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GEHENNA 
 
 OB 
 
 HAVENS OF OREST 
 
 BY 
 
 THE HON. LEWIS WINGFIBLD 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 " EX HER MAJESTY'S KEEPING," 
 
 iJ LADY GRIZEL/' <; MY LORDS OF STROGUE," 
 
 &c, &c 
 
 " Si le Diable etait or, il se ferait argent." 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHEES, 
 
 18, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1882. 
 
 AU right* ret*r\ 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/gehennaorhavenso01wing 
 
^23 
 
 * 
 
 J 
 
 ^ 
 
 «j 
 
 TO 
 
 JOHN LAURENCE TOOLE 
 
 AS A TOKEN 
 
 OF CLOSE FRIENDSHIP OF MANY YEARS, 
 
 THE AUTHOR 
 
 DEDICATES THIS BOOK. 
 
GEHENNA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A HOLOCAUST. 
 
 TITELVIL WINTHROP, M.D., aged twenty- 
 ■*-"■*- five, sat crooning over a brisk fire — a skull 
 in one hand, a poker in the other. 
 
 It was Christmas Eve, 1876, and the young 
 man moralised in his solitude with the skull 
 for a text. He was only on the threshold of 
 his career, but life was not gay to him. Even 
 now at Christmas-tide he was neglected and 
 alone while others feasted, and he had already 
 made the discovery which comes home to most 
 of us, sooner or later — that the world is a place 
 which abounds in unkept promises. And yet 
 he was not morbid or inclined to despond, being 
 VOL. I. B 
 
2 GEHENNA. 
 
 gifted with an excellent appetite and a diges- 
 tion beyond reproach. But when one can almost 
 hear the voices of the thoughtless crowd bid- 
 ding '•' dull care " to " begone " in chorus, while 
 one is doomed to pine in a solitary two-pair- 
 back, one is apt to indulge in retrospect, sur- 
 veying the missed chances and reckoning up 
 the blunders, the sins, the trivial peccadilloes, 
 the hopes, the fears, the disappointments that 
 make up the sum total of the past. 
 
 Retrospect is not an enlivening occupation, 
 and the doctor grew sad under the process ; but 
 for all that he could be thankful for small 
 mercies — glad, for instance, that he had an easy 
 chair to sit iu, a fire to poke, a kettle on the 
 hob, and a whisky-bottle by his side — four attri- 
 butes of bliss unattainable to many a wretched 
 fellow Londoner that Christmas Eve. 
 
 What a night it was ! Such a one as you 
 and I, who inhabit the Modern Babylon, know 
 but too well. Upon the greasy roads unhappy, 
 straining horses slipped and staggered, roused 
 to fresh effort by oath and whip-crack, when, 
 panting and trembling in every sinew, they 
 seemed about to subside upon the stones, and 
 
A HOLOCAUST. 3 
 
 drag their burdens through the gloom no more. 
 A dense vapour hung over the houses, breathing 
 with foul breath upon casement-frame and win- 
 dow-sill, striving to force an insidious entrance 
 through chinks and keyholes, that it might de- 
 liver to those within their allotted portions of 
 catarrh. So thick was the fog that the streets 
 were well-nigh deserted. None were abroad 
 who could find a decent excuse for remaining 
 by their firesides. Those who were compelled 
 by untoward fate to buffet with the blinding 
 mist, hugged the railings as they went, slinking 
 with wary eye past flitting shades whose heads 
 wore a nimbus of white steam, lest haply they 
 should be birds of prey, lingering lovingly (even 
 though stern teetotallers) within the light which 
 streamed from tavern doors. Thence noise and 
 jollity issued with the ruddy flare, and the vast, 
 unfathomable desert of brown-grey seemed all 
 the more chill, and grim, and desolate, as the 
 oasis of warmth dwindled into a lurid speck, 
 like the ray from a policeman's bull's-eye. 
 
 The foosteps of casual explorers sounded 
 dead, as though all, under the shadow of im- 
 pending pestilence, had swathed their feet with 
 
 B 2 
 
4 GEHENNA. 
 
 flannel, hushed to silence by a foreknowledge 
 of calamity ; and well they might feel the 
 blight — the lowering pressure of disease — for 
 Fog, with Briarian arms and Titan muscles, 
 was grasping by the throat the aged, the newly- 
 born, the infirm, the delicate, choking the life 
 out of them in spasms. 
 
 It was a night to remain within doors, and 
 Dr. Winthrop laid down the skull, and wheeled 
 his chair closer to the hearth, to expend his 
 energies upon the fire. Having stirred the 
 coals into a blaze, he lit his pipe, and drawing 
 from a side-pocket a dog-eared photograph, 
 gazed long and lovingly at it. Dr. Winthrop 
 was a comely young man of the apple-faced 
 order, with ripples of light hair, and hazel eyes, 
 and a clear skin ; tall, shapely, clean-limbed ; 
 just such a muscular fellow as, with insular con- 
 ceit, we love to set down as *' every inch an 
 Englishman." It will not surprise you to hear 
 that the photograph whose contemplation fretted 
 his brow into wrinkles was that of a lady, and a 
 young one ; and that in his wistful eyes at least 
 she was an angel and a paragon. An oval- 
 visaged lady (whom you and I, not being 
 
A HOLOCAUST. 5 
 
 smitten, would set down as quite so-so), a girl 
 with a grave and sedate expression, and a neat 
 figure, clad in simple attire which betrayed at 
 once that she was poor. 
 
 Tears, not due to the fog, started into the 
 eyes of the young man, and he soliloquised to 
 the following effect, while he held the portrait 
 over the flames, " What an ass I am — oh ! what 
 an ass ! Why keep and gloat over a relic which 
 can only give me pain ? Cloris does not care 
 for me — never will, and it is better that she 
 never should. AVhat have I, a miserable saw- 
 bones, without a patient, to do with marriage? 
 I love her, and yet would degrade her, if I 
 could, to a condition of genteel penury ! Worse 
 than an ass, a scoundrel ! What does it signify 
 that I have walked Bartholomew's, w T on my 
 diploma, am a medical man, if nobody comes 
 to be cured? And, if they came, could I cure 
 them? I don't know, but I would try. The 
 big, brass plate, with my name on it, glares at 
 the passers-by — so does the little brass plate 
 with 'surgery' on it, and the bilious lamp with 
 the seductive legend, ' Consultations from 10 to 
 4.' But nobody wishes to consult, and, upon 
 
6 GEHENNA. 
 
 my word, I think they're right. Though a 
 qualified M.D., I'm but a medical student still, 
 and shall be, seemingly, to the end. I wonder 
 how many a doctor has to murder before he 
 learns experience ; how many scalps must fall 
 to his enquiring bow and speculative spear, 
 before his opinion is of the smallest value? 
 The spider sits in his web, but the flies decline 
 to flutter. Sapient insects ! ' Dill-ill-illed, come 
 and be killed. Won't you walk into my parloui\ 
 said the spider to the fly.' " 
 
 " Ah, well," he continued, presently, talking 
 aloud, as persons do who live much alone, u a 
 man with health and youth, and all his life 
 spread out before him like a golden suntrack 
 on the sea, leading who may tell whither, has 
 no right to grumble or repine. I've got to 
 chop a road through the primeval forest, or 
 perish in the attempt, as my betters have done, 
 and are yet doing. I'm not more stupid than 
 the rest, but to wield the axe I must stand un- 
 fettered for the present. Cloris must be torn 
 from my heart, at least for years to come. 
 Here's a chance for a little surgery. Out comes 
 the tooth without squealing. A pretty fellow to- 
 
A HOLOCAUST. 7 
 
 dream of connubial bliss, with no table of his 
 own to sit at, and nothing to put on it, if he 
 had." 
 
 Dr. Winthrop pressed his lips to the photo- 
 graph with reverence, and then with unflinch- 
 ing hand placed it in the hottest corner of the 
 fire, and watched it as it crumbled into ashes. 
 From this proceeding you will infer that the 
 gentleman, though inexperienced, and not speci- 
 ally brilliant, was at least honest, and endowed 
 with a full share of common sense. 
 
 He was quite right to draw the tooth. The 
 damsel whose effigy thus vanished from the 
 scene was named Cloris Galbraith ; her age was 
 twenty-one. her profession that of governess. 
 She was the orphan daughter of a Scotch 
 clergyman, whose sudden death launched her, 
 at the age of eighteen, out of the dock of a 
 sequestered lowland manse, into the troubled 
 ocean of the world. During the preceding 
 summer (that of 187(5) Dr. Winthrop had met 
 her accidentally whilst boating on the Thames, 
 was fortunate enough to rescue one of her 
 juvenile charges from a bath, and had been 
 dubbed, with thanks, a hero. Proudly declar- 
 
8 GEHENNA . 
 
 iug himself a medical practitioner, he insisted 
 on accompanying the party to their home at 
 Isleworth, the better to feel the infant's pulse, 
 and prescribe for its shattered nerves. The 
 composed demeanour and pretty lowland twang 
 of the governess captivated his inflammable 
 heart. He was made welcome by her kind 
 employers, and he called again and again, be- 
 coming more enamoured with each succeeding 
 visit. This was all very charming, or would 
 have been, if he had been a rich man, and if the 
 lady had returned his passion ; but the course 
 of his true love was not destined to run more 
 smoothly than that of most people. 
 
 The lady had the best of reasons for ignor- 
 ing his ardent flame. {She was not one of those 
 friendless persons who harrow us in novels, 
 who are gently born and nurtured, to be in- 
 sulted by the footman, sneered at by a superior 
 nursemaid, and fed on cold mutton in the bed- 
 room. She was, on the contrary, well treated 
 by her employers, and, moreover, already be- 
 spoken, beiug the affianced of another, upon 
 whom she had bestowed her heart. Wasn't 
 that sad for this excellent young English- 
 
A HOLOCAUST. 9 
 
 man — imtempted as yet, and therefore tip- 
 right, who meant so well, and fared so ill 
 — this loyal gentleman, to whom his very first 
 flight on his fledged wings brought trouble? 
 Miss Galbraith was engaged to be married 
 (not to the butler, nor even the secretary), but 
 — it must be broken gently — to the heir of a 
 wealthy baronet ! Simple, demure hedge- 
 flower, Miss Galbraith, who had not a penny 
 beyond her wages, was sought in honourable 
 wedlock by Arthur Dyson, Esq., son of Sir Noel 
 Dyson, Baronet, the rich and eccentric owner 
 of Dyson Grove ; that luxurious mansion which 
 you have no doubt coveted as you rowed by its 
 trim lawns and terraces, and picturesque boat- 
 house, and groups of noble trees dipping into 
 the water, under the shadow of Eichmond Hill. 
 Yes. It looked very much as if Cloris Gal- 
 braith, hedge-flower, were to bloom forth into a 
 peony ; but there was a hitch in the affair, as 
 there always is when things promise to be too 
 pleasant. 
 
 Sir Xoel Dyson was rich ; learned in china 
 and bronzes ; an expert in antique furniture, 
 whose chaste drawer-handles and cornerpieces 
 
10 GEHENNA, 
 
 he was never tired of affectionately burnishing- 
 — but odious and hard to his children neverthe- 
 less. Years before he had been bitterly wrong- 
 ed by a certain Scotch adventuress, and, like 
 an unwise and precipitate Jephthah, there and 
 then entered into imprudent engagements with 
 Heaven, in regard to the whole Scottish race. 
 Never again, he swore by all he held dearest, 
 should he or his have aught to do with the 
 Scotch. His incomparable gardener was dismiss- 
 ed because he was a Scot. A valuable picture of 
 Mary Stuart was recklessly flung out of the 
 window; some priceless relics of Charles 
 Edward (a lock of his baby hair, a shoe-string, 
 and a venerable hair brush) were ruthlessly 
 destroyed. He foreswore Dundee marmalade 
 in which his soul revelled ; was guilty of many 
 other absurdities ; and, as he was irascible as 
 well as eccentric, you may imagine the uproar 
 that ensued when his eldest born marched into 
 his study to propose to him a Scotch damsel 
 for a daughter. Sir Noel raved and foamed ; 
 warned his heir that the property was entirely 
 under his own control ; sent for his lawyer and 
 had a will drawn up, whereby the future 
 
A HOLOCAUST. 11 
 
 fortune of bis eldest sou was to depend ou his 
 obedience to bis father. " I don't care two 
 straws," be said, " whom you choose to wed, 
 provided she isn't Scotch. Like King Cophetua, 
 espouse a beggar, if you like,, but she must not 
 hail from beyond the Tweed." He begged, 
 entreated, till his domestics wondered if his 
 mind were unhinged ; whimpering out at last 
 that it was very hard. "An Otaheitan!'' he 
 implored. " A Patagonian ten feet high — but 
 not a Scot;"' and his son being of the same 
 grit as himself, the uproar was deafening and 
 awful. Arthur was fond in his way of his 
 parent, but could not respect so contemptibly 
 unreasoning a sire ; and as he was in the habit 
 of giving license to his fancies he turned on the 
 old man and rent him. 
 
 "If you care for me so little/' be said, " as 
 to allow a silly crotchet to wreck my future, do 
 your worst and bear the blame. Leave your 
 fortune to James, if you dare, or my other 
 brother, Parson Barnaby. Cloris Galbraith is 
 to be my w T ife, and no storming on your part 
 will make the least difference. If Lady Dyson, 
 that is to be, must submit to beggary— very 
 
12 GEHENNA. 
 
 well, she shall ; and sleep peacefully under the 
 daisies, if you can ! I'll work for Cloris. The 
 bread she has to eat may be scanty, but it 
 shall be won in the sweat of my brow." 
 
 All this was to be deplored, but worse com- 
 plications were to follow. Miss Galbraith 
 plucked up a spirit of her own, and declared she 
 would not marry the man who held her heart, if 
 his ruin was to be the result of it. This sturdi- 
 ly announced resolve only added to the tumult 
 and confusion ; but as between the bursts of a 
 hurricane there comes a lull, so there was a 
 species of armistice 'twixt the outbursts of this 
 most civil war. Folks whispered that Sir Noel 
 had met his match, that his inflexible attitude 
 was bluster, he would never so wrong his 
 eldest born as to cut him off with the proverbial 
 shilling. Cloris and her lover prudently deter- 
 mined to play a waiting game, to remain true 
 to one another, and see what time would bring 
 forth ; and this period of suspense had been 
 fraught with untold twistings on the rack, 
 accompanied by thumbscrews, pincers, wedges, 
 torments manifold, on the part of the unfortun- 
 ate young surgeon, who at one instant seemed 
 
A HOLOCAUST. 13 
 
 to see the object of his adoration the happy wife 
 of a rich baronet raised with that odious crea- 
 ture out of reach ; at another a forlorn waif, 
 helpless, battered, solitary, who might be glad 
 of his protecting arm. If only Sir Xoel would 
 remain obdurate, he whispered again and again 
 to his inner self, there might some day be a 
 chance for the outsider. It is not always the 
 favourite who wins the cup. Now and again a 
 quadruped despised in the paddock shoots past 
 the beast upon whose prowess all have pinned 
 their faith. " Why should I not have such 
 luck?" the foolish young man thought. ' ; A goal 
 is a goal, and the steadfast care not for the toil, 
 so long as the goal is reached. How hard I 
 would work — oh, how hard — to win a position 
 for myself if it were possible that she would 
 share it." 
 
 Then, like a gust of east wind in early spring, 
 came drifts of dark despair to nip the promising 
 young shoot. Of course Sir Xoel would relent ; 
 and, even if he did not, how should the chances 
 of the penniless doctor be improved ? Arthur 
 was quite as fit for work as he was himself, and 
 would work, doubtless, if the incentive were 
 
14 GEHENNA. 
 
 well before his eyes ; and then he had over his 
 rival the distinct and overwhelming advantages 
 of being already the master of the citadel. 
 Look at it from which point he would, there 
 was little ground for Hope. Therefore we 
 must agree that he did what w r as best under 
 the circumstances. He sat alone by his humble 
 fire this Christmas Eve, and a darker fit of low 
 spirits than usual, induced by fog and retro- 
 spect, brought him to a firm resolve, a well- 
 considered resolution as to his future conduct, 
 which took the outward form of a burnt offer- 
 ing. Common sense tugged out the obstinate 
 tooth, and staunched the bleeding. He then 
 and there vowed before the holocaust no more 
 to crave what never might be his ; but soberly, 
 and as well as limited talents would permit, to 
 do his humdrum duty in the state of life to 
 which he had been called, to banish the adored 
 image of Cloris from his breast, and sear the 
 wounded ends of his torn heart-strings as com- 
 pletely and as quickly as he might. 
 
 Now this was an admirable resolution, was it 
 not ? One which called for a reward. 
 
 " Dil-ill-illed, come and be killed!" Melvil 
 
A HOLOCAUST. . 1 5 
 
 Winthrop sang out, blithely^ with a grim lunge 
 with the poker at care, fitly personated by a big 
 black lump of coal. " Won't you walk into my 
 parlour, said the spider to the fly ?" 
 
 The insect, having a proper respect for 
 modest worth, straightway abandoned erratic 
 flights and hearkened to the voice of the 
 charmer. The surgery-bell gave forth a ghost- 
 ly clang which, by reason of its being an alto- 
 gether unaccustomed sound, caused the heart 
 of Melvil to leap into his mouth, himself to jump 
 out of his chair, and the skull, whose sutures 
 he was about to contemplate anew, to roll in 
 the fender. A blush mantled his downy cheek, 
 his eyes stared round as gooseberries, his 
 limbs trembled, his knees began to bend. A 
 patient at last ! So fair a turn of Fortune's 
 wheel was most improbable. Was some one 
 anxious to be put out of the world, yet too 
 infirm of purpose to commit the act of suicide? 
 A patient ! — at last — or the runaway ring of an 
 evil disposed urchin ? An idle scapegrace, a 
 ne'er-do-well who would end on the gallows — 
 yet no ! At such a time of night, and in so 
 vile a fog,' the spirits of the most facetious 
 
16 GEHENNA. 
 
 demon -would be damped. Hark ! the clang 
 again — louder. There was no doubt about it. 
 The would-be suicide should be attended to 
 forthwith. 
 
 The proprietor of the bell opened the door, 
 and let in a large amount of catarrh, and a 
 small boy, very much out of breath, afflicted 
 with a terrible eruption of buttons. They 
 gleamed and winked like ever so many eyes 
 as the labouring chest of their diminutive 
 owner rose and fell with the haste that 
 he had made, clasping the eruption as if it 
 would fly away, and it was a moment or two 
 before the messenger could gasp out, " Railway 
 Hotel ! Wanted — quick, please !" 
 
 Railway Hotel ! Then it was a patient at 
 last — a real genuine one — not a paltry make- 
 believe, not one of those wearying paupers, 
 who give more trouble than their betters, and 
 pay nothing — who even claim medicine and 
 plasters as " gifts " — a shameless crew. Some 
 one was taken ill at the Railway Hotel, that 
 vast and palatial establishment, a caravansary 
 for the salt ones of the earth, who give forth 
 their precious savour in the form of gold. A 
 
A HOLOCAUST. 17 
 
 real golden guinea would be earned — a sove- 
 reign and a shilling twisted in a wisp of news- 
 paper. The first ! Was it a wonder that the 
 heart of the medical student bounded for joy ! — 
 that he felt faint and nervous? A rich patient 
 suddenly indisposed ! If cured he would be 
 grateful, and recommend his doctor to his 
 friends ; and if judiciously left alone most 
 maladies heal themselves. What a windfall ! 
 A pathway was suddenly opened — a Jacob's 
 ladder with glory at the summit. Honours and 
 emoluments hung in festoons — knighthood 
 some day. Why not a fortune and a baronetcy 
 — equal state to that of the abhorred prospect- 
 ive bridegroom ? But then, what if the inex- 
 perienced practitioner were to make a mistake? 
 What, if by accident, and with the best inten- 
 tions in the world, he should interfere with 
 nature's functions, and push his patient into the 
 infinite, w T here no one pays golden guineas? 
 There would be an inquest — a fearful show up. 
 A reprimand, which would mean ruin. No 
 wonder Dr. Winthrop became flurried and agi- 
 tated as he strode along beside the buttoned 
 youth, mentally resolved to do as little as 
 VOL. I. 
 
18 GEHENNA. 
 
 might be ; and asking questions that could not 
 be answered by the panting boy at his side. 
 What with the fog, and the pace, and the 
 questions, the boy waxed wroth. 
 
 "'E didn't know nuffink, nor didn't want, 'e 
 didn't. All 'e wanted was bed, tho' but a 
 shake-down in the scullery. All 'e was aweer 
 on was that the hotel manager was a screech- 
 ing with rage, so summat quisby must be up, 
 for he was agoin' on now with no respect for bis- 
 self nor no one." 
 
 In a passion, was he? That was curious. 
 Why should the sudden illness of a wealthy 
 traveller put him in a passion ? On the con- 
 trary, it ought to imply a prolonged sojourn 
 instead of a hasty flitting, with a lengthy 
 course of expensive viands and choice wines. 
 Perhaps the malady was infectious. As he 
 sped swiftly on towards the large building that 
 glimmered through the haze, Dr. Winthrop be- 
 gan to rub up his memory on the subject of 
 fevers, recalling the usual symptoms which go 
 with typhus, or scarlet, or small-pox — in order 
 to appear erudite if need were — firmly resolved 
 at the same time not to commit himself beyond 
 
A HOLOCAUST. 19 
 
 an application of leeches or a mustard foot- 
 bath, but to call in further advice if the 
 symptoms should appear alarming. 
 
 c2 
 
20 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 BUILT OX SAXD. 
 
 A RICH patient evidently, for there was great 
 -*--*- excitement in the hall. Despite the late- 
 ness of the hour, waiters and porters were con- 
 gregated there whispering, then suddenly look- 
 ing indifferent, as though nothing unusual was 
 going forward. The new comer was ushered 
 at once along thickly-carpeted corridors to h 
 room on the first-floor, where " t'other doctor 
 was a-waiting." Another doctor! A serious 
 case then. What a mercy there was another 
 doctor! Even when the blind lead the blind 
 into a ditch, it is a satisfaction to flounder in 
 company. 
 
 The other doctor was known to Melvil Win- 
 throp, by sight, as a mysterious and uncanny 
 individual, who looked like a prosperous 
 
BUILT OX SAND. 21 
 
 preacher of the Salvation Army. The man 
 was so peculiar-looking that once seen he was 
 not likely to be forgotten. His hair was too 
 long and too greasy, and too colourless ; so was 
 his face. Indeed, he gave the impression of 
 having been overboiled until his tissue had been 
 reduced to so precarious a condition of pulp 
 that, with a puff, the lanky locks would wither 
 away like the grass all flesh is made of. His 
 eyes were generally half closed, but, when 
 jerked open in an access of emotion or surprise, 
 they presented the exact counterpart of twin 
 oyster in their shells. His nose was aquiline, 
 with the gable end at a sharp angle, like the 
 joint of a dog's hind-leg. His skin seemed 
 sodden, washed to a level whiteness ; not so his 
 neckerchief and shirt front, which were of a 
 dingy, dubious yellow. This fantastic person was 
 a feature in the neighbourhood, and visible any 
 day in the parish of St. Pancras, rattling about 
 in a crazy Victoria, draw T n by a skeleton horse, 
 which was driven by the original Old Man of 
 Sea, tricked out for the service in an antique 
 coat and a fluffy hat of bygone fashion, gorgeous 
 with tarnished gold. 
 
22 GEHENNA. 
 
 Melvil had been so amazed at the incongru- 
 ous ensemble as it clattered past his window, 
 and so touched by the smirk of naive gratifica- 
 tion with which the owner of the shandrydan 
 was wont to blink at the driver's hatband and 
 the skeleton horse, that he was impelled to make 
 inquiries, and the result rilled him with admira- 
 tion. For the proceedings of the man were ingeni- 
 ous, if tinted to match his linen. By some occult 
 hocus-pocus he had established himself as doc- 
 tor-in-chief to the various large hotels that 
 have been called into being by the railways. In 
 case of sudden illness, it was always he who 
 was sent for, and the moneys reaped in the St. 
 Pancras hostelries were dutifully invested in 
 shares in those concerns, so that as his snowball 
 grew with rolling, he became more and more 
 influential and well to do, of increasing import- 
 ance to the various foster-mothers who fed him. 
 As usual, he had been called in this Christmas 
 Eve on the first alarm of a doctor being wanted, 
 'but instead of, as usual, keeping the patient 
 snugly to himself, he despatched the harassed 
 page in search of the young gentleman round 
 the corner, who had broken out into a new 
 
BUILT OX SAND. 23 
 
 brass-plate and bilious lamp. The result of his 
 choice was that he could come down from a 
 pedestal to meet his confrere, with all the ad- 
 vantages on his own side, and might hold out 
 to him the hand of a superior in whom know- 
 ledge of the world was tempered by benign 
 condescension to the short-comings of youth. 
 This he proceeded to do at once, with a liberal 
 display of large yellow teeth and pallid fins. 
 
 Ci So glad to make your acquaintance!" he 
 hummed, like a jubilant tea-urn. " Delightful 
 chance, but shocking case ! These ladies are so 
 sensitive — require such delicate manipulation. 
 Discretion is a pearl of price, and I feel you are 
 discreet. So glad of the sad opportunity. Saw 
 ray dearest friend — my wife in fact, — for the 
 first time across a deathbed. A most danger- 
 ous case — requires tact, infinite tact — I feel 
 that you have tact. You'll excuse me showing 
 the way V 
 
 The flourish of fins and display of teeth were 
 dazzling, suggestive of some vampire, washed 
 pale with soap. Why should his hands be so 
 clean, and his linen so dusky, Melvil caught 
 himself inquiring inwardly; but such idle cere- 
 
24 GEHENNA. 
 
 bration was speedily put to flight by the 
 spectacle he had been summoned to look upon. 
 
 A richly-furnished saloon, made sombre and 
 dim by fog. The hotel manager much excited 
 — moving in a fidget hither and thither, stop- 
 ping now and again to listen. A door ajar, 
 candlelight streaming through the opening ; a 
 murmur as of somebody in pain. Occasionally 
 a few muttered exclamations — a short, sharp 
 cry, and then a wail, and a rush and rustling 
 of drapery, and pattering as of palms against a 
 wall — and then silence. Was the manager 
 alone in the saloon? No, for every now and 
 then that much-vexed personage directed a 
 beseeching gesture towards something in a 
 corner, and even indulged in an accompani- 
 ment of groans on his own account when the 
 paroxysms in the adjoining apartment rose to 
 abnormal height. 
 
 A violent battering was followed by a pro- 
 longed scream, muffled suddenly. 
 
 " Oh, ma'am, but this is too abominable !" 
 moaned the distracted manager. " And Cattle 
 Show week coming on, when this hotel is 
 always crammed. You must understand that 
 
BUILT OX SAXD. 25 
 
 this won't do. It really won't and can't. I 
 ■wouldn't be inhuman for a ransom ; but it 
 really won't do, will it now f" 
 
 No answer to this piteous appeal came from 
 the corner. Melvil, accustomed by this time to 
 the murky atmosphere, perceived that there 
 was a lady there — a lady in an arm-chair, with 
 face averted. In the dim light he could make 
 out a voluptuous figure, thrown back in the care- 
 lessness of distress — a fully developed bust and 
 shapely waist in tight-fitting, ruby velvet, with 
 trimmings of sable fur. An undulating figure, 
 which might, as seen through the mist, belong 
 to a well-preserved matron of forty, or to a 
 young woman from a southern clime. A 
 Spaniard of about thirty, decided Melvil, catch- 
 ing a glimpse of an exquisite foot with a high 
 instep, and fine ankle, clothed in an open- 
 worked silk-stocking, and dainty satin shoe. 
 So tiny a foot as to seem out of proportion 
 with the figure, which certainly was large, A 
 hand moved, writhing among heavy masses of 
 dishevelled hair. A white hand — whose taper 
 fingers glistened with gems — as small and per- 
 fect as was the foot. 
 
26 GEHENNA. 
 
 " A young Spaniard or a Mexican, I'll wager 
 my first guinea !" the doctor forthwith decided. 
 " How I'd like to see her face. I'd stake my 
 life it's beautiful." 
 
 But YVinthrop was speedily brought down 
 from realms of indecorous speculation by the 
 humming accents of his patron. 
 
 " Sad, sad case, poor lady," he mumbled, 
 w but so glad of the lucky chance. Dr. Win- 
 throp, I think? Yes, yes. Saw the name on 
 the new plate. So chaste and simple, and to 
 the point — most admirable taste ! This lady is 
 a foreigner, it seems — a stranger within our 
 gates — quite out of herself, and inconsolable — 
 no wonder — a Spanish Creole, I apprehend. 
 Gent in next room — husband — might be grand- 
 father to the poor thing — mad as a March hare 
 — not that I should tell you so — ahem ! Judge 
 for yourself. Consultation best avoided under 
 the circumstances — not considered proper by 
 the law, you know." 
 
 " What," whispered Melvil, " is the gentleman 
 mad V 
 
 " Hush !" returned the other, making a funnel 
 of his hand. " Most dangerous — suicidal — who 
 
BUILT ON SAND. 27 
 
 can tell? Must be got rid of, however painful 
 — reputation of the house. Xo time to lose — 
 mum's the word. Just pop in and judge for 
 yourself, and get it over, for it's urgent — admits 
 of no delay." 
 
 Here was a situation which caused the young 
 doctor's nerves to tingle like pianoforte wires. 
 Kesponsibility forsooth ! The overboiled one 
 appeared by hints, and winks, and hems to 
 foreshadow to his young colleague that the 
 rustlings and moanings in the next room were 
 those of a maniac. But he, Winthorp, knew 
 less about lunacy even than of other matters 
 connected with the science he professed. Never 
 in the whole course of his studies had he come 
 across a maniac. How, then, should he recog- 
 nize one when he saw him ? How diagnose a 
 disease he knew of but by hearsay ? What 
 advice could he give? — how should he venture 
 to advise at all ? It would be vastly interest- 
 ing to inspect the patient, but as to the de- 
 livery of an opinion on the subject, he knew 
 nothing whatever about it, and felt quite as 
 capable of delivering a lecture off-hand upon 
 the rings of Saturn. 
 
28 GEHENNA. 
 
 His patroD, being experienced and vigilant, 
 was speedily aware of his perplexity, and came 
 swiftly to the rescue, as behoved a confrere 
 concerned for the honour of the cloth. 
 
 " Terrible quandary for hotel," sang the wily 
 tea-urn. " House full — squires and wives up 
 for holiday — children, too, pretty angels, lots of 
 'em ! Out runs maniac in night-shirt with 
 shovel — bang goes a pane — heads broken — 
 proprietors outraged. Must get rid of him in 
 the interests of all before anything's found out. 
 That's as plain as the nose on my face." 
 
 "Got rid of!" stammered Mel vil, wishing 
 himself miles away, but the urn sang on, 
 unheeding. 
 
 "Being in an hotel, he's not a lunatic at 
 large, you see, which is a pity, so police can't 
 interfere. Can't stop here, though, 'twould 
 ruin the house. Too strong a measure to turn 
 him out, being rich — once in the street, lunatic 
 at large — popped into the workhouse — nothing 
 to do with us. Somebody must act. Lady 
 does nothing but cry, being sensitive, but cruel 
 duties must be done, as I've told her. What is 
 the use of madhouses except for madmen? Eh? 
 
