and spoke those last 
 words pathetically. He had really often felt 
 the doubt rising within him lately. 
 
 * Come,' she said, ' I think all the better of 
 you for these little gleams of distrust now and 
 again — these bursts of stage-fright. They 
 show that you have the true artistic tempera- 
 ment. But the real actor never gives way to 
 his stage-fright ; he fights against it and 
 conquers it. What you want, my friend,
 
 LITER A SCRIPT A. 233 
 
 is a field, and I am going to show you 
 the field; 
 
 She paused complacently. She enjoyed 
 all this. He looked at her, and he too waited. 
 Did any sudden sense of distrust spring up 
 in his mind ? She, the wife of Lord Saxon, 
 how did she propose to find a field for an 
 enterprising young Tory Democrat ? Was 
 she speaking as Lord Saxon's wife ? She 
 quickly settled that question. 
 
 ' I want you, Rolfe, to join with Victor 
 Champion. That is what I mean that you 
 should do.' 
 
 * With Victor Champion ! But — don't you 
 understand ? My dear Lady Saxon, it is out 
 of the question. But you don't know/ he 
 added blankly. 
 
 * You absurd boy ! Why, of course I 
 know. Somebody made overtures to you in 
 Victor Champion's name, and you have been 
 artfully trying to keep it from me. Oh yes, 
 I saw all that yesterday ; and it was all 
 cloudy, and you couldn't see your way. That 
 was all right. That was Then ; but now it is 
 Now. That makes all the difference.' 
 
 Bellarmin involuntarily drew back. ' I
 
 234 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 don't see that much has changed since then,' 
 he said. 
 
 ' Don't you ? I do. T/ie7i Sir Victor 
 Champion was only feeling his way. JVow 
 he sees it. Then he was only thinking of 
 going on. Now he has made up his mind to 
 go on. The old Whigs are done with, Rolfe ; 
 their day is past ; they sleep in ancient 
 history like the monumental figures of the 
 knights and their dames lying side by side 
 with folded arms on the tombs in the ancient 
 churches. They are gone. You see that, at 
 least, Rolfe ?' 
 
 ' Oh yes, of course !' he answered im- 
 patiently. ' Every fool sees that.' 
 
 ' Rude young man ! because / see it ?' 
 ' No, no ; it is only a saying. Please go on.' 
 ' Well, the fossil Conservatives can't do 
 much, can they ? Your whole career goes to 
 show that you don't believe they can do any- 
 thing.' 
 
 ' They can't do anything of themselves, cer- 
 tainly. But if they could be '' educated up" 
 to the acceptance of some modern ideas, they 
 might be made a useful party under a leader 
 who could lead.'
 
 LITER A SCRIPT A. 235 
 
 * Yes ; and where is he ?' 
 
 ' Ah, De Carmel is dead f 
 
 'Yes — and Lord Bosworth is alive! My 
 dear Rolfe, no one knows better than you 
 that the day has quite gone by when a man 
 in the House of Lords could be the real 
 leader of a great English party. Could you 
 but ask De Carmel what he thought !' 
 
 ' Yes, I suppose that is so ; I suppose he 
 began to feel that lately himself in the Lords,' 
 Bellarmin assented somewhat reluctantly. * I 
 used to believe in the House of Lords 
 once, because of its picturesque side, I 
 fancy. Radicalism is so confoundedly un- 
 picturesque.' 
 
 The young man got up again and stood 
 somewhat in the attitude of a declaimer, with 
 one hand clenched upon the palm of the 
 other. Curiously enough, this was a gesture 
 common with Champion in debate, and Lady 
 Saxon knew this and noted his unconscious 
 imitation. 
 
 * I wish I could believe in the possibility of 
 a great leader in the House of Lords,' Lady 
 Saxon said, with a sigh and a distinct shrug 
 of the shoulders.
 
 236 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 * You, Lady Saxon ! Why do you par- 
 ticularly wish that ?' 
 
 ' Don't you see ? Because I am an ambi- 
 tious woman — wildly ambitious — not for my- 
 self : I have got about all that a woman can 
 well get in that way — but for any man in 
 whom I take a real interest. Don't be too self- 
 conceited, Mr. Bellarmin. I dare say that I 
 should be a model wife and famous helpmate 
 if only there were no House of Lords.' 
 
 * I don't quite understand.' He sat down 
 once more close to her. 
 
 ' No ? Well, I suppose not. I'll tell you. 
 If Lord Saxon's father were not an old man, 
 if Lord Saxon were not doomed by fate to 
 succeed him in that hopeless House of 
 Lords — well, I really believe I should turn 
 all my energies to the task of driving on my 
 poor, heavy, reluctant husband to the career of 
 a great leader in politics. You know he has 
 some capacity, Rolfe.' 
 
 ' We all know that he has capacity. Some 
 say that he has great capacity.' 
 
 * But what is the use ? He must go into 
 the House of Lords, and when once he gets 
 there he becomes a mere figure-head — if he
 
 LITER A SCRIPT A. 237 
 
 be even so much — and he will be quite con- 
 tent and happy. No ; I can't make anything 
 of Saxon. I want to make something of 
 you, and it is to be done through Sir Victor 
 Champion.' 
 
 * What is Champion going to do ?' Bellar- 
 min asked. 
 
 * Great things, Rolfe. To create a new 
 party — call up a new spirit in English poli- 
 tics. In any case, your place is with him. 
 The future is with him, and will be with you, 
 if only you make up your mind, pull yourself 
 together, and take my advice.' She paused, 
 and gazed at him from under her level eye- 
 brows. He looked at her in return, but did 
 not answer. ' I know Victor Champion,' she 
 said steadily ; her voice seemed clear as a 
 bell. ' I discovered what was in him — well, 
 never mind how long ago. I am not going 
 to tell you that ; I don't make up ; you can 
 see that for yourself Yes ; I appreciated him, 
 and he appreciated me. If only we had had 
 the good luck to get married then, it would 
 have been better for me now, and better for 
 him — aye, and better for you too, perhaps, in 
 one sense, for you would never have been in
 
 238 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 this daneerous confessional of mine. I should 
 have been a devoted wife to him.' 
 
 * Why do you tell me this just now ?' 
 Bellarmin asked, with something like annoy- 
 ance in his voice. He remembered Tressel's 
 hints, and he wondered what Tressel knew. 
 He had not come to Lady Saxon's confessional, 
 surely, to hear her confession of tender feelings 
 towards Sir Victor Champion. 
 
 ' So you are jealous already, my Impetuous 
 youth,' she replied, with a kindly glance at 
 him. ' You are jealous of those old days long 
 before your time. Where were you then, I 
 wonder ? Eton, Harrow, where ? You for- 
 get, my dear friend, that I saw the sun before 
 you did, and had time to get through and get 
 over a good many likings and loves — if you 
 will put it that way — before you had grown 
 out of the hands of your nursery governess. 
 Yes, Rolfe, my heart ought to be an extinct 
 volcano by this time ; but somehow it isn't.' 
 
 He wanted to press her a little on this 
 subject of Sir Victor Champion ; quite with- 
 out premeditation he put his hand on her 
 wrist to check her, and call her attention. 
 Her pulse was beating as steadily and calmly
 
 LITER A SCRIPT A. 239 
 
 as that of a Roman soldier on oruard. A 
 shadow of surprise and disappointment — dis- 
 satisfaction of some sort — passed over his 
 face. Lady Saxon caught sight of it as it 
 passed, and read its meaning. 
 
 ' You think I tell you all this too coolly, 
 too composedly — with a candour which 
 our French friends would call brutal ?' she 
 said. 
 
 ' I don't call it anything — only I don't quite 
 know why you tell it to me,' he answered 
 bitterly. 
 
 ' No — to be sure ! You men are to have 
 all the flirtations and all the loves you please, 
 and to go from one woman to another woman ; 
 and if a woman only confesses to a man that 
 somewhere about the time of his birth she 
 did rather like another man, lo and behold, 
 our heroic youth is angry and offended.' 
 
 ' I am not quite so young as all that,' 
 Bellarmin said, almost roughly. ' Sir Victor 
 Champion is not quite old enough to be my 
 father — and you could not by any possibility 
 pass yourself off for my mother.' 
 
 ' Are we not wandering from our subject ?' 
 she asked with a smile.
 
 240 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 ' Very much, I think,' he answered, almost 
 with a frown. 
 
 ' Yes — well, let us go back to it. You were 
 asking me why I told you of my old devotion 
 to Sir Victor Champion ?' 
 
 * Why you told me — and now ?' 
 