BUILT ON SAND. 29 
 
 Run in and judge for yourself, there's a good 
 fellow — and come back and sign the certificate 
 and get it over." 
 
 With his head swimming, Melvil moved into 
 the adjoining room, confused and uncertain 
 what to do, Crouching in the extreme corner 
 of a four-post bedstead, wrapped round and 
 round in its ample curtains, was a frail and 
 wizened person of about sixty-four, with long, 
 white locks and bloodshot eyes. His jaws 
 chattered as with cold, and he was muttering 
 and sighing to himself, with his sharp chin 
 supported on his knees, and gnarled fingers 
 tapping on his teeth, while doughty Boots 
 stood by, watching each movement of his 
 charge. At sight of a new-comer, the old man 
 screamed, and cowered down among the scat- 
 tered bedclothes, and Boots dashed forward and 
 pinned him there. 
 
 There could be no doubt but that the gentle- 
 man was wandering, beset by distracting hallu- 
 cination. His terror was exaggerated, his babble 
 meaningless, or rather unconnected. As the 
 medical student looked on he grew worse, and 
 clutched at his throat as though he would rend 
 
30 GEHENNA. 
 
 it open. ~ After a series of shrieks, smothered by 
 Boots, who quickly gained the mastery, the 
 fury of the fit was spent, and the unhappy 
 patient lay panting and exhausted, with glazed 
 eyes and foaming lips, reminding Melvil of 
 some ancient picture of one who had been 
 wrung by devils. So this was madness, was 
 it? A form of acute mania, such as rendered 
 its victim dangerous to himself as well as to 
 others ? The over-boiled one, who seemed ex- 
 perienced in these matters, hinted as much, and 
 it was natural to surmise, from the clutches at 
 his throat, that the patient, unless watched, 
 would strangle himself. So this was madness, 
 Dr. Winthorpe mused. How wonderfully in- 
 teresting ; at the same time how harrowing ! 
 Delirious raving, certainly — but due to what ? 
 There must be a cause. Were these symptoms 
 dependent either on the natural course of a 
 temporary physical ailment which would pass, 
 or some nervous shock from which, nature aid- 
 ing, he would rally ; or were they due to organic 
 trouble, connected directly with the substance 
 of the brain? This would be a curious case 
 to watch and study, and perhaps experiment 
 
BUILT ON SAND. 31 
 
 upon warily, as it developed and changed its 
 aspect. While he was thinking, the patient 
 passed for his edification through several 
 attacks, each succeeding at brief intervals, and 
 after each access he grew weaker and more 
 weak, till the flickering light threatened to go 
 out altogether. 
 
 "An interesting case !" the young man said, 
 as he rejoined his confrere in the drawing-room. 
 " Much obliged for being allowed to see it, and, 
 if I may, I will call in to-morrow to inquire how 
 he's getting on." 
 
 " To-morrow !" echoed the manager, who 
 overheard. " That's a good un. Look here, 
 gentlemen, this won't do, you know. He must 
 be packed off now w T hile they're asleep, or my 
 clients '11 kick up a dust in the morning. You 
 gents weren't called in to have a jolly Christ- 
 mas over a glass of grog, though I'll be proud 
 to welcome you some other time — but to attend 
 to business. It you won't set this square, some 
 one else must." 
 
 " Yes, yes," replied the overboiled one. 
 "Don't bother or be cross. Dr. Winthrop 
 knows as well as I that these cases demand 
 
32 GEHENNA. 
 
 instant treatment. A stitch in time — old adage 
 — applicable to maniacs. I have a form of 
 certificate here handy. If you'll give us ink 
 and paper we'll fill it in, and the patient can be 
 removed in a cab as comfortable as possible 
 before the night's an hour older. Hum — let me 
 see — " and taking a pen from the manager's 
 willing hand he proceeded to append answers to 
 the printed questions, and sign his name at the 
 bottom. 
 
 " Dr. Pagani — hum — is requested to receive 
 and so on — yes — what's the good gentleman's 
 name? Paterson? Oh, indeed — into Corbould 
 House, Bow — hum — hum — facts observed by 
 myself indicating insanity. What shall we say ? 
 8 Has not an adequate knowledge of conse- 
 quences.' That's neat, I think, and quite 
 sufficient. Facts imparted by others — let me 
 see — ' tried to smash his head against the wall.' 
 Boots told me so when I came in — quite fortun- 
 ate — and now my very dear sir, perhaps you'll 
 fill in your page while I look the other way — 
 no collusion, you know — time's precious, and 
 we've got to persuade the poor dear lady." 
 
 " It's a queer law," he exclaimed, with airy 
 
BUILT OX SAXD. 33 
 
 pantomime, to the impatient manager, as be 
 made a grand show of not seeing what his 
 colleague wrote. "One doctor must not know 
 what t' other thinks, till the regulatious are 
 complied with, as it is distinctly understood 
 that the patient has been separately and 
 independently examined by two medical men. 
 I'm one, here's another — as simple as possible. 
 Stick to the letter of the law, I say, and then 
 you'll be certain to be right." 
 
 Melvil accepted the pen which was offered 
 with a playful wave, and stood irresolute. He 
 came here fifteen minutes since determined in 
 no wise to commit himself, and here he stood 
 wrapped up to the eyes in a net, from which 
 there seemed no escape. He, a medical student 
 (for despite his diploma he was nothing more) 
 had glanced for an instant at a phase of disease 
 that was quite new to him, and was expected 
 to give a formal opinion concerning it, fraught 
 with grave consequences, upon a page of a 
 printed document. 
 
 " When I come to-morrow "he was begin- 
 ning, but stopped short in confusion, for the 
 oyster eye of the overboiled one was upon him, 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 GEHEXXA. 
 
 and it seemed to say between flashes of phos- 
 phorescent scorn, "a pretty doctor to hold con- 
 sultations from ten till four! A lot you know 
 of your profession, you arrant humbug ! What 
 self-reliance your conduct shows I" Melvil felt 
 galled and humiliated, and wished he had 
 refused to come — and yet, why — there must be 
 a beginning to all things earthly. He was 
 guilty of weak and culpable folly. Unless we 
 are content to be ignoble cyphers, of no use to 
 our fellowmen — we may not shirk our responsi- 
 bilities. What a satire was the big brass plate 
 and the little brass plate and the bilious lamp. 
 As a duly qualified practitioner he was justified 
 in forming opinions. It was his duty to form 
 them, since he had his bread to earn. Here 
 was the manager pining to pay a guinea as the 
 equivalent of a few pen strokes, and here was 
 he, quaking in his shoes, like a schoolboy about 
 to be birched, ready enough to take the 
 guinea, but desirous of doing nothing in 
 return. Dr. Winthrop was showing the pusil- 
 lanimous white feather, and knew it to his 
 sorrow, and was also aware, which was worse, 
 that others knew it too, or shortly would, if 
 
BUILT ON SAND. 35 
 
 he continued to hesitate ; and as he reflected 
 upon his dire strait he turned hot and cold, and 
 grew much ashamed and desperate 
 
 s * The lady, as initiating the transaction, must 
 sign on page one, I take it," he remarked, 
 anxious to gain time ; surprised, too, that the 
 owner of the ravishing ankle should have held 
 aloof from the discussion. Was she deaf and 
 dumb, or what ? " She signs the order, I see, 
 or rather the request, and you and I endorse 
 her signature by ourselves signing on pages 
 two and three. 1 think I'll call to-morrow. 
 She seems overwhelmed, and it's very late, and 
 really " 
 
 tf My good sir!" interrupted his colleague, 
 quickly, with the patience of a practised peda- 
 gogue (perceiving that the manager grew res- 
 tive), i( you are inconsiderate to those concern- 
 ed. We are to be paid for one visit, and cannot 
 claim to be paid for two. Time is precious, one 
 visit is all the law exacts. If the law is queer, 
 the fault is none of ours. In strictest confi- 
 dence, I must tell you, though it's wrong, that 
 I never saw a clearer case — as clear as crystal 
 — acute mania, powerfully developed. Not that 
 
 D 2 
 
36 GEHEXXA. 
 
 I would influence yon, mind. I would not be 
 guilty of such an impertinence. I would mere- 
 ly point out that the interests of all the lodgers 
 in this huge house are for the moment — while 
 they lie unconscious in their beds — in your hands 
 and mine — the lives of some of them too, per- 
 haps. For his own interest, as well as of 
 everyone else's, he must be removed at once,, 
 and placed under proper treatment. All con- 
 ditions being favourable, he will probably re- 
 cover. I hope so, I'm sure, with all my heart. 
 Hence it is for the good of him and his that the 
 affair should be kept a secret. If he be re- 
 moved at once, none will be a bit the wiser. 
 To-morrow morning a crowd would collect to 
 see him go, and there would always be the risk 
 of some one turning up in the future to point 
 the finger of derision, and shout, ' There goes 
 the lunatic !' " 
 
 " Well, but," urged Melvil, unconvinced, " in 
 a case of supposed mumps or fever, you would 
 wait a day before delivering an opinion. The 
 fact is, I am afraid of taking on myself the 
 responsibility of signing that document, which 
 is too like a lettre-de-cachet to be pleasant. I 
 
BUILT OX SAXD. 37 
 
 will not sign it without seeing the patient a 
 second time." 
 
 Dr. "Winthrop knew he had done a brave 
 action, and was pleased with himself accord- 
 ingly, but his satisfaction was dashed at once, 
 for his colleague rejoined, with an undisguised 
 sneer, 
 
 " Softly — young gentleman — softly ! You've 
 been called in, and time has been wasted, and 
 those concerned have a right to demand an 
 opinion from you, one way or the other. Un- 
 protected against himself, there's no telling of 
 what the patient may be guilty between this 
 and to-morrow. x\s it is, unless gagged by 
 Boots, he would make night hideous with his 
 screams. Dare you accept the responsibility of 
 not signing ? I confess 1 should not dare to do 
 so, and I've seen hundreds of such cases. What 
 if he escaped from Boots, who, if anxious to do 
 right, is blundering, and ran a-muck into an 
 innocent sleeper's bed-room? The case would 
 be brought before the public, and you would be 
 charged with manslaughter. In my mind there 
 is no room for doubt as to the condition of that 
 gentleman. If you disagree with me, say so 
 
38 GEHENNA. 
 
 boldly, and take your chance of what may hap- 
 pen. For the sake of all those concerned, see- 
 ing how much may hang upon a few minutes, 
 it is my duty to demand of you a definite 
 opinion. Is the gentleman sane or insane? If 
 he be not insane, and if he cuts his throat, as 
 he appears inclined to do, he'll be a suicide. 
 But, if he be insane, and does the fatal act, 
 why, he will be guiltless, and you will be his 
 murderer. It's on the cards, too, that in a sud- 
 den access he may kill a stranger. I warn you 
 — that's all. Too charmed to have had the 
 pleasure — hope we shall meet soon again — but 
 I'm older, alas ! than you, and must implore 
 you to weigh your actions." 
 
 What could the young doctor say? It would 
 be truly terrible if, for want of experienced 
 treatment, the gentleman should send some one 
 into the unknown, or rush thither himself un- 
 bidden and through himl How awkward a 
 predicament ! Whichever way his decision turn- 
 ed he seemed destined to do wrong. Seeing 
 that he wavered, and nibbled the feather end of 
 his quill in dire uncertainty, the mentor pro- 
 ceeded with his harangue. 
 
BUILT OX SAND. 39 
 
 " My dear sir, depend upon it, there's but one 
 course open in all these eases. Lock 'em up. 
 If the man recovers he's discharged — or if he 
 isn't it's not our business. Whether to keep him 
 a prisoner or not must be decided in the future 
 by those who have the care of him. Whether 
 they keep him, or whether they don't, is no 
 affair of ours, when he's transferred to competent 
 hands. You won't deny that ?" 
 
 With a sigh Dr. Winthrop filled in his page 
 and signed his name, comforting himself for an 
 act against which his conscience protested, with 
 the remembrance that the lady had not yet 
 moved or uttered a word, and that, should her 
 attitude prove suspicious, there would still be 
 time to cancel his signature. But why should 
 there be anything suspicious ? Neither he nor 
 his confrere knew aught of lady or of gentleman, 
 save that the one had a pretty foot, and the 
 other was pitting his feeble strength against the 
 stalwart Boots. As for his colleague, he was 
 an astute man of the world, who by close at- 
 tendance to business, combined with prudence, 
 was making his way, and feathering his nest. 
 It was his interest for his own sake to practise 
 
40 GEHENNA. 
 
 prudence and circumspection. What he had 
 said there was no gainsaying. Lunatic asylums 
 were made for lunatics, and lunatics are better 
 in lunatic asylums than screeching in hotels. 
 That the manager should be impatient to rid 
 himself of so inconvenient a guest was natural 
 enough. What line would the wife take ? The 
 manager had at length succeeded in rousing 
 the wearer of the ruby velvet gown, and Melvil 
 gazed keenly in her face. 
 
 Instinct did not deceive him. She was very 
 beautiful — of the grand, bold type made familiar 
 to us by Domenichino in his immortal " Sybil." 
 Her hair, which was raven black, glossy, and 
 abundant, gathered in a broad plait like a crown 
 about a classic head. Her complexion was 
 olive, rich and Warm, with but little colour in 
 her cheeks. The oval of the face was perfect, 
 so was the full, large mouth, with delicately 
 chiselled nostrils. But the feature that gave its 
 character to the whole face was the eye. Her 
 eyes were opened wide and limpid, looking 
 straight out at you with fearless candour, like 
 those of a gazelle. Yet you could read nothing 
 in them ; they spoke no language ; for the 
 
BUILT ON SAND. 41 
 
 lashes were so long and thick that iris and 
 pupil were merged in one, without the usual 
 speck of light. Hence their expression never 
 changed — they were like an unfathomable tarn 
 reflecting a thundercloud. The iris was a dark 
 disc cut out of velvet, black, unvarying, lustre- 
 less ; and the first impression conveyed was 
 that their owner must be blind. But no; she 
 could see well enough, was a little short-sighted, 
 perhaps ; yet those eyes of hers served the 
 purpose of a mask, shrouding her passing 
 thoughts in mystery. At this moment they 
 were more eloquent than usual, for their splen- 
 dour was intensified by tears — the lids were 
 red and swollen with weeping. Rising wearily 
 to her imperial height, and pressing her jewelled 
 fingers to her brow, she replied with a tone of 
 petulance to something suggested by the 
 manager. 
 
 u It's no use," she said, in low accents, with 
 a soft rolling of the Its — almost a lisp — which 
 betrayed her foreign birth. " I will not sign 
 away the liberty of my poor darling. If it 
 must be done, then let it be accomplished by 
 some other hand than mine." 
 
42 GEHENNA. 
 
 Her voice was a sweet rich contralto, with a 
 minor music in its tone like that of an iEolian 
 harp. There was a subdued and subtle rhythm 
 in her accents, just as there was a lithe and 
 sinuous grace in her slightest movements. Both 
 were admirable, and yet what he beheld seemed 
 to Helvil the forbidding beauty of the cobra, 
 whose coils are soft as plush, but strong as 
 steel — an uncharitable impression, for the senti- 
 ment she uttered was beyond reproach. 
 
 So she also was going to be obstinate. The 
 overboiled one, urged by an imploring glance 
 from the manager, took up his parable and 
 spake. 
 
 " It was enchanting," he declared, " to see a 
 sweet lady who was so anxious to do right ; 
 but, as he had the honour to observe to his 
 colleague just now, there are responsibilities 
 which must be faced. It was his duty to remark 
 to the sweet lady that, though Boots had acted 
 with heroism so far, he was but a menial clothes 
 brusher, unaccustomed to deal with lunatics, and 
 that, unless the said lunatic was placed forth- 
 with in proper hands, he, the speaker, would 
 not answer for the consequences. The sweet 
 
BUILT OX SAND. 43 
 
 lady must be good enough to sign the order that 
 lay on the table. That she would do so he felt 
 sure, since she could not expect to be kept in 
 this, or any other English hotel, with the poor 
 gentleman who — not to put too fine a point on 
 it — was raving. There was the ink, and there 
 was the pen, and there was the paper. Would 
 she be so obliging as to write her name without 
 further delay? Or if she objected so very 
 much to do what was best for her afflicted 
 husband, would she refer them to a brother or 
 near relative who would take her place V 
 
 She shook her head and replied, 
 
 " We were quite alone ; my love and I had 
 but just arrived from New York by the Cunard, 
 en route for Italy. That's over now. Ah ! me. 
 Neither my love nor I have any relations. V\ T e 
 are quite — quite alone." 
 
 Again the pallid vampire held forth the pen. 
 Again she recoiled from what he called her duty. 
 
 " That hard, selfish man," she remarked, 
 pointing with bitterness at the flustered man- 
 ager, " is very anxious to turn us out. If you 
 want a third signature, let him add his own." 
 
 The over-boiled one started back in well-as- 
 
44 GEHENNA. 
 
 sumed horror, 'with deprecating palm outspread. 
 " Oh ! How improper and irregular !" he 
 complained. " Where there's a relative, a rela- 
 tive must sign, unless good reason be given. 
 If there are no relatives, of course they can't 
 sign. Cases of emergency happen sometimes 
 "when a perfect stranger may with propriety fill 
 in the document, in order that the patient may 
 be placed in custody. But that is a bad plan, 
 one to be avoided where practicable — for the 
 signer of the order (in contradistinction to the 
 doctors who endorse) is the really responsible 
 person — responsible for the well-being of the 
 patient, as well as for the expenses of mainte- 
 nance ; hence strangers, unless they have an 
 object in view, are chary of committing them- 
 selves. To you, a foreigner, this may be curi- 
 ous, but such is the law of England." 
 
 " Hark !" ejaculated the manager. " What a 
 row and a hubbub ! He's getting worse and 
 worse." 
 
 Indeed, it seemed as though he were. A 
 desperate tussle was going forward, with cries 
 as of one half stifled, and exhortations from 
 Boots to calmness. 
 
BUILT OX SAND. 45 
 
 "My poor, poor darling! 1 ' moaned the lady, 
 dropping on the floor and burying her face in a 
 cushion, while sobs rent her frame. " He was 
 always good and gentle, so different from this. 
 Oh, my poor, poor darling, if I had but a friend 
 to tell me what to do !" 
 
 " I'll tell you what to do," snapped the inex- 
 orable doctor. "If you continue to decline to 
 append your signature, neither of us three will 
 answer for the result. This may end in a fear- 
 ful tragedy. Beware ! Should injury befall 
 your unfortunate husband, you will have only 
 yourself to thank for it." 
 
 " Cruel !" moaned the lady, tearing her cam- 
 bric handkerchief with her teeth. " You apply 
 main force to me — a lonely, unprotected woman 
 in a strange land." 
 
 " You are absolute mistress of him while in 
 durance," suggested the doctor, soothingly. 
 
 With a hand pressed to her heart and a rapid 
 glance of terror in the direction of the adjoining 
 room, where the struggles of Boots were in- 
 creasing in intensity, the lady dashed off her 
 name — Brunhilde Patterson, of New York, U.S. 
 — and, having been forced to the impulsive but 
 
46 GEHENNA. 
 
 necessary deed at last, she seemed calmed and 
 relieved of a load. 
 
 Melvil groped bis way home through the fog 
 and sat by the embers of the fire, disturbed and 
 worried. 
 
 " This guinea burns my pocket !" he exclaim- 
 ed, flinging the coins on the table. " How 
 awfully easily it is to send an innocent man to 
 prison ! Prison ? To a secret dungeon beyond 
 human ken, where he mav lie buried until he 
 dies. Please God, I'm not a party to a crime. It 
 would be ridiculous, if not so painful. Here 
 have I, an ignorant boy, been taking on myself 
 the duties of police and magistrate. In conse- 
 quence of what I've done, that stranger with 
 the lanthorn jaws and silvery hair slides from 
 society. He's morally dead, burked and im- 
 mured under the sign manual of one who never 
 saw him before in all his life. My finger pressed- 
 the spring, the oubliette yawned and swallowed 
 him. And yet what do I know about him, or 
 his ailment, or its cause? And I shall never 
 hear what becomes of him. That's the awful 
 part of it. The midnight bravo, the stabber in 
 the dark usually learns that much. Whether 
 
BUILT ON SAND. 47 
 
 he recovers or whether he doesn't, I have 
 branded him with the asylum mark for life. 
 Yet how could I have acted otherwise — how? 
 Is he mad ! How could I tell ? T hope, I hope 
 he may be, or T am guilty of a grievous sin." 
 
 Then he lighted his candle, and went up- 
 stairs to bed, thinking how singular it was that, 
 in order to salve his conscience, he should 
 desire misfortune for a stranger. What a love- 
 ly face was that woman's, and what an in- 
 comprehensible expression it wore as he took a 
 parting glance over his shoulder ! 
 
 " She seemed devoted to him, and very sorry," 
 he muttered, while undressing. " Was the grief 
 overdone, or am I morbidly suspicious? The 
 tears were real enough, so were the sobs. The 
 Spanish Creoles have other natures than ours — 
 hotter, more impulsive. Their blood flows with 
 double turbulence ; what is natural in them 
 would be exaggerated in a plodding Britisher 
 like me. But what a wonderful face — and what 
 a look — as if sorrow wrestled with relief!" 
 
 All night long he was haunted by the olive 
 mask, and the unfathomable eyes that were like 
 tarns. That weird, majestic beauty wore a 
 
48 GEHENNA. 
 
 sphinx-like mien which troubled him ; and he 
 rose, after tossing all night, feverish and unre- 
 freshed, and the vision haunted his waking 
 hours as well, till he wished he had never 
 looked on it, and grew more uneasy and con- 
 science-smitten. 
 
49 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE TRYST. 
 
 rpHE New Year was still in long clothes, and 
 ■** its nose was sadly pinched. A stalwart 
 man, of about thirty years of age, above the 
 average height, and with a pleasant counten- 
 ance and slight, silky moustache, emerged from 
 a doorway that opened on a plot of common. 
 It was the side-entrance to a gentleman's 
 country place, that, judging from the long 
 stretch of unbroken., moss-grown wall which 
 encompassed the demesne, was, for a suburban 
 retreat, of considerable importance and extent. 
 He slammed the door after him with a rough 
 movement of anger, and it gave forth a hollow 
 clang which reverberated and re-echoed dis- 
 mally. He started at the sound as though 
 nervous and overwrought ; stood still an in- 
 YOL. I. E 
 
50 GEHENNA. 
 
 stant to listen with head advanced ; then, 
 shaking his fist at something behind the door, 
 and muttering a oath as he ground his teeth, 
 he walked away with rapid strides in the 
 direction of Richmond town. 
 
 From the plot of common you debouch into 
 the lower road, which, skirting the town, leads 
 in a straight line, between hedges and palings, 
 overshadowed with straggling boughs, and 
 with cottages behind them, to the end of 
 George Street, where stands the station. Few 
 of us are unacquainted with Richmond Sta- 
 tion, our reminiscences being for the most part 
 associated with dinner-parties at the Castle, 
 or junkettings with boon companions in the 
 grounds of the u Star and Garter." We may 
 have been bored sometimes, or have been con- 
 scious of having had too many good things to 
 eat, but we were always cheery in the main, 
 disinclined for the time being to scrutinise too 
 closely the ugly side of life ; prepared to sniff 
 at the rose, and ignore its many thorns. From 
 the terrace of the " Star and Garter " we have 
 gazed at the incomparable view — the stretch of 
 green — the rich foliage intersected by the silver 
 
THE TRYST. 51 
 
 ribbon of old Thames, and, withdrawing our 
 eyes from the fair prospect, have permitted 
 them to linger for an instant upon Dyson 
 Grove, standing on the hill-side just below the 
 terrace, backed by a clump of elms. We have 
 marked with a tinge of envy the grassy slopes, 
 dotted here and there with flowers and vases, 
 the trim alleys and well-kept walks, the hand- 
 some flight of steps leading to the water's 
 edge; and marvelled, with a sense of injury, 
 to what manner of fortunate wight so enchant- 
 ing an abode might appertain. Was he a 
 jovial fellow, deserving of his luck 1 ? Nice peo- 
 ple are usually poor. They dread the tax- 
 gatherer, live in terror of the gas-rate ; have 
 the greatest possible difficulty in getting obdur- 
 ate ends to meet. Croesus, as a rule, is blatant, 
 vulgar, purse-proud. Of course, quite right, 
 too. Why should all the advantages be his ? 
 Were such a place ours, what delightful parties 
 we would give there ; playing the fastidious 
 Meca^nas on summer Sundays to the blithest, 
 merriest of crews ; wiling away the week days 
 in blissful contemplation of nature, paddling 
 about the river with lazy oarplash, or lolling iu 
 
 e2 
 
 LIBRAE 
 
 uwvttsui m WW* 
 
52 GEHEXXA. 
 
 the shade with a book, in a delicious day-dream 
 of uselessness. 
 
 Had we chosen to consult the omniscient 
 waiter he would have replied with a con- 
 temptuous shrug, and a smirk rendered respect- 
 ful by the looming prospect of a tip, that no 
 parties were ever given now at Dyson Grove, 
 or had been for some years past ; that the 
 family were a rum lot, the rummest of all Sir 
 Noel, who was known in the neighbourhood by 
 the unflattering nickname of "curmudgeon." 
 He would have said that those sunny glades 
 were more accustomed to the sound of quarrel- 
 ling, than to jocund mirth; that Arthur, the 
 eldest son, remained at home with his crabbed 
 parent because there was attractive metal in 
 the vicinity in the shape of a trim damsel, who 
 lived hard by at Isleworth ; but that the second 
 son, Mr. James, unable to endure his father, 
 was travelling somewhere in America, whilst 
 the third, Mr. Barnaby, had made for himself a 
 cosy nest a long way up the river (safe out of the 
 curmudgeon's reach) adjacent to the weir of 
 Mapledurham. Being further interrogated, he 
 w r ould have informed us (since it is the special 
 
THE TRYST. 53 
 
 business of a waiter to know everything) that 
 this third son, Barnaby, was a very rum gent 
 indeed, the rummest of them all after Sir Noel, 
 but also the most astute, for he had gone into 
 the Church, and was in the enjoyment of a 
 comfortable residence, a well-rounded stipend, 
 weighted with little work, and was in conse- 
 quence provided for, independent for life (as 
 neither of his brothers were) of the vagaries of 
 cross Sir Noel. He never saw his brothers or 
 his father, or even wrote to them, for he was 
 shy and shrank from all society, especially that 
 of his parent, whom he openly declared to be 
 the worst bred man in England, while Sir Noel 
 was wont to retort that Barnaby 's mother must 
 have been the original Great She-Bear, and to 
 command his other children to give their junior 
 a wide berth. 
 
 The omniscient waiter would have told all 
 this, as one basked upon the terrace in the 
 summer sun ; but you will remember that it is 
 winter now — the end of January. Since the red 
 leaves fell a few months ago, the aspect of 
 affairs has changed. 
 
 It was Arthur Dyson, eldest-born of Sir Noel, 
 
54 GEHENNA. 
 
 who emerged just now from the gardener's side 
 entrance door, and was stalking along with 
 ponderous tread, while we watched him, in a 
 pre-occupied and agitated frame of mind. 
 
 He stood for a while on the station bridge, 
 peering down at the long line of rails that 
 glistened like a network of white threads; then 
 strolled moodily backwards and forwards be- 
 tween the cart-ruts, as though awaiting some 
 one who was late. 
 
 Presently he became aware of a light, quick 
 footfall on the frozen earth, and in a few 
 seconds more was holding a young woman in 
 a warm embrace. We have seen the lady 
 before, or rather her counterpart, for we were 
 present at her auto-da-fe in effigy, on which 
 occasion we marked how grave and old- 
 fashioned was the face, how neat and slight the 
 figure. 
 
 " For shame, Arthur !" she said, as smilingly 
 she disentangled herself from the arms that 
 clasped her waist. " Don't make so public a 
 display of your affection. It would be most 
 proper to say you love me, but it should be in a 
 decorous whisper, lest the birds should over- 
 
THE TRYST. 55 
 
 hear. I'm behind rny time, and beg your 
 pardon. Has anything fresh occurred?" 
 
 Then, perceiving by her lover's frown that 
 there was something seriously wrong, the 
 smile faded from her face, which was ordinarily 
 calm and grave, and but little given to smiles. 
 " Arthur ! Something has happened. What ?" 
 " He's dead. Thank God— at last." 
 " Dead !" echoed Cloris Galbraith, with a 
 shudder, for it was awful to hear a son speak 
 thus of him who gave him life ; and then there 
 was a pause, a moment of intense stillness which 
 the trains seemed to tear like some fragile stuff 
 as they whirred shrilly into space. 
 
 Cloris was the first to break the silence, as, 
 timidly looking up at the gloomy visage of her 
 betrothed, she said : 
 
 " May his soul rest in peace. He was in 
 truth a bad old man, but he's gone — who knows 
 whither? Did he say anything?" 
 
 " A bad old man !" repeated the new baronet, 
 with a gloomy laugh. "You're right. He was 
 a bad old man. I trust that portion of his 
 blood which runs in my veins now, may not 
 curdle into curses as did his that flows no 
 
56 GEHENNA. 
 
 more. I telegraphed to James and Barnaby 
 that he was going ; yet I stood alone by his 
 death-bed. James is still at New York, I be- 
 lieve. Barnaby declined to come. There's not 
 one living creature, man or beast, to regret his 
 departure into the unknown — there's his epitaph 
 — the result of his long tale of mis-spent years." 
 "It is indeed terrible," shuddered Cloris. "As 
 regards us, did he not relent f" 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Yes !" the young lady echoed, with relief. 
 " Yes — and no," proceeded Sir Arthur, slowly, 
 as, sauntering along the deserted road into 
 which they had turned, he reviewed the facets 
 of the objects. " There's a key wanting to all 
 this. It is a puzzle beyond my power of un- 
 riddling ; I'm not clever at conundrums. As 
 my father's health waned, and with it the stub- 
 bornness of his resistance, I rated him daily, 
 and my words seemed to take effect even on his 
 churlish nature, just as a water-drop will wear 
 a stone. I spoke to him reasonably and sen- 
 sibly. I'm not grasping, I said. All I claim 
 is a proper share — the means to carve my life 
 as I think proper. Although I am your eldest 
 
THE TRYST. 57 
 
 son, I don't want all your money. Your fortune 
 not being sunk in land, there is no difficulty 
 about it. Divide your possession, into three 
 equal parts, if it so pleases you ; but do not 
 set up a younger son above the elder, and for 
 so trivial and preposterous a cause. You have 
 admitted that there is nothing against the ob- 
 ject of my choice except her nationality; and, if 
 the details of your will are founded upon such 
 nonsense, it ought to be set aside as the act of 
 a malignant lunatic."' 
 
 "You said all that?" murmured Cloris, in a 
 tone half of reproach. 
 
 "I did, and I was right, for the duties of 
 parents and their offspring cut both ways. If 
 children owe respect and affection, they have a 
 right to demand something in return. You are 
 bound (I impressed on the old dotard) to pro- 
 vide with equity for your children according to 
 your means, unless they shall have forfeited 
 your esteem by some undutiful or disgraceful 
 act. I have been guilty of no such act ; for it 
 is the right of my manhood to settle my life for 
 myself. If you are unjust and capricious, you 
 may be sowing the seed of great disasters, and 
 
58 GEHEXXA. 
 
 then you'll have a monument of reviling, with a 
 chorus of curses for your requiem." 
 
 " You dared to tell him that for my sake Y* 
 murmured Cloris, stealing her hand into his. 
 
 " And not without effect. The idea of his 
 will being possibly disputed vexed him much, 
 and he muttered and mumbled over it, like a 
 witch stirring a caldron, for days, when he 
 thought himself unwatched. At last, when one 
 morning I was returning to the inevitable sub- 
 ject, he snarled round, as if somebody was 
 beating him_, and cried out, ' No more. I've 
 made another will since my life's not safe from 
 all you harpies. I know I shall be murdered 
 unless I obey — your poor old father will be 
 murdered who gave you the breath of life '" 
 
 " He never gave you anything else that he 
 could help," interrupted the governess, with a 
 sigh. 
 
 " That he didn't," agreed Sir Arthur, grimly. 
 " Well. He whimpered on and on in a sicken- 
 ing, slobbering sort of way, as if he were de- 
 mented, and I could not help remembering that 
 his uncle died insane — fearing, as I thought of 
 it, that the family taint, so long kept in abey- 
 
THE TRYST. 59 
 
 ance, might be breaking out in him as a 
 
 judgment for his wickedness. Tbe family 
 taint ! Take care, Cloris," be continued, stop- 
 ping in the road to fold her angrily to his 
 bosom, while bis eyes were fixed with longing 
 wistfulness on hers, and his breath came hot 
 upon her cheek. " Do you dare to take for 
 your husband one of a tainted family? You 
 have still time. There's no guessing what may 
 happen, you know. Perhaps God has marked 
 us, root and branch. My father was undoubtedly 
 touched, and Barnaby's very odd. Withdraw, 
 my darling, while you can." 
 
 " Please don't !" she pleaded, laying cool 
 fingers on his heated face. " Do not talk so. 
 It's wicked and it pains me, and you don't want 
 to pain me. So he relented and made another 
 will. Go on." 
 
 " He told me so," pursued Sir Arthur, clench- 
 ing his hands till they were white, and trem- 
 bling in a fierce effort to control his rage. " He 
 told me so again and again, and lied, yet I be- 
 lieved him. The Lord have mercy on me for 
 an idiot ! I believe he was sorry for his harsh- 
 ness, but he was incorrigible to the last. It 
 
60 GEHENNA. 
 
 was ingrained in his vicious nature. I trust 
 there is none of it in me. If there is, 'twere 
 better to be struck dead at once, before I become 
 a scourge — as he was." 
 
 The young baronet's aspect was so profound- 
 ly troubled that the heart of his betrothed bled 
 for him. 
 
 " My love," she murmured, (i my poor, poor 
 love." 
 
 Hand in hand they wandered on together — 
 the stalwart man and the small, slight maid, 
 upon whose pale cheek sadness was settling 
 down, and after a while, in a tone of great 
 depression, he took up the thread of his dis- 
 course. 
 
 " For the last few days, as I wrote to you, he 
 has been sinking. No more was said about the 
 disposition of the property, because I trusted 
 his word ; besides, all that could be said had 
 been said already. He reverted to the subject 
 once of his own accord, intimating that it was 
 his dying wish to part us for a year, in order 
 that I might be certain of my own mind. That 
 was more sensible than anything he'd ever said, 
 so I acquiesced at once. Gradually he sank, 
 
THE TRYST. 61 
 
 wandered at times, lost control over his tongue, 
 was unable towards the last to speak. Then 
 he rallied, though his throat was well-nigh 
 closed, and kept staring at the despatch-box 
 which stood always on the table by his side, 
 and moved his ringers like claws, and his lips 
 as if trying to say something. At length, with 
 an effort that cost his life, he wrung out the 
 words, ' Fishes — Magpie,' and never spoke 
 again." 
 
 "What could he mean?" inquired the girl, 
 with wonder. 
 
 "How should I know?" retorted her lover,, 
 with wrath bubbling afresh. " The bad old 
 man, to indulge in unseemly jokes at such a 
 moment. I opened the dispatch-box, and found 
 the will — the old one — leaving the bulk pf his 
 possessions in shares, bonds, &c, together with 
 Dyson Lodge, and his interest in the popular 
 journal known as the Morning Censor (which 
 was the foundation of his wealth) to me, his 
 eldest son, Arthur, provided always that I 
 never should take to w T ife a Scotchwoman ; 
 and after me to the second son, James, on the 
 same terms ; and so on, through all the odious 
 
62 GEHENNA. 
 
 foolery whose details have already galled us." 
 
 "And the new will!" 
 
 "Don't!" 
 
 " Do you mean he never made it? Fishes 
 and Magpie must have meant something." 
 
 " No trace of such a thing. I've hunted high 
 and low, smashed the cupboards and the cabi- 
 nets ; have even torn up the skirting in his 
 bed-chamber. He was playing off his diabolical 
 tricks on me to the bitter end, while I trusted 
 his good faith — father indeed ! The hoary 
 reprobate !" 
 
 Sir Arthur Dyson dropped the hand of Cloris 
 to shake his fist at the sky; and when he 
 strove to gain renewed possession of it, she 
 coyly resisted his endeavours, and he turned 
 his haggard face to her with injured amazement. 
 
 " Cloris," he exclaimed, "what do you mean ?" 
 
 "I mean," she quietly responded, "that what 
 I feared, and prayed Heaven to avert, has come 
 to pass. I expected and prepared for it, Arthur. 
 The sword has fallen. It was too great bliss to 
 become reality. We will part now. The sooner 
 it is over the better." 
 
THE TRYST. 63 
 
 A crimson flush of indignation suffused the 
 young man's face, and, flinging away the hand 
 he had seized, despite her efforts, he said, 
 violently, 
 
 " You can give me up as you would your 
 railway-ticket ! Oho ! The Quaker maiden, 
 modest and true ! Your love is deep and last- 
 ing, truly. Do you know me so little as to 
 suppose I'd let you shake me off like that I 
 I see through your arts. You flirted with 
 me as you flirted with that young surgeon. I 
 might have known it, since everything is 
 destined to go wrong with me. You're a 
 jilt!" 
 
 i( Arthur! Hush !" implored Miss Galbraith. 
 " You know I'm not." 
 
 " You are — you are ! You like him. curse 
 him — for himself, me for my monev ; and now 
 that it is out of reach you don't care to pretend 
 any longer. But he shan't have you. If you 
 are not to be mine, you shall be nobody's. I 
 swear it by those stars that mock my misery." 
 
 And with that he took her by the two arms 
 and squeezed them while he ground his teeth, 
 
G4 GEHEXXA. 
 
 till she bent and trembled with the pain, and 
 then, flinging up his broad hands, he threw him- 
 self heavily down upon a heap of stones, rock- 
 ing himself to and fro in anguish. 
 
 His hat had fallen off, laying bare the hand- 
 some forehead, with its crown of short, crisp 
 curls. Cloris laid her hand upon his head, and 
 the mere touch quieted him instantly. 
 
 " You fear the family taint, and you are 
 right," he sobbed. " What is to happen to me ? 
 I shall grow like him. "Would that I were 
 dead, as he is." 
 
 The girl contemplated the strong man at her 
 feet in his agony, and wavered for an instant. 
 The accusation was unjust — cruel. 
 
 66 My dearest, forgive me, if you can," he 
 cried, giving way to violent emotion. " I've 
 hurt you. I, who would suffer a hundred 
 martyrdoms to save you from a passing grief. 
 My life has been so miserable ! I am so young, 
 and the world is dark and drear as far as eye 
 may reach — right up to the horizon. I looked 
 to you as to a beacon, Cloris, and now you cast 
 me off for fear of the family curse !" 
 
 " Arthur, you know it is not so," murmured 
 
THE TRYST. 65 
 
 the distressed maiden. " What am I to do ? 
 What am I to do !" 
 
 " You were trying me — forgive me. I know 
 you were/' returned her lover, brightening. 
 " You know you are the one speck of hope. 
 How have you done it? What spells have you 
 been brewing to hold me so tightly chained? 
 We'll snap our fingers at the will. Shall we ? 
 I have a few hundreds saved. Promise to be 
 my wife, and I will give up all. We will work 
 hard together. You have worked all your life, 
 so it will be no change to you. I wronged you 
 just now, and was a brute. Pardon me, Cloris, 
 it was my love that made a brute of me." 
 
 She hesitated for a brief space while he pour- 
 ed forth his catalogue of troubles, wondering 
 how she should decide. But the path of duty 
 lay clear and straight ; the passing glimmer of 
 doubt lingered a second only and w r as gone. 
 Placing one arm around his neck she sat down 
 by his side upon the stones, and pressed her 
 cheek to his, while he gazed wistfully at her, as 
 if to read his death warrant in her eyes. 
 
 "Arthur," she murmured, with slow resolu- 
 tion, " w T hen you grow so violent you terrify 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
66 GEHENNA. 
 
 me. I told you long ago without your father's 
 consent I would never be your wife ; and you 
 knew why perfectly. You know also that I 
 always say what I mean. He has built a wall 
 between us, which neither may ever overpass. 
 You remember the Lord of Burghley, Arthur 1 
 We've read it together often. The peasant 
 maid married the great lord, and withered and 
 died. You know why she died? His affec- 
 tion was hers unto the end, but it could not 
 save her life. She loved him so well that she 
 knew her existence was a blot. She felt that 
 people wagged their tongues at her and point- 
 ed with the finger of contempt at him, because 
 he had raised her from her lowliness. She 
 had sullied the escutcheon of the Burghleys — 
 had lowered their proud estate. The idyll was 
 a fable, the world said; she had married him 
 for money and a title, and, by doing so, had 
 dragged in the mire the man whom she profess- 
 ed to love. You are not a great man like 
 Lord Burghley," she went, with a poor attempt 
 at playfulness; "but the principle's the same. 
 God knows that I love you, Arthur, ten times 
 more than I do myself, and for that reason it 
 
THE TRYST. 67 
 
 is my duty to see that you are not ruined upon 
 my account. Do you suppose that I should 
 ever hold my head up again, if you abandoned 
 Dyson Grove and £30,000, to live in an attic 
 with me? Woodbine and honeysuckle bowers 
 are all very well in story-books, but not in real 
 life. You say that I know adversity, and you 
 are right. Benefit by my experience. I know 
 adversity so well that I will shield you from 
 making acquaintance with the monster, even at 
 the cost of my heart's blood. Put yourself in 
 my place. What should I feel, think you, as I 
 watched your clothes growing threadbare ; 
 while I saw you deserted by your friends be- 
 cause you're poor, deprived of the luxuries 
 which you have never for a day done without? 
 What should I feel when I heard people say, as 
 they would, that I was a selfish girl, w r ho loved 
 her husband so little that she had brought him 
 only ruin. The world always jumps to hasty 
 conclusions founded upon false premises. They 
 would say — and insist on believing it too — that 
 I was a designing plotter who had angled for 
 your fortune, and been deservedly punished for 
 my pains. Could I endure that ? No, I should 
 
 p2 
 
68 GEHEXXA. 
 
 pine and die, and you would lose me and the 
 fortune also. So, as you can't have both, you 
 see, it is better to have one than neither !" 
 
 The girl spoke with an effort at composure 
 which was belied by her wan cheek. The storm 
 of Arthur's despair was so violent that it must 
 soon pass, she judged, like a thunderstorm, and 
 so it was her own death sentence and not his 
 that she was speaking ; and, as she thought of 
 that, she was glad in an icy way, and strength- 
 ened in her purpose. 
 
 Arthur Dvson was too much numbed with 
 pain, and too bewildered to answer anything; 
 unable to think clearly for himself. 
 
 "I prepared myself for this; I am brave," she 
 went on, with a scarcely perceptible tremor of 
 voice. " Listen to my words, and some day 
 you'll be glad for what Pm doing. We will 
 part now and meet again, if God so will it, as 
 old, old people, all white and wrinkled, and 
 live out our old age together as friends — good 
 and true friends who have been tried by time 
 and sorrow, and not found wanting. You will 
 live here as usual, and administer your affairs, 
 and be kind and thoughtful of others, and make 
 
THE TRYST. 69 
 
 yourself beloved. I will go hence. Nay ! It's 
 all settled ; so be good and hold your tongue. 
 Expecting this, I made my plans in secret, and, 
 like an artful little schemer with a long head, 
 prepared a way out of the difficulty. You never 
 suspected me to be so strong-minded, did you ? 
 I know you did not, My kind employers ap- 
 proved my resolution, though they are good 
 enough to be sorry to part me, and have found 
 me another place — a long way off. If things had 
 turned out well, differently, I should have gone 
 to them till the year of your mourning was 
 over, and then have left them. As it is, I go — 
 to remain, that's all." 
 
 A new spasm in the brave girl's throat would 
 be no longer coerced, so she wiped her eyes 
 and prepared to cut short the painful interview. 
 
 " Say good-bye now," she whispered, gently, 
 <; and, Arthur, say it very fondly, for it must 
 linger in my mind as a blessed memory, for 
 who shall say how many years? Remember 
 that I love you always ; and remember that 
 wmen you do something noble I shall hear 
 of it, and be proud for both you and me ; and 
 remember that if temptation urges you to 
 
70 GEHEXXA. 
 
 anything mean, or sordid, or base, such as 
 he has done, I shall know of it and grieve. 
 I know you would not do anything mean, 
 or cruel, or sordid of your own will, but men 
 are frail, and a sense of injustice goads to 
 lamentable deeds. But here am I, lecturing 
 quite like a governess ! It is not my fault. 
 What's bred in the bone, you know " 
 
 She kissed him on the forehead, and was 
 about to go her way when he roused himself, 
 and, clinging to her, cried, 
 
 <: You shall not leave me, Cloris, or at any 
 rate only for a time. Promise me this. Let me 
 write to you — I may find this other will." 
 
 " Oh, hush !" the girl answered, almost un- 
 conscious, for the strength that held her up was 
 ebbing. " Let us not deceive ourselves. Look 
 the separation straight in the face, like an hon- 
 est man. You know that he was toying with 
 us — that he made no other will. Have you 
 consulted the lawyers f " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Did they ever hear of one?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then, you see, I'm right. There never was 
 
THE TRYST. 71 
 
 another will. The decree that has gone forth 
 is irrevocable. Come, come, my boxes are at 
 the station, were deposited there this afternoon, 
 and I must not miss the train. You see how 
 clever I was to make so convenient a place our 
 rendezvous. I had a presentiment of this. Xo. 
 Don't come with me, please. Make an effort 
 to look at things straight, and be happy, 
 Arthur. The sooner you get over your distress, 
 the more thankful I shall be to Heaven. We 
 will not be sorry that we ever met, for our 
 communing must be a pleasant retrospect. I 
 love you, Arthur, always shall love you. Lay 
 those words by in lavender as an old, faded relic 
 of your youth. When next we meet, if ever. 
 we'll talk of it as of some withered flower that 
 bloomed once." 
 
 And, pressing her lips once more to his fore- 
 head, Cloris Galbraith tripped away briskly 
 towards Richmond Station like the little heroine 
 she was, while Sir Arthur Dyson sat moaning 
 and rocking to and fro. 
 
 Two red blear eyes stared out of the obscur- 
 ity ; stared larger and more round and vacant ; 
 came nearer and nearer: grew more red and 
 
72 GEHEXXA. 
 
 blear. The monster puffed white gusts of 
 breath ; the earth shook and trembled in his 
 roaring presence — he paused and panted, and, 
 with a black and waving tail, was gone ; and 
 then, completely conscious of his loss, Sir Arthur 
 rose up with a great cry, and stumbled forth 
 like a drunken man into the murky night, not 
 heeding whither he went. 
 
73 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE CO M PACT. 
 
 TT is the 1st of April, 1877. Fearful lest the 
 -*- sunshine should prove to be a jest, wary 
 gentlemen parade the streets in coats of fur 
 and well-lined gloves, while others, as incorrigi- 
 bly innocent as are the birds, shiver along in 
 white waistcoats and grey kids, deploring the 
 wayward tricks of our familiar British spring. 
 
 A lady sweeps down Regent Street, stopping 
 now and again to survey a bewitching bonnet, 
 or examine with critical acumen a new-fangled 
 lamp or piece of furniture. She is alone, though 
 handsomely attired, for it is quite early in the 
 morning, when ladies, by decree of Mrs. Grundy, 
 may wander unattended without fear of insult 
 in a city which calls itself civilised ; and as she 
 
74 GEHENNA. 
 
 saunters, pausing as fancy dictates, she sug- 
 gests, to the poetic imagination of an observer, 
 a bee — a stately, black, queen-bee — flitting from 
 flower to flower, coaxed to bestir herself by the 
 pallid sunshine. Her dress is of sable velvet, 
 rich and sombre ; the coils of her luxuriant hair 
 are prisoned in the most coquettish of bonnets, 
 whose slight indication of mourning whispers 
 of some near relative defunct, but no longer 
 mourned; her eyes, too large almost by rea- 
 son of their long lashes for the refined, olive 
 face, are lustreless, and seem cut from a piece 
 of the velvet of her robe. Where have we seen 
 this splendid woman, the sauve yet bold con- 
 tour of whose majestic form recalls the classic 
 Niobe? There is no mistaking the gorgeous 
 presence. We looked upon her, a year and 
 three months ago, in the drawing-room of a 
 railway hotel. Then she was arrayed in ruby 
 velvet, and wept bitter tears, but human griefs 
 are fleeting, happily. Now she wears black 
 velvet and a little jet, and appears content. 
 Time dared not touch anything so fair, save 
 with the lightest finger. Intervening months 
 have improved the appearance of the foreign 
 
THE COMPACT. 75 
 
 lady rather than the reverse. A calm expression 
 suits her sensuous loveliness. 
 
 There are not maDy pedestrians, and those 
 who are abroad move swiftly on their errands. 
 Flaneurs, the insolent persons who make it 
 the occupation of their day to leer in women's 
 faces, are yet in bed. One individual, however, 
 is apparently in the same mood as the dark 
 lady. When she stops, he stops, always at a 
 respectful distance. "While she examines the 
 contents of a window, he loiters on the pave- 
 ment with hands in pockets, peering up into 
 the sky, stealing a stealthy glance at her from 
 time to time, after a backward fashion like a 
 hare's. He certainly is following her, which 
 is curious, for there is a wide difference between 
 their respective social status. "While she is 
 every inch a lady — a princess, judging by her 
 bearing — he is not a gentleman, either in man- 
 ner or attire; for his garments are of homely 
 cut, short of sleeve, exiguous as to the coat- 
 tail, and there is a slouching drag in the way 
 one foot follows the other, which tells of habit- 
 ual idling at street corners, w T aiting for some- 
 thing to turn up. I defy you, at a first glance, 
 
7(5 GEHEXXA. 
 
 to venture an opinion concerning him. One 
 trait contradicts another. At one instant you 
 will be prepared to swear that he is a scamp, at 
 another you will be equally sure of his honesty. 
 Even as to his age you will be doubtful. All 
 that may be gathered with certainty is that he 
 is not rich in the goods of this world, for the 
 trousers, if well brushed, are shiny at the seams, 
 and their ends are rounded in a semi-circle 
 over his heels, where the worn fringe has been 
 trimmed with scissors. Is he young, or is it a 
 veneer of youth? The figure — bony and of 
 unusual spareness — might belong to a man of 
 twenty, so might the smooth, white visage, 
 devoid of whisker ; but then there are lines 
 about the forehead, under the shock head of dark 
 brown hair, and round the little eyes, which are 
 set too close together, that tell of years as well 
 as trouble. The long upperlip is very puzzling, 
 for it curls overmuch when the man speaks, as 
 though uncertain as to whether it should be 
 contorted into a semblance of geniality, or re- 
 solve itself into a more natural snarl. It is not 
 a pleasant face or a conciliatory manner ; yet it 
 is difficult to point out why. The features in 
 
THE COMPACT. 77 
 
 themselves are good enough ; it is the exr 
 sion which repels, due to that unfortunate con- 
 traction of the lip. But then again, there is a 
 tawny glimmer in the eye, suggestive of a 
 ferret ; and that fawning manner is enough to 
 render you suspicious, to cause you to button 
 up your pockets, to set down the fellow as a 
 "bad lot ;" but then with a second glance comes 
 compunction, for he shakes off his servile grin 
 at times, his gestures being now as independent 
 as yours or mine, filling us with a vague notion 
 that at some time or other he was the victim of 
 grinding tyranny, and that the mark of the 
 iron may never be smoothed out of his nature. 
 Is he twenty-nine years old. or thirty, or forty? 
 He might be an overgrown boy — white, thin, 
 and consumptive, by reason of his rapid growth. 
 He might have been brought up in the slums, 
 have become sodden and withered through pre- 
 mature smoking and precocious libations of gin. 
 Now and again his wan visage lights up, and 
 you will be ashamed of your suspicions. Is it 
 his fault that his lips contract into a sneer, that 
 his legs should be attenuated, his feet flat, his 
 knees and elbows bulbous ? 
 
78 GEHENNA. 
 
 Having decided in your mind that you cannot 
 reckon him up at all, you will -wonder all the 
 more that there should be a possible link be- 
 tween the shabby-genteel man and the splendid 
 woman. He might be a pickpocket ; she a 
 Juno, arrayed for the nonce in a garb of Mel- 
 pomene. Is there any bond or link between 
 them, or has he merely an eye to her purse ? 
 As she continues to pass in leisurely review 
 the contents of window after window, he be- 
 comes impatient, glancing up and down the 
 thoroughfare, as though apprehensive of possi- 
 ble danger ; steals a glance in her direction, at 
 the sky, at the gutter, then at her again, and, 
 making up his mind, shuffles slowly closer, and 
 stares by her side through the glass. 
 
 Fidget as he may, he is apparently beneath 
 her notice. She sweeps along to the next shop, 
 he follows, and speaks, as to himself. 
 
 "How sweetly pretty, to be sure. Gloves 
 and handkerchiefs all the colours of the rain- 
 bow, and stockings too — blue, with red rings. 
 I don't care for such stockings myself." 
 
 Again he looks at the lady like a hare. She 
 has glanced at him with a quick movement of 
 
THE COMPACT. 79 
 
 suspicion, but, seeing no one she has ever seen 
 before, returns to the contemplation of the 
 window. He can make nothing of the velvet 
 eyes that are as a mask to the fine face ; so he 
 who is apparently most at home in byways is 
 compelled to make straight for the point. 
 
 " You don't remember me, mum/' he says, 
 timidly touching his hat. She moves not nor 
 utters a word, and this would have been dis- 
 couraging to a bolder person. 
 
 " In course you don't, how should you ? A 
 year or more ago, and I mere dirt. But I 
 spotted you again at once, and followed." 
 
 The lady turned on the speaker a look of 
 offended astonishment. 
 
 " You presumed to follow me, and glory in it, 
 what for V How dare you ?" 
 
 " Don't call the pleece, mum. I shan't hurt 
 you," cried the man, hastily, whereat the lady's 
 look of anger changed to a scornful smile. 
 
 Ci I never supposed you would," she retorted, 
 with contempt. " Thank you. I am not easily 
 terrified. So you dogged my steps, why? 
 I am a stranger in London, and never saw you 
 before V 
 
80 GEHENNA. 
 
 The stony look that accompanied the care- 
 less words gave evident pain to the man. 
 "With feminine tact she perceived the compli- 
 ment, and surveyed him now with dawning 
 interest. 
 
 "I believe I have seen you," she said. " Yes ; 
 I certainly have, but cannot remember where." 
 
 The wan visage of the man by her side light- 
 ened with pleasure as he replied, 
 
 M Thank you, mum. It ain't for the likes of 
 you to remember the likes of me ; but the likes of 
 me can't forget such as you — never till we die." 
 
 u Tiens! 11 est galant!" muttered the lady, 
 amused and interested by the simple touch of 
 pathos. " Allez, mon ami. What do you want?" 
 
 "Please, mum," pursued the man, twisting 
 his bony fingers one over the other to assist his 
 laggard tongue. "If you please, I'm the young 
 sailor-chap as came over along with you in the 
 Paramatta from Xew York. Last Christmas 
 twelvemonth it was. You mayn't remember ; 
 but don't I — rayther." 
 
 { • Why do you remember !" asked the lady, 
 smiling, for the earnestness of the young man 
 was flattering. 
 
THE COMPACT. 81 
 
 " Becos you was reigning queen on board, 
 turning the heads of all the state-cabins, who 
 chattered of nought but you over cigars and 
 grog, and followed you about like tame cats 
 with chairs and wraps, and books and rubbish, 
 and knocked at your door when it was rough 
 to ask how you felt, and were like a gang of 
 slaves, not only the gentlefolk, but the whole 
 lot, from the captain to the cabin-boy, and 
 you was the light in the sky for them all — 
 every man Jack.'' 
 
 " I do recall you, and } r our odd behaviour, 
 you very singular fellow," said the lady. 
 
 "Do you know, I've often dreamed of you," 
 cried the young man, kindling into enthusiasm 
 and forgetting his humility. ' ; My word ! Do 
 you remember the night when the moon was 
 shining down upon the ripples, and there was 
 no one about, and your husband was a-bed, and 
 you was a-sitting all alone, so melancholy, 
 sighing as if your heart would break. And 
 your glove was lying on the deck, and I felt for 
 you so, and went silly, I suppose, for I crawled 
 up in the dark and made bold to lay your glove 
 
 upon your knee, just to show as there was a 
 vol. I. G 
 
82 GEHENNA. 
 
 living thing a-sympathising, and you slapped 
 my face with it for my imperence, and I was so 
 took a-back and all of a-tremble that you laugh- 
 ed right out and said you was made of moods." 
 
 " I remember," interrupted the lady, curtly. 
 " I slapped your face because you interrupted 
 my reflections, and I don't like eaves-dropping 
 or watchers." 
 
 " I wasn't watching, not on purpose, but I 
 did after that till the end of the voyage, like a 
 lynx. For somehow I was drawn to you 
 whether I would or no ; and the smell of scent 
 on the lace you wore about your head made me 
 feel sick and dizzy. I've smelt it ever since. I 
 trembled when I came nigh you, but couldn't 
 keep away from you. I seemed to be told that 
 my fate was in that small hand of yourn for 
 good or bad — that I was to be ruled by you 
 one way or the other, as angel or as devil. 
 But you were good; I felt that, and it fright- 
 ened me, for I've had little chance to meet with 
 good in my time, worse luck, though I s'pose 
 there is good about somewheres. And then 
 you landed at Liverpool, and I lost you in the 
 scrimmage, and couldn't make it out, seeing as 
 
THE COMPACT. 83 
 
 you was to be my fate. I was a vessel without 
 a compass. Lord ! How I did search for you, 
 to be sure ; but you'd given me the slip, and 
 wasn't to be found nowhere, seek where I 
 would." 
 
 " You sought me, then, you strange crea- 
 ture?" 
 
 "Ay — I have found you now, as I knew I 
 must, sooner or later." 
 
 " Indeed ! And what may you expect me to 
 do for you — me a foreigner, you a common 
 sailor off a steam-packet?" 
 
 There was a ring of scornful banter in the 
 lady's deep, sweet voice which made her com- 
 panion wince, for he was in earnest, and her 
 gibing accents curled round him like a thong. 
 
 " fm no sailor," he returned, bluntly. *' ; I 
 worked my way across to England as I had no 
 money to pay my passage." 
 
 "The murder's out!" exclaimed the lady. 
 " You watched and learned that I was a warm- 
 hearted, impulsive person, led by whims, and 
 because I took you up on account of your odd 
 ways, as I might a cat or a monkey, you 
 thought to screw money out of my good nature. 
 
 g2 
 
S4 GEHEXXA. 
 
 The old story. Why not have said so at once 
 and saved time? It's astonishing what a 
 number of people are always clamouring for 
 money.'* 
 
 Drawing off a glove, she searched in a side- 
 pocket for her purse, but the young man, with 
 a hasty gesture of pain, laid his hand upon her 
 arm, and she looked round with new surprise. 
 
 " You can play on me as you think fit," he 
 murmured, with a trembling voice. " You 
 made me softer than ever I was. Don't make 
 me hard again." 
 
 The emotion depicted on his countenance was 
 so genuine that, for the time being, it changed 
 each forbidding trait. The eyes were no longer 
 too close together, the lips forgot to sneer. 
 
 " Not money !" the lady said, bewildered. 
 " I can't make you out. What in heaven's 
 name is it that I can do for you?" 
 
 " I want an interview — a few words in pri- 
 vate," he replied, peering uneasily to right and 
 left like one who is accustomed to be hunted. 
 " I want to tell you all my past. I won't keep 
 back a jot, I swear. Not the blackest bit. 
 'Taint a sweet past, but I'd like to make a clean 
 
THE COMPACT. 85 
 
 breast of it, for 'twould relieve me ; and then, 
 maybe, seeing as I'd spoken out, and concealed 
 nothing, you might be inclined to give a poor 
 chap a chance of a new leaf which he can't turn 
 over for himself." 
 
 This was novel and amazing. No wonder 
 Mrs. Patterson was surprised. The ungainly 
 fellow spoke in no suppliant tone, but with a 
 conviction that it was her duty to help him, and 
 that he might claim such help as his right. 
 
 <% Oh !" she remarked, half amused and half 
 annoyed. " Because I once deigned to slap 
 your face with a glove I'm to adopt you, am I? 
 Play the part of fairy godmother; that is the 
 penalty? We ought indeed to be careful what 
 we do. Would you like to pass for my son, and 
 bear my name V 
 
 "Please don't laugh at me, for it makes my 
 blood seethe, and then I go wild," returned the 
 young man, his ferret eyes much too close to- 
 gether now. " What I like to see is summat 
 good, having seen little of it, and, if I can, I'd 
 like to be respectable. Maybe it wouldn't suit, 
 but still I'd like to try. Maybe 'twouldn't be 
 possible. Take me as a servant, if you will, 
 
86 GEHENNA. 
 
 and try me. Give me a chance. I'd stick to 
 you like wax ; serve you like a dog — a slave." 
 
 " Fit appendage to beauty/' laughed Mrs. 
 Patterson. " Pity you are not black ; so much 
 more picturesque." 
 
 " I'd be true and faithful — lie across your 
 door to protect your sleep. What you'd order 
 I'd obey, blindly without a word. For Fm by 
 myself in all the world, with ne'er a friend. 
 Only give a chap a trial — you'll not regret it," 
 he pleaded ; " but of course I must make a clean 
 breast." 
 
 The whimsical expression of surprise and 
 amusement was gone, and Mrs. Patterson re- 
 flected deeply. 
 
 " No," she said, with a wave of abrupt com- 
 mand, while stern lines appeared about her 
 mouth. " What is done may not be undone. 
 The past is disagreeable to most of us. There's 
 nothing to be gained by looking back. Perhaps 
 you are right, and a higher power is weaving* 
 at this pattern. At all events, I will consider. 
 Drop behind a little while that I may turn the 
 matter over." 
 