 ' Quite so, dear impetuous youth. For this 
 reason — that }0u should plainly understand 
 why I am working for Sir Victor Champion 
 now. Because he is the only man whom I 
 loved — in my youth ; the man I would have 
 married if I could, then. Such a memory is 
 sacred to me — such a past !' She put all the 
 emphasis of her sweet and thrilling voice on 
 that w^ord ' past,' giving it a significance in 
 Bellarmin's ears which set his pulses tingling 
 once more. ' Such a past has to me the 
 sanctity of a dying bequest. Victor Cham- 
 pion understands me as perfectly as I under- 
 stand him : I want to help him — if I can — to 
 success, because of the past. I want to help 
 you to success because of the present ; be- 
 cause I am fond of you, Rolfe ; and I want 
 you to go in and win — don't you see ?' In 
 these closing words, which spoke of him, she 
 dropped all her melodramatic style, and her
 
 LITER A SCRIPT A. 241 
 
 manner was, seemingly, simple and natural. 
 She put her hand in kindly, tender fashion on 
 his. The young man's mind was passion- 
 tossed ; the touch charmed away all his dis- 
 trust — for the moment. He caught her fair 
 plump hand and kissed its fingers. It was 
 not a small hand — why should it be small ? — 
 Lady Saxon was a woman of what sculptors 
 call heroic size — but it was very white and 
 soft. It had perhaps too many rings on for a 
 lover's kisses ; Bellarmin kissed more ring 
 than finger. Lady Saxon smiled at him in a 
 soft, bewildering way. 
 
 * No, no, we mustn't have any raptures, 
 please. We are talking politics now; we have 
 done with — even Platonics for the present. 
 I want you to think over all that I have said ; 
 I want you to allow yourself to come in Victor 
 Champion's way, and get to know what he 
 really intends to do. You will soon find that 
 he is the man who really sees his way, and 
 that the next great — truly great — English 
 party is to be called into existence by him. I 
 will not, if I can, have you left out in the cold. 
 I want you to understand him — to appreciate 
 him — to work with him — to be his right hand 
 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 242 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 man — in time to succeed him. There, you 
 have my whole meaning, and my whole secret 
 is out now.' 
 
 She rose to her feet — hastily, in an impulse, 
 as that of a woman who has betrayed herself 
 — has allowed herself to say what she did not 
 intend to say. 
 
 * No more to-day !' she cried out with pas- 
 sion in her voice ; and then she stopped for a 
 moment and seemed to control herself, and 
 smiled, and spoke in a quiet tone. ' No more 
 to-day, Rolfe. We have said enough — at 
 least, I have said enough.' 
 
 * One word.' He put out his hand, and 
 she sank again on her divan as if she would 
 listen. * Sir Victor Champion knows nothing 
 of this ?' 
 
 ' Of what ? Of my talking to you in this 
 way — about this P' 
 
 ' Yes, Lady Saxon.' 
 
 ' Rolfe ! How could you ask such a ques- 
 tion ? Do you think he would accept a 
 woman's intervention in such a thing? or that 
 I would put you in such a position ? Ah !' 
 
 ' I ought not to have asked the question,' 
 Bellarmin said, abashed.
 
 LITER A SCRIPT A. 243 
 
 * You ought not — no; but I forgive you. 
 You don't quite, ^tn^e understand me yet. 
 No, I talked to you on my own account ; for 
 I have set my heart on your success. I want 
 you to promise that you will think well over 
 what I have said. That isn't much for me to 
 ask, after — after what you told me. And if 
 you come in Champion's way — well, do not 
 keep coldly out of his way. Now that's all. 
 Good-bye, Rolfe, my brother — shall I still call 
 you my brother ?' 
 
 She took the young man's hand in her 
 own and looked into his eyes with her own 
 swimming eyes, and almost seemed as if she 
 would draw him towards her. Her voice 
 seemed the voice of sincerity itself. Bellar- 
 min's heart was deeply touched. Dusk was 
 setting in, and the dimness and the perfumes, 
 and the strange gorgeous colouring of the 
 room, heightened the sense of half-poetical 
 intoxication under which he felt himself 
 languishing. He spoke passionately. 
 
 ^ Oh !' he cried. ' Vozi do me harm ? . . . 
 I must have been mad to think it ; I am mad 
 sometimes — when I have been kept away 
 from you, and when you seem cold and sweet 
 
 16 — 2
 
 244 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 and mocking — when I remember that you are 
 Lady Saxon, and I poor Rolfe Bellarmin. 
 Josephine — to say that I am yours — ready — 
 glad to be counselled by you, and I know 
 that you would never counsel me against my 
 honest convictions, Is to promise everything. 
 What should I wish for more than to be led 
 on to success — by yozi P' 
 
 He flung himself down on a stool before 
 her In an adoring attitude, his eyes, beaming 
 with all a young man's ardour, upraised to 
 hers. She stooped over him from her greater 
 height ; but even as she did so, seemed to 
 interpose her soft hand as a barrier between 
 him and her. 
 
 * You must go,' she said, ' go at once. Yes, 
 I accept your devotion — for your own sake — 
 for the sake of your career — because you are 
 dear to me. If you will. But I will not urge 
 you against your convictions. I only ask you 
 to keep your mind open — to give yourself this 
 chance to become the man of the future. But 
 go now. Write to me to-night, Rolfe — a letter 
 straight from your heart — no conventionality ! 
 From your very, very heart.' 
 
 She said the words very low, almost in his
 
 LITERA SCRIPT A. 245 
 
 ear, her head near to his. Now, as she ended, 
 she bent her face lower still, so that it seemed 
 to him her lips actually touched his forehead — 
 actually sealed the compact with the lightest, 
 faintest suggestion of a kiss. Faint and light 
 as it was, the touch brought the blood to Bel- 
 larmin's cheeks and a wave of passion to his 
 heart. He rose from his seat ; but she said 
 to him vehemently : 
 
 ' Go ! you must go now,' and almost pushed 
 him from her. 
 
 So Rolfe left her ; he passed the little 
 Japanese girl in the ante-room and went 
 downstairs dreamlike, and found himself in 
 the glaring street. That night he wrote to 
 Lady Saxon from the House of Commons a 
 letter in which for the first time he committed 
 to paper and to written words a wild and 
 passionate declaration of his gratitude to her, 
 in which he spoke of the bond he had made, 
 and protested his lasting devotion — his 
 love. 
 
 He went home in the early morning hours, 
 after a droning debate. He slept uneasily, 
 and his first waking thought was of the letter. 
 It brought him a pang of shame, of dread.
 
 246 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 almost of remorse. It seemed to him that 
 under the influence of an intoxication which, 
 in his saner moments, he could recognise as 
 intoxication, he had signed away his liberty. 
 Whether Lady Saxon attached any im- 
 portance to the deed — and this he was 
 hardly vain enough to think, or, as he put 
 it to himself, to hope — the fact remained the 
 same. 
 
 Lady Saxon read the letter with delight ; she 
 read it with full satisfaction. She wanted to 
 captivate Champion, but yet not to lose Bellar- 
 min. She was never content with any flirtation 
 which did not give her the triumph of a written 
 declaration of love. Such letters were to her 
 just the same trophies of conquest as the rings 
 which the clever wife of the Genie in the 
 Arabian Nights — what marvellous stupid folk 
 these Genies were ! — used to wear and delight 
 in. In Bellarmin's case there was a little more 
 than the ordinary joy of victory. Josephine 
 had a pervading idea that the letter might 
 turn out to be useful somehow, and at some 
 time; she did not exactly know when. It 
 might in all the varying changes of the coming 
 days happen to be of some importance to her
 
 LITER A SCRIPT A. 247 
 
 that she could produce a letter from such a 
 man as Bellarmin, telling her that he loved 
 her. So she put It carefully apart from other 
 letters; and she felt pleased, and her conscience 
 was quite at rest.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Mary's reception. 
 
 UT In spite of Bellarmin's impas- 
 sioned declaration — in spite of his 
 still more impassioned letter, Lady- 
 Saxon did not feel certain of her prey. Love 
 had not blinded her cool judgment, and she 
 saw through his reactionary moods and im- 
 pulses, and his struggle with the worst part 
 of himself; Lady Saxon had watched such a 
 conflict many a time before. It always amused 
 her, and her interest in the doubtful issue 
 never lost its keenness. There was a good 
 deal of the instinct of the savage in Lady 
 Saxon ; she liked to inflict pain — to know 
 that she had the power of inflicting it. 
 
 She had an unconquerable egotism, a thirst
 
 MARTS RECEPTION. 
 