 She crossed the road into the enclosed way 
 
THE COMPACT. 87 
 
 called Vigo Street, and paced there with knitted 
 brows, while the inscrutable young man stood 
 waiting at the corner. After walking up and 
 down till curious shop-keepers stared over their 
 blinds, marvelling what so gorgeous a pedes- 
 trian was doing there, she beckoned him, and 
 he sped quickly to her side. 
 
 "Are you really — really to be trusted?" she 
 mused , " Am I about to commit an egregious 
 blunder? I know nothing whatever about you 
 — neither do you about me for that matter, but 
 it is all unprecedented. You said you were 
 alone in the world — so am I.'' 
 
 81 Then Mr. Patterson '' 
 
 " Is gone." 
 This she said sadly. 
 
 A tawny gleam of something that resembled 
 exultation shot from the ferret eyes of her com- 
 panion, but it speedily vanished, to be replaced 
 by a very ugly look as he grunted, 
 
 88 So much the better, then, for 'totheiv' 
 
 "Mr. Patterson is gone. I tell you that 
 
 much, since you saw my poor husband on 
 
 board ship. I'm still in mourning for him, as 
 
 you may perceive. This much said, the subject 
 
88 GEHEXNA. 
 
 is never again to be referred to on any pretence. 
 Is that clearly understood? The past is done 
 ■with, the volume closed and laid upon the shelf. 
 Let us occupy our minds with the present." 
 
 Her companion stood beside her, listening 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Attend to my words," she continued, trying 
 to discern his thoughts. " I am alone in the 
 world, as you are — a cork upon the waves. I 
 have not a friend this side the Atlantic, and 
 but few on the other. So singular a conjuncture 
 as a partnership 'twixt you and me must have 
 been planned by a superior power. I am a 
 fatalist. We are to run in the same groove for 
 evil or for good. It was ordained from the 
 beginning, and must be." 
 
 " For evil or for good I" echoed the listener, 
 blinking at the flying cloudlets as they swept 
 before the blast. 
 
 " You watched and followed me, as you 
 admit, in furtherance of your aims and inter- 
 ests. It is just possible that yours and mine 
 may prove to be identical, meeting from oppo- 
 site poles. At any rate it's worth a trial. A 
 lone woman needs a watch-dog more than 
 
THE COMPACT. 80 
 
 another, one who can be trusted — who will be 
 true, and submissive, and devoted, come what 
 may ; who will be vigilant, obedient, and ask 
 no questions; who will keep his eyes always 
 open and his mouth shut. Are you such a 
 watch-dog as this I" 
 
 Mrs. Patterson paused to scrutinize again 
 each lineament of him who walked beside her. 
 He was in the seventh heaven of delight, his face 
 transfigured by a reflection from the good angel's 
 wing, and she was satisfied. That he had 
 succumbed to the fascination of the siren was 
 writ large on every feature ; and this might not 
 be counted to him for blame, since his betters 
 aboard the Paramatta had struggled vainly in 
 the meshes of the sorceress like so many flies 
 in treacle. She perceived that it was so, and 
 her woman's vanity accepted the conquest as 
 an omen. 
 
 " It is strange !" she said ; and as she looked 
 the clouds of uncertainty parted, and a smile 
 spread over the features of classic Niobe, light- 
 ing the marble into mellowness, as grey-green 
 pines are warmed into sudden glow by the rays 
 of an Italian sunset. 
 
90 GEHENNA. 
 
 They had walked towards Bond Street ; 
 there was no one by but the policeman on his 
 beat, and he was engrossed by his own thoughts 
 as he swung past with heavy tread. So broad- 
 ening her smile into a merry laugh which 
 showed two rows of pearls, she shrugged her 
 shoulders at Destiny, and, raising a jewelled 
 hand that glinted in the sunlight like a prism, 
 smote the young man lightly upon the forehead 
 with her glove. 
 
 " Carlo ! To heel, good dog," was all she 
 said, with a laugh of careless merriment ; but, 
 as he reeled back and followed humbly in her 
 wake, his limbs were trembling as in an ague 
 fit, while his face had flushed to crimson, and 
 there was a streak of white upon his brow. 
 
91 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE WORLD. 
 
 MRS. PATTERSOX evaded the strict truth 
 when she pretended to be friendless and 
 forlorn. The picture was artistic, but mendaci- 
 ous. She was, and yet was not. She was an 
 alien, as she said, sojourning in a strange land 
 without kith or kin. But no Hagar was the 
 gorgeous lady, trapesing in rags across a 
 desert. Oh, dear no ! A Cuban Creole, she 
 was gifted with an unusual share of beauty, 
 wit, talent, wealth — and yet, despite her con- 
 spicuous advantages, the American colony in 
 London were persistent in presenting the cold 
 shoulder to her. About the fact there was no 
 question, and yet it is not to be supposed that 
 a beautiful woman of irreproachable character 
 
02 GEHENNA. 
 
 (for nobody did more than purse the lips or wag 
 the head, and that spoke volumes in favour of 
 a beauty) who was in possession of all the 
 brilliant accessories that adorn our mundane 
 existence should lack friends or social support. 
 Mrs. Patterson flashed on fashionable Brook 
 Street like a meteor — a dazzling, wealthy 
 widow. The rooms usually assigned to Royal- 
 ty at Claridge's were hers. Exotics bloomed 
 upon her balcony. The passages were encum- 
 bered with her trunks. She was the widow of 
 Mr. Patterson, the railway contractor, who had 
 amassed a fortune, the waiters said, which 
 could compare with that of Vanderbilt. She 
 was beautiful, and witty, and proper — at any 
 rate, quite proper enough to satisfy the demands 
 of " Society," and so Society took her to its arms 
 and hugged her with a cupboard love. 
 • The American colony ignored the new arrival, 
 but that was easily explained. Mr. Patterson 
 — the dear departed — was a Southerner, a 
 sprig of the original stock of the Mayflower, 
 which, in course of time, had migrated south. 
 The proclivities of the Americans in London 
 were of the north northy, which was equivalent 
 
THE WORLD. 93 
 
 (so said Mrs. P.) with shoddy. She, as the 
 better-half of Mr. Patterson, represented the 
 old aristocracy of America, whilst the minxes 
 who dared to display that unbecoming portion 
 of frigid back were roturier and common, with 
 the bad manners of low vulgarians. They 
 gave out as an excuse for their behaviour that 
 nobody knew anything about the woman. 
 Hazv stories were afloat of her having been 
 employed by a shameless mother as a decoy, 
 from which shocking predicament she had been 
 rescued in her native island by the old man 
 who, in his dotage, was weak enough to put a 
 ring upon her finger. But these were mere en 
 d'tts. Though they were whispered in corners 
 in the smoking-room of the Langham Hotel, no 
 one chose to come forward with the charge, so 
 the lady had no opportunity of refuting it. 
 But, for all that, the Yankee dames took refuge 
 in the threadbare saying that there is no smoke 
 without fire ; and so the decree went forth that 
 the American colony in London was not to 
 know the widow, whether a miracle of virtue 
 or the reverse. Xow "Society" cared not a 
 pin about the American colony or its opinions - T 
 
94 GEHENNA . 
 
 had nothing in common with it ; never came in 
 contact with it as a mass, except at the opera, 
 or perhaps the private view of a picture-gallery. 
 The American colony had ways which " Society " 
 could not endure — talked through the nose, 
 laughed too loud, was altogether objectionable. 
 So that the ostracism of the Cuban beauty by 
 the ladies/ who composed it was a point in her 
 favour. 
 
 It must not for an instant be imagined that 
 (i Society " jumped at the widow. Oh! dear, 
 no. There is a way of ct doing things," and 
 ■" Society," unless taken by the throat, abides 
 strictly by its own rules. Some people say 
 that the position it assumes is glaringly para- 
 doxical and an insult to educated understand- 
 ing — but that is the voice of the enemy. Some 
 people fail to see by what right a small knot of 
 individuals — ladies and gentlemen with patri- 
 cian features and no higher intelligence than 
 others, declare for the admiration of the lower 
 animals that they, and they only, are the salt of 
 the earth wherewithal it may be salted. Why 
 should they be salt and the others only saw- . 
 dust? It is an incontrovertible axiom that if / 
 
THE WORLD. 95 
 
 we say a thing often enough, and loud enough, 
 and insolently enough, we shall find an array 
 of yokels who will gladly believe our statement 
 however untrustworthy itsfoandation. " Society" 
 duly announced both loud and long that it was 
 the salt of the earth, and as a natural sequence 
 the declaration was accepted for fact. Having 
 achieved this, the next step was to erect walls 
 and plant thickets around the holy of holies, 
 lest common feet should venture to intrude; 
 which really was most considerate, for the salt 
 of the earth shines with such brilliancy that un- 
 screened contemplation of it might be disastrous 
 to the optics of the herd. 
 
 In old days, those of John and the Plantage- 
 nets, the barons disdained to wear thick boots, 
 because to walk on the common earth was be- 
 neath their state and dignity. In order to 
 maintain intact the serene prestige of the sub- 
 lime, handed down through respectful ages, it 
 is necessary for society to be idle. This is an 
 axiom like the other, and therefore a series of 
 ingenious expedients were devised for the at- 
 tainment of so desirable an object. The Guards 
 were invented, and the "Row," that the youths 
 
96 GEHENNA. 
 
 of the rising generation might be taught that 
 the object of life was to kill the hours ; the 
 supreme good "to do nothing with an air;" 
 while as for the patrician daughters, they were 
 overfed, and left to their uncultured imaginings, 
 and taught to thank God at matins and even- 
 song that they were not as other women. 
 
 Persistent idleness and overfeeding are apt 
 to produce ill results. Gilded youth of the 
 male sex grew bored with playing at soldiers, 
 or lounging over the railings of the park. Its 
 brain was too much enervated to read books, or 
 even the newspapers, except police reports, and 
 it read them with an effort. The polish of its 
 boots and the sit of its necktie ceased to de- 
 light ; even the sucking of its walking-cane 
 was no longer a joy to the grown-up patrician 
 baby. Pabulum must be found suited to its 
 condition — a rattle carved in the devil's image. 
 Certain theatrical entertainments were started, 
 wherein brazen courtesans displayed as much 
 of their nude persons as the Lord Chamberlain 
 could be induced to permit, and sang sill y 
 words to jangling tunes in voices hoarse with 
 drink. Sundry clubs sprouted up like toadstools, 
 
THE WORLD. 97 
 
 and were winked at by the gilded parents, 
 wherein the said youth might soften its brains 
 still further by inbibing too much brandy, and 
 squandering on the altar of Baccarat the gold 
 which was not its own. This was well enough 
 for the men, who were thus taught to sow the 
 wind, with a promise of the usual reaping. For 
 idle daughters occupation had also to be pro- 
 vided, and in their case the consequences were 
 grave. Woman is weak and tender — beau 
 ideal of large sympathy with the shortcomings 
 of fellow worms. But sympathy may be carried 
 too far. Society said to its daughters, " Re- 
 member your place, my loves, and the roll of 
 your glorious ancestors. Some were no better 
 than they should be, but never mind. If you 
 are led, by rich food, and idle hours, to commit 
 follies, it will be of little consequence, provided 
 that you keep within the circle. Should your 
 sympathies become too large, it can't be helped. 
 Of course, be overloving, if it must be so, to the 
 elect, but spurn the scum, and let them know 
 how little you care about them." So the young 
 ladies, in the exuberance of youth and health, 
 learned with edifying rapidity a lesson from 
 VOL. I. II 
 
98 GEHEXXA. 
 
 their fond and experienced mammas, who danc- 
 ed and flirted and misbehaved themselves under 
 the eyes of their daughters in their teens, treat- 
 ing their servants like so many mutes, their 
 maids as if blind and deaf. 
 
 The situation, in its profound contempt for 
 opinion, was awe-inspiring to humble spectators 
 from below, who, if it could have been maintained 
 in its integrity, would have meekly worshipped at 
 the shrine of so grotesque a deity. But now 
 the demon, Paradox, who was a bewildering 
 satellite, showed the end of a forked tail, and 
 put forth a cloven foot. Gilded youth became 
 guilty of such strange behaviour — guided there- 
 to by brandy and the damsels who hiccupped 
 out their ribaldry on a debased stage — as would 
 have landed mere costermongers in the cells. 
 Some of the lofty maidens, their sisters, with 
 sympathies too large to be controlled, became 
 so reckless through impunity that they differed 
 only by the thickness of a film from their less 
 fortunate sisters of the gutter. Some went so 
 far as to boast that they had no hearts to give, 
 sold the makeshifts which they wore in their 
 bosoms to the highest bidder (if sottish or sick 
 
THE WORLD. 99 
 
 it mattered not), and having gained possession 
 of the family jewels, and the family house in 
 town, sent their husbands about their business, 
 to yacht, and drink themselves to death. Gild- 
 ed mothers deplored the publicity of these 
 things, for, said they, if the convenances are 
 respected, a multitude of sins are covered. 
 Keep within given lines, my pets, and you are 
 safe. The voice of slander may babble — but 
 what matters that ! Those in high places must 
 expect to be abused. It is de rigueur. The cry 
 of envy is shrill — the shafts of the malicious 
 scum are harmless. But, despite the conduct 
 of the juniors, it was necessary to preserve a 
 show of self-respect, and, since the idle and the 
 overfed declined to keep within bounds, Society 
 was under the painful necessity of purchasing 
 spectacles — green ones and many of them, just 
 as Moses did at the fair, smoked glasses and 
 eye-shades — was obliged to grow all at once so 
 exceedingly short of vision as not to be able to 
 discern its nose-tips ; and this led to the dis- 
 play of t'other hoof on the part of the demon 
 Paradox. As we all know, idleness and heating 
 viands beget vice, with the attendant accom- 
 
 h2 
 
1 00 GEHENNA. 
 
 plishments of the Prodigal. Gilded daughters, 
 who were in trouble with their dressmakers, 
 bartered their hands for money. Gilded youth 
 of the other sex fell a prey to the machinations 
 of the houri. The Salt of the Earth was stored 
 in granaries whose beams and planks were 
 touchwood. Coffers had to be replenished by 
 hook or crook ; and so the hall-keeper of Society, 
 becoming afflicted, like his master, with ophthal- 
 mia, swung open the gates of the sanctuary, 
 and took coin instead of vouchers. 
 
 Mrs. Patterson, widow of the late lamented 
 P., aspired to pass the gilded portals. Her 
 position was peculiar. Unexpectedly deprived 
 of her mainstay, she was obliged to re-arrange 
 her plans. Instead of wintering in Italy, as 
 proposed, with her aged spouse, she was called 
 upon to bury him, and, having wept and donned 
 her weeds like a decorous wife, she wiped her 
 eyes after a time, and tired her head, and came 
 forth into the world again ; for it is not expected 
 of mortals that they should weep always, and 
 the late P. was old enough to be her grand- 
 father. Being received by the American contin- 
 gent with the cold shoulder, she laughed, and, 
 
THE WORLD. 101 
 
 having no relations or belongings, resolved to 
 carve a road for herself unassisted. 
 
 " Dowered with wit, beauty, wealth, to what 
 may I not aspire V' said she to herself, whereby 
 you will judge that the lady was ambitious, 
 disinclined to hide her candle under a bushel. 
 
 She gazed from afar at Society, and caught 
 sight of the sulphurous appendage. Having 
 reconnoitered the monster, hoofs and tail and 
 all, with wary ken, she seized and held him 
 tight as a terrier might a rat. To throw aside 
 the elaborate garlands of rhetoric (such as suit 
 so august a subject), and descend from the 
 clouds of metaphor to lowly earth, she saw that 
 society was a sham, that the self-elected crane 
 de la creme, with its artificial airs and fastidious 
 graces, its smug make-believes and impertinent 
 assumption of superiority, was the most impu- 
 dent and audacious of humbugs. But at the 
 same time she was shrewd enough to observe 
 that the common herd are fools who like to 
 place their feet in the stocks ; that they prefer 
 to be taken in ; will kneel and purr before a 
 coronet, though they know all the while that 
 it is clumsily made of paper and decked with 
 
102 GEHENNA. 
 
 dabs of tinfoil. Although, as a clever and un- 
 prejudiced woman, she could trace the grisly 
 bones peeping out from the ermined folds, she 
 knew that the robe was comfortable wear and 
 becoming to most complexions. She quite 
 comprehended too the epidemic of ophthalmia 
 and its causes ; and, since others might squeeze 
 in while the porter was applying ointment to 
 his optics, saw no reason why she should re- 
 main outside. It was the idlest of curiosity on 
 her part, for she laughed at the flutter of the 
 insects. She had no idea of stepping into the 
 matrimonial arena, no intention of hooking an 
 impoverished marquis. No, liberty is sweet. 
 Fatima wished to examine the inside of the 
 Blue Chamber, because entrance to it was de- 
 nied, and, having satisfied the passing fancy, 
 she retired content. So with Mrs. Patterson. 
 It would be a triumph to taunt that American 
 colony with having been able to step in where 
 they might never hope to enter. Moreover, the 
 condition of a solitary widow left much to be 
 desired. She had no settled home as yet, and 
 no friend to receive in it if she had ; no fixed 
 ideas as to the future. This w T as an admirable 
 
THE WORLD. 103 
 
 opportunity for studying life quite on the loose, 
 life in an unfamiliar phase. She looked at the 
 troop of noble daughters, and was aghast ; she 
 contemplated their empty-pated brothers with 
 contempt. She scrutinized the residuum through 
 a microscope, and was highly interested by the 
 small bevy of noble-minded and earnest men 
 and women who do their work and hide their 
 heads in shame when they look at their abject 
 cousins ; at the admirable matrons who accept 
 their exalted place with meek firmness, and 
 set a splendid example to Englishwomen ; and 
 she made up her mind that, so far as she was 
 concerned, the residuum would be best avoided, 
 but that amusement might be gathered from 
 the others. 
 
 The difficulties of the task added to its 
 charms. The creme de la creme is exclusive 
 when its eyes chance to be open. Faugh! 
 Common people without quartering^ must 
 remain outside in the hall, or, if they are per- 
 mitted to look in for a second, the saloon must 
 be afterwards fumigated. But circumstances 
 alter cases, and there are curious turnings in the 
 labyrinth called " Society." There are elder 
 
104 GEHENNA. 
 
 sons and younger sons, and their peculiar and 
 altogether different positions require to be 
 separately considered, though one may have 
 seen the light five minutes after the other. 
 AVhat will do very well for a younger son can- 
 not, by necessity, be good enough for an elder. 
 Both younger and elder have a dangerous 
 tendency to be born addlepated ; and in that 
 case they need extraneous support. 
 
 Not quite all — only the majority — are addle- 
 pated. Some rise above the snares of a false 
 education. The first are for the most part 
 well provided for ; as regards them, it matters 
 not if they be weak of intellect. Should they 
 have run through their patrimony, it must be 
 made good by a discreet alliance ; nothing is 
 simpler, since a coronet is a fair equivalent for 
 a fortune. The second are a miserable crew. 
 If they chance to be too stupid or too ignorant 
 to do aught but dress with grace, what is to be 
 their end? Pedigrees fill no stomachs. Their 
 elder brothers would be insulted if they were to 
 try to sweep a crossing. Wretched nondescripts ! 
 Nor fish, nor flesh, nor fowl, nor good red- 
 herring! They are outside the pale, pitiable 
 
THE WORLD. 105 
 
 objects, belonging to no class ; outsiders, hang- 
 ing on by their nails. They must either volun- 
 tarily abdicate a ridiculous and anomalous 
 position, and move soberly and quietly shoulder 
 to shoulder in the great army of the middle 
 class, or be content to hang about palatial door- 
 ways, running of errands for their betters, in 
 exchange for patronage or a dinner; or they 
 must pick up an heiress, and, with the friendly 
 assistance of her money-bags, compete on equal 
 terms with the elder born. For the sake of the 
 younger son, whose absurd attitude induces 
 pity, much more than that of the impoverished 
 marquis, is the questionable heiress admitted 
 within the sanctuary. Her trunks may have 
 come from the Judenstrasse, or have been 
 packed at Saratoga ; what matters it so that 
 they are full? Should she arrive in town with 
 ma (a washerwoman at Frisco t' other day) 
 while the elite are grinding through the season, 
 both she and the maternal parent will be 
 received for a little with open arms in the 
 smartest houses of the metropolis. Heiress 
 will be snapped up, ma will be requested to 
 vanish. If a shady heiress, Miss will do for 
 
106 GEHENNA. 
 
 youngest son ; if a genuine Begum with a 
 plum, a pauper duke may snap at her. Then it 
 will be discovered that ma eats with her knife 
 and smells of onions. Exit ma, politely request- 
 ed to remain at Frisco till she dies. 
 
 So far, so good, as regards the youthful but 
 hideous money-bag, who shall chance to arrive 
 in England properly chaperoned. Nothing 
 can be more plain sailing ; but with Mrs. Patter- 
 son it was otherwise. She was a woman, not 
 a girl. She had absolutely no support but that 
 which existed within herself. She did not want 
 to marry again. She had drifted into her 
 present position, and, for reasons due chiefly to 
 indolence, was inclined to make England her 
 home for a time at least. Life with the dear 
 deceased had not been quite unclouded, for she 
 was a quick-tempered and impetuous woman, 
 and the role of Abishag was nauseating now 
 and again, though David was the most con- 
 siderate of lords. She felt that the prime of 
 life was passing, and that she had tasted but 
 few of its sweets. A few years more and she 
 would be middle-aged — oh, horror !—» have 
 arrived at that fearsome point where a woman's 
 
THE WORLD. 107 
 
 power must end, if its bulwarks have not been 
 carefully protected. She panted in a sensual 
 and Oriental sort of way for the animal enjoy- 
 ments of existence, and set herself deliberately 
 to think how they might be procured in fullest 
 measure. To enter the holy of holies she deter- 
 mined, and grow to be the centre of attraction 
 there. In spite of common sense she could not 
 help being dazzled by the glamour; so, despising 
 herself all the while, she argued the pros and 
 cons. 
 
 Beauty; money; what better dust for the 
 eyes of the ophthalmic? But you must approach 
 within easy reach of them before venturing to 
 make a cast. How was this to be accomplished ? 
 
 By dint of hard thinking the Creole arrived 
 at a solution. The class which may most easily 
 be hoodwinked is that of the ostentatiously 
 religious. Mrs. Patterson would pose as a lady 
 of wealth who considered her latter end — if 
 need were, would vaguely whisper of past 
 stumblings. A rich and beautiful Magdalen is 
 sure of attention. Where the carcase is there 
 will the vultures be gathered together. 
 
 The great novelist, whose voice is silent, has 
 
108 GEHENNA. 
 
 shown us, in the magic mirror, Chadband and 
 his attendant satellites. The folly whose fruit 
 is Chadband is a natural outcome of weakness, 
 common to all alike; hence Chadbandism exists 
 with variations in all the grades that make the 
 world. Even the crcme de la creme has its 
 Chadbands, who feed upon the credulity of 
 dowagers, and thrill them with delicious dis- 
 comfort. For surely it is delicious discomfort 
 to grieve over the sins of others, and lament 
 their heinous shortcomings, whilst admiring the 
 specklessness of ourselves. 
 
 The Chadband of the higher classes is better 
 groomed, that is all, and does not drop his h's ; 
 otherwise he is the same impostor. His grey 
 hair is neatly disposed behind his ears, his smug 
 chin is shaven blue, his shirt is of the finest 
 cambric ; the black clothes with which Messrs. 
 Vanheem and Wheeler have supplied him are 
 transcendently pious in their cut. He drawls 
 his words in a high key, and blinks his eyes 
 with a liberal display of white, while interceding 
 with the aristocractic elect for sinners of a 
 lower grade. Now and then, that the kettle 
 may be kept upon the boil (for dowagers are 
 
THE WORLD. 109 
 
 capricious, and devoured by ennui), he brings a 
 stray bishop in his wake., and trips up the 
 sumptuous staircase, with its vases, and palms, 
 and statues, puffing and blowing as he leads 
 the way, like a tug dragging a big steamer. 
 
 Xot an ordinary bishop. Oh ! dear no. The 
 dowagers may see whole flights of these any 
 day by squatting in. the Peeresses' Gallery. 
 What really does rouse them and galvanise 
 them into spasmodic activity, is a weird Colonial 
 magnate, bishop of some place a long way off 
 in the wilds of somewhere. My Lord of Jericho, 
 for instance, is a favourite prelate, for he is 
 unctuous and verbose, and his manners have 
 the u je ne sals quoi" of the best breeding, and 
 he will dilate for any numbers of hours about 
 the dear, delightful cannibals whom he con- 
 verted, and about the Jews, who are to turn 
 Christian and be re-established in Jerusalem. 
 Under stress of circumstances (when the dow- 
 agers are unusually blasees), he will even unbut- 
 ton his elegant sleevelinks and display the den- 
 tal marks upon an irreproachably satin skin, 
 where the teeth of a certain squaw had begun 
 to make a meal of him. 
 
1 10 GEHENNA. 
 
 It is a curious fact connected with Chadband- 
 istn, both lowly and patrician, that the influence 
 of the guiding star seems to bring with it a 
 kind of idiocy. When good old ladies of what- 
 ever rank take to weep over other people's 
 souls, they seem to lose that knowledge of the 
 world and of its perfidious dealings w r hich they 
 have acquired through a lengthened pilgrimage. 
 They are taken in by the most transparent de- 
 vices. The veneer of Chadband, so soon as he 
 has established a footing, may safely be of the 
 slightest. It is not worth his while to wear a 
 disguise, except for the sake of practice. But, 
 between the lowly and the lofty Chadband 
 there is one marked and decided difference. 
 He whom Dickens has held up to obloquy for 
 ever behaved in the most vulgar manner, and 
 was content with humble muffins. The Bishop 
 of Jericho and his flock of parsons, on the other 
 hand, regard a good cook and a well-appointed 
 w T ine-cellar as indispensable among the elect. 
 1 am not sure that he does not keep a list of 
 streets, the houses marked off with crosses, like 
 a tramp's map, and accept invitations accord- 
 ingly ; but I do know that he prefers the houses 
 
THE WORLD. Ill 
 
 that are rnasterless ; those where the dowagers 
 dwell alone, or in groups with unrnarriageable 
 daughters. He looks askance at sons, or even 
 nephews, with a latent feeling of apprehension 
 lest he should be propelled down the stairs 
 some day. He guages his dupes to a nicety, 
 knowing full well that the temper of his patron- 
 ess for the moment is but a form of morbid 
 excitement ; that she requires constant change : 
 that even cannibals or reclaimed Jews cannot 
 serve her turn for more than a day or two ; that 
 the next best thing is a Magdalen ; and after 
 that an uneasy goat. 
 
 Mrs. Patterson decided on being an uneasy 
 goat, who panted to become a sheep. Since 
 she intended to get into society, she must force 
 an entrance into an aristocratic mansion ; to do 
 that without a chaperon needed peculiar art- 
 fulness. She remembered in the nick of time 
 that this very Bishop of Jericho, who was just 
 now the fashion, had been a passenger on board 
 the Paramatta, and that he had been no less 
 assiduous in his attentions to the siren than the 
 host of other swains. She therefore made it 
 her business to find out this same bishop, told 
 
112 GEHENNA. 
 
 him of her bereavement, hinted that the shock 
 to her nerves had compelled her to consider her 
 latter end, and professed herself vastly per- 
 turbed in conscience. At the same time she 
 permitted him to see that she was rich, and 
 allowed her hand to linger in his with a friendly 
 pressure. The very thing ! 
 
 At this precise moment the Dowager Countess 
 of Fitz-Hoodlum was fretting him to fiddle- 
 strings. She was a rapacious harpy in the way 
 of novelty ; there was no satisfying that in- 
 satiable woman. She turned up her nose at 
 cannibals ; sniffed even at Magdalens ; was in- 
 deed indignant at the bare mention of the 
 interesting creatures, since her pocket had been 
 picked by one of them at a tea at Exeter Hall. 
 She showed signs of kicking up her venerable 
 heels, and returning to the giddy throng, had 
 been caught surreptitiously perusing the fash- 
 ionable intelligence in the Morning Post, babbled 
 of Patti in the "Traviata/' and showed symptoms 
 of lamentable backsliding. All this was heart- 
 rending to the bishop ; in the first place, because 
 of the malignant example set by a grandee to 
 the lower animals ; in the second, because, al- 
 
THE WORLD. 113 
 
 though the married daughter ot the countess 
 declined to countenance the bishop's presence, 
 and studiously avoided her mother's dinner- 
 table, yet she was constantly supplying new 
 receipts for choice entries, and sending oppor- 
 tune gifts of fruit and delicate liqueurs. 
 
 To him Mrs. Patterson was a saving angel. 
 She was beautiful, that gave an interest; she 
 was mysterious, this added piquancy. She was 
 rich. The latter was a great point, because 
 the countess might rest assured that she would 
 not attempt to borrow money. Indeed, her 
 ladyship might herself, perhaps, venture to beg 
 on behalf of her numerous charities. And so it 
 came about that the neat brougham of the 
 lovely Creole was constantly at Portland Place. 
 She was much too clever to turn devote. There 
 were two unmarried daughters who abode with 
 their mother when not visiting among their 
 friends — unmanageable, bold daughters who 
 sneered at the episcopal favourite, and openly 
 laughed at their parent. These would have 
 seen through and unmasked the foreign con- 
 vert, if she had begun to turn up her eyes as 
 the bishop and their mother did. Moreover, so 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
114 GEHEXXA. 
 
 soon as the soul was won, all interest in it 
 would cease. No. Mrs. Patterson was merely 
 uneasy in her mind, shilly-shally and inquiring, 
 and kept the countess on the tenter-hooks of 
 long-drawn, excited expectation. She frankly 
 confessed that she was too young to abandon 
 the baubles of the world ; declared herself 
 anxious to provide a finger-post which should 
 point in the right direction, and keep her 
 straight in the main, while she skipped in the 
 grass on either side, culling a daisy or a butter- 
 cup. The candour of this avowal was a chef 
 cfosiivre. The thin and wrinkled dowager 
 looked at the ripe glory of the neophyte, then 
 in the glass at her own crumpled skin, and tears 
 rose in her glazed eyes. The pleasures of the 
 world are for the young, sackcloth and ashes 
 for the old. It was all in the right order of 
 things. When you are too wheezy to amuse 
 yourself, when your ankles are too puffy for 
 gambolling among the daisies, cannibals do 
 very well as a pis alter, if you have no taste for 
 whist. So long as you are lovely, and could 
 be so magnificently dressed as was the stranger 
 on occasion, the naughty world has allurements 
 
THE WORLD. 115 
 
 which may not be withstood by mortals. The 
 place of Mrs. Patterson was without doubt in 
 the holy of holies ; that of the Dowager 
 Countess of Fitz-Hoodlum among the lumber 
 and black beetles in the cupboard. 
 