 249 
 
 for power, for excitement, for mental stimulant 
 of some kind. In her life she had felt one 
 passionate, consuming attachment ; and that 
 had been for Victor Champion. When she 
 had laid her snares for Lord Saxon the thought 
 of Champion had been as prominent in her 
 mind as that of the splendid position she might 
 achieve. She had won the position ; and 
 though it delighted her less than she had 
 fancied it would, she exulted in it nevertheless. 
 There was still something she wished to win 
 — something which she meant to hold as well 
 as the position she had gained, if possible ; 
 but for which she would throw up the position 
 if needs be. This had been the end and aim 
 of her interest in politics. The fact that 
 Champion was her husband's colleague gave 
 dramatic point to the situation and intensified 
 its zest. Lady Saxon was in some sense an 
 anachronism ; she would have better suited 
 an earlier civilization. She was unscrupulous 
 enough for a Medicean Court; she would have 
 revelled in the luxury and the intrigues of the 
 Lower Empire. 
 
 For the present, with her one supreme 
 object still in view, Lady Saxon was resolved
 
 250 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 to feed her craving for power and excitement 
 as best she could. Bellarmin's admiration still 
 gratified her. Besides, he had now become 
 an instrument which might be turned to useful 
 account. By winning Bellarmin to Champion's 
 side she might come nearer to her great aim. 
 And, in any case, Bellarmin amused her ; and 
 he should not marry the nice girl with money, 
 which was the fate his friends predicted for 
 him. He should be her slave, her toy ; and 
 if he were in any danger of being attracted by 
 Mary Stuart Beaton — well, Lady Saxon would 
 advance daringly into the enemy's country. 
 All the movements should be made under 
 her own eyes, and if she were to be worsted, 
 which was improbable, she would at least 
 have the excitement of the fight. 
 
 So some days later, when Bellarmin was 
 lunching in Seamore Place, Lady Saxon 
 announced her intention of calling on ' the 
 Princess ' that afternoon ; and she told Bellar- 
 min that it was her wish he should also pay 
 his respects to the representative of the Stuarts. 
 
 He was surprised, and showed it ; he stam- 
 mered, and for a young statesman exhibited 
 a most ingenuous confusion.
 
 MARY'S RECEPTION. 251 
 
 * Yes,' said Lady Saxon. ' The Princess 
 holds her Court to-day. I have found out 
 all about it. I want to see what sort of 
 ceremony goes on at this English St. Ger- 
 mains. Shall I be permitted a fauteuil, do 
 you suppose ?' 
 
 Bellarmin said that he ought to be at the 
 House. 
 
 * Nonsense!' she rejoined ; ' it is only solid, 
 serious politicians like Lord Saxon who are 
 interested in statistics, and who put in an 
 appearance at question-time. Come, I insist 
 upon your going. Stay,' she added in an im- 
 perious undertone. ' These people will have 
 gone presently.' 
 
 Lady Saxon had been giving one of those 
 informal little luncheon-parties for which she 
 was famous, where anybody and everybody 
 might be found — except Lord Saxon. He 
 exercised some slight jurisdiction in the matter 
 of dinners ; but his wife asked whom she 
 pleased to luncheon. She usually had a poli- 
 tician or two of the less serious type — she 
 was not particular whether Tory or Liberal ; 
 a favourite actor or actress ; a bishop, per- 
 haps ; possibly a foreign anarchist as mild as
 
 252 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 a sucking lamb, at her table, and some smart 
 young Guardsman and frisky woman of 
 fashion. After luncheon, cigarettes were 
 smoked In a fantastically decorated den 
 behind Lord Saxon's study, and coffee and 
 kiimmel were handed round, and a certain 
 laxity of conversation — just a piquant flavour- 
 ing — was permitted. 
 
 There followed a good deal of light talk 
 and explanation about ' the Princess ' and 
 her claims, which somehow grated disagree- 
 ably on Bellarmin. The young man w^as in 
 a feverish and contradictory mood. He had 
 a vague longing to escape from the scene, to 
 breathe another atmosphere, and yet he was 
 like the prisoner In an opium den, held by 
 a fascination which he could not and would 
 not resist. And all the time he felt disgust 
 at himself and contempt for his own weak- 
 ness. The other guests went away; and at last 
 he was alone with Lady Saxon In the dully 
 gorgeous room. In which the fumes of the 
 scented cigarettes and odours of the aromatic 
 coffee and the kummel blended with Eastern 
 perfumes for which she had a fancy. Lady 
 Saxon seemed In keeping with the room ; she
 
 MARTS RECEPTION. 253 
 
 was quaintly dressed in some soft yellow- 
 brown Liberty stuff — the colour she was so 
 fond of, with her yellow hair piled above her 
 forehead, and a barbaric-looking jewel fasten- 
 ing the lace at her throat. She came close to 
 the young man and smiled at him in her 
 peculiar way. 
 
 ' Well/ she said, ^ you are thinking of 
 something.' 
 
 *You were at the German Embassy last 
 night ?' he said. 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' And Champion was there ?' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 * And you sat and talked to him the whole 
 evening, in a little side-room.' 
 
 * Yes,' she said again. ' Are you going to 
 do me the honour to establish an espionage 
 over my movements ? Would you like to 
 know of what we talked ?' 
 
 ' You and he never seemed to have any- 
 thing to say to each other — till quite lately. 
 People have remarked it. Tell me, Jose- 
 phine ?' 
 
 ' Poor boy,' she said in her sweet, mocking 
 tone, ' you are so impetuous ; you let your
 
 254 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 feelings run away with you. That is not 
 wise — in a politician. You know that I have 
 your good at heart. I don't want you to 
 take the fever too severely. It is such a 
 wasting fever, Rolfe ; it saps youth and 
 energy and hope ; no good comes of it, and 
 it isn't a thing you can get over and be done 
 with. It breaks out sometimes years after- 
 wards ; and then — oh ! one can hardly be still 
 for that restless longing to be ' — her voice 
 sank almost to a whisper — ' to be with the 
 
 She moved abruptly away from him. He 
 looked after her with a sort of sullen wrath in 
 his eyes. It had flashed over him that it was 
 not of him she was thinking. 
 
 Presently she came back, and spoke in her 
 light caressing manner. 
 
 ' Did I not tell you that you were to come 
 here less often — that you were to go and 
 devote yourself to your country's service and 
 make up your mind how far her institutions 
 needed reforming ? It isn't good for you to 
 hang about me. You mustn't call me Jose- 
 phine. I never said that I allowed that. 
 You mustn't write me letters which ' — she
 
 MARTS RECEPTION. 255 
 
 laughed at him rebukingly, ' which are so 
 pretty and so sweet, but which might occa- 
 sion some uneasiness to Lord Saxon if — 
 which isn't possible — they fell into his hands, 
 and if he didn't understand his wife so 
 thoroughly. So now go and put yourself 
 into a hansom and meet me in half an hour's 
 time at the Court of St. Germains.' 
 
 There was something in the aspect of Mary 
 Beaton's drawing-room when Lady Saxon 
 entered it, which made her think of the old- 
 time Court to which she had so jestingly 
 alluded. The house was early Georgian, and 
 the lofty rooms were panelled, and had the 
 corner fireplaces and the high narrow win- 
 dows and stiff ornamentation of that period. 
 The portraits on the walls added to the illu- 
 sion ; the high-bred melancholy Stuart coun- 
 tenance seemed to haunt the place. Even 
 the Beatons appeared to have been of the 
 Cavalier type, and two or three vivid paintings 
 of Italian noblemen bore no relation to modern 
 London. The furniture, old-fashioned and 
 Georgian too, had been collected by Falcon 
 and Lord Stonehenge ; both determined that 
 the surroundings should harmonize with the
 
 256 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 prominent figure. Mary Beaton was seated 
 in a high-backed chair against a background 
 of tapestry, which filled in a sort of recess, 
 and represented in faded colours some of the 
 adventures of Ulysses. General Falcon, in 
 a sort of undress uniform, stood very erect 
 near her chair, and Lady Struthers, standing 
 behind it, had the air of a lady-in-waiting. 
 Mary Beaton's costume of rich brocade, quaint 
 and straight falling, with a full ruffle of Mech- 
 lin lace framing her throat, and at her side a 
 quaint chatelaine with a veritable pomander, 
 said to have been the property of the Queen 
 of Scots, was in keeping with the scene. 
 
 There were a good many people in the 
 room, but scarcely any who belonged to Lady 
 Saxon's world : some standing about, others 
 sitting on the slim-legged stools and settees ; 
 others lookincr at the collection of miniatures 
 on the cabinets which were of historic in- 
 terest ; a few passing in and out to the 
 garden — a walled-in enclosure with some old 
 beech-trees in full leaf, and a grassy lawn 
 and brilliant borders. The birds were sing- 
 ing there, and the scent of roses, which in 
 this sunny, sheltered corner had come early
 
 MARY'S RECEPTION. 257 
 
 into bloom, floated pleasantly in. Above the 
 subdued hum of conversation there rose 
 every now and then a word in French or 
 Italian or German. Miss Beaton was talking 
 in French to- a venerable Catholic dignitary 
 with cassock and cross, who was listening 
 attentively to her words. Lord Stonehenge 
 stood near the priest, and in the group, re- 
 spectfully standing also, Lady Saxon, to her 
 great surprise, saw Sir Victor Champion. 
 
 The little circle broke up as Lady Saxon 
 entered. Her appearance seemed to produce 
 in all some slight start of wonder. General 
 Falcon made an abrupt movement. Lady 
 Struthers went through a sort of preening 
 process, and put on her blandest smile. She 
 was much gratified by this recognition of her 
 mistress's social claims and her own on the 
 part of the fashionable world. Mary got up 
 and bade her visitor welcome, her greeting a 
 pretty mixture of girlish cordiality and native 
 dignity. Sir Victor bowed gravely, and 
 moved apart with the priest, whom, with his 
 characteristic many-sidedness, he had drawn 
 into a discussion on ecclesiastical literature. 
 It was this alertness and receptivity, this 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 quick desire of culture in every field, and 
 openness to every claim and conviction, which 
 made Sir Victor Champion the object of such 
 admiration among his friends and sarcastic 
 commentary among his enemies. 
 
 This thought flashed through Lady Saxon's 
 mind while she was uttering sweet conven- 
 tionalities to her hostess. It was like him to 
 be attracted by the romantic and historic 
 associations that clung round the descendant 
 of Mary Stuart. It was like him to wish to 
 inspect more closely this fantastic flower of 
 bygone chivalry, blooming in prosaic modern 
 London. Lady Saxon was not much dis- 
 turbed by the thought so far. She had no 
 kind of affinity with such ideas and associa- 
 tions. What sort of feudal instincts could 
 she possess, any more than Emma Harte, 
 that Lady Hamilton to whom she had once 
 likened herself? She only said in her mind 
 that Sir Victor liked to be in touch with 
 everything, and that he was curious about 
 the charming claimant. He liked a sensa- 
 tion — that taste he had in common with her- 
 self; and she recognised and made allowance 
 for the temperament. But she knew very
 
 MARTS RECEPTION. 259 
 
 well that the sensations he liked were of a 
 more poetic kind than those which delighted 
 her most. Lady Saxon had an odd candour 
 towards her own soul. She knew the pre- 
 tence and scorned it, even when she made it. 
 She knew that she had never appealed to that 
 poetic strain in Champion. She knew — only 
 she did not care much now — that she could 
 never appeal to the poetic strain in Bellarmin. 
 That subtle, moonlight sentiment of life was 
 for such women as Mary. For her, pas- 
 sionate sun-glow, ripe fruit, red wine. Still 
 she hated the girl w^ho had inherited the 
 crown of romance — the girl who could inspire 
 poetry. Why should INlary Beaton be the 
 daughter of the Stuarts ? Why should 
 Josephine Saxon be an Emma Harte ? 
 
 Lady Saxon said a great many pretty things 
 to Miss Beaton, and she was gracious to 
 Lady Struthers also and to General Falcon, 
 the latter of whom replied with sardonic 
 courtesy. A steady look interchanged be- 
 tween the London lady and the soldier 
 Legitimist — the paladin adventurer whose 
 changing lot had thrown him among strange 
 scenes and strange people — told a great deal 
 
 17-2
 
 26o THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 to both. Lady Saxon had no definite per- 
 sonal association with Falcon, but she knew 
 that he had crossed her path in the past, and 
 that he remembered her. She guessed more 
 than this. It seemed to her that there was 
 some sinister design in the manner in which 
 he turned his gaze direct from her to Sir 
 Victor Champion, standing apart, conversing 
 with the priest, and back again, with a kind of 
 malign exultation, to her face. She was a 
 fearless woman and indifferent to conse- 
 quences, but for the moment she had a spasm 
 of the heart. Then her natural courage re- 
 asserted itself 
 
 * If I have a secret, he has a secret too,' 
 she thought, ' and I will find his out and turn 
 it into a weapon. If he can do me harm, I 
 can surely be of use to him ; it might be 
 worth while for each to buy off the other ; and 
 failing the rest, if there's war, I never knew 
 the man who was too strong for me.' 
 
 All the time that she was thus taking in- 
 ward counsel, she smiled on Mary and her 
 companions ; she complimented the girl on 
 her pretty house, and Lord Stonehenge and 
 Falcon on the taste which had arranged it
 
 MARYS RECEPTION. 261 
 
 SO appropriately. She told Mary that Lord 
 Saxon was most anxious to meet her ; that 
 her father-in-law took deep interest in the 
 question of Miss Beaton's pedigree. She 
 declared that the portrait in the Pa7^k Lane 
 Pictorial h^id not done Miss Beaton justice, 
 and asked if she had not fell: angry with 
 the artist to w^hom its execution had been 
 entrusted. The girl flushed a little. 
 
 ' I did not know about it,' she said, ' and I 
 did not like it ; I was very angry with General 
 Falcon for giving the people my photograph. 
 I am not an actress — or ' 
 
 She paused ; and just then a smile of bright 
 girlish greeting broke over her face as she 
 glanced suddenly towards somebody who had 
 that moment come in. 
 
 Lady Saxon, without looking round, felt 
 jealously certain that it was Bellarmin, and 
 she was right. 
 
 He, too, looked glad ; he was thinking, * I 
 knew she had nothing to do with that Park 
 Lane Pictorial affair.' He had overheard her 
 words. The deferential manner in which 
 he returned Mary's greeting irritated Lady 
 Saxon. He did not perceive her for the
 
 262 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 moment, and there was a buoyancy about 
 him as if he had determinedly shaken off 
 some stupefying influence. What had made 
 him late ? Ah, it was explained ; Tommy 
 Tressel, cool, indifferent, with his half-shut 
 eyes and smile of gentle cynicism, followed 
 Bellarmin, and was forthwith presented to 
 the representative of all the superstitions he 
 was supposed to hold in abhorrence. Tressel 
 in a drawine-room and Tressel on the floor 
 of the House of Commons were two different 
 beings. 
 
 ' Ah !' said Mary to Bellarmin, with frank 
 cordiality, * I wondered whether you would 
 get the card that I told Lady Struthers to 
 send you. You seem to have so many 
 addresses, Mr. Bellarmin. Do all English 
 politicians belong to all those clubs ?' 
 
 ' I have to thank you, Madame, for having 
 done me the honour to remember me,' said 
 Bellarmin. 
 
 ' I was very sorry not to see you when you 
 called the other day,' Mary went on. ' I 
 want to talk to you, Mr. Bellarmin — more 
 problems in political economy that I want 
 explained. Oh, if I were a statesman, what
 
 MARTS RECEPTION. 263 
 
 would I not do ! I did not dare to tell Sir 
 Victor Champion just at first what I am 
 thinking about. Why don't you do some- 
 thing for your own people instead of — ah ! 
 Mr. Beilarmin, I know a great deal more 
 about the poor people round your Houses of 
 Parliament, I think, than you do. But never 
 mind, we have a plan — Lord Stonehenge has 
 a plan ; he will talk to you about it by-and-by. 
 Lady Saxon, you are not going yet ; I want 
 to show you my garden. I am so proud of 
 my garden.' 
 
 ' I have a plan, too,' said Lady Saxon, ' in 
 which ]\Ir. Bellarmin may be included if he 
 pleases ; I want you to dine at my house, 
 Miss Beaton, and meet my husband and the 
 Duke of Athelstane and some of our political 
 friends.' 
 
 She had come forward, and as she looked 
 at Bellarmin the young man flushed, and 
 Mary saw the flush — saw that his bright 
 boyish ease suddenly left him. She saw, too, 
 that he and Lady Saxon exchanged no formal 
 greeting. 
 
 ' Mr. Bellarmin has been lunching with me,' 
 said Lady Saxon, 'and he was so disingenuous.
 
 264 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 or so polite, as to let me think I had given 
 him the information that it was your reception- 
 day ; I sent him on to announce my coming.' 
 Her manner clearly conveyed to Mary 
 Beaton's sensitive ear that Lady Saxon, and 
 Lady Saxon alone, had been the object of 
 Bellarmin's visit : that he would not have 
 come had she not bidden him. The g^irl felt 
 a little shock of recoil from both the woman 
 and the man. She regretted her warmth. 
 Her manner became ever so little constrained, 
 though she smiled brightly. 
 
 * Your plan is a very delightful one, Lady 
 Saxon,' she answered, ' and I gladly agree to 
 it. My dear tyrant must be consulted how- 
 ever, I presume,' and she glanced up at Falcon. 
 * My guardian, Lady Saxon, seems to look 
 upon the acceptance of an invitation as 
 seriously as if it were the signing of a State 
 Treaty.' 
 