 The mansion in Portland Place was deadly 
 dull. The bold daughters were little seen, for 
 they frisked all night at balls under the wing 
 of the married sister, and they slept all day, or 
 yawned. Their tempers were bad, and they 
 would not even relate their triumphs to their 
 mother or her guests. It was amusiug at first 
 to the new-comer to watch the army of cats 
 mewing and purring round the bishop. But 
 very soon the spectacle palled, then became 
 nauseous, and Mrs. Patterson did not wonder 
 that the young ladies preferred their beds. 
 The Earl of Fitz-Hoodlum — a youth in the 
 Guards — never came near the place. A few 
 semi-serious and willowy men and women did ; 
 and these festooned themselves round the draw- 
 ing-room murmuring of Giotto or Angelico, or 
 the last new discovery in the catacombs, hum- 
 bly feeding on the crumbs that fell from the 
 table of Grimalkin. But none of them were 
 
 i 2 
 
116 GEHEXXA. 
 
 in any way connected with Society. They 
 were the veriest nonentities, bores of the first 
 magnitude. "What was to be done? The gates 
 of the sanctuary were as tightly closed as ever. 
 The Creole was about to give up the role of 
 the uneasy goat as a bad job, and start on 
 another tack, when, as luck would have it, her 
 aged patroness got caught in the whirl and 
 racket of a bazaar, and even consented, goaded 
 by the machinations of our heroine, to hold a 
 pious stall. 
 
 Lady Fitz-Hoodlurn, though quite well enough 
 off, thanks to her jointure, to be surrounded by 
 a crowd of bloodsuckers, was not capable of 
 furnishing a stall as the stall of a Fitz-Hoodlum 
 should be furnished. This was vexatious, for 
 the dowager had magnificent ideas. She had 
 almost decided to sell flowers (her son would 
 send her cartloads of exotics from the hot- 
 houses of Fitz-Hoodlum Castle) when the 
 wealthy American asked timidly whether she 
 might take a share in the stall, in which event 
 she would undertake to supervise the necessary 
 details, and save her dear friend the trouble. 
 The dowager was delighted. In the first place 
 
THE WORLD. 117 
 
 she would have a beautiful siren to act as shop- 
 woman (people always fled from the sandy- 
 haired, bold daughters), who would decoy the 
 young men to purchase ; and in the second 
 place she would have things to dispose of that 
 would give her stall the first place. 
 
 The Duke of Wellington lent his riding- 
 school; the bazaar came off; and the success 
 of the occasion was the Creole. The stall of 
 the Dowager Countess was piled with bonbons 
 from Boissier's, nick-nacks from Giroux's. choco- 
 late from the Passage des Panoramas. It was 
 draped with Eastern stuffs arranged among 
 feathery palms, with an oriental appreciation of 
 colour ; soft, striped, gauzy fabrics, against 
 which stood forth the handsome stranger, at- 
 tired in simple black. Fashionable London 
 opened wide its eyes. The washed-out old 
 countess and her daughters disappeared among 
 the bonbonnieres ; nobody looked at them, though 
 people paid sovereigns into the wrinkled old 
 fingers of mamma, as an excuse to gaze and 
 -admire. Had "society" seen Mrs. Patterson 
 trotting in the mud with a bandbox, the female 
 portion thereof would have ignored her exist- 
 
118 GEHENNA. 
 
 ence, while the male contingent might have 
 roused itself to dog her footsteps on the sly. 
 But standing thus, in artistic simplicity, with 
 the name of the Dowager Countess of Fitz- 
 Hoodlum painted in large letters over her head, 
 society stared, and wondered, and smirked, and 
 grinned, and was civil. Though no longer 
 fashionable, the countess was much respected, 
 for in her day she had been a celebrated llonne, 
 and society never bothered itself to inquire into 
 her reason for taking up the beauteous mystery. 
 To any such inquiry her ladyship would pro- 
 bably have answered that under that splendid 
 envelope there was a precious soul in travail. 
 If pressed, she might have added that she was 
 fond of beautiful things, that a soul with a fair 
 outside was more amusing than a soul with an 
 ugly one, and that it was not disagreeable to 
 have an open purse at her command, into which 
 she might dip for her charities. Society, how- 
 ever, being afflicted with ophthalmia, asked no 
 such rude questions. The name of Fitz-Hood- 
 lum gave sufficient cachet. She might turn out 
 a swindler, but that was the countess's look 
 out; and, if she did — well, society would shut 
 
THE WORLD. 1L9 
 
 its eyes and declare it had never seen her. 
 
 The girls of society being fair (not sandy, 
 like the Fitz-Hoodlnm gorgons), considered 
 that a dark fuil became them ; so they twined 
 themselves about the Creole, and exhibited as 
 poses pla*ti<ju><. They stood with their arms 
 about her waist, and dallied with her jewelled 
 ear-rings; they popped in on her unawares to 
 tea, and bore her in triumph to their palaces. 
 She gave sumptuous feasts at Claridge's, and 
 all society was there : her photograph was in 
 every window : even royalty took her up. Air.-'. 
 Patterson was declared " The mode. 1 ' 
 
 But her head was not turned by her success. 
 She was content for the present to glide on the 
 golden river, leaving the future to take care of 
 itself. At intervals she still appeared as the 
 uneasy goat, and knew better than to desert 
 her patroness. Had she not under her eyes a 
 typical specimen of ''' Society ;" of its lack of 
 principle, of its shameless perfidy, its vulgar, 
 treacherous shuffling, a glaring instance that 
 was a lesson? There was a lady who dwelt 
 hard by — moping, neglected — in a mansion like 
 a fairy palace. Her husband was a millionaire. 
 
120 GEHENNA. 
 
 Society was prepared to cringe and grovel at 
 his feet, but, being seized with a sudden convic- 
 tion that a line must be drawn somewhere, 
 decided to draw it at his wife. Now this lady 
 had committed the fault of abiding with her 
 husband before marriage, because his father 
 forbade the union. When the obdurate parent 
 died his son made an " honest woman " of her, 
 as the saying goes, though she had been an 
 honest woman all along ; true to him, and a 
 faithful mother to his children. Had the lady 
 held her tongue all might have been well — 
 ophthalmia might have set in — but she was 
 proud, and deemed it proper that the world 
 should know her past, and the reasons which has 
 guided her conduct before she accepted a place 
 in it. This was ill-bred, for it placed society in 
 a ridiculous predicament. Society could not 
 accept a lady who confessed there had been a 
 blot upon her life. If she would only cover it 
 up, it would not be noticed. Why persist in 
 parading it openly? The worst of all was 
 that she denied the existence of the blot. "I 
 have been a true and faithful wife," she 
 declared over and over again, both before and 
 
THE WORLD. 121 
 
 after the ceremony ; " a good mother to my 
 children. Circumstances compelled me to be- 
 have as I did. What more do yon require?" 
 To which " Society " replied, frowning, " We 
 require les convenances, good madam. Be as 
 wicked as you please in private, and in public, 
 too, provided you never mention it; but, 
 Heavens ! respect les convenances." The obstinate 
 woman would not respect les convenances, and 
 " Society " resolved to crush her ; but before 
 doing so it would be a pity not to see her 
 treasures. The temptation was too great. 
 Rumour told wondrous tales of the marvels of 
 the fairy palace. Before she was ignored and 
 jumped upon she must be allowed to give a 
 party; to spend a few thousands on & fete to 
 which "Society" would come. The poor lady, 
 being an honest woman, was incapable of 
 guaging the meauness of the " crime de la 
 creme." She had told her tale, and her consci- 
 ence was at rest ; she had stooped to no decep- 
 tion. It had been signified to her that she 
 might have an "afternoon," which meant, of 
 course, that her fault was to be condoned. 
 Gunter received carte blanche, and so did Wills. 
 
122 GEHENNA. 
 
 Roses "bloomed upon the marble stairs. Huge 
 funis waved in the alcoves. Champagne of the 
 best brands flowed inexhaustibly. There was 
 an oyster-room, a buffet, a tea-room, a lavish 
 display of plate. The carriages of " Society " 
 stopped the traffic of the neighbourhood. 
 Duchesses inspected the pictures through their 
 eyeglasses, the ancient armour, the Louis XIY. 
 furniture, and were hind enough to approve. 
 They drank the champagne — too much of it — 
 and ate the delicacies ; and, when there was no 
 more to eat or drink or see, they retired, and 
 straightway lectured their sons and daughters 
 as to the fitting conduct of the elect. 
 
 " It's shocking, my dears," said her fat old 
 grace of Sark, severely, " to see such gorgeous 
 things in the possession of such a hussy. The 
 champagne was undeniable, my loves, and those 
 tartlets quite a dream. But, thank goodness, 
 we didn't speak to the creature. Bear in 
 mind, my loves, you're not to know her, or ever 
 cross the threshold again." And, true enough, 
 the unhappy lady is unknown. She drives in 
 the park in the greatest of all solitudes — that of 
 a leper in a crowd. The duchess, who grew 
 
THE WORLD. 123 
 
 muzzy over her champagne, looks through her ; 
 my ladies Adela and Gwendoline (who, be it 
 said in a whisper, are as bold as the Fitz-Hood- 
 lum girls) draw aside their riding-habits that 
 the dust from her wheels may not contaminate 
 their skirts. The husband receives cards, or 
 used to receive them ; but he, like his wife, is 
 proud, and has taken to heart his lesson. 
 
 And so has Mrs. Patterson taken to heart her 
 lesson. She is fully aware that Adela and 
 Gwendoline, sisters of the Duke of Sark, who 
 vow that she's a darling, will look through her 
 by-and-by, when the duchess shall give the 
 order. But what cares she? It suits her pur- 
 pose for the present to be styled " darling " by 
 the ladies of the haute volee, so she smiles at 
 them and they at her, and she gives grand 
 parties, and wears fine clothes, and is satisfied 
 to let things take their course, until she sees 
 what the future will bring forth. 
 
124 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 claridge's. 
 
 "ITTHEN she said she was alone in the world, 
 ■ * Brunhilde Patterson was wrong and 
 also right. She had many acquaintances, but 
 no friends — one perhaps, no more. That one 
 friend awaited her on the step at Claridge's, as 
 she returned home after a morning stroll, with 
 the new henchman, who had been engaged in 
 so singular a manner, dragging one lanky leg 
 after the other at a respectful distance. 
 
 She brightened with pleasure upon seeing 
 him, and a corresponding gloom darkened the 
 visage of her follower. 
 
 " T' other gent as was aboard the Cunard," 
 he muttered. " I knew he would turn up." 
 
 The gentleman shook hands, then glanced 
 
claridge's. 125 
 
 inquiringly at the henchman, who grinned and 
 touched his hat. 
 
 <; Good morning, Mr. Dyson/' said the 
 Creole. " I want to talk to you about a host 
 of things. There's the fancy ball at Marlborough 
 House, for which dear Adela has got me a 
 card. What character shall I assume? Some- 
 thing awfully becoming to bewitch Royalty. 
 Tight fitting and as short as possible, with my 
 hair down." 
 
 " Go as Dudu," suggested the gentleman, 
 with a tender glance, which was reflected on 
 the face of the henchman in a glare of covert 
 ferocity. He was an unlettered man, and had 
 never read Byron nor heard of Dudu. 
 
 " A kind of sleepy Venus was Dudu?" quoted 
 Mrs. Patterson, as she led the way upstairs. 
 " You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mr. 
 Dyson. The cap doesn't fit. I'm neither 
 sleepy nor a Venus. She was thin, and gold- 
 haired, and a coquette. I'm a great, fat, 
 prosaic black woman." 
 
 With this she cast a look of disparagement 
 at her fine figure, and protruded a tiny foot, 
 with a high instep, in the daintiest of bottines. 
 
126 GEHENNA. 
 
 " There's never a chance of five minutes' 
 serious talk," observed Mr. Dyson, as he fol- 
 lowed. " There are sure to be at least a dozen 
 swells in the drawing-room. You hold a levee 
 of half the Peerage; and I don't know them, or 
 want to know them." 
 
 " Is it my fault that moths will buzz round 
 candles? Shall I wear a carotty wig and blue 
 spectacles? I like to be popular, and, above all 
 things, I abhor solitude." 
 
 " And you say you're no coquette. Pardon 
 me, I didn't mean to be rude." 
 
 " Gratitude for kindness is one of my virtues. 
 I ought to have lived a hundred years back, 
 when queens of fashion were at home to their 
 friends the moment they tumbled out of bed, 
 and discussed the topics of the day, over a dish 
 of chocolate, while dressing." 
 
 4i Queen of fashion," echoed Mr. Dyson, in a 
 tone of mingled discontent and admiration. 
 *' That's just it. It's a feather in the cap of a 
 foreigner to be received with open arms by the 
 most exclusive clique in Christendom. I feel 
 jealous of your success sometimes, for I'm the 
 Peri at the gate who may look in but never 
 
clabidge's. 127 
 
 enter. How different it is from the jolly old 
 days on board the Paramati ! 
 
 "I'm always charmed to see an old friend, as 
 none know better than yourself. The Peri at 
 the gate is nonsense. You see through the 
 vulgar sham that's called the Upper Crust as 
 well as I,*' said the Creole, bluntly. 
 
 •• Xo doubt. But vou soar above my reach. 
 When I first knew you and Mr. Patterson, you 
 were merely rich people of the middle class. I 
 see no reason why you should not end as a 
 peeress/' 
 
 A spasm of pain crossed the Creole's face, 
 and Mr. Dyson, perceiving this, made haste to 
 offer his excuses. 
 
 '• I'm a donkey," he said, quickly. " The 
 wound is not yet healed." 
 
 " Xo," replied the lady, with a sigh. "I'm 
 over-sensitive, that's all. The shock will pass 
 in time. Middle class indeed ! How about the 
 Mayflower? Something is the matter with you. 
 You look out of sorts. Come in here and tell 
 me.'' 
 
 Regardless of the mob of creamy ones who 
 might be waiting, Mrs. Patterson led her friend 
 
128 GEHENNA. 
 
 into a small side chamber, which had been fitted 
 up as a boudoir for the convenience of the 
 foreign royal families who patronized Claridge's, 
 and, placing her hand upon his shoulder with a 
 brusquerie which told its tale of familiar Bohe- 
 mian intercourse, she pushed him into a chair. 
 
 " Come, James. There's something the mat- 
 ter. What is it?" she asked, sitting down in 
 front of him and examining his face as though 
 she knew how to read its lines. " What's the 
 news of Dyson's Grove ! Is the cavalier to 
 espouse his lady-love, or is it to be Romeo and 
 Juliet and a cup of cold poison ? Are you to 
 enjoy the fortune, or will you also become 
 enamoured of a Scot, and pass on the golden 
 spoon to Brother Barnaby?" 
 
 " It's a bad subject for jesting," retorted 
 James. " That old man has made a laughing- 
 stock of all of us." 
 
 " He w r as your father." 
 
 "And much are many of us beholden to him. 
 That idiotic will leaves things nohow. The 
 money seems to belong to any or all, and yet 
 to none of us. I could have accepted my 
 younger son's portion with content, had it not 
 
claridge's. 129 
 
 been for those preposterous conditions -which 
 are likely to set us by the ears. You see, the 
 fortune is Arthur's to-day, and may be mine to- 
 morrow, so I feel a sort of proprietorship in it, 
 such as otherwise I never should have dreamed 
 of. It's well that I arrived too late, or things 
 might have been said that are best left unsaid. 
 Arthur spoke out plainly enough, he tells me." 
 
 " How is he going on ?" inquired the Creole, 
 gazing dreamily out of the window with eyes 
 that saw nothing. 
 
 " Couldn't be worse." 
 
 M Dark despair. Anguish. Darts and broken 
 hearts, and all that ? ,f 
 
 " Yes, poor fellow. It's a miserable pros- 
 pect." 
 
 61 Disinterested affection versus lucre ; how 
 unequal a conflict. Waterloo Bridge and obli- 
 vion. Of course that will be the end of it." 
 
 " Don't chaff. The girl won't have him, or 
 he'd marry her directly, without thinking about 
 bread and butter. He's reckless — wanders in 
 Richmond Park like a murderer flying from 
 justice, cursing destiny, and heaven and earth, 
 and all the world." 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
130 GEHENNA. 
 
 ''But which is to prevail — love or lucre? 
 That is the gist of it, and I am frightfully ex- 
 cited for your sake. How I should like to see 
 you lording it in a smart house. Will the little 
 milliner give way? She is a milliner, is she 
 not? or a straw-bonnet maker, or an apple- 
 woman ? I forget. Will she, for the sake of 
 the empty title of ' my lady,' drag the man 
 •whom she professes to love down to her own 
 level, and so make an important personage of 
 James Dyson, Esq.? Tfce little schemer's caught 
 in her own trap." 
 
 4i Do you know — I don't think she is a 
 schemer." 
 
 The Creole turned her velvet glance on her 
 friend with sharp scrutiny, then again stared 
 idly out of the window, nursing her chin upon 
 one hand, and running the other through her 
 hair. 
 
 There were lines of scorn round the ruddy 
 lips, though the eyes were as expressionless as 
 ever when she spoke again. 
 
 " How easily men are taken in by women," 
 she observed to a passing cab. " Isn't it 
 humiliating to think how facile is the conquest 
 
claridge's. 131 
 
 of which we are so proud ? Of course the 
 applewoman was not captivated by the pros- 
 pect of £30,000 a year. In fact she prefers 
 that the fortune should have slipped through 
 her fingers, just to show that she adores her 
 Arthur for himself. Xo doubt of it.*' 
 
 " She refused him, and is either gone, or go- 
 ing, a long way off to a distant county," said 
 James, who felt uneasy when the Creole chose 
 to be flippant. 
 
 " Prefers not to be hampered with a penniless 
 husband, and in that she's right. Prudent and 
 longheaded young applewoman. Very much 
 so, since you tell me he's irascible. Shortcom- 
 mons don't improve bad tempers, and some 
 wives object to be beaten. But all this is 
 ancient history. What has happened since she 
 departed Y* 
 
 ;i He is behaving very oddly. Won't go to 
 bed, but walks up and down, talking to him- 
 self; wanders about the lanes all night, instead 
 of decently taking his rest. I'm quite nervous 
 lest he should fall into the river in the darkness. 
 And the result of it all is, that he looks a thou- 
 sand years old at least — unshaven and un- 
 
 K 2 
 
132 GEHEXXA. 
 
 ■washed. You never saw anything more hag- 
 gard than his appearance.'' 
 
 The Creole was so absorbed by the examina- 
 tion of a carriage over the way, that she neither 
 spoke nor changed her attitude. 
 
 " Worse than all — I fear he's taking to drink." 
 
 Mrs. Patterson did not move, but again she 
 laughed that rippling low laugh of hers. 
 
 " What are you dreaming about I" James 
 asked, tartly. " An excellent joke, if my bro- 
 ther turns out a drunkard. But I'm boring you 
 with my own uninteresting affairs, and keeping 
 you from your friends." 
 
 '•Don't be silly," she replied. "Why be so 
 cross because your brother loves the bottle? 
 Your temper is as quick and sharp as his, and a 
 turn in the park will cool it. Dinner here at 
 eight. You'll find me alone, for a wonder. 
 Pot-luck. Ta-ta." 
 
 James rose and rubbed his hat with his sleeve, 
 not too well pleased to be so unceremoniously 
 dismissed. There was something that he found 
 difficult to Bay. He opened the door, closed it, 
 and returned. 
 
 (i You are the queerest woman," he remarked, 
 
claridge's. 133 
 
 "and that must account for your empire over 
 all of us. Where did you pick up that scare- 
 crow outside, and what do you mean to do 
 with him I" 
 
 " He's my lover — the thousand and first," 
 responded the lady, gravely. " Found him in 
 the gutter ; going to make him useful. Don't 
 laugh, and don't frown, for it makes you aw- 
 fully ugly. He's my humble and obedient slave, 
 tied hand and foot, who's ready at any moment 
 of the day or night to stand on his head and go 
 through the interesting ceremony of kissing the 
 ground I tread on. A most sensible young 
 man ; I only wish all the rest were so submis- 
 sive." 
 
 James Dyson brushed his hat round and 
 round for lack of something better to do, and, 
 suddenly impelled by uncontrollable impulse, 
 laid a finger on the Creole's luxuriant tresses, 
 and stroked them gently. 
 
 " Don't/' murmured Mrs. Patterson, recoiling. 
 
 " I couldn't help it. It wasn't meant for a 
 liberty, but somehow you're uot a bit like any 
 other woman I ever saw. You're so stately 
 and majestic, and so repellent, and sometimes 
 
134 GEHENNA. 
 
 so gay — a tragedy queen one minute, an ultra 
 Bohemian the next, doing such strange things 
 that one loses one's head in your presence.. 
 Circe must have been like you." 
 
 " Indeed ! Beware then, for she turned her 
 admirers into pigs." 
 
 " Men get accustomed to the beautiful — grow 
 blase, and yearn for something novel — even 
 though it be deformity. Now you are always 
 new, and although you think proper at times to 
 pretend to be deaf and blind, sleepy and stupid, 
 you're as sharp as a needle, and nothing escapes 
 you. I know you better than you think." 
 " Do you V 3 said the lady, as if unheeding. 
 " I shall be sorry when you throw off your 
 mourning," James murmured, approaching 
 nearer. " Black is the best foil to southern 
 skins. What a wonderful colour it is ! Golden 
 green in the shadows, with the rich blood flow- 
 ing warm beneath, like the leaves of some 
 American tree I once saw, changing from 
 yellow to russet." 
 
 Mrs. Patterson said not a word, apparently 
 engrossed by her own thoughts, and James,- 
 gaining courage, bent down over her. 
 
claridge's. 135 
 
 " Before the old man died, you used to affect 
 scarlet/' he whispered ; " like a tropical bird, 
 he used to say. His end must have been 
 sudden at the last. After all, he had his inn- 
 ings, and I'm glad he has gone to rest. Do you 
 know why?" 
 
 Mrs. Patterson awoke with a start from her 
 reverie, and, with a searching glance upwards, 
 rose quickly to her feet. 
 
 "No, no, no !" she muttered, as if she saw a 
 ghost. Ci Pray — pray don't ! Never again, 
 James. We are friends — dear and close friends 
 — hertz-freunden — but may never be more than 
 that. More % Is it not the best and pleasant- 
 est tie when the nonsense and romance of 
 youth are past? I've had enough of marriage, 
 and shall never marry again. Once for all, let 
 this be understood." 
 
 The terror which was evinced by her rapid 
 utterance, and by the manner in which she 
 clasped her bosom with both hands lilled Mr. 
 Dyson with dismay. 
 
 •' I am middle-aged and a widow," she con- 
 tinued, more calmly ; " I may surely be per- 
 mitted to enjoy my liberty and gang my ain 
 
136 GEHENNA. 
 
 gait as a respectable, middle-aged woman 
 should, without being pestered with serenades. 
 I like yon, James Dyson, and I want you to like 
 me in the free-and-easy spirit of the ' Grande 
 Boheme.' Forget that I'm a woman. No 
 compliments or inuendoes, or w 7 e shall quarrel." 
 Then she added, with a sunny smile, and hand 
 frankly outstretched, " Am I not vain and for- 
 ward? Though you didn't go down on one 
 knee, I feared you might ; and a man may not 
 marry his grandmother, so don't look wretched. 
 I'm two whole years older than you. I am, 
 upon my word. Believe your grandmother 
 when she says that friendship, calm and un- 
 alloyed, has charms that are denied to love. 
 No frantic throes of jealousy. No misunder- 
 standings, and no heartburnings, or sleepless 
 nights, or foolish squabbling. Trust, entire, un- 
 divided ! The only real friend, you avaricious 
 miser. Cannot that content you ? Oh, James, 
 James ! you are looking so ugly. Drop in to 
 dinner at eight, like an obedient child, and 
 amuse me with stories about the apple-woman, 
 and be cheery, for life is fleeting. Be off, man, 
 this minute, and summon Carlo to the presence, 
 
claridge's. 137 
 
 that I may improve his mind and manners, as I 
 have improved yours." 
 
 Mr. Dyson was grievously discomfited. 
 When you have screwed up your courage to 
 declare your flame, it is disconcerting to be 
 received with jests. 
 
 " Carlo V he inquired, sheepishly. <; It sounds 
 like a dog." 
 
 "And so he is — my watch-dog — my new 
 factotum — cane canem! or I'll set him at you." 
 
 " You are incorrigible. I wish you could 
 make yourself repulsive. Mind, that's not a 
 compliment. Adieu, then, until this evening." 
 
 When the door closed, the Creole moved to 
 the window and gazed at the well-knit pro- 
 portions of her admirer as he strode down the 
 street ; and as she gazed the brightness faded 
 out, and a cloud settled on her brow. She was 
 at this moment like Virgil's Juno, as standing 
 in highest aether she watched the puppets play- 
 ing upon earth and roundly abused the Fates. 
 " Mene incepto desistere victam" she might have 
 been muttering. But she said nothing. The lean 
 young man, who had been whimsically christen- 
 ed Carlo, stood within the doorway cracking 
 
138 GEHENNA. 
 
 his joints whilst awaiting orders, but she had 
 forgotten his existence. The puppets were 
 performing — James Dyson a principal actor — 
 and as his figure retired out of sight she com- 
 muned thus with herself: 
 
 11 Nor wife, nor maid, nor widow ! How 
 ridiculous ; and how impossible a predicament 
 to last as it is. Events have piled themselves 
 up thus without control of mine. How spiteful 
 all the Fates. What do they mean to do, and 
 how is all this to end ? Am I to be held 
 accountable ? Surely not. The poor old man 
 has run his course, and James is glad ! My 
 second father — how he loved me ! My bene- 
 factor, who rescued me from her who would 
 have bartered my youth and innocence. Why 
 did he adopt me ? Should I indeed be grateful 
 or the reverse? If he had not rescued me, I 
 should have been dead by this time. Was I 
 not sold to him instead of to another, deliber- 
 ately, with my own consent, gratitude the 
 price, masquerading in the garb of affection ? 
 Innocence! When was I innocent? How could 
 I be innocent, coming from whence I came? 
 The linking of spring and winter is contrary to 
 
claridge's. 139 
 
 the law of God. I am not accountable. Guilti- 
 ness as to this — and yet not so, for, if I had had 
 the courage to speak, he would have let me off, 
 he was so generous. He asked if I could love 
 him as a wife should love her husband, and I 
 said yes, hoping for the impossible. The Lord 
 forgive me for it. I knew not my own mind, 
 and I found out the truth too late. He, not I, 
 was to blame, for I was but a child, and he, 
 with the experience of a long life, should have 
 judged more wisely for me. We might have 
 gone smoothly on if that had not occurred. 
 They came on me in my bewilderment and 
 grief, and forced my consent to what should 
 never have been done. And having done it, I 
 feared to undo it, dreading I knew not what." 
 
 The phantoms of retrospect were uncomely 
 wraiths. As they trooped by the seer, she 
 bowed her head and moaned. 
 
 " Though the chain galled my flesh, I tried 
 with all my might to bear up, and, when it was 
 abruptly broken, I thanked heaven for the relief. 
 I did my best to make him happy. Oh ! yes, I 
 did, so long as it was possible. Possible ! 
 Self-deceiving wretch that 1 am, contemptible 
 
140 GEHENNA. 
 
 creature. Yet, why? The throbs of the human 
 heart may not be measured with an hour glass. 
 Was it my fault that I was young ; my passions 
 strong and hard to control? For that the sun 
 of Cuba was responsible. If we find ourselves 
 pushed down to the bottom of a well, is it our 
 fault if we can't get out again? I am drifting, 
 whither? The sea is deep and full of rocks, 
 and black, though phosphorus may glitter on 
 the surface. The white breakers are nodding 
 from afar. Is that their roar I hear, or but the 
 din and turmoil of these London streets?" 
 
 Unwitting of the presence of the watch-dog, 
 who watched with his head on one side, Brun- 
 hilde Patterson flung up her arms against the 
 shutter and leaned her cheek on them, as her 
 way was when unhappy, with a fretful, impul- 
 sive movement. 
 
 "And what of him?" she thought, pursuing 
 unchecked the turbid flow of her day-dream, 
 and seeing still the stalwart shoulders which 
 had long since turned the corner. " Am I not 
 unfortunate enough ? Why should the sight of 
 his blond curls flood my soul with delight? 
 How wisely I lectured him, and what a lie my 
 
claridge'.s. 141 
 
 heart gave to the words! Does friendship, 
 calm and cool, send the pulse galloping at 
 sound of a familiar footfall ? Am I, who vaunt 
 my years, to behave like a school-girl ? That 
 he loves me is plain enough, and I exult in the 
 conquest : to what end ? He loves me, and I 
 love him — there's an entanglement ! He loves 
 me, he loves me. Terror mingles with my joy. 
 It would be hard to have to part, and yet it 
 would be better, ere mischief comes of it, as his 
 brother has parted from the apple-woman. How 
 crookedly things go in this most cranky world! 
 Am I to be hunted out of London by a piece of 
 folly, when all I wanted is attained? It would 
 be too monstrous. Surely I can trust myself. 
 To be forewarned is to be forearmed. My will 
 is strong, and, if the worst comes to the worst, 
 the doors may be shut against him. Should I 
 not be a laughing-stock, if I found myself com- 
 pelled to turn my back on London because an 
 obscure young gentleman, with no more than 
 four hundred a-year to bless himself withal, 
 chooses to sigh like a furnace ! And if I de- 
 parted hence, whither should I bend my steps ? 
 The world, they say, is large ; I find it tight 
 
142 GEHENNA. 
 
 and small. The American colony of upstarts is 
 too numerous in Paris. Not to New York. 
 The shoddy magnates would have none of me, 
 and it grieved the old man so much that he 
 sold his business and came to Europe, hoping I 
 should be happier. Good, kind, old man — un- 
 selfish heart — why did he go mad? It was 
 through no fault of mine. I had nothing to do 
 with that, thank goodness. If he had been 
 goaded to such a state through me, I should 
 have drowned myself. He's gone, and I wear 
 mourning, and James says that it's becoming — 
 dear James !" 
 
 The Creole glanced at her black velvet with 
 a half smile, then, seized by a paroxysm which 
 surged up in her throat to choking, gnashed 
 her teeth, and smote herself upon the breast. 
 Staggering against the window, she started on 
 perceiving that she was watched. 
 
 "How dare you?" she cried. "Eavesdrop- 
 ping ! What do you mean by gaping there like 
 an owl ?" 
 
 "T'other gent sent me in, and I came," the 
 young man answered, bluntly. 
 
 " Then get yon gone at once, and don't lis- 
 
claridge"-. 143 
 
 ten at doors. Stay ! I must speak to you, and 
 had better do so now. You must not think 
 because I am eccentric, and not like the run of 
 people, that I will put up with impertinence on 
 your part. Under unusual — almost romantic — 
 circumstances, you wished to enter my service, 
 and I took you — for the oddity of the whole 
 thing amused me — on the faith of your protes- 
 tations of attachment. I fear I may regret it, 
 which will be nothing new. as I'm always led 
 by fancy, and have too often had cause for 
 repentance. Mind ! I've not heard your story, 
 and would rather not — but I gather that your 
 position is equivocal, and though prudence 
 whispers that it would be wise to send you 
 packing, yet I shall not do so, for I'm no more 
 than a waif myself, and have sympathy with 
 fellow-strays. Behave fairly, therefore, and 
 honestly by me, and I will do the same by you, 
 and then neither of us will repent our bargain. 
 Xow go out, and order some clothes. You 
 must be neatly and quietly dressed, since you 
 are to be my factotum, and make yourself 
 generally useful." 
 
 The young man bowed, and obeyed in silence, 
 
144 GEHENNA. 
 
 but, as he went his way, he shook his head in 
 
 doubt, and groped in the cavern of his intellect. 
 