 * General Falcon and Lady Struthers will, 
 of course, come too,' said Lady Saxon, turning 
 to Falcon, who bowled with his characteristic 
 solemnity. 
 
 ' They would not consider it becoming that 
 my youth and inexperience should go any-
 
 MARTS RECEPTION. 265 
 
 where without their protection,' laughed Mary. 
 * Is it not so, General ? Do you understand 
 that Lord and Lady Saxon wish us to dine 
 with them, and to make acquaintance with 
 some of their political friends ? Could any- 
 thing please you better, since you are so 
 anxious that I should learn exactly how 
 England is governed — from the people who 
 govern her ?' 
 
 * It appears/ said Lady Saxon, her eyes 
 turning from Tressel and Bellarmin to Sir 
 Victor, ' that Miss Beaton is in a fair way to 
 establish a political salon.' 
 
 ' Ah ! Sir Victor ! I felt much flattered 
 when he came here of his own accord to-day. 
 I am fascinated by Sir Victor, Lady Saxon, 
 and his greatest charm is that he is not in 
 the least political — or — what do you say ? — 
 Philistine. He mio^ht be a Catholic, or a 
 Jacobite. And he is an English Radical ! 
 You puzzle me, you English statesmen,' she 
 went on, ' you seem so out of keeping with 
 your professed characters. There is Mr. 
 Bellarmin, who calls himself a Tory, and you, 
 Mr. Tressel — I heard you speak in the House 
 of Commons, but I could not see you ; I heard
 
 266 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 you denounce Royalty and Aristocracy and all 
 the rest — and yet ' 
 
 'And yet — I am /ie?^e,' put In Tressel, with 
 languid courtliness which amused Mary. 
 
 People were coming and going. Every 
 now and then Miss Beaton would move 
 forward to greet some fresh arrival, to take 
 leave of a departing guest, or say a gracious 
 word or two to someone who looked neelected. 
 Her manner, notwithstanding its girllshness, 
 had a queenly assurance which might have 
 provoked a smile had It not been so entirely 
 unconscious. Lady Saxon could not help 
 observing, not with unmixed satisfaction, that 
 the young Pretendress showed considerable 
 aplomb in her reception of certain guests, and 
 In the w^ay she warded off attention from mere 
 lion-hunters. Madame Spinola was one of 
 these. She had made her way into the 
 house In Kensington by grace of an Introduc- 
 tion which she had been at a good deal of 
 trouble to procure from one of Mary's foreign 
 friends. She had already made an attempt 
 to entrap Miss Beaton into a promise to come 
 to one of the Bohemian parties which have 
 been described. But Lady Struthers rose to
 
 MARTS RECEPTION. 267 
 
 the occasion, and, sustained by the combined 
 dignity of all the dead Stuarts, and of their 
 living representative, replied with her stateliest 
 air that it was not considered politic for 
 Madame to mix much in London society just 
 at present. To dine at the Marquis of Saxon's 
 in order to make acquaintance with the Duke 
 of Athelstane, and to attend a reception at 
 the house of Madame Spinola, whom the 
 experienced old lady at once gauged as third- 
 rate, w^ere things not to be classed together in 
 Lady Struthers' mind. Nor was Miss Beaton 
 favourably disposed to the lady who was ad- 
 dressed by the Scotch member, Mr. Leven, 
 with such easy familiarity, and whom she heard 
 talking in terms of assured intimacy about 
 ' Rolfe Bellarmin' and 'Tommy Tressel.' 
 Mary noticed later that when Madame Spinola 
 effusively welcomed Bellarmin the young 
 man's tone and manner became unconsciously 
 and almost indefinably free and flippant. She 
 overheard also some slight criticisms from 
 Tressel upon ' poor Jennie's ' grief and rage 
 at not being able to pay her respects to 
 * Bellarmin's Princess,' which were not in- 
 tended for Miss Beaton's ear. And Mary's
 
 268 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 colour heightened for a moment, and she 
 wondered what manner of women these were 
 whom Mr. Bellarmin appeared to know so 
 well ; and she was half indignant, half gratified 
 to observe from his chivalric air when he spoke 
 to her how differently he rated her from such 
 as they. The question rose involuntarily — 
 was his deference a tribute to her as a woman 
 or as a Stuart ? There was a faint bitterness 
 in the girl's heart as she passed on, leaving it 
 unanswered. 
 
 The knots of talkers changed and broke 
 up. Lady Struthers was devoting herself to 
 a mediatized Royalty, and, in rapid French, 
 was making such of the bystanders as were 
 familiar with that language aware of the fact 
 that she was on terms of intimacy with various 
 Serene and Imperial Highnesses. She was 
 also expatiating volubly on the merits of iced 
 strawberry squash, and explaining to her 
 illustrious guest that it was a mistake to 
 suppose roast beef and plum-pudding the 
 national English dishes, that distinction being 
 claimed by strawberry squash ; and at intervals 
 the deep rolling voice, with its suspicion of 
 Highland accent, might be heard above all
 
 MARY'S RECEPTION. 269 
 
 the feminine buzz and general clatter urging, 
 in tones of deferential entreaty, ' Encore du 
 *' Squash," chere Princesse ' — ' Chere Prin- 
 cesse, encore du " Squash !" ' 
 
 General Falcon, drifting about after Mary 
 Beaton in the manner of a lord-in-waiting, 
 found himself detained in a little group of 
 which Lord Stonehenge and Tressel made 
 part. He found that they were arranging 
 for a visit to Stonehenge Park, the ' plan ' to 
 which Miss Beaton had alluded, and about 
 the exact date of which she had evidently 
 been first consulted. This was an irritation 
 to Falcon's jealous heart ; the greater when 
 he found that Bellarmin had been asked 
 without his knowledge or interference, and 
 that it was intended Sir Victor Champion 
 should be invited ; and yet he could not even 
 in his own mind find any reasonable objec- 
 tion to the move, which, with the eye of a 
 tactician, he saw was a wise one. 
 
 ' You enter into our idea, of course,' said 
 Lord Stonehenge ; ' Mr. Tressel would like 
 to bring about a rapprochement between 
 these two ; and it is important to us that 
 there should be a feeling of harrnpny on
 
 270 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 all sides on the question of the Stuart 
 claims.' 
 
 Tressel blew away the smoke of an ima- 
 ginary cigarette and gave a comical side- 
 glance out of his half-closed eyes. 
 
 ' I'm not going to say anything about the 
 Stuart claims,' he said, ' they are beyond me. 
 I shall confine myself to Hanoverian grants 
 and hereditary pensions for the present.' 
 
 ' We count upon you, General Falcon,' 
 Lord Stonehenge said. 
 
 * You do me honour, Lord Stonehenge ; 
 but I fear that I shall be of little use to you 
 in your political conversations.' 
 
 ' Come now,' Tressel languidly observed, 
 * you don't imagine that hard-worked politi- 
 cians go down to a beautiful place in the 
 country in the Whitsuntide recess merely to 
 talk politics.' 
 
 ' Yes, I do,' Falcon answered bluntly. 
 
 ' Quite wrong, my dear fellow, I assure 
 you. Buttercups and daisies, and a beautiful 
 old castle full of historic associations, and a 
 library full of rare books — and a pretty girl — 
 nothing in the world more calculated to 
 warm the cockles of Lucifer's heart- — or, as
 
 MARTS RECEPTION. 271 
 
 Stonehenge puts it, to promote a feeling of 
 harmony. I ain't quite so sure of the har- 
 mony on Bellarmin's part, though.' 
 
 Tressel's remarks grated upon Stonehenge 
 almost as unpleasantly as they did upon Falcon. 
 
 ' You will come ?' he said, turning to the 
 General. 
 
 * Undoubtedly, Lord Stonehenge. I could 
 not refuse an invitation which does me so 
 much honour,' and the grim old soldier bowed 
 himself out of the conversation. 
 
 * Wonder it don't get upon Miss Beaton's 
 nerves sometimes to have such a companion 
 always hanging about her,' said Tressel. 
 
 * He is devoted to her, and she knows it,' 
 Lord Stonehenge answered gravely. 
 
 ' Something about his eyes rather suggests 
 the idea of the private madhouse,' Tressel 
 observed. 
 
 ' Oh, come ! he was a splendid soldier, and 
 he Is a man of considerable capacity,' Stone- 
 henge remonstrated. 
 
 * Just you wait and see. I don't exactly 
 claim to be an inspired prophet,' Tressel re- 
 plied ; ' but I do observe that what I predict 
 does somehow always come to pass.'
 
 2/2 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 'You haven't predicted anything in this 
 case,' said Stonehenge good-humouredly. 
 