 " She's a splendid panther, with a satin skin/' 
 
 he reflected, " that's about what she is ; and has 
 
 got claws, or I'm a Dutchman, and sharp 'uns 
 
 too, as panthers have, which is krect by rules 
 
 of natur. Couldn't she jest scratch, if she had 
 
 the mind — the sleek-coated beauty. My word, 
 
 what a vixen ! What was she beating her 
 
 breast about ? She and t'other gent have been 
 
 kicking up a shine — that's jolly, any way. I 
 
 and her were to come together, for better or 
 
 wuss, it was so written, and we've come. And 
 
 that's jolly, too. Which is it to be, I'd like 
 
 very much to know, out of curiosity — angel or 
 
 devil? DeviPs more in my line, but I should 
 
 enjoy a peep at a thoroughbred angel, if only 
 
 for a change. Is she an angel? Heads, angel — 
 
 tails, t'other article. Heads, it is, by Jupiter ! 
 
 That's mortal curious — shouldn't have thought 
 
 it. Well. Angels are rum things then — a bit 
 
 contradictory and cat-scratchy. It'll be nice to 
 
 turn good, and be afeard o' nothing. I've 
 
 longed for that since I was weaned, but hadn't 
 
 so much as half a chance. Not that I know 
 
claridge's. 145 
 
 much about such things as vet. Anyways, 
 you're a stunner. A real out and out Xonpariel, 
 and you've got me tight, and I'm proud of it." 
 
 This satisfactory conclusion being arrived at 
 in the most natural manner in the world, Carlo 
 pocketed the penny he had been tossing, and 
 looked out for the nearest tailor. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
146 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A CHANCE MEETING. 
 
 A T that same time and place, two friends of 
 -^*- ours, who started in a confused manner 
 when they came face to face in the streets, were 
 too much occupied with their own confusion to 
 notice a third person who slouched by. The 
 third person was Brunhilde's watch-dog, and as 
 he turned into a tailor's establishment his mind 
 was so engrossed with the consideration of the 
 suit he was about to order, that he took little 
 heed of those two persons who were destined to 
 influence his life later on, as he was to brand 
 theirs. He saw a quaker-like young woman, 
 with a shy smile and heightened colour, both of 
 which were reflected on the face of a comely 
 young gentleman with hazel eyes and ripples 
 of light hair. 
 
A CHANCE MEETING. 147 
 
 " Spoons, ' be ejaculated to himself, and 
 straightway plunged into trousers' patterns. 
 But he was wrong, for they were not spoons, 
 though one of the twain would have been 
 nothing loth. 
 
 CI oris Galbraith was the first to recover from 
 her embarrassment, for, after all, Dr. Winthrop's 
 wooing had never gone so far as a proposal, 
 and she was justified in ignoring the fact that 
 she had played terrible havoc with his heart. 
 He had been agreeable, had made pretty 
 speeches, had darted Parthian glances charged 
 with the tenderest of messages, but he had 
 never asked the fatal question — hence, there 
 was no reason for appearing troubled. She put 
 forth her hand, said she was pleased to see him, 
 and prattled lightly of tweedledee and tweedle- 
 dum, whilst he was recovering his speech. 
 With him it was otherwise, for he knew too 
 well the secret of his soul, and had not forgot- 
 ten a certain foggy evening a year back, when 
 he came to a deliberate resolve, and offered a 
 burnt offering upon an altar. He had then and 
 there destroyed the photograph of Cloris, and, 
 wrenching her image from his breast, had sworn 
 
 l2 
 
148 GEHENNA. 
 
 to think of her no more; but, for all that, the 
 unexpected sight of his beloved, trippiug round 
 a corner in her simple attire, caused earth- 
 quakes to take place within him, which shook 
 the inmost citadel. 
 
 But, be it clearly understood, he was eminent- 
 ly sensible — he was no hero of romance, and 
 was troubled with no touch of the troubadour or 
 the knight-errant. He was merely an obscure 
 young surgeon, gifted with just the requisite 
 amount of ambition to prevent him from 
 becoming an idler ; a person who knew that he 
 had been sent into the world to fulfil a mission, 
 probably a humble one, and was determined to 
 carry it through to the best of his mediocre 
 ability. He had no idea of setting the Thames 
 on fire, or of being recognised as a benefactor 
 to his race. His ideal epitaph, had he been 
 asked to compose one for himself, would have 
 been this : " Here lies Melvil Winthrop, M.D., 
 who departed this life at a ripe old age, with a 
 conviction that he had done his duty." And 
 his idea of duty was but a humdrum affair. 
 Odd things may possibly happen to him ; for 
 the most commonplace individuals are often 
 
A CHANCE MEETING. 149 
 
 employed by Fate for the bringing about of 
 necessary ends ; if they do not, he will, I dare- 
 say, become a prosy old country practitioner, 
 given to snuff and long anecdotes, fond of his 
 pipe and of his cardpack. 
 
 That first guinea had burned his hand and 
 left a scar there. Small object though it was, 
 it may be said to have stemmed the sluggish 
 torrent of his life, and have directed it into a 
 special channel. To tear from your breast a 
 cherished image requires no little courage, and, 
 having performed the operation, it is necessary 
 to take refuge in absorbing labour in order that 
 the wound may heal. If left to itself it may 
 grow torpid and turn to gangrene. Now this 
 was a grand difficulty to the hapless doctor, 
 who knew right well what was wanted. He 
 cried loudly, " Dil-illed, come and be killed ;" 
 but the public, circumspect for once, declined 
 to do anything of the sort. Vainly the big- 
 brass plate winked ; vainly the little brass plate 
 winked ; vainly the red lamp glared. After 
 that one grand and solemn occasion on Christ- 
 mas Eve, nobody rang the surgery bell except 
 a casual pauper, who wanted some embrocation 
 
150 GEHENNA. 
 
 gratis, or the wife of the crossing-sweeper,, 
 whose eleventh child was teething. 
 
 The result of this sad lack of encouragement 
 was that the owner of the plates and the lamp 
 was left to stare gloomily at passers-by, and 
 chew the cud of his thoughts ; and those 
 thoughts, when he succeeded in diverting them 
 from Cloris, settled themselves with reprehensi- 
 ble obstinacy upon the lanthorn-jawed old man 
 with the long grey hair. The vision of that 
 old man became as a nightmare. He w r as 
 always wondering what had become of him ; 
 whether he was really mad, whether he had 
 recovered, whether he had died. He was even 
 impelled, driven by guilty conscience, to call 
 one day upon the over-boiled one, who received 
 him with a corpse-like handshake and a display 
 of yellow fangs. But the overboiled one gave 
 no comfort. He only laughed till he showed 
 his tonsils, and swore that it really was too 
 comic. 
 
 " My very dear sir," he said, " So glad 
 to see you — h'm — but you must excuse my 
 merriment. How should I know about the 
 gentleman ? Do you suppose I've no busi- 
 
A CHANCE MEETING. 151 
 
 ness to attend to? He went quite com- 
 fortably to Corboulcl House — a delightful esta- 
 blishment — Queen Anne mansion and park-like 
 grounds — at Bow. Dr. Pagani is a great man, 
 a shining light in the profession ; you must 
 often have read those brilliant articles signed 
 'P.,' in the Lancet'? Well, they're by him. 
 Mental Physiology — most deep — fearfully deep 
 — would make one's head spin if one could 
 understand 'em. The gentleman could not be 
 in better hands ; could not, I assure you. Be- 
 sides, really, you know, minding one's business 
 is a golden rule, if we don't want to get into 
 hot water. Keep within the law, I always say, 
 strictly within the letter, and then you'll be all 
 right. If the laws are wrong, you're not 
 responsible. It's the fault of those who made 
 'era. Take a glass of sherry and a cigar, and 
 don't be worried by chimeras. The gentleman 
 was dangerous to self and others, no doubt of 
 that. We locked him up to prevent his getting 
 into mischief. We've nothing more to do with 
 it. If he recovers, somebody else will let him 
 out ; I told you so at the time. The whole 
 thing's square and shipshape. Your liver is 
 
152 GEHENNA. 
 
 out of order, my very dear sir. ^Vhy not try 
 change of air ?" 
 
 This was all very plausible and worldly wise, 
 but Melvil was not satisfied. His conscience 
 told him that it was his bounden duty to do 
 something, but what it was that he was bound 
 to do, he was unable to decide. He had ad- 
 ministered chloroform to the little one within 
 who pinched him with sharp fingers, had suc- 
 ceeded in lulling him to sleep, and was quite 
 surprised when, on waking up, he made a 
 hubbub and an outcry. He was painfully aware 
 that what is everybody's business is really no- 
 body's — was pursued by visions of the old man, 
 clothed and in his right mind, entreating to be 
 freed from durance. In the watches of the night 
 he heard the pleading voice, calling on the 
 doctors who had turned the key to open the 
 door again. The more he thought of it the 
 more horrible did it seem, that he, who signed 
 a warrant of arrest, should have no future con- 
 trol over the prisoner. But perchance it was 
 not so. If the over-boiled one was too busy 
 with constant Sittings from hotel to hotel to 
 vex his mind over the fate of one from whom 
 
A CHANCE MEETING. 153 
 
 no more was to be gained, it was otherwise 
 with his confrhre. Melvil's time hung heavy on 
 his hands, and he resolved, like a modern good 
 Samaritan, to occupy the first fine day with a 
 visit to Corbould House. 
 
 A charming place it was. no doubt, with park- 
 like grounds, as described in Howery advertise- 
 ments, but Melvil, alas, had no opportunity of 
 judging of it — for he was unable to penetrate 
 within. A gentleman chanced to be emerging 
 from a side-door, and eyed him with covert 
 suspicion. What might the explorer please to 
 want ? Had he a letter from the Commissioners 
 in Lunacy ? Xo. Was he the signer of an 
 order for the incarceration of anyone who lodg- 
 ed there ? Xo. Had he an aunt, or a sister, 
 or a cousin for whom he sought a haven ? Xo. 
 Then who was he, and why was he prowling 
 round the entrance ? Winthrop explained that 
 he was none of these things. He was not the 
 signer of an order, but one of the signers of a 
 medical certificate, wherewithal an order had 
 been endorsed. The person whom he addressed 
 (not Dr. Pagani. but, as the gentleman pro- 
 ceeded to explain, the second in command and 
 
154 GEHENNA. 
 
 real manager of the establishment) looked him 
 up and down with unconcealed dislike. 
 
 " Oh, indeed,"' he replied, stiffly, endeavour- 
 ing to suppress a scowl. "Are you aware that 
 this is not quite usual ? You signed a certifi- 
 cate, you say, to consign a patient to our keep- 
 ing. Does it not strike you that, having done 
 so, we are responsible, not you 1 Understand, 
 pray, that there is nothing to conceal, but we 
 must draw the line somewhere, or we should be 
 overrun with meddling busybodies. We are 
 prepared to give an account of our stewardship 
 only to the signer of the order, or to the Com- 
 missioners in Lunacy." 
 
 With this Dr. Winthrop was bowed off, and,, 
 as he returned disconsolately to his home, he 
 felt that his fears were* morbid, that he had 
 been guilty of a professional impertinence, and 
 had been most justly snubbed. But he could 
 not shake off the feeling, which clung to him 
 like a burr, that it is a terrible thing to consign 
 an individual to slavery, and have no chance of 
 learning his fate. In this case the signer of the 
 order was the wife, who wept and protested 
 while she signed. No doubt she had acted in 
 
A CHANCE MEETING. 155 
 
 good faith. Yet, what a weapon to bestow 
 npon a wife ! Clearly there was nothing to be 
 done in the matter. He eonld not seek out the 
 lady, and cross-question her, neither could he 
 insult the Commissioners in Lunacy by seeming 
 to teach them their duties. No. Why worry 
 himself when everyone else was satisfied * Why 
 not take comfort by applying the axiom of 
 Sarah, the Great Duchess, who made a memo- 
 randum in her diary that he who would live a 
 calm and peaceful life had better be wicked 
 than good. There was nothing for it but to 
 let the matter drop, and try to think of some- 
 thing else. So, by way of killing time and 
 earning peace — without going to the lengths 
 approved by Duchess Sarah — he took up his 
 studies again, and attended special lectures. 
 This was deemed by the big wigs to be a meri- 
 torious proceeding ; for beardless sawbones are 
 apt, on the strength of their diploma, to give 
 themselves airs of omniscience ; and so the big 
 wigs condescended to take up young Win- 
 throp, gave him kindly encouragement, indulg- 
 ing him with condescending platitudes, while 
 they donned their goloshes after lecturing. 
 
15G GEHENNA. 
 
 One day an immensely big wig (a very whale 
 among minnows), who had been mumbling 
 about the perforation of the membrana tympani 
 while the students dozed, chanced afterwards 
 to be in a chatty vein, and, to reward Dr. Win- 
 throp for having kept wide awake, which no- 
 body else had done, invited him home to dinner. 
 Here was a chance for the young medico. If 
 only the whale would adopt him as a protege, 
 and permit him to flap in his w r ake ; take him 
 when he went upon his rounds, allow him to 
 assist when he performed those marvellous 
 operations which had spread his renown 
 world-wide ! Dinner passed pleasantly, to be 
 followed by some admirable claret, under whose 
 mellowing influence the hapless fledgling dis- 
 burdened himself of his anxieties, and told the 
 story of the guinea. As he proceeded, the 
 bland aspect of the whale changed, till he 
 frowned like an angry Jove. 
 
 4f I took you for a different sort of person," 
 he said, coldly, when the other had finished his 
 recital ; "and never should have supposed that 
 you would have been guilty of anything so 
 culpable — nay, I will go further, and say ad- 
 
A CHANCE MEETING. 157 
 
 visedly — of such a crime. I never signed a 
 lunacy certificate in all my life, and never will, 
 so long as things remain as they are. You will 
 iiud upon enquiry that most of the great Lon- 
 don doctors share in my opinion, and act as I 
 do." 
 
 Here was a direct slap in the face, and from 
 the tail of a whale ! 
 
 Melvil felt the rebuff — the more, as his con- 
 science recommenced its twinging, but he en- 
 deavoured to justify his error by quoting the 
 arguments of the over-boiled one. The whale 
 grew more severe, and sternly shook his head. 
 
 " It's ill playing with edged tools,"' he de- 
 clared, "till you've learnt how to use them; 
 and the best plan, after having made a mistake, 
 is to repent instead of justifying your conduct. 
 I knew a case once of a lady who was delirious 
 from typhoid fever. An ignorant mountebank 
 was summoned, and said she was insane ; he 
 urged her husband (who was enchanted to get 
 rid of her) to sign an order for her imprison- 
 ment ; and she was packed off to an asylum, 
 where a whole ward was poisoned by the dis- 
 ease. The lady died from the shock when she 
 
158 GEHENNA. 
 
 discovered where she was, and a dozen of the 
 real lunatics died too, which, poor things, was 
 about the best thing that could happen to them. 
 The whole ship's unseaworthy, ray good sir. 
 Insanity is plunged in darkness ; a proof of 
 which is that no two doctors can agree about 
 it. Very few even profess to understand the 
 subject at all, and of those who do more than 
 one half are charlatans. You see, it's impossi- 
 ble to study the disease from the beginning, 
 for a doctor is not called in till its course is flu- 
 advanced. And then there are a host of cob- 
 webs which wrap it in endless complications. 
 You have needy doctors, careless doctors, ignor- 
 ant doctors, wicked doctors, who are ready to 
 afford assistance to the designs of greedy rela- 
 tives. It is said that woman is the root of all 
 evil — I say, it's money. Let us suppose your 
 rich father declines to die, but becomes harm- 
 lessly imbecile. What a temptation to bury 
 him alive in a living tomb. And how easy it is 
 to manage ! The next heir signs an order 
 requesting Mr. So and So to receive his parent 
 in his prison. He gets two persons who call 
 themselves doctors to abet him — they are either 
 
A CHANCE MEETING. 159 
 
 careless, or ignorant, or foolish, or venial, I 
 won't say that they need be of necessity de- 
 liberately wicked — and presto ! the thing's done. 
 And do you suppose he has a chance of getting 
 out ? Never ! So long as it is the interest of 
 the signer of the order to keep him under lock 
 and key, there he can be kept. The heir gets 
 hold of an attendant (attendants in most of the 
 asylums are drawn from the cesspools of the 
 earth ; it could not be otherwise, considering 
 the work and wages), and the attendant knows 
 his lesson. He pinches his patient till he is 
 exasperated into striking him, then he tells the 
 doctor that the patient has had an attack of 
 mania. The doctor tells the commissioner, when 
 he pays his visit, that the patient has violent 
 moments, and the commissioner, being well 
 aware that few lunatics are always violent, 
 retires satisfied. Thus the unhappy person has 
 no chance of being released, so long as the 
 signer pulls the string (and this, mark you, 
 without an}'body being wilfully guilty, except 
 the heir, and the attendant in his pay)." 
 
 iC But, sir," put in Melvil, appalled, " rich 
 people become Chancery patients, and are under 
 
160 GEHEXXA. 
 
 the immediate protection of the court " 
 
 "No, they don't!"' retorted the whale; "at 
 least, it doesn't follow that they do so. There 
 are many ways of avoiding the Chancellor. 
 The whole question is edged round with pit- 
 falls, and so 1 and others, who are very busy, 
 prefer to avoid the chance of falling into them. 
 The nearest relations claim to act and be re- 
 sponsible for the alleged lunatic, because of their 
 family affection, and yet these very people are 
 under the strongest temptation to do wrong. 
 The human heart is base, and people cannot be 
 relied on to do their duty, unless they know 
 they are under surveillance, when their interests 
 pull the other way. It's a sad view of human 
 nature, but so it is. I've heard it argued that 
 public opinion prevents persons from seizing 
 the advantages which the law places ready to 
 their hands. Fudge. Public opinion is wall- 
 eyed, and the question really turns on the pros- 
 pect of being found out. If a law is capable of 
 constant and serious infringement, which the 
 Lunacy Laws undoubtedly are, it should be 
 changed ; and, until these laws are changed, 
 neither I nor those of my own standing (who 
 
A CHANCE MEETING. 1G1 
 
 respect ourselves and our profession) will have 
 anything to do with their rottenness." 
 
 Dr. Winthrop hung his head, for the whale 
 had but spoken the words which his conscience 
 had all along been whispering. He had stepped 
 in like a peach-faced fool where the iEsculapian 
 angel had feared to tread. He felt as if he had 
 committed murder, and was aware, too, that he 
 had fallen in the estimation of the bigwig, 
 whose protege he had hoped to become. 
 
 " It was wrong, sir," he responded, meekly ; 
 " but I was driven into it, and will undertake 
 never to do such a thing again — that is, until I 
 can trust my opinion in the matter. Sir, I am 
 tired of waiting for patients who know better 
 than to come for advice. If you think well of 
 the idea, I will devote myself to a special 
 branch of my profession, and, please God, some 
 good may come of it. I should like to devote 
 myself to lunacy ; to study its ramifications, 
 and endeavour with time and practice to find 
 out how far it is curable. As you say, there 
 seems little known about it, so it is a good sub- 
 ject for an earnest young man to embark upon." 
 
 He was so contrite over the mistake he had 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
102 GEHEXXA. 
 
 made that the bigwig abandoned the Olympian 
 frown, and became the benignant whale again, 
 gambolling for the behoof of the minnow. He 
 nnbent so far as to pom* out another glass of 
 claret, and pass the bottle, and to declare, as he 
 examined its ruddy hue with one eye, that he 
 would help the neophyte in his laudable en- 
 deavours, and get him taken on forthwith at 
 Bedlam. 
 
 Thus virtue was its own reward, and con- 
 trition brought its recompense. 
 
 The huge brass plate and the little brass 
 plate vanished, and the glaring, bilious lamp 
 knew its place no more. Dr. Winthrop no 
 longer gnawed his nails, or stared with reproach 
 at the passers-by who would not ring that bell. 
 He no longer found it needful to try all kinds 
 of devices in order to forget Cloris ; for he 
 spent his days in Bethlehem Hospital, studying 
 in some of its endless phases the most awful 
 and the most hideous, as well as the most mys- 
 terious, of the ills that flesh is heir to ; and as 
 he grew more absorbed, day by day, in his 
 work, his morbidness disappeared, and he be- 
 came, if not happy, at least content. 
 
A CHANCE MEETING. 163 
 
 It was most unfortunate, therefore, that on 
 one of his rare holidays he should have met Miss 
 Galbraith face to face, and it was by the merest 
 accident he did so. He rarely wandered into 
 the West End, for his friends lived in lowlier 
 thoroughfares. And he supposed that she was 
 pursuing her modest vocation at Isleworth, 
 when, lo ! he came across her in Conduit Street. 
 
 Mechanically he turned and walked by her 
 side, as he did on the first memorable day when 
 the infant was rescued from the water. He 
 listened to her artless prattle, and thought how 
 pretty she looked in the Quaker-coloured garb 
 of merino — all the prettier and more demure 
 and dove-eyed for the vision of touzle-haired 
 maniacs whose portraits were engraved upon 
 his retina. She asked about his plans with an 
 interest such as a year ago would have caused 
 his heart to thump ; but now somehow a dozen 
 decades seemed to have rolled by, for he was 
 fairly on the road towards success, and she was 
 the affianced of another. 
 
 "What am I doing?" he echoed, merrily. 
 " I'm a specialist, or matriculating for one. A 
 brand new broom prepared to sweep as clean as 
 
 II 2 
 
1C>4 GEHENNA. 
 
 possible. Look upon me with respect, if you 
 please, for I intend to be a grand Bashaw, and 
 have a statue." 
 
 His towering ambition should have been 
 satisfied, for Cloris turned upon him such a 
 gaze of awe as set him off into a peal of 
 laughter. 
 
 " Yes !" he answered to her look of profound 
 respect. " A specialist sounds magnificent, 
 doesn't it ? A governess like you should know 
 what it means. I'm going to be a mad doctor. 
 That doesn't sound so fine, but don't be fright- 
 ened. They do not all bite, and it does not 
 follow that I shall go mad too." 
 
 " A mad doctor ? How horrid !" 
 
 " Thanks ; I accept the compliment. We have 
 a crusade to wage. Asylums should be hos- 
 pitals, not prisons," he began, glibly, turning 
 on the sententious stop which was in constant 
 use at Bethlehem. " It's a subject which in- 
 vites study, for it is one concerning which we're 
 in the dark. Doctors agree that kindness is 
 better than unkindness (the natural outcome of 
 a humanitarian age), but all they can do is to 
 prescribe calm, and leave nature to right herself. 
 
A CHANCE MEETING. 165 
 
 If she does, they plume themselves upon a curt; 
 with which they can claim a negative connec- 
 tion ; if she doesn't, they shrug their shoulders, 
 and pop down the case contentedly as chronic. 
 Your acumen, Miss Galbraith, will instantly 
 point out to you that he who paddles in un- 
 known and foul waters is an exemplary person, 
 and you will therefore treat me with respect, 
 as the pioneer of a new branch of science." 
 
 " That thou doest, do it with thy might," 
 smiled Cloris, exhibiting a distracting dimple. 
 " I always had a terror of insane persons, 
 though I never looked on one, for they seem to 
 foreshadow hell and the shadowy cohorts of 
 Satan. Do you mean to tell me that you see 
 them every day ? The howling wretches ! Oh ! 
 I should sink through the earth if one I loved 
 went mad." 
 
 Miss Galbraith said this with a little shiver, 
 which w r as not without its charm. 
 
 a The ignorant public has a notion," observed 
 YVinthrop, "that mad people are always howl- 
 ing. They very seldom howl — never, indeed, 
 except during a brief attack, or while they are 
 being ill-treated." 
 
166 GEHENNA. 
 
 " Do you think they are often ill-treated ?" 
 " Can't say, really, what goes on in private 
 asylums," he answered, pursing his lips. " I 
 know that they're not at Bedlam. But that's a 
 public institution — or, at any rate, is managed 
 like one. But never mind me. I've got luna- 
 tics on the brain just now. What are you 
 about? Why wandering thus in London?" 
 "I'm on my way to my new 7 place." 
 " Your — new — place/' echoed Melvil, with a 
 
 gasp. a Then you mean to say " 
 
 " That I've left the blessed Thames and my 
 kind friends at Isleworth," returned Oloris,. 
 mournfully. " It's the fate of a governess to 
 break the bonds of friendship so soon as they 
 are firmly knit, so I've no right to repine. I'm 
 going to a new place near Bedford." 
 
 The shops danced up and down. The street 
 swayed to and fro before the swimming eyes of 
 Winthrop. The flame shot up again which he 
 fondly imagined to be quenched and black, the 
 brighter for its brief eclipse. The old pang 
 caught his heart and w r renched it till it was 
 sore. TVhat a vain and futile passion — yet how 
 difficult is hope to slay ! A flock of contingen- 
 
A CHANCE MEETING. 167 
 
 cies, amazing*, unexpected, passed with whirring 
 wing across the brain of Melvil — a flight of 
 accidents that flew in a chaotic covey towards 
 one bright speck on the horizon. It resolved 
 itself into this, and at the prospect of it the 
 young fellow's knees knocked together. She 
 was leaving the Thames, and taking a new 
 place. Why ? Because she had quarrelled 
 with Sir 'Arthur. It must have been a genuine 
 quarrel to entail such serious consequences. 
 He knew that he was in no wise justified in 
 propounding so delicate a question ; but for the 
 life of him he could not help it. So, nerving 
 himself as if to mount a breach or meet a posse 
 of burglars, or have his leg off, or anything else 
 which requires heroism, he twiddled his walk- 
 ing-cane, and said, as if it did not signify, 
 
 " Oh ! So you're leaving Isleworth — for 
 good ?" 
 
 M Yes — for good," Cloris replied, sadly. 
 
 "And when — when — are you — to — be mar- 
 ried?" 
 
 How t difficult were the words to speak ! His 
 teeth felt as if they were a cheap false set, his 
 lips like dry leather. 
 
168 GEHENNA. 
 
 " I'm not going to be married." 
 
 " Oh ! Then— it's— broken off 1?" 
 
 " It's broken off — by me," was the delicious 
 answer. 
 
 Dr. "Winthrop could have scaled the houses, 
 he felt so light ; have run like a fly up the 
 walls, or danced a feline fandango on the tiles. 
 How delicious — how transcendently delightful 
 is it after supposing that hope is quite, quite 
 dead, to watch the blood returning to its cheek. 
 Melvil, staid young doctor clad in pepper and 
 salt, with a severe black neckcloth, could have 
 taken up his beloved in his arms, have pou- 
 setted among the cabs, set to the coroneted 
 chariots, waltzed round with the imperial 
 policeman, climbed up a lamp-post and stood 
 on his head at the top — so delighted was he at 
 the intelligence ; but happily, perhaps, for the 
 proprieties, he looked down and saw how sad 
 Cloris was ; and then all his joy oozed out of 
 his glove-ends, and settled like lead in his 
 boots. 
 
 Perhaps it was only a tiff — amantium ires. 
 She was running away in a pet, and expected 
 
A CHANCE MEETING. 1G9 
 
 to find Arthur at tlie station to kiss and make 
 it up, and go on after the absurd manner of 
 lovers. How distracting ! Was it so, or was 
 it not? Uncertainty was death, since his own 
 love was like a cat — nine-lived. Better to 
 brave untold evils than be left in this horrible 
 suspense. 
 
 "Really broken offf" he inquired, in a voice 
 that sounded like some one else's. " You don't 
 mean to tell me that you are not going to be 
 Lady Dyson ?" 
 
 " Not going to be Lady Dyson," she answer- 
 ed, in the same listless way. " Never under 
 any circumstances. In fact, I've quite made 
 up my mind never to marry at all. My next 
 place may not suit. If it does not, I may be- 
 come a deaconess or a sister of charity. I am 
 glad to have seen you looking so well. Dr. 
 Winthrop. My time is precious, and I have a 
 few commissions to see to for my employers. 
 You were very kind to me at Isleworth, and I'm 
 very much obliged. A governess is an isolated 
 being, you know, with few friends." 
 
 There were drops on her eyelashes as she 
 
170 GEHENNA. 
 
 put forth her hand ; and Melvil held it, scarcely 
 knowing what he was about, till she gently 
 shook herself free. 
 
 11 Won't you give rue your address, and let 
 me write ?" he blurted out. 
 
 " Xo. "Why should you write, and what 
 about ?" 
 
 True enough. How idiotic are men in love ! 
 "What should he write about, since the all-en- 
 grossing subject might not be trenched upon ! 
 
 " Xo — of course." he stammered. " I did not 
 mean a regular correspondence. But if ever 
 you need assistance will you promise to apply 
 to me 1 You are an orphan, without a male 
 relation in the world. Things happen some- 
 times which call for the assistance of — a bro- 
 ther." (What an odious word to speak ! It 
 left a taste of bitter aloes in his mouth.) "If 
 you ever want the help of a brother, will you 
 promise to apply to me ? Bedlam, you know, 
 will always find me." 
 
 ' ; I will, but it isn't probable," she said, with 
 a sad smile, as she went her way. 
 
 " Spoons ! decidedly Spoons !" grinned Carlo, 
 
A CHAXCE MEETING. 171 
 
 as he emerged from the tailor's and found them 
 still walking up and down. " Spoons — Bed- 
 lam. The right place for 'em, I'm thinking. 
 She's rather a nice-looking gal. Too small for 
 my fancy, but decidedly nice-looking." 
 
172 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ON THE THAMES. 
 
 rpHE ladies Adela and Gwendoline, daughters 
 -*■ of Her Grace of Sark, agreed, while break- 
 fasting in their luxuriously appointed bed-room, 
 that the London season was not all that could 
 be desired. To a friend strictly within the 
 pale they might have gone so far as to admit 
 that it was deadly dull ; that it was not con- 
 ducive to hilarity to hear the same inane re- 
 marks four or five times per day from the same 
 people, to wit : in the Park before two, at five 
 o'clock tea, at dinner, and at the ball or drum, 
 or both, which followed. These blue-blooded 
 damosels were full of energy, and, if they failed 
 " to go off," it was no fault of theirs ; for, 
 thoroughbred to the backbone, they would have 
 
ON THE THAMES. 173 
 
 perished rather than give in, and vowed they 
 knew not fatigue. 
 
 Here let ns pause, and moralise concerning 
 those unhappy wights who, accepting the state 
 of life in which they find themselves placed, do 
 all that in them lies to be successes, and turn 
 out failures, despite heroic efforts. Yet no ; 
 the subject is almost too dismal. Is there any 
 any spectacle on earth more harrowing than 
 that of a venerable mamma, with ever so many 
 quartering^ once a belle and a target for flat- 
 terv, crowned with a diamond tiara and mara- 
 bout feathers, which are a satire on her years, 
 trying to sleep in the corner of a staircase^ 
 while her impossible female offspring is going 
 " tum-ti-tumty — tum-ti-tum-ti-tumty " in the 
 ball-room above at 4.30 a.m. — a gyrating tee- 
 totum of never mind how many summers ■ 
 The said mamma, at any other time, is a rustl- 
 ing and domineering matron, with sycophants 
 in pink silk stockings, striving to forestall her 
 wants, hovering with salvers, skipping from 
 coach-boxes, obsequiously touching cockaded 
 hats. Xo broidered fauteuil from Duval's at 
 Paris is good enough to receive that obese- 
 
174 GEXEXXA. 
 
 form — no carpet woven by Persian looms is 
 worthy to be trodden by her aristocratic feet. 
 If she has a finger pain it is chronicled in the 
 Court Journal, and discussed in myriad servants' 
 halls. But at four a.m. she finds her level — 
 has not so much as a rout-seat to sit upon, 
 though her poor old bones are aching. Bedi- 
 zened like an idol in the family gems, she is 
 fain to find an eerie where she may, on the 
 staircase — bivouacking actually on the stairs 
 of stone — nodding a wrinkled chin upon a 
 diamond-garnished bosom till apoplexy seems 
 to be imminent. The footmen tread upon her 
 expensive dress, nowise abashed, and tumble 
 up against her as if she were no more than a 
 pillow. She has dropped to the common level 
 of mundane day — is no better than a parcel of 
 old clothes, left by its owner till called for. 
 