 ' No ; then you'll find that what I haven't 
 predicted — what I keep to myself — in this 
 case will come to pass.'
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 THE BOTH WELL PART. 
 
 I^^E AN WHILE Lady Saxon, too, had 
 ; been moving about, having come 
 Ti^r^ across several people whom she 
 knew. She had exchanged a few words with 
 Bellarmin, upon whom the double fascination 
 was working, and who was like a moth 
 between two flames. She left him presently 
 and got into conversation with an attache 
 of a foreign embassy, who expressed some 
 surprise at seeing her in Mary Stuart Beaton's 
 circle. Lady Saxon, In her turn, said to 
 Champion, when chance threw them to- 
 gether : 
 
 * I was not prepared to find you in the 
 Pretendress's Court.' 
 
 VOL. I. I 8
 
 274 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 'Why not?' he rejoined. 'She is a very 
 fresh and Interesting young woman — quite a 
 picturesque figure. I don't know if anything 
 can be done for her,' he added, In a reflective 
 sort of manner. The manner vexed Lady 
 Saxon, partly because his reflections were 
 about Miss Beaton, partly because he was 
 reflecting about anything while supposed to 
 be engaged in conversation with Josephine 
 Saxon. 
 
 ' Have you any ambition to be a nineteenth- 
 century General Monk ?' she said saucily. 
 
 ' General Monk !' He did not understand 
 her at first. ' Oh yes ; I see. No, I was 
 not thinking of a Stuart restoration ; only of 
 a possible restoration of Stuart property.' 
 
 A little wave of people who were near 
 broke upon them, and Lady Saxon found 
 herself talking to someone else with the 
 annoying idea that Sir Victor had purposely 
 escaped from her. She had a wonderful 
 knack of seeing all that was going on around 
 her without even seeming to turn her eyes 
 away from anyone with whom she was talk- 
 ing. She saw now that Bellarmin was standing 
 at Mary Beaton's side, and that General
 
 THE BOTHWELL PART. 275 
 
 Falcon was close by with a set frown on his 
 face. General Falcon evidently did not like 
 Bellarmin's attentions to Mary Beaton ; and 
 the mere fact made Lady Saxon like them less, 
 for it showed that Falcon thought there was 
 something serious in them. 
 
 ' Yes, I am delighted with my glimpse into 
 your Parliamentary life,' Mary was saying. 
 * I mean your House of Commons life. I 
 think the other House is lifeless and dull. 
 But your House of Commons! I don't know 
 how any Englishman could live without 
 trying to take part in that sort of battle.' 
 
 As Mary spoke, a little bunch of roses of 
 a peculiar reddish colour which she wore at 
 her girdle, and with which she had been care- 
 lessly toying, fell to the ground. Bellarmin 
 moved to save the bouquet from being trodden 
 on by the bystanders, but Falcon was before- 
 hand with him. Stooping his erect form and 
 gray head, he picked up the flowers and gave 
 them back to his mistress, who did not seem 
 to have noticed her loss. She gave him a 
 little nod, more impatient than grateful. 
 
 ' General,' she said laughingly, ' you watch 
 me as closely as a heron watches his prey, or 
 
 18—2
 
 276 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 a master his pupil. I am sure that you are 
 afraid of my becoming corrupted by dan- 
 gerous doctrine, or of saying something that 
 would be unbecoming in a Stuart. Mr. 
 Bellarmin isn't a Socialist or a dynamiter, 
 or even a Whig, dear tyrant. And do you 
 know this is the third time in the last hour 
 that you have interrupted the flow of my 
 conversation by restoring some lost property 
 which I could very well have done without 
 for a time ?' 
 
 Falcon drew himself up stiffly. He averted 
 his face for a moment that Mary might not 
 see how deeply he was wounded. Lady 
 Saxon's eyes met his full. She smiled, and 
 he turned away again quickly. ' I am very 
 sorry, Madame,' he said, in a deep resentful 
 voice, * that my small services annoy you so 
 much.' 
 
 ' On the contrary, dear General. I am 
 quite aware that they are my salvation. 
 There's no saying what would become of me 
 if it were not for you. But you know school- 
 children like to tease their masters some- 
 times.' 
 
 ' Are those flowers from your own garden,
 
 THE BOTHWELL PART. 277 
 
 Madame ?' asked Bellarmin. ' They are very 
 curious ; I never before saw roses that colour.* 
 
 ' They grow In Schwalbenstadt, and no- 
 where else/ replied Mary. ' The dear old 
 Grand Duchess Invented them. I like them 
 because they remind me of my childhood. And 
 do you know that General Falcon, who, in spite 
 of his tyrannical ways, can be quite courtier- 
 like when he pleases, gets them over for me ; 
 and every day makes me a pretty little posy.' 
 
 Mary scarcely glanced at Falcon as she 
 thus alluded lightly to his devotion ; but Lady 
 Saxon, with her keen woman's perception, 
 divined how that arrow would strike home. 
 The wave of emotion which for an Instant 
 swept over the stern man's face, and which 
 no one else perhaps would have observed 
 for whom it could have had any particular 
 significance, revealed to her experienced gaze 
 what the thoughtless girl was so far from 
 suspecting. 
 
 Bellarmin still examined the flowers. He 
 admired their peculiar colour and praised their 
 perfume, and he quoted In courtier-fashion 
 the well-known line, ' The fairest rose in 
 Scotland grows 0.1 the topmost bough,' and
 
 278 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 made a playful allusion to Mary Stuart's 
 device of the crowned red rose. 
 
 ' Would you like to have them ?' said 
 Mary simply ; and with a little gesture of 
 graceful condescension, which was quite spon- 
 taneous, and had a sort of regal absence of 
 affectation, she gave Bellarmin Falcon's posy. 
 The young man accepted it as he might have 
 accepted the gift of a sovereign. Falcon 
 made an abrupt passionate movement, as if 
 he would snatch away the bouquet. The 
 scar on his forehead showed dangerously 
 upon the red flush which rose ; but he re- 
 strained himself His arm dropped heavily 
 to his side, and he was turning away. 
 
 Just then Mary said, her eyes still wander- 
 ing, ' General, I don't think you are doing 
 your duty as a gallant soldier ought. I am 
 sure that Lady Saxon must want some iced 
 coffee or somethino^. Take her to the tea- 
 room,' and w^ith a little imperious wave of her 
 hand she dismissed him. 
 
 Lady Saxon saw it all. Her heart thrilled 
 with mingled exultation and anger. She was 
 inclined to think that Mary meant offence to 
 her in thrusting Falcon on her.
 
 THE BOTHWELL PART. 279 
 
 ' So you have to be polite to me, General 
 Falcon ? Your young mistress commands it/ 
 she said, as he gravely offered her his arm, 
 murmuring, 'You will permit me, madame.' 
 
 ' I try to be polite,' Falcon returned 
 grimly, 
 
 ' But you don't much care for this sort of 
 thing ?' 
 
 ' I don't much care for mixed assemblies.' 
 
 Something in the tone in which he said 
 this, and the look which accompanied his 
 words, made Lady Saxon's cheek flame. She 
 was at once alarmed and offended. She said 
 nothing, however, but, putting on her most 
 gracious air, let him take her to the tea-room, 
 where she drank a cup of iced coffee and 
 played with some grapes. Presently she said 
 to him : 
 
 ' I should like to take a turn with you in 
 the garden.' 
 
 Lady Saxon had a keen memory for faces, 
 and a sensitive faculty which forestalled 
 memory itself by association. She had had 
 to live on the defensive very much during 
 certain years of her life, and even in these 
 her later days, when smooth success strewn
 
 28o THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 beneath her feet made her path so compara- 
 tively easy and pleasant, she found caution 
 necessary. It occasionally happened that a 
 disagreeable association surrounded some face 
 which she supposed she was seeing for the 
 first time ; and then the association resolved 
 Itself Into memory, and justified Itself. A 
 chill, uncomfortable sensation had passed 
 through her when. In the central lobby of 
 the House of Commons, she had first seen 
 Falcon's marked face, with the heavy droop- 
 ing moustache that reminded her, she could 
 not tell why, of a hawk's wing ; and the steely 
 gray and restless eyes — eyes In the depths of 
 which something tyrannous and cruel might 
 be read, she thought. But on that evening 
 Lady Saxon's mind and heart had been so 
 fully occupied that she had not troubled her- 
 self about General Falcon and her vague 
 qualms concerning him. They had come 
 back to her later, however, and she had re- 
 membered the man In a dim, indefinite way. 
 Yes, she knew that they had met before. He 
 had seen her in England in her Bohemian 
 days before the Dulcamara enterprise of her 
 first husband had been covered by a patent
 
 THE BOTHWELL PART. 281 
 
 of nobility ; he had seen her. perhaps, with 
 Champion before Victor had become famous. 
 