 And, bless my heart, what comes of it all ? 
 Self-sacrifice, maybe, will reap its reward in 
 another sphere. But who will venture to win 
 and wear Adela or Gwendoline for life ? Good 
 heavens, w r ho r '\ Adela is racy, quick at re- 
 partee, a jolly girl, with a hard face, who is 
 given to ceillacles, who mulcts you at Ascot of a 
 
ON Til i: THAMES. 175 
 
 dozen pairs of stockings with the calm of an 
 Indian chief who demands your scalp ; and 
 selects a series of worked marvels embroidered 
 with flowers all over the instep, at two guineas 
 the stocking. Such necessary adornments are 
 for the most part won on the racecourse, more 
 frequently than not from those who find it hard 
 to pay. But what cares she ? Her pin-money 
 perforce is scant, since the young duke, her 
 brother, is impoverished. Smart stockings 
 must be had somehow, and gloves with a dozen 
 buttons. What is a warrior without his war 
 paint — an actor without his rouge ? But 
 though her Grace does spend her night upon 
 the stairs, buffeted and shoved by those who 
 pass, instead of comfortably snoring in the 
 ducal four-poster, though Adela and Gwendo- 
 line strain nerve and sinew to il go off." that 
 desirable consummation remains but mirage, 
 and these young seraphs become, as season 
 follows season, more sour and more bold. 
 Fancy working on the dreadful treadmill month 
 after month, year after year, in vain, seeing 
 debutantes, who, when you first "came out," 
 were mere brats, caught up at once upon their 
 
17() GEHENNA. 
 
 first appearance, while you are left behind. 
 Oh, agony ; and then a moment comes when 
 even her Grace jibs and loses patience. For 
 eight consecutive summers, she complains, she 
 has been trodden on by footmen, deprived of 
 her natural rest and dignity, has caught influ- 
 enzas without number, and sore throats by the 
 score, and what has come of it? Nothing but 
 vexation of spirit and chronic rheumatism. 
 Her Grace declares that she will take her ease ; 
 the ribald young man, her son, advises his sis- 
 ters to give it up as a bad job, and laughs in 
 their face when they ask him to be chaperon. 
 Is it a wonder that they grow loud and snap- 
 pish? It would be unkind to divulge the nnm- 
 ber of seasons they had ground their mill when 
 now we contemplate their overflowing girlish- 
 ness. In this year of grace, 1877, they are a 
 vast deal younger than they were eight years 
 since. They canter in the Row each day at 
 twelve with admirable punctuality, striving to 
 coax the roses to their cheeks which were ban- 
 ished by last night's dancing. After luncheon 
 they scatter cards, and do a little shopping. 
 But try as they will, it becomes more and more 
 
OX THE THAMES. 177 
 
 difficult to exorcise the fiend of ennui, to keep 
 up the necessary fusillade of jokes, to pretend 
 that their lives are not a burden. 
 
 Just fancy, then, what a relief it must have 
 been to them when their ally and protegee 
 started something new by taking a villa on 
 the Thames ! Of course they had often been 
 to boat parties, had puffed about on steam 
 launches or chartered steamers, till they were 
 weary of the whistling, had gone solemnly to 
 a great squeeze every now and then at Clieye- 
 den, or a crush at the Duke of Aumale's. But 
 this was going to be something quite different. 
 Every Sunday afternoon in the summer the 
 hostess would be at home. People were to 
 come unasked — persons within the sacred circle, 
 of course — and bring any friend they chose. 
 It was to be Liberty Hall. Those who liked 
 might flirt in boats — those who did not might 
 do ditto on dry land. Champagne was to flow 
 without stint, that no excuse should be found 
 for dullness ; musicians were to play in bos- 
 quets, and it was clearly understood that they 
 were never to stop, lest they should see and 
 hear more than might be deemed judicious. 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
178 GEHENNA. 
 
 How delightful of dear Brunhilde, they vowed, 
 as they clapped their artless little hands. How 
 charming to be so rich as to be enabled to gratify 
 every whim without worrying about the balance 
 at the banker's ! Gleefully did they drive down 
 on Sunday morning to see after the preparations, 
 skimming about the garden like curlews in 
 fretted muslin, or lolling in hammocks under 
 the cedars, frisking off with little screams now 
 and again to pluck a strawberry or inquire 
 about the condition of the ices. In due course 
 the company arrived, and it was always a sur- 
 prise, since none knew who were coming, and 
 everybody had a host of things to say to every- 
 body else, for they had not met for at least 
 twelve hours, and there were endless confi- 
 dences to exchange. Some boated, some ram- 
 bled off into the park, some lay on their backs 
 smoking Brunhilde's unexceptionable cigars. 
 At eight they met again to dine off the deli- 
 cacies of the season, and drove home in the 
 dark to town — replete, somnolent, content — ■ 
 averring that Brunhilde was useful as well as 
 ornamental, and really deserved to be en- 
 couraged. 
 
OX THE THAMES. 179 
 
 Was it chance or design that caused Mrs. 
 Patterson to choose for a home the cottage that 
 abutted on the Grove? Was it part of a plan 
 that was beginning to occupy her brain, or was 
 she guided by a fancy connected merely with 
 convenience ? Be that as it might, it was an 
 enchantiug abode wherein to spend the summer. 
 On Sundays and special occasions she could 
 entertain her friends there ; on other days, run 
 up to town, where she retained a flat of bachelor 
 chambers, whither letters could be addressed, 
 and parcels and documents. 
 
 Of course you know Dyson Grove ? Have 
 you not looked on it from the terrace of the 
 Star and Garter, just above? Well, the cottage 
 occupied a strip of the little property belonging 
 to Sir Arthur, and was taken for her by his 
 brother James, who was wont to crack jokes 
 about the family estate, and the great rents 
 thereto accruing. Originally it had been in- 
 tended as a bachelor annexe, a chapel of ease 
 to the more imposing establishment next door, 
 with which it communicated by a postern in 
 the boundary-wall ; but when Sir Noel turned 
 misanthrope, and vowed eternal hatred to the 
 
 n2 
 
180 GEHEXXA. 
 
 Scotch, he gave up entertaining, and let the 
 smaller house. 
 
 The cottage is but an hour's drive from town, 
 so nothing could have been pitched upon better 
 suited to the Creole's purpose. If you stand 
 on Richmond Bridge looking towards Peter- 
 sham, your eye follows a towing-path which 
 meanders between the river, narrowed at this 
 part, and a row of unpretentious villas. At the 
 end of the row is a boat-builder's, and there 
 the path abruptly ceases. Beyond the boat- 
 builder's, just at the river's turn, you detect in 
 the distance a strip of verdure dipping in the 
 stream, a clump of noble elms, a group of cedars. 
 That strip of grass, divided in two by a wall, 
 marks the property of Sir Arthur Dyson. It is 
 the only place in the neighbourhood which has 
 the advantage of direct access to the Thames. 
 And how deliciously varied is the view obtained 
 from the shelving lawn. Standing as it does 
 exactly at the bend, two distinct pictures of 
 beauty are presented to the eye. The one to 
 the right suggests, from a languid standpoint, 
 the curiosities of busy life. A host of tiny 
 dwellings peep from out the foliage ; barges 
 
ON THE THAMES. 181 
 
 painted bright with scarlet and emerald green, 
 line the towing-path in chequered groups; the 
 town rises dimly through a haze of smoke ; the 
 handsome bridge of stone closes the vista. On 
 the left lies the Kingston reach — a broad sweep 
 of smoothly flowing water, on whose breast are 
 reflected long avenues of feathery trees, melting 
 into grey vapour. A prospect of peacefulness, 
 just •without the hurly-burly, but within hearing 
 of the hum and chatter of the madding crowd ; 
 so that jaded worldlings may be lulled into a 
 semblance of repose, while indulging in a brandy 
 and soda, without dread of having wandered 
 into a desert. This is not the Great Sahara, 
 inhabited by bears and lions. Oh, dear, no. 
 Bow bells are not far off. Does not Glover's 
 Island stand in the centre of the stream — a 
 graceful silhouette of high-pitched roof and 
 group of house-boats and shoals of lesser fry — 
 outriggers, wherries, whatnot, that tell their 
 cockney tale of London 1 And, through gaps 
 in the tall avenue on either side, are not chim- 
 neys to be remarked, secluded yet near at hand, 
 with floating lines of black about their mouths 
 suggestive of hungry and expectant owners, 
 
182 GEHEXXA. 
 
 and the manipulation of delicate repasts ? 
 Many, as they rowed by, lay for a moment 
 on their oars to inspect the trim retreats, and 
 were often puzzled as to which of the twain 
 they preferred. No doubt the Grove was the 
 grandest, the most ornate, with flower bed and 
 vase and statue (a trifle overdone and vulgar, 
 some said). Its conservatories were handsome 
 and well-filled ; through open French windows 
 could be discerned large drawing-rooms, decor- 
 ated with fine pictures and priceless cabinets ; 
 while for those tired of gewgaws, who sought 
 to commune with nature unadorned, w^ere there 
 not shady alleys, shrubberies, summer-houses % 
 But after all, when you leave London, and de- 
 sire to play at country life, is it not advisable 
 to have simpler surroundings than these ? What 
 better than the cottage for such a purpose? 
 True, its spread of water-front is not half as 
 wide as its neighbour's. The dwelling itself is 
 tiny. But how pretty are the latticed win- 
 dows, the rustic verandah with its creepers, 
 the rosary with its garland of blossoms climb- 
 ing along iron chains. Some declared for the 
 Grove, some for its modest neighbour ; some 
 
ON THE THAMES. 183 
 
 (but these were the envious and the hopeless 
 cockneys) vowed they cared for neither, since 
 the walls were evidently damp, and the gardens 
 overrun with earwigs. Perhaps there was a 
 grain of wisdom even in this disparaging ver- 
 dict. Sooth to say, the cellars were flooded in 
 winter ; there was no use in denying it. Spiders 
 were constantly weaving webs across the paths 
 which caught your face in their clammy lines of 
 film. It would be nice enough to spend that 
 month or so here during which the sun really 
 shines on England, but with autumn would 
 come miasma, rising from the ooze like the hand- 
 maids of fever, clad in winding sheets for gala 
 robes. 
 
 For many reasons, James was glad w r hen 
 Brunhilde hired the cottage, and made it her 
 head-quarters for the summer. His elder brother 
 was behaving so oddly that he was obliged to 
 run down to the Grove once a week at least to 
 look after and exhort him. It was pleasant on 
 such occasions to have a close ally on the thres- 
 hold, both for the sake of the society of one 
 whose success with the elite dazzled him, and 
 because it was a relief to have an ear into which 
 
184 GEHEXXA. 
 
 to pour his worries. Female sympathy, too, was 
 soothing to the baronet, who chose to consider 
 himself a martyr, the most wretched of perse- 
 cuted men. 
 
 Brunhilde, on her side, was glad to be of use 
 to one whom she called her only friend, and 
 gave out that, being no longer in her teens, it 
 was necessary to take precautions against 
 wrinkles. There is nothing like sitting up at 
 night in an unwholesome atmosphere to produce 
 crows' feet before their time, she solemnly 
 averred, and explained with becoming modesty 
 to her patroness that, though comfortably 
 enough off, her face was her real fortune, since, 
 without the beauty which they were good enough 
 to make such a fuss about, she would never 
 have been admitted to their saloons. This was 
 a cunning touch, for it was a tacit admission 
 that the blue-blooded ones were by ever so 
 many degrees her betters, and that she was 
 overpowered with gratitude for their gracious 
 condescension ; it also gave her a ready means 
 of returning their hospitality, with tact, without 
 daring to appear as an equal — at least as yet. 
 
 Soon she became a great favourite with the 
 
OX THE THAMES. 185 
 
 baronet, who was never tired of relating his 
 woes or his luckless love tale. The servants 
 ere long began to whisper, as servants will, 
 that sympathy begets a fonder feeling, and that 
 the nose of the demure little governess would 
 speedily be out of joint. But the servants were 
 wrong in their surmise, as they not unfrequently 
 are. Whatever ambitious designs might be 
 passing through the classic head of the Creole, 
 there was no likelihood of their being gratified, 
 so far as Sir Arthur was concerned. Xot that 
 I would have you suspect that she really set 
 her cap at Sir Arthur. He droned and worried 
 about Cloris, and cursed his father and the will, 
 and his own misery, till impetuous Mrs. Patter- 
 son found it difficult to conceal her yawns. Ab- 
 sence in his case certainly made the heart grow 
 fonder, for as day followed day his brows be- 
 came more contracted, his cheek more wasted, 
 and his babbling more incongruous and vapid. 
 He complained of pains in his head, which were 
 due, possibly, to want of sleep ; bleated peevish- 
 ly that his brain was sluggish, refusing to work 
 as briskly as of yore : and strove to push it 
 into action by copious libations of brandy. 
 
186 GEHENNA. 
 
 Nothing could conquer this inability to sleep. 
 Doctors were called in, who mumbled and shook 
 their heads, and sucked their sticks, and took 
 their fees, and went away leaving reams of 
 prescriptions behind them. They attacked him 
 with the whole arsenal of pharmacy, till he was 
 brought down to the level of the grave. But 
 his robust constitution withstood these reiterat- 
 ed outrages, and he rallied in spite of the 
 doctors. That is, he improved in bodily health, 
 though his head remained seriously perturbed. 
 
 Sir Arthur would stroll through the side door, 
 which gave access from one garden to the 
 other, into his neighbour's domain, after break- 
 fast, and remain seated for hours in her veran- 
 dah, muttering to himself under his breath, 
 while she sat by with a book or attended to her 
 correspondence. He would review over and 
 over again, with a pertinacity painful to wit- 
 ness, the petty events of the previous day, 
 asking himself why he had done so and so, 
 instead of something else that would have been 
 better ; complain that people whispered about 
 him, and looked at him with sneers, and made 
 impertinent comments on his conduct. And 
 
ON THE THAMES. 187 
 
 then, as each inorning he rose more listless and 
 unfit for action, he became possessed by a vague 
 suspicion that his sleeplessness was due to 
 treachery. He suspected the footman and the 
 butler, even avoided his brother James, than 
 whom no one could be more devoted. He swore 
 that when he awoke from a snatch of restless 
 slumber there were smells in the room which 
 proved that something queer was afoot : goaded 
 by some unseen dangers, he would even give 
 way to hysterical weeping, and, grovelling on 
 the tiles of the verandah, implore Mrs. Patter- 
 son to save him. When she inquired from 
 whom, he looked dazed and did not answer. 
 
 As his illness increased in intensity, it was 
 accompanied by a complication of symptoms of 
 the gravest kind. There was a singing in his 
 ears, which produced fits of deafness, a taste of 
 copper in his mouth, and flashes of light passed 
 and re-passed before his eyes till he flinched as 
 if expecting to be struck. Sometimes he would 
 survey an imaginary thunderstorm, listening to 
 the peals as they rolled, marking the forks of 
 lightning. All the bigwigs, summoned by 
 James, sat upon the case like a jnry. They 
 
188 GEHENNA. 
 
 drank the best sherry, were good enough to 
 approve of it, admired the view out of the 
 window, and declared they could not agree. 
 The jury must be discharged, for there was no 
 chance of a verdict. The crotchets of some 
 people who pretend to knowledge are so pre- 
 posterous, each man whispered to his neighbour. 
 One said it was incipient lunacy, which called 
 for instant treatment ; another that it was only 
 indigestion. One suggested phosphorus, another 
 pepsine. A fifth recommended violent exercise, 
 strict diet, vegetables rather than meat, and a 
 total avoidance of stimulants. While a sixth 
 differed from all his brethren to such an extent 
 that he could not control his temper, laying 
 down the proposition as indisputable that if the 
 brain was weak through fatigue, however in- 
 duced, it required rest and feeding. Of course 
 it did. His opinion, emphatically announced, 
 was that the only chance for the patient was 
 oysters four times a day at least, beef-steaks half 
 raw, and a bottle of burgundy at night. In 
 the multitude of counsellors is wisdom, we are 
 told. All the wisdom of the profession was 
 assembled at Dyson Grove, yet little resulted 
 
OX THE THAMES. 189 
 
 from the conclave except a vast expenditure of 
 guineas. James watched his brother growing 
 worse, and perceived that the doctors were at 
 fault. He grew low and depressed. When 
 Mrs. Patterson came back to her cottage one 
 Saturday afternoon from town in order to re- 
 ceive a party on the morrow, she was surprised 
 and pained to see how worn her friend looked, 
 and lectured him severely on the subject. 
 
 "James, I can't have this,"' she said, in her 
 familiar way. while the attentive Carlo relieved 
 her of her cloak. " You will soon be as bad as 
 Sir Arthur, and there will be a pretty job. Is 
 he still worse, or are you, like him, giving way 
 to disturbed fancies? You say that Parson 
 Barnaby is eccentric. The only thing that I 
 can suggest is that you should all be locked up 
 together with me as matron to the party ! 
 What a good idea, and how convenient ! This 
 cottage would be quite big enough for the three 
 of you. You should all be as warm as dormice, 
 and I would play chatelaine at the Grove." 
 
 " You would be a fit chatekdne for a palace," 
 sighed her admirer, sadly. 
 
 '•' Of course I should ; but I'm not grasping,. 
 
190 GEHENNA. 
 
 and the Grove will be quite good enough for 
 me. Don't you think I've missed my vocation ? 
 What a splendid lion-queen I should have 
 made ! .Dompteuse de bites feroces /" 
 
 Here the beautiful Cuban rose from a stoop- 
 ing posture (she was plucking flowers for her 
 hair), and placing a foot upon a step, as though 
 it were a couchant beast, threw back her volup- 
 tuous figure, and displayed the perfect modelling 
 of her bust. One of the cardinal points wherein 
 lay the power of fascination exercised by this 
 remarkable woman, was, as James discovered, 
 that she was always doing something unexpect- 
 ed. A stranger, seeing her for the first time, 
 would naturally conclude, from the unusual sta- 
 ture and redundant form of the classic beauty, 
 that she could never be anything but a tragedy 
 queen, slow of movement, majestic in deport- 
 ment, picturesque of pose. The inscrutable 
 shadow thrown over her eyes by their veil of 
 silky lashes gave a languid touch to the ensemble 
 which was full of poetry. She was a sleepy 
 odalisque, born to recline on cushions — to the 
 tune of plashing fountains — screened from 
 trouble and grief by an army of vigilant slaves. 
 
ON THE THAMES. 191 
 
 A muse is supposed to be contemplative : to 
 lean on pillars, gazing at the stars. Our breath 
 would be taken away if we were to behold 
 Polhymuia footing a saraband, Euterpe dancing 
 a jig ! In a general way Mrs. Patterson's be- 
 haviour carried out the expectations raised by 
 her statuesque appearance ; but all at once, 
 without notice, she would become ponderously 
 skittish, like an infant of Brobdingnag, perform 
 incongruous antics — tricks so kittenish and 
 graceful that, while you stood amazed, you 
 could not but admire, and, when she relapsed 
 again into pristine quietude, there would be a 
 humorous diuiple lurking about her mouth, ac- 
 companied by a deprecating expression, as of a 
 child that has been playing truant, but is no 
 whit ashamed of its naughtiness. 
 
 But there was a sterner phase, as surprising 
 as the other. She was devoured by a fever for 
 reigning — a sensuous coquetry of a large type 
 — which demanded empire over men in the ab- 
 stract as a right, and resented as an insult the 
 idea of any male worm presuming to question 
 her sway. She claimed imperial tribute from 
 every male, whatsoever his degree, from the 
 
192 GEHENNA. 
 
 highest to the lowest — was suave and soft if 
 gratified; furious if thwarted, unless indolence 
 acted as an antidote. Under that still exterior 
 lurked a volcano. When crossed in something 
 whereon she had set her heart, she would be- 
 come maniacal, abandon herself to a whirlwind of 
 wildest rage, which filled you who witnessed 
 the eruption with appreciative terror, and then 
 she would as suddenly become calm again ; 
 which showed that beneath the careless, placid 
 surface there was a wild strength, seldom exer- 
 cised because it was too much trouble, but 
 there all the same — at hand in case of need 
 should indolence be worsted in the fray. 
 
 We always admire most in others that which 
 is lacking in ourselves. James Dyson, if fate 
 had made him a monk — a thing that abdicates 
 its manhood, finding it easier to mutter orisons 
 than to be up and doing in the throng — would 
 some day have earned the highest honours be- 
 stowed upon the useless. Possibly, miracles 
 and consequent pilgrimages would have render- 
 ed his tomb famous. Being a person of good 
 education and the purest principles, his conduct 
 would, by necessity, have been all that could 
 
OX THE THAMES. 193 
 
 be desired. He never would have come under 
 the influence of Mrs. Patterson. He would 
 not have adored her as the pink of perfec- 
 tion at one moment, to shrink within himself 
 at another, unnerved by her petulant, ill-bal- 
 anced waywardness. He — like Carlo, the sus- 
 picious watch-dog, — hearkened willingly to the 
 siren's chant, but, unlike Carlo, he never 
 inquired whether 'twas for good or evil, and to 
 obtain an answer tossed up a penny. 
 
 Being a mosaic of varying moods, or rather 
 a living train of incongruous phases, which trod 
 swiftly on each other's heels like the storms of 
 her tropical home, she was sure to change ere 
 long. The attitude of the queen of lions was 
 tiring ; she grew weary of that as well as 
 flower-plucking, and, commanding Carlo to 
 gather such blossoms as he thought suitable, 
 swept into the house by the verandah. 
 
 " Don't lecture! I know I'm too giddy for 
 my size," she apologised, with a plaintive good- 
 humour that was irresistible. " In the big- 
 atelier there's lots of slop-work. Our bodies 
 and our minds are wofully ill-sorted. You 
 won't believe it, but, weighing ever so many 
 
 VOL. I. O 
 
194 GEHENNA. 
 
 stone as I do, I feel as if I could fly. Isn't that 
 lamentable ! I, who adore slimness, shall live 
 to become a marvel of obesity, I know I shall, 
 and cut my throat — a judgment for shortcom- 
 ings. That, I suppose, is one of the ghastly 
 ills for which we've to thank our first mother. 
 Don't you hate Eve ? I do. The ninny-pated 
 goose. And yet, poor thing, she could not 
 show experience of the world, since the world 
 was too young to have any. It's her fault, of 
 course, that I can't be as stately as I should for 
 long, that 1 have an unholy love for cigarettes, 
 and want to sit with the gentlemen after dinner. 
 But if I'm quite different from what I ought to 
 be, so are you, James Dyson. What is the 
 good of youth, and health, and strength, and 
 passable talents, if you are to mope like Minerva's 
 bird? You must go away, and recruit your- 
 self by a thorough change, or else we shall have 
 to nurse you. The season is turning yellow, 
 though that can't affect you much. You must 
 go deer-stalking, or Alp-climbing, or grouse- 
 shooting, or anything else which stirs the blood, 
 jogs the liver, and quickens the pulse, or we 
 
ON THE THAMES. 195 
 
 ■shall surely have you drivelling iuto the con- 
 dition of Sir Arthur, and one of that sort's 
 enough in a family — heaven knows. One or 
 the other ; quick, sir, decide ! Fair Rosamond, 
 the dagger, or the bowl !" 
 
 Rapid as thought, she was up, and in another 
 attitude, with a paper-knife in one hand, and an 
 inkstand in the other. 
 
 " Nobody can detest this existence more than 
 I," rejoined James, with a fretful sigh, as he 
 contemplated an arm of gilded bronze, visible 
 through softest lawn. " But what can I do ? 
 Upon my word, I think Arthur's going cracked. 
 Why should he suspect me, and give way to 
 diseased imaginings? Could I do more than I 
 have done ? The more pains I take, the more 
 he hates me. Poison him, indeed ! The simpler 
 way of wronging him, if I wished to do so, 
 would be to carry him off to church, and tie 
 him up to her you call the apple-woman." 
 
 ii I thought you said she wasn't a schemer?" 
 
 " To which you replied, that men are easily 
 deceived." 
 
 M No! we've changed our mind then?" inquir- 
 
 O 2 
 
196 GEHENNA. 
 
 ed Mrs. Patterson, with sudden and singular 
 
 interest. " Do you think she would have him 
 without his money ?" 
 
 " 1 don't say so," returned James. u Nor 
 have I changed my mind. But it is evident 
 that anxiety and disappointment are responsible 
 for his present state, and it is equally certain 
 that this governess is at the bottom of it. She 
 refused him, rather than deprive her suitor of a 
 fortune, which was praiseworthy on her part ; 
 but if she saw him now, and was convinced that 
 his condition was due to her refusal, I feel 
 pretty sure that she would take him, for is not 
 poverty preferable to madness?" 
 
 Mrs. Patterson wheeled her chair round till 
 she faced her friend, and, with both hands sup- 
 porting her chin, stared at him. 
 
 " So this is what you've cogitated while I was 
 gallivanting in London? What a conspirator! 
 We play upon the feelings of the damsel, do 
 we, and bring about a romantic match, where- 
 by we make them happy and are ourselves not 
 quite the losers ? Oh, what an artful James !" 
 
 James flushed crimson under the sting of the 
 Creole's banter, and hastened to disabuse her 
 
ON THE THAMES. 197 
 
 mind. There was a bitter drop in the goblet 
 of her playfulness which nauseated his amour 
 propre. That she, who professed herself his 
 friend, his comrade, should affect to believe he 
 was so mean. That she should respect him so 
 little as to accuse him of anything so low ! 
 
 " Brunhilde !" he cried, with indignation. 
 " You don't think I'm so brutally wicked I" 
 
 " Would it be wicked V she inquired, airily, 
 but whether she was jesting or in earnest it was 
 impossible by her face to tell. What a puzzle 
 she was ! How could the odalisque of the 
 harem know what was good or wicked ? 
 
 " Would it be brutally wicked to save the 
 poor man from the madhouse, whither he is 
 surely drifting? The only hitch that I'm aware 
 of concerns the apple-woman, and if that is re- 
 moved " 
 
 " He's not quite responsible, you see, and as 
 
 I should win something by the transaction 
 
 There's where the shoe pinches, all through 
 that cursed will. Miss Galbraith reduced him 
 to this state by casting him off, and it is pro- 
 bable that she alone can cure him. My hands 
 are tied, because I should be the gainer, and 
 
198 GEHENNA. 
 
 bad motives would surely be imputed. I eau't 
 even take the fortune and return it to the poor 
 fellow, for. if I receive it and do not keep it 
 myself, it has to go on to Barnaby. And there's 
 nothing to be done with Barnaby, as you are 
 aware — so full of awkward crotchets, so in- 
 tractable. What a predicament it is ! Out of 
 the maze there seems no outlet. I'm at my 
 wits' end, for he's going out of his mind under 
 my nose for love of that slip of a girl." 
 
 The air of innocent mischief on the smooth 
 face of the Creole gave place to quickened 
 thought. She pondered gravely for a while, 
 then said, as if she knew the reply before- 
 hand, 
 
 "Then you really think he's going mad?" 
 
 " Alas ! yes." 
 
 " What then ?" 
 
 " How do you mean ?" 
 
 " What will become of the fortune ?" 
 
 "Eh? I don't know." 
 
 "Who'll administer it? It's in bonds and 
 shares, I think." 
 
 " The greater part is drawn from a news- 
 paper, the Morning Censor — valuable property \ 
 
ON THE THAMES. 199 
 
 but what an odd woman you are. What are 
 you driving at?" 
 
 " Nothing. It concerns me not. Female 
 curiosity, no more." 
 
 There was a pause, during which James 
 fidgeted upon his seat, while the Creole re- 
 mained wrapped in reverie. 
 
 " James," she said at last, " this is f no tho- 
 roughfare ;' as you say, there's no outlet. If 
 that old wretch can look down, or rather up, 
 how delighted he must be with the imbroglio. 
 What's to be done ? We settled we were to 
 be dear friends, and I claim the right of friend- 
 ship. Your brother is in a bad way, and we 
 can't help it, thanks to that fiendish will. If 
 the unhappy Arthur is doomed, that's no reason 
 for you to follow suit. You must take a holi- 
 day for a month or two at least. Don't argue. 
 I insist on it, and won't be contradicted." 
 
 " But Arthur " 
 
 "I'll look after him while you are away; so 
 you may lay your fears to rest. No thanks. 
 It is a pleasure to live in this delightful spot so 
 long as summer lasts, and Sir Arthur likes me, 
 as you know. Come back restored in health, 
 
200 GEHENNA. 
 
 and 1 shall feel myself amply repaid." 
 Mrs. Patterson spoke with such warm, un- 
 selfish interest that James Dyson was deeply 
 moved. Who and what was he, a humble 
 gentleman with nothing to boast of, to have 
 gained the respect and affection of this brilliant 
 sorceress. 
 
 " Mrs. Patterson," he stammered, seizing her 
 hands in his, and keeping them, though they 
 fluttered like birds. " Brunhilde, I can't help 
 it. Be angry if you can, but I will speak. You 
 told me once not long ago that you read my 
 passion in my face. You were right. I love 
 you deeply and devotedly. It is beyond my 
 control. Don't try to stop me this time, for it 
 will come out. I dared to love you even in 
 your husband's lifetime, but heaven has taken 
 him away, so there's no longer any sin. Why 
 your unkind resolve % I think you like me. 
 Will you ever accept me ? In five years ? I 
 will wait without a murmur if you promise to 
 be my wife. Brunhilde, you sacrificed your 
 youth, like the angel that you are, to the age 
 of Mr. Patterson. Learn to love me a little 
 bit, and accept the devotion of my life." 
 
OX THE THAMES. 201 
 
 Brunhilde's breast heaved, and her breath 
 came short and fast, while the warm blood 
 mantled in her olive cheek. She flushed crim- 
 son, and then turned deadly pale. Disengaging 
 her hands with a lithe movement, she clasped 
 the head of the young man to her bosom, and 
 pressed her lips to his. Then rising, after a 
 blissful instant, with a start, she passed her 
 fingers through her hair, contracted her lids as 
 though suddenly awakened, and X- )acec ^ the 
 room in extremest agitation. 
 
 " Oh, no !" she murmured. " What a fool I 
 am. What a drivelling idiot. It may never 
 be. Friends, only friends. Have not I told 
 you I shall never marry ?" 
 
 Then, possessed by a new idea, the impulsive 
 woman returned to where James was still sit- 
 ting wonder-struck, and kissed him on the fore- 
 head regretfully, as a mother might who is 
 starting on a long journey. 
 