 Lady Saxon was not a woman to wait for 
 danorer and let it choose its own time for 
 finding her out. She always preferred to go 
 forth to meet it. 
 
 'We have met before, General Falcon,' 
 she said, turning to him with a fearless smile ; 
 ' your face is quite familiar to me.' 
 
 He bowed. ' We have met before, 
 madame.' 
 
 ' I never forget a face like yours,' she went 
 on ; ' perhaps,' she added, with a benign, en- 
 couraging glance, ' a face like mine is not 
 easily forgotten.' 
 
 * I remembered your face perfectly,' he 
 replied ; and he looked at her straight as he 
 spoke. 
 
 He could not help, soldier that he was, 
 feeling a little thrill of admiration for her 
 courage. 
 
 ' Yes. I am glad. Not with any disagree- 
 able association, I hope T 
 
 ' There was nothing particularly disagree- 
 able in it — to me, madame. I have met you 
 on several occasions in the company of your
 
 282 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 late husband — who was not then Baron Lan- 
 genwelt ; and I have seen you on two or 
 three occasions, about the same time, in the 
 company of another person.' 
 
 Lady Saxon was silent for a moment. She 
 recollected now that Falcon had gone to her 
 husband for treatment of his wound. She 
 recollected what Langenwelt had told her of 
 its probable effect upon Falcon's life and 
 temperament. 
 
 ' I understand,' she said, with a composure 
 that, under the conditions, did her credit. 
 * General Falcon — a soldier — means to remind 
 me that he knew me when I was poor and 
 humble, and under a cloud.' 
 
 ' Oh, madame !' 
 
 The steely eyes flashed ; the heavy mous- 
 tache moved in deprecation. 
 
 * What else ?' she blandly asked. ' What 
 else could I understand ? Well. I dare say 
 you know all about me and my worst days — 
 my poverty and my struggles, and how a 
 quack adventurer made use of my youth and 
 my — well, I suppose I may say beauty — to 
 advertise his drugs. What then ? Perhaps 
 General Falcon thinks my husband, Lord
 
 THE BOTH WELL PART. 283 
 
 Saxon, does not know ? General Falcon Is 
 mistaken. My husband does know — all.' 
 
 Her audacity deceived Falcon for a moment. 
 When, later on, he thought over It, he felt 
 almost certain that she had lied. Now It 
 occurred to him that she was brave enough 
 to have trusted to Lord Saxon's Infatuation, 
 and to have secured herself by telling him 
 the truth. 
 
 * I was not thinking of that, madame,' he 
 replied. ' I was not thinking of Lord Saxon. 
 I have not to think of him. I was thlnklno^ 
 of others — whom it might have been my duty 
 to caution — against ' 
 
 Mary Beaton's silvery laugh rang out in 
 the soft summer air as she, too, came with a 
 little group of people from the tea-room. 
 Lady Saxon looked meaningly towards her 
 and then unflinchingly at Falcon, who, at the 
 sound of Mary's voice, had started and glanced 
 in her direction. 
 
 Lady Saxon laughed too ; and lightly 
 touched his arm with the gold handle of her 
 parasol, forcing him to meet her gaze. ' Do 
 not be so impatient to go to her ; she does not 
 want you. It Is only natural that she should
 
 284 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 prefer Mr. Bellarmin's society to that of her 
 — guardian. Your Mary Stuart likes to be 
 amused, General, and you are too old to play 
 the part of a Chastelard. That of Both well 
 would suit you better. I shall suggest to her 
 that she had better be careful.' 
 
 ' Madame, you would not dare ' 
 
 ' Dare is an odd word, isn't it, for a man, 
 especially for a soldier, to use towards a 
 woman ? I am not afraid of anyone in the 
 world, General Falcon. I am not even afraid 
 of my husband ; and, though that may seem 
 strange to you, I am not in the least afraid of 
 any stories you may think proper to tell of 
 me. They couldn't do me any harm. They 
 might hurt me, perhaps, if I were struggling 
 for a place in society — if I were, in a fashion, 
 
 on probation. But as it Is ' Lady Saxon 
 
 drew her parasol into a perpendicular position 
 and lowered It with an air of magnificent 
 disdain. She wished to Imply that society 
 would not believe stories about a woman who 
 was Marchioness of Saxon and might any 
 day be Duchess of Athelstane. ' I warn you, 
 however, General,' she went on, ' that I know 
 your SQQVQ.X.y and that though you cannot injure
 
 THE BOTHWELL PART. 285 
 
 me, it might be better for you and for your 
 mistress and for the success of your hopes to 
 make a friend of me instead of an enemy.' 
 
 She spoke coldly, and made a move across 
 the grass as if she would put an end to the 
 conversation and join her hostess. Falcon 
 stopped her with a oresture of entreaty, and 
 she turned back towards him, still cool and 
 smiling. She saw that he was at her mercy. 
 
 ^ Come !' she said, ' you see that your secret 
 is more important to you than mine — if I had 
 any particular secret, which I haven't. I can 
 be bon camarade if I choose, and, in any case, 
 I am not fond of tellinor tales out of school. 
 1 should really like to help you — if we were 
 to decide upon being friends — ^just for the 
 mere interest of the thing. There's some- 
 thing quite picturesque in the idea of an old 
 soldierlike you, reckless and heroic, chivalrous 
 and all the rest, madly in love like some knight 
 of old — and with a princess claimant, too ! 
 You should win your suit by some daring 
 stroke — the Bothwell sort of thing, you know ; 
 and if your Mary Stuart has the blood of her 
 ancestress in her veins, that kind of wooing 
 might well appeal to her. I assure you,
 
 286 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 General, that I should be quite sorry to work 
 against anything so romantic. It would be 
 too commonplace to marry your princess to a 
 young London Tory Democrat whose highest 
 ambition would be gratified by a summons to 
 Windsor.' 
 
 Every shaft that she had aimed struck 
 home. Falcon writhed inwardly with fury 
 and pain ; and yet he realized in a strange 
 confused way that there was a certain affinity 
 between the reckless spirit of this woman and 
 his own. Her extravagant suggestions, con- 
 temptuously as they had been uttered, seemed 
 an echo of the wild imaginings of his brain — 
 of thoughts and impossible projects which had 
 haunted his dreaming and waking hours. He 
 felt Instinctively that there were passionate 
 chords in her nature which made her compre- 
 hend his mad love for Mary. 
 
 * Lady Saxon,' he said, with Impulsive 
 appeal, * you know how — you understand 
 what a man feels — something tells me that 
 you do. A man such as I am, for whom 
 youth has gone — all its crackling fires swelled 
 into one terrible flame that burns — and burns 
 — and that nothing can quench except '
 
 THE BOTHWELL PART. 287 
 
 He Stopped short, and laughed in harsh, 
 quavering tone. ' You are a woman who 
 knows — you have a soldier's spirit. I like 
 the way you face danger. I'll keep your 
 secret, Lady Saxon, though you deny that 
 you have one, and I will trust to your woman's 
 generosity to keep mine.' 
 
 Falcon's tone and manner were not without 
 dignity. They touched Lady Saxon curi- 
 ously. She had been perfectly sincere when 
 she told him that she Vv'ould rather be his 
 friend than his enemy. 
 
 * You may do more than rely on my 
 generosity,' she said. ' You may rely upon 
 my help. Perhaps I may be of greater service 
 to you than you think now. and you may not 
 be sorry that I have surprised your secret. 
 Come to me if ever you want a woman's 
 advice — and trust me. I know it all : I know 
 what your love is, and what It means to you. 
 I know what you dread and would avert — 
 whom you like and whom you dislike. Don't 
 ask me how I know all this. It is enough 
 that I (1^0 know, and that no one else does.' 
 
 Lady Saxon's voice was low, but her 
 manner was intensely melodramatic. She
 
 288 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 delighted in the melodramatic. She was 
 never so much herself as when she was play- 
 acting. Now she had a purpose in her melo- 
 drama, and felt such a pride in its success as 
 Hamlet must have felt when he found that 
 his lines of tragedy had caught the conscience 
 of the king. She made a movement which 
 signified that she had no more to say. She 
 did not wish to mar her latest effect by another 
 word on the subject just then. ' Come,' she 
 said, ' will you see me to my carriage ? I 
 am going now to bid Miss Beaton good- 
 bye.' 
 
 Falcon followed her across the lawn to 
 where Mary was standing among a rapidly 
 thinning crowd. Lady Saxon bade her a 
 gracious farewell, and again spoke of the con- 
 templated dinner-party, which it was decided 
 should take place upon a day fixed after the 
 Whitsuntide vacation. 
 
 'We are going to stay with Lord Stone- 
 henge,' Mary said, ' and we shall not be back 
 till after the recess.' 
 
 * I, too, shall be out of town,' said Lady 
 Saxon, ' but my holiday-place will not be so 
 delightful as yours. Miss Beaton. You have
 
 THE BOTH WELL PART. 
 
 never seen that part of the coast. It is so 
 wild that you could hardly imagine it com- 
 paratively near London. I have a den of 
 my own down there. I almost wish that I 
 were going to have one of my misanthropic 
 fits and to retire to my eyry by the sea.' 
 
 ' I could never have suspected you of mis- 
 anthropic fits, Lady Saxon,' put in Bellarmin, 
 with a certain forced gaiety. 
 
 ' It is true, though — an effect of early bar- 
 barism. Miss Beaton. I was not trained like 
 you to the restraints of polite society. My 
 girlhood was an odd unconventional one.' 
 She darted a fearless glance at the bystanders 
 as she spoke, and laughed her ringing little 
 laugh, which seemed to proclaim that she 
 considered herself above criticism ; * I like to 
 break away from my shackles sometimes.^ 
 
 * And your eyry by the sea is near Stone- 
 henge ?' asked Mary, interested. This was a 
 new view of Lady Saxon's character which 
 appealed to hen 
 
 * Yes, high up on the cliffs. Lord Stone- 
 henge can show it to you if he pleases. I 
 wish I were going to be there to show it to 
 you myself — and to you, Mr. Bellarmin ; you 
 
 VOL. I. 19
 
 290 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 would believe in my misanthropy then.' She 
 gave him a smile that said, ' You see I know 
 all about the visit and the snares that are 
 being laid for you, and I am quite indifferent.' 
 Then she went on : ' You didn't know, Lord 
 Stonehenge, that I possess the loneliest and 
 most romantic of ruined castles about ten 
 miles from your own ?' 
 
 * You mean Petrel's Rest ?' replied Lord 
 Stonehenge. 'I go so seldom beyond my 
 own gates when I am down there — but I 
 have seen the place. I did not know that 
 Lord Saxon ever used It/ 
 
 ' I dragged him there once — In our honey- 
 moon days. It was a freak of mine — and I 
 fell in love with the old ruin, and he made it 
 over to me as a wedding present. I keep a 
 very primitive staff there, and when I am 
 tired of London life and country-house par- 
 ties, and want to draw a breath of freedom, 
 and to be a savage again without shocking 
 anybody's prejudices, I run down there all by 
 myself for a day or two.' 
 
 Lady Saxon departed, having left a dra- 
 matic Impression behind her. Falcon saw 
 her into her carrlac^e, and then came back to
 
 THE BOTHWELL PART. 291 
 
 the grounds. He did not join the rest, but 
 sought refuge in a quaint little strip of flower- 
 garden partly screened from inquisitive eyes 
 by a projecting wing of the house and by a 
 spreading beech-tree, through which the soft 
 breeze gently rustled and seemed to chime 
 with the hum of voices and laughter beyond. 
 The windows of Mary's sitting-room looked 
 out on the rose-beds and grassy walks. There 
 was a broken sun-dial in the centre, and Falcon 
 leaned his arms upon it and gazed up miser- 
 ably into the foliage of the beech-tree. He 
 felt the dull, heavy pain of his old wound 
 throbbino: in his head, and the humiliation 
 and the anxiety he had just been undergoing 
 seemed part of the wound's pain somehow. 
 Lo ! the very secret of his heart of hearts — 
 the secret with which he would not trust the 
 winds or the birds of the air — which he had 
 long tried to keep a secret even from himself 
 — had been snatched from him by a woman 
 who was not fit to breathe the same air as his 
 queen, his stately innocent princess, the lady 
 of his love. It seemed an insult to Mary 
 that his secret — and hers : it must be hers 
 when the time was ripe — should be in the 
 
 19 — 2
 
 292 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 keeping of Lady Saxon. The maddest 
 thoughts shot tormentlngly through his dis- 
 tracted mind. If he could but kill her! — but 
 he must stoop to her, give her his confidence, 
 profess to trust her, profess to be her friend, 
 see her in familiar companionship with his 
 mistress. One word from her might put out 
 for ever the light of poor Falcon's tortured 
 life. 
 
 Mary's guests were melting away. Only 
 a few remained. Tressel, in close conversa- 
 tion with Lord Stonehenge, had gone towards 
 the house after having made his farewell bow 
 to Miss Beaton, and Bellarmin wondered 
 within himself what political log-rolling could 
 have induced Tressel to pay an afternoon 
 call and deny himself for two whole hours the 
 luxury of a cigarette. 
 
 * Must you go, Sir Victor ?' Mary asked, as 
 she saw Champion coming up to her, evi- 
 dently with the intention of taking his leave. 
 
 * I am sorry to say that I must. I have 
 even outstayed what ought to have been my 
 limit of time.' 
 
 ' I am proud of having had so much of 
 your time given up to me,' said Mary sweetly.
 
 THE BOTHWELL PART. 293 
 
 ' It Is an honour any woman might well feel 
 proud of.' 
 
 'You are not " any woman," Miss Beaton.' 
 
 * Ah ! that is nicely said. I like to hear a 
 great man pay a pretty compliment.' 
 
 ' I didn't know that I was doing anything 
 of the kind. I was only going to explain 
 why I was so glad to outstay the limit of my 
 time here, Madame.' He paid her the further 
 compliment of recognising the formal mode of 
 address which her courtiers adopted, in so 
 dainty and courtly a manner that the young 
 girl — for she was but a girl, our Princess 
 Mary — felt her heart give a bound of gratified 
 vanity. 
 
 ' Well,' she said, * it Is a triumph for me to 
 have kept you beyond the limit of your time. 
 But I hope I haven't done harm, like the girl 
 in Scott's novel who keeps the brave knight 
 by her side, while the standard of England, 
 which he was sent to guard, is torn from Its 
 place.' 
 
 Sir Victor's cheek flushed slightly. His 
 enemies had a way of saying that he had no 
 regard for the standard of his country. But 
 it was plain that Mary meant nothing of the
 
 294 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 kind. She noted his momentary pause, how- 
 ever. 
 
 ' Have you not read Scott ?' she asked. 
 ' I am told no one in Eno^land reads Scott 
 nowadays. We do read him abroad.' 
 
 ' Oh yes ! I know Scott well,' Sir Victor re- 
 plied. What was there which Sir Victor could 
 say he did not know ? ' No, Miss Beaton ; 
 the comparison will not hold. Your influence 
 will never be employed to keep any soldier 
 of England from guarding her standard ; and 
 to prove it, I am going along now to my post 
 at Westminster.' He took her hand and bent 
 over it, as though he were doing homage to 
 a recognised princess, and he, too, made his 
 way back through the tea-room and out into 
 the street. 
 
 Bellarmin w^as almost the last. Presently 
 he, too, made his farewell. 
 
 * Are you going to the House of Commons 
 too ?' Mary asked. 
 
 ' Yes,' he answered ; ' but I am afraid that 
 my absence from the post at Westminster 
 wouldn't be of quite so much importance to 
 England as that of Sir Victor Champion.' 
 
 Bellarmin had been speaking in a con-
 
 THE BOTHWELL PART. 295 
 
 Strained manner. He was dolnof his best to 
 compel himself to look on Mary Beaton as a 
 woman utterly away from him, and to keep 
 her out of his heart. Mary suddenly seemed 
 to notice something strange in his voice and 
 his manner. Wholly unsuspicious of the real 
 cause, she looked at him with open and sym- 
 pathetic eyes, and asked : 
 
 * Are you not well, Mr. Bellarmin ?' 
 
 * Oh yes, Madame, quite well.' 
 
 * You don't look like it. You are doing 
 too much in the House of Commons. Of 
 course you are going to Stonehenge Park ? 
 That will do you good.' 
 
 ' I don't intend to go to Stonehenge Park.' 
 ' No !' she looked at him in wonder. * Oh, 
 surely you W\\\ go ! I look forward to meet- 
 ing you there. Yes ; you will go T 
 
 He shook his head. ' No ; I think not.' 
 ' But you wull go if I command you ?' she 
 said, with a smile which went through the 
 young man's heart. 
 
 * If you command — oh, then ' 
 
 * I do command.' 
 
 ' Then I will go ;' and a thrill of joy and 
 fear shot through his heart.
 
 296 THE REBEL ROSE. 
 
 ' Thank you ever so much ; you have made 
 me glad. Good-bye/ 
 
 She had made him glad too, though his 
 heart had remorse and dread in it as he left 
 her, and knew that his resolve to keep away 
 from her had died of her first entreaty, u 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. 
 
 6^, C. d-* Cff.