 "lam not angry, James," she whispered, 
 gloomily, " but never do this again, at least not 
 now; for I might give way and then be sorry. 
 We'll be the closest friends, and I'll look after 
 Sir Arthur in your absence. Leave it thus, and 
 
202 GEHEXXA. 
 
 ask no questions now. Go on your holiday for 
 my sake, and grow well for love of me, if you 
 will have it so, though I offer no encouragement. 
 You think me a riddle 1 Perhaps it will be 
 solved for you some day, perhaps never. 
 Meanwhile, take a trip abroad or make your 
 arrangements from the 12th. Put your faith in 
 your true and honest Brunhilde, who will 
 watch over your interests as if they were her 
 own." 
 
 James Dyson was fain to be content, and 
 took the advice she tendered. He was a well- 
 meaning man, but lethargic ; one of those to 
 whom a younger son's allowance is a curse, who 
 grumble over its exiguity, but lack sufficient 
 resolution to increase their income by labour. 
 If he had possessed nothing at all he would 
 have been forced to work rather than starve, 
 and work would have given a filip to his char- 
 acter, which needed pressure of some kind. As 
 it was he was always complaining of poverty, 
 with his idle hands before him, and — as we may 
 never remain stationary, but must always ad- 
 vance or recede — his idleness numbed his self- 
 reliance, making him more and more prone to 
 
ON THE THAMES. 203 
 
 distrust his own instincts, and lean oq others. 
 If Brunhilde had become his wife she would 
 have occupied the post of grey mare, and he 
 would gladly have been led by her — he thought 
 so at least in the ardour of his wooing. Indeed, 
 if that which he was pleased to call the devotion 
 of a life could have been dissected under a 
 microscope, he w r ould himself have been sur- 
 prised at the result. There was a spice of 
 selfishness about it : a sense of how nice it 
 would be to abandon the reins into a pair of 
 hands which were strong as well as small — to 
 watch how deftly the Jehu turned the corners 
 and threaded the throng of vehicles. And 
 Brunhilde's was so clear a head, when she 
 thought well to stir herself to action, that she 
 probably read him aright. She very likely was 
 aware that she could twist him round her finger, 
 that she had but to command for him to obey, 
 and the knowledge of a victory so easily gain- 
 ed may account, perchance, for the tinge of 
 contemptuous raillery which marked her inter- 
 course with James. But we must remember 
 that contempt and pity are half-sisters, and 
 that, through the illogical ramifications of the 
 
204 GEHENNA. 
 
 female mind, pity may lead to love. Proud of 
 (in apparent (if latent) force of character, a 
 woman may prefer a husband who admits that 
 she is the better half, and gracefully vacates the 
 loftier seat ; and yet that self-same woman, 
 placed under other conditions, may joyfully 
 and willingly curb her own strength, and with 
 the generosity of a fine nature give way without 
 a tussle to one which is stronger. 
 
 As the wife of Mr. Patterson, Brunhilde had 
 been swept by gusts of wrath, and had longed 
 to be ordered about. Everything had been 
 made so easy for her — the lightest fancy had 
 been gratified with such promptitude — that her 
 existence was mawkish — saccharine and sickly 
 to the taste, like a lump of Turkish delight. 
 She had been a sultana, too sacred to rub 
 against the world, a lay figure to hang gorgeous 
 clothes upon ; and it was perhaps this which 
 caused the chains she wore to be so heavy, 
 which accounted for her relief when they were 
 snapped. The monotony of ease is in the end 
 well-nigh as wearing to vigorous natures as the 
 monotony of worry to feebler ones. Exter- 
 nally only was the Creole an oriental odalisque. 
 
OX THE THAMES. 205 
 
 Still waters run deep — the deeper they are, 
 the more strong the invisible tinder-current. 
 
 If circumstances had ordained that she should 
 have married, instead of one like Patterson, a 
 man like Dyson, to her fondness as a wife she 
 would have added a feeling of proprietorship, in 
 that it would be a pleasant necessity to think 
 for him. She would, very likely, have loved 
 him none the less, but there would be that 
 about the bond suggestive of a mother — of an 
 indulgent parent who tenderly teaches her off- 
 spring, is proud and thankful for the privilege, 
 although it is a trouble. She would have made, 
 in all probability, an admirable Mrs. Dyson, and 
 have gone down to an honoured grave, an ex- 
 ample and a pattern to her sex — just as he would 
 have done if designed by destiny for a friar. 
 And is not this, my brethren, a neat little text 
 for another sermon? Might we not point the t 
 moral of indulgence to one another's peccadilloes f 
 Might we not show that, whether we stand up 
 or tumble, it is merely a matter of seduction ; 
 that one-half at least of those who die in the 
 odour of sanctity, do so because they were spared 
 temptation; that even the Dowager Countess of 
 
206 GEHENNA. 
 
 Fitz-HooJlum herself, if fate had ordained that 
 instead of a jointure she was to have an empty 
 stomach, might have stood in a greasy dock for 
 purloining a loaf of bread ? We might preach 
 an edifying sermon upon the subject — even 
 draw tears from the juvenile and sentimental. 
 But we will refrain, merely claiming indulgence 
 for our heroine, should she be lured into trou- 
 bled waters. 
 
 And so James bowed his head with all 
 grace, under the decision of his inamorata, 
 hoping that some time or other she might be 
 beguiled into abandoning her widowhood ; re- 
 solved meanwhile to be an obedient and pattern 
 lover. He thankfully accepted her offer to 
 watch over the stricken baronet, and departed 
 for the Scottish highlands with a lightened 
 spirit, in pursuit of the wary grouse. 
 
207 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FACE TO FACE. 
 
 JAMES started on his trip with mind relieved. 
 Mrs. Patterson already held her timid 
 suitor in silken manacles, and he was prepared 
 to take pretty much for granted anything she 
 thought fit to tell him. But now her thought- 
 ful care was so exemplary that he left the 
 menage at Dyson Grove entirely in her hands, 
 sleeping on his two ears, as our Gallic neigh- 
 bours have it, receiving a weekly bulletin to 
 report progress. She posted a long epistle 
 every Monday morning, with dutiful exactitude, 
 to the extreme north, where folks are free from 
 the daily worry of the post ; and when he got 
 his letter he went to his room, and locked the 
 door, to examine again and again the dear cali- 
 
208 GEHENNA. 
 
 graphy, keeping the sheet of paper in his 
 pocket till the next week brought a new one. 
 
 The season was over ; the treadmill was 
 packed up, and removed from the town into the 
 country. The ladies Adela and Gwendoline 
 and the Fitz-Hoodlum daughters were off on 
 tramp through the counties, a proceeding which 
 they called " a delightful series of visits, my 
 dear," stopping for the night at this house, and 
 then moving, as though from one hostelry to 
 another, for a night or two to that, w T ith the 
 persistency of wandering Jews under a curse ; 
 always meeting the same exiguous set, talking 
 the same platitudes, listening to the same in- 
 anities, wearing the same series of toilettes, 
 stitching from breakfast to lunch at the same 
 bits of needlework, glad enough of the recur- 
 rence of feeding time, for in the dining-room 
 at least there was novelty. Some had good 
 cooks and some bad ones ; and to abuse their 
 host and his arrangements, was an enlivening 
 method of letting the steam off during the 
 afternoon walk or drive. It might have been 
 as w r ell (better, since they would have saved 
 railway and fly fares, and ruinous vails to 
 
FACE TO FACE. 209 
 
 servants) if the noble company conlcl have 
 agreed to settle down for the autumn in one 
 earavansery; but then the series of gowns did 
 look a little different when juxtaposed with 
 other carpets and furniture ; and it took up an 
 hour or two of a dreary morning to go over 
 each house (as though they had never seen it 
 before), bursting with little giggles of amazed 
 surprise over nicknacks they had known from 
 infancy. So the family mansions in town slept 
 in holland bedgowns ; the family plate chests 
 groaned off in carts ; the family servants buzzed 
 off in cabs ; and the families themselves em- 
 braced each other with effusion, as though they 
 were not to meet again the day after to-morrow. 
 Adela and Gwendoline, whilst kissing their be- 
 loved Brunhilde for the last time, exacted from 
 her a promise that so soon as they had squared 
 the circle, and were receiving at Sark Castle, 
 she would join the party. Meanwhile, she 
 dwelt in her cottage, and played my Lady 
 Bountiful. 
 
 She became a familiar and respected figure in 
 the town of Richmond. She visited the poor, 
 or rather sat in a close carriage while the re- 
 
 VOL. I. P 
 
210 GEHENNA. 
 
 cipiente of her bounty were paraded before the 
 window ; and, when she drove forth, intent on 
 deeds of kindliness, the faithful factotum was 
 always on the box, a bearer of mystic packages. 
 When he heard the blessings freely showered 
 on her head in exchange for tea and sugar, he 
 looked up at the sky and whistled, as if uncer- 
 tain what to make of it. As we have seen, lie 
 was anxious to study the new and unfamiliar 
 monster yclept an angel, having confessed that 
 devils were more in his line, that he knew more 
 of anathemas than of benisons. He, as well as 
 James, was astounded, and also awe-stricken, 
 by t lie free and easy ways of his mistress. If 
 this was an angel, then was it a queer creature, 
 but an enchanting as well as a lovable one — 
 there was no doubt as to that. Mrs. Patterson 
 was to be a power for good with regard to 
 James ; a counsellor, a comforter, a clear-head- 
 ed mentor. So also was she to be for Carlo, 
 who placed her in a niche above a holy altar, 
 whereon the incense of his respectful adoration 
 was burning day and night. Whichever way 
 it was to be he had laid himself down before 
 her shrine as a sacrifice ; and it was with a 
 
 
FACE TO FACE. 211 
 
 feeling of misgiving on his own account that 
 he hearkened to the blessings of the indigent. 
 At intervals throughout his life the better 
 nature — stunted, half-withered for lack of air 
 and light — had struggled feebly to the surface, 
 only to die down again. On board ship, when 
 returning to England to commence a new page 
 of his existence, the odd idea had come into his 
 mind that if this beautiful woman would hold 
 out a hand, his vague desire might yet be grati- 
 fied. She had taken him up, and was an angel ; 
 but the young man was a prey to dim forebod- 
 ings as to the strength of his resolves. Could 
 he really henceforth be honest? Why not? 
 How many of the hapless mortals languishing 
 now at Millbank would have been as upright as 
 you or I, but for the bad companionship in which 
 they were placed by chance? Tom, Dick, and 
 Harry were born in a court off Drury Lane. 
 The next room on the same landing was occu- 
 pied by a smasher and his family ; those over- 
 head by a gang of pickpockets. As their 
 intelligence dawned, the art of smashing was 
 looked on as a natural occupation, the use of 
 light fingers for the behoof of their owners an 
 
 p 2 
 
212 GEHEXXA. 
 
 ordinary way of earning a livelihood. Before 
 being born, T. D. and H. were never asked if 
 they objected to be brought up in such com- 
 panionship. There it was. night and day, for 
 years, close to their elbows, over their heads. 
 And in course of time they were dragged before 
 the beak, who lifted up his hands deploring their 
 depravity. As he grew older, and rubbed 
 against mankind, the gross injustice of this 
 state of things affected Carlo deeply, for he 
 saw much of it. The world says, " Be honest." 
 D. and H. reply with unanimity, " It is not 
 possible. We never had the chance. Don't 
 know what it means. We were born under 
 certain auspices, with certain surroundings. 
 We employed the brains bestowed on us with 
 diligence, according to our lights, learning from 
 our fellows what they had to teach. If you 
 disapprove our principles, the fault is none of 
 ours, for we never had a chance of learning 
 others." 
 
 In his groping way the young man hoped he 
 had strength enough to turn over that new leaf, 
 for he had seen the comrades of his childhood 
 suffer much, and came to the conclusion that, if 
 
FACE TO FACE. 213 
 
 only for the sake of peace and quietness, hon- 
 esty may be the best policy m the end. 
 
 So here he was, established at Richmond, 
 with the best intentions in the world, in lead- 
 ing strings again, under guidance of an angel, 
 genuine, thorough-bred. For reasons of his 
 own, he was not sorry to be out of London. 
 During the short time that he lived there he 
 showed a predilection for aristocratic neigh- 
 bourhoods, displayed symptoms of nervousness, 
 an unconquerable tendency to nose-blowing, 
 when duty led him once into the neighbour- 
 hood of Trafalgar Square, and then, having 
 passed to the ^Yest End again, he rated himself, 
 in grumbling undertones, with the assurance 
 that somebody was dead. Whether somebody 
 was dead or not, he nevertheless preferred the 
 country to the town, congratulating himself 
 upon holding a position of trust in the house- 
 hold of an " out-an'-outer," one who consorted 
 with royalty, and was at home in marble halls. 
 
 He watched the growing intimacy between 
 the unhappy owner of the Grove and the occu- 
 pant of the adjoining cottage, and scratched his 
 poll. He could not make it out. Such kind- 
 
214 GEHENNA. 
 
 ness and care for strangers was unnatural 
 without some ul tenor object. What could that 
 be? Was she, as the servants said, setting her 
 cap at the baronet, or was it all for love of the 
 other gent, the bete noire, whom Carlo hated ? 
 Or was it, indeed, a phase of the angelic which 
 was as yet beyond his comprehension ? Whilst 
 trying to reckon things up and store them in 
 their respective pigeon-holes, he indulged in 
 many whistlings, without arriving at a definite 
 conclusion. The servants said awful things, 
 suggested shocking motives, such as made his 
 blood boil, till he reflected that servants are 
 low reptiles who bite the hand that feeds them. 
 But what if there was a spice of truth in their 
 
 inuendoes? W 7 hat if But no; sufficient 
 
 unto the day is the evil. If, indeed, the god- 
 dess of his admiration were to turn out a devil 
 instead of the other thing — well, it would be no 
 fault of his. He would have made his little 
 attempts and failed. As in the cases of T. D, 
 and H., the blame must lie at another door. 
 Many weeks rolled by before anything fresh 
 occurred to throw new light on the situation ; 
 but something did happen at last, and then he 
 
FACE TO FACE. 215 
 
 took to whistling with greater perseverance 
 than before. 
 
 Sir Arthur followed the Creole like a hound, 
 wistfully seeking his orders in her eyes. He 
 breathed more freely now that James was gone, 
 babbled of the treachery of his domestics, im- 
 plored the protection of his guardian against 
 the dangers that menaced from without. What 
 was mere vague suspicion at first took tangible 
 form and colour. Not only were there strange 
 odours in his room, but when he woke suddenly 
 he beheld a figure in a cloak leaning over the 
 bed, who glided away and left the chamber. 
 What was this figure doing? How could it be 
 there without the connivance of the household ? 
 It was as clear as possible that the servants 
 were in the pay of some one whose interest it 
 was to murder him. Who could that person be 
 but James, who was itching to finger the 
 fortune? 
 
 Again and again did Mrs. Patterson assure 
 him that James was at the other end of the 
 island, staying at a friend's shooting-box, which 
 was five and twenty miles from a station. She 
 showed him his letter, with the post-mark, but 
 
216 GEHENNA. 
 
 Sir Arthur declined to be convinced. With 
 sardonic winks he said that it was well 
 managed. Murder needs to be well managed, 
 since the penalty is so heavy when detected. 
 Did Mrs. Patterson — good, kind, sympathetic 
 Mrs. Patterson — mean to say that she expect- 
 ed him to believe that the man in the cloak 
 was a ghost I He, Sir Arthur, was not such a 
 fool as she took him for. He scoffed at ghosts, 
 snapped his fingers at Spiritualism; talked, 
 when put to it, in a coherent way, illustrating 
 by cogent examples that, if all that Spiritualists 
 say be true, then our souls when we die go 
 crazy, and are enslaved by living mountebanks. 
 The spirits of the dear departed invariably end 
 by exhorting us, after a more or less heart- 
 less detour, to go in for the confidence trick 
 with the medium, to bestow on him our jewels 
 and valuables, to make testaments in his 
 favour, even to resign our property during our 
 lifetime. 
 
 The harrowing story of King Lear is for- 
 gotten by the disembodied. They remember 
 nothing of mundane snares; have never heard 
 of ring-dropping, or of the painted canary. 
 
FACE TO FACE. 217 
 
 The seraphic innocence of our aunts and uncles 
 — it would be rude to say their gullibility — when 
 they shuffle off their coil, is worthy of apprecia- 
 tion, considering how leery they once were. 
 Xever so much as a sovereign could we screw 
 out of them by complaining of the deficit in 
 our exchequer. The realms of bliss must be 
 washed with whitish lime, for their astuteness 
 to be so speedily dazzled. 
 
 So spake Sir Arthur, and his listener was 
 aghast. How singular a disorder was that 
 under which he laboured, since the person 
 attacked could be so infatuated, and yet so 
 sensible. She grew quite frightened sometimes, 
 for the clearness of his argument was akin to 
 second sight, pellucid and crystalline ; but like 
 a reflection in purest water could be disturbed 
 by a sighing breeze — twisted by a breath, till 
 the picture was out of drawing, utterly distort- 
 ed and awry. He would trot up and down the 
 grassy terraces which led by stone stairs to the 
 river by the side of dark-haired Xiobe, dilating 
 upon the shadow in the cloak; suggesting 
 reasons for its visits, weaving causes for its 
 vanishing, till she found herself fascinated for 
 
218 GEHENNA. 
 
 the moment by the spell of his fancy, almost 
 believing in the midnight visitant, fearing that 
 she herself was mad. 
 
 Mrs. Patterson was frightened by her charge, 
 becaused mixed with his delusions was a spice 
 of preternatural cunning. She soothed him as 
 you might a fretful child, and he was lulled by 
 the tranquillising influence ; but all at once he 
 would grin and wink, and shake his head, say- 
 ing something as true as original. She could 
 not rid herself of an uneasy suspicion that she 
 might be the real patient and he the humour- 
 ing doctor ; that the delusions might prove to 
 be on her side, not on his; and that idea con- 
 duced to nervousness. Now and again she 
 regretted the charge she had undertaken ; for, 
 after all, what was Sir Arthur to her, or she to 
 him ? By what whimsical accident was it that 
 she — a stranger, a wanderer, a denizen of a 
 different and far distant land — should find her- 
 self mistress to all intents and purposes of 
 Dyson Grove, with its master at her feet, its 
 household obedient to her nod ! She felt 
 inclined when thus disturbed to leave the 
 cottage, bid adieu to James, shake off the 
 
FACE TO FACE. 219 
 
 factotum, and wend her solitary way to the 
 sunny retreat in Cuba. For what would be the 
 upshot of it all I Why was she to be mixed up 
 in the affairs of this unfortunate family ? What 
 stories she would have to relate when she went 
 : Sark Castle. How they would all laugh at 
 the idea of a professional beauty being trans- 
 formed into the custodian of a stranger whose 
 intellect was out of gear. 
 
 Was there ever so odd an outcome of a 
 casual acquaintance made on board a steamer? 
 And it had all come about in natural sequence, 
 without active agency of hers. The acquaint- 
 ance had ripened into friendship. The lady 
 was taken with a fancy to hire a cottage, 
 and there happened to be one vacant which 
 appertained to the gentleman's family. It was 
 just the thing she looked for. The gentleman's 
 brother who dwelt next door was ill, and 
 craved for the society of ladies. It would have 
 been churlish — brutal — in her to have refused to 
 know him, and, knowing, to have stood aloof. 
 Is it not woman's highest mission to minister to 
 the sick, and did not she. Mrs. Patterson, elect 
 to be my Lady Bountiful ? And her friend 
 
220 GEHENNA. 
 
 being worn out, and she established on the 
 spot, what more fitting than that she should 
 undertake this charge for him while he recoup- 
 ed his health and strength? It was the bizarre 
 result of a consecutive chain of events such as 
 might occur to anyone, and she was in no wise 
 called on to combat what should follow, having 
 already decided, at least for the present, to be 
 a cork floating on the waters. 
 
 On the whole, it would be silly at this junc- 
 ture to take the initiative. Why leave a cot- 
 tage which she liked ; cast off the only friend 
 upon whom she could reckon in her solitude 1 
 No. Vogue la galere. What happened next 
 mattered not. Events had chosen so to arrange 
 themselves. Very well, they must continue to 
 form their pattern as they listed, while she 
 dozed in the autumn heat. Run away to Cuba? 
 Not she ! Having attained the desired entrance 
 to the sanctuary, she would certainly enjoy its 
 pleasures for a while, come what might. On 
 the dim horizon, cloudlets were taking shapes 
 that were curious and amusing to contemplate. 
 Inducements to leave matters as they were, 
 sprang daily into being, grew, and multiplied; 
 
FACE TO FACE. 221 
 
 inducements which she was too idle to sift, too 
 indolent to examine closely. And so she ac- 
 cepted the charge imposed by accident, wrote 
 the dutiful letters, endured the phantom argu- 
 ments of the incipient lunatic, and resolved to 
 hold her peace in the house of Her Grace of 
 Sark. Why, just to give rise to a transitory 
 smile, make fun of a domestic tragedy ? It 
 would be in the worst taste. 
 
 Xo. Second thoughts are best, and silence is 
 golden. Besides, the Dysons did not aspire to 
 a pedestal in the Walhalla of the elite. They 
 were of a lower grade in the social economy, 
 which means that for all the Sarks or the 
 Fitz-Hoodlums would ever be likely to know 
 of them, they might as well have lived at 
 Yokohama or vegetated at Tobolsk. When 
 the ladies Adela and Gwendoline — or Lady 
 Fitz-Hoodlum and the Bishop of Jericho — had 
 honoured her with their presence at the cottage 
 (the sheep and the goats were carefully kept 
 apart), Sir Arthur had been coaxed into the 
 background, and James had skulked in corners ; 
 whereat the factotum, who wanted so much to 
 learn, had again scratched his poll, his educa- 
 
222 GEHENNA. 
 
 tion being* neglected in the matter of the crime 
 de la creme. 
 
 No, of a certainty, second thoughts are best, 
 and the Cream had naught to do with the 
 Dysons, whose wealth was principally due to 
 the circulation of the Morning Censor, a hu- 
 morous and well-written print, the organ of pur- 
 veyors in beer. Nothing was to be said about 
 the Dysons when she should go to Castle Sark. 
 
 "How have you killed the autumn, darling?" 
 Lady Adela would say, as she wreathed herself 
 about her friend. 
 
 "I've read it away, and boated it," would be 
 the pensive answer. '-'Alone woman like me 
 must fly to books. Literature is our chiefest 
 solace. I've fed on my favourite authors, and 
 been happy." 
 
 Thoroughly jaded, and weary of the task 
 which had been undertaken for the behoof of 
 James, she was looking forward to his return, 
 and superintended the confection of certain 
 articles which were to drive the inhabitants of 
 the august castle distraught with envy, when 
 that occurred which changed the aspect of 
 .affairs and caused the henchman to whistle. 
 
PACE TO FACE. 223 
 
 By desire of Sir Arthur, Mrs. Patterson in- 
 stalled herself during the day in the circular 
 boudoir of Dyson Grove, which was for the 
 most part made up of windows, and set about 
 with priceless plaques of white and purple 
 Wedgwood. It was an odd little room, a whim 
 of the late Sir Xoel's, and it resembled in some 
 sort a glass coach, with a divan from wall to 
 wall, and curved, transparent panels at the end 
 opposite to the fireplace, one of which gave 
 upon the entrance-gate, while through the other 
 you looked upon the gardens. 
 
 " You're always writing letters ! Dear Mrs. 
 Patterson. Letters, letters ! nothing but let- 
 ters !" the baronet whimpered. " Place your 
 table in the Wedgwood room. My father in- 
 tended it for the mistress of the house ; for her 
 pretty nest and watch-tower. I had hoped to 
 see Cloris there. My darling Cloris, whom I 
 may never behold again ! She will never oc- 
 cupy it, my beloved girl ; so do you sit there 
 to please me. While I'm gardening — you like 
 me to garden, and I do it to please you — I can 
 see the folds of your dress through the window, 
 and I like to imagine it is hers. Besides,'' he 
 
224 GEHENNA. 
 
 would add, glancing over his shoulder, with 
 bated breath, '•' when there are all these mur- 
 derers about, how do I know they may not 
 attack you? Give but a sign, and I'll be on 
 them with a spade ; and a good riddance. 
 Where are the police ? Why don't they come 
 and seize them?" So, to oblige him, as Sir 
 Arthur said, she wrote her letters in the Wedg- 
 wood room, and, as a caution against the use of 
 the spade, bade Carlo keep ' ; to heel " — in other 
 words, instructed him to amuse himself by 
 gardening in the vicinity of the baronet, so as 
 to keep a sharp eye on him without exciting 
 his ire. 
 
 On a certain afternoon, in late autumn, the 
 baronet was pottering listlessly abont, as was 
 his wont, planting shrubs upon the lower ter- 
 races, while Carlo was clipping the creepers 
 that grew in luxuriance on the wall. The 
 sound of his scissors and of the Creole's pen, as 
 it related to the distant James that his brother 
 seemed to grow more quiet, was all that could 
 be heard — save now and then the tranquil coo 
 of the birds in the neighbouring dovecote — 
 when a creaking upon the gravel of the ap- 
 
FACE TO FACE. 225 
 
 proach caused the writer to look up. What 
 met her eye was nothing very alarming — mere- 
 ly a demure young lady, in a merino dress, 
 whom she had never seen before, but whom she 
 recognized at once from the descriptions given 
 by the baronet. Impelled by an instinct of 
 danger, she called hurriedly, n Carlo — hist !" 
 and, upon the appearance of that worthy at the 
 window, whispered in his ear, with her face so 
 close to his that the scent of the fluttering lace 
 sent the blood in a rush to his brain, ' f At any 
 cost, keep Sir Arthur where he is. At any cost, 
 do you hear? Don't let him pass this threshold." 
 
 She then appeared at the hall door, and 
 opened it with her own hand ere the young 
 lady had time to pull the bell. 
 
 At sight of each other both ladies started. 
 The Creole because, of course, she expected to 
 find no one there ; the other because it rilled 
 her with dismay to come upon a beautiful stran- 
 ger without a bonnet, who was apparently quite 
 at home in the house she had hoped would be 
 her own. Cloris Galbraith knew that her be- 
 loved had no relations, with the exception of 
 James and Barnaby. Who, then, was the fair 
 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
226 GEHENNA. 
 
 interloper, and what could be her mission ? 
 Mrs. Patterson having assumed her most im- 
 posing manner, tempered by a look of courteous 
 but speechless and surprised inquiry, Miss Gal- 
 braith was utterly dumbfounded, and knew not 
 what to say. 
 
 " To whom have I the honour V began Mrs. 
 Patterson, after a pause, in her musical contralto. 
 
 " I chanced to be in the neighbourhood," 
 Cloris stammered, hurriedly, " and I heard that 
 Sir Arthur Dyson was ill — very ill — and I could 
 not resist a desire to find out if it was true." 
 
 " To whom have I the honour ?" again in- 
 quired the Creole, with crushing civility, just as 
 though the other had not spoken. 
 
 "My name is Galbraith," murmured Cloris, 
 colouring. 
 
 " Oh ! Sir Arthur's bride that is to be \" re- 
 turned the Creole, with a suave inclination, a 
 bend of such well-bred insolence that she must 
 have learned it from Her Grace of Sark. " I 
 regret to say that your future husband is ill — 
 too ill to see even you without the permission of 
 the doctors. Sir Jessamy Dobbs lives in Wim- 
 pole Street. He will doubtless give you every 
 
FACE TO FACE. 227 
 
 information, and judge as to whether Sir 
 Arthur is strong enough to see his destined 
 bride. Sudden emotions are so dangerous. With- 
 out such permission I could not take the risk 
 upon myself." 
 
 Unintentionally, no doubt, this Melpomene 
 with the sweeping skirts had touched upon the 
 string which was most likely to embarrass Cloris. 
 The latter had received a missive from one of 
 her ex-pupils at Isleworth, who mentioned 
 casually a rumour that Sir Arthur Dyson, of 
 Dyson Grove, was going out of his mind. The 
 information had put her on the gridiron, and 
 each succeeding hour of uncertainty had piled 
 the coals on, and set them ablaze more hotly. 
 Going out of his mind ! Poor fellow ! How 
 racked he had been when she departed. The 
 paroxysm was so violent that she had judged it 
 must soon pass ; but perhaps she had made a 
 mistake. Could it be for love of her that his 
 reason was unhinged? She loved him all the 
 more dearly for the idea that this might be pos- 
 sible, and spent her nights in weeping over her 
 dismal fate and his. 
 
 Strive to reason with it as she might, she 
 
 Q2 
 
228 GEHEXXA. 
 
 conld not get the better of her distress. What 
 is there more hard to bear than a vague rumour, 
 which may be exaggerated, or may not speak 
 all the truth ? To whom could she write for 
 information ? Not to her late employer, who 
 praised her as a brave girl who had got the 
 better of a false position, and would blame her 
 for hankering after the moon. Not to any of 
 the servants. She knew none of them, and 
 possessed no acquaintance at Richmond. What 
 was she to do? If her duty was engrossed in 
 big letters she had strength of character to 
 obey the clear mandate, however much after 
 sorrow might come down upon herself. But 
 she was not formed for action or blessed with 
 decision of character. She could be devoted, 
 and pour consolatory, narrow-minded common- 
 places into the ears of a sufferer. If she had 
 come upon some one who was drowning, she 
 would have knelt down by the bank to pray for 
 succour rather than herself attempt a rescue. 
 Not that she was a coward — one who can carry 
 out in his or her person the unpleasantly ex- 
 acting maxim, " Fais ce que dois, advienne que 
 pourra" — is no coward, though a pencliant to- 
 
FACE TO FACE. 229 
 
 wards irresponsibility with regard to others 
 ra the guise of cowardice. So long as she 
 could think of her lover as in good health — 
 struggling manfully with his trouble — it was 
 possible to bend with meekness. Bat that he 
 should be in the throes of mental anguish — his 
 intellect unhinged — was too terrible to think 
 of, more than could be endured with patience. 
 Her pillow was wet with tears, but tears brought 
 do relief; so, unable to bear it any longer, she 
 begged leave of absence on the plea of an acci- 
 dent to a grandmother, took the train to Lou- 
 don, and thence to Richmond, possessed by the 
 one idea that, however horrible it might prove, 
 she must at all hazards learn the truth. 
 
 Arrived at Richmond, at the station near 
 which she had parted for ever from him, the 
 girl grew timid and oppressed. A burden 
 seemed forming itself for her back which the 
 muscles had not strength to bear. What would 
 people say of her if it ever came to be known that 
 she, the poor governess, had clandestinely pur- 
 sued the rich baronet, and had been seen hang- 
 ing about his premises .' Where would her 
 good name be — the only treasure which had 
 
230 GEHENNA. 
 
 been given to the orphan ! That she had acted 
 in an imprudent manner she knew ; but it could 
 not be helped. The motive was pure. She 
 would walk boldly to the door, ask a question 
 or two as a stranger, and then go back, relieved, 
 in that suspense was ended. But this contin- 
 gency had never occurred to her as possible. 
 That a fine lady in a position of authority (who 
 could she be ?) should meet her face to face, 
 wring her name from her, and address her as 
 the acknowledged bride of the invalid — she, 
 who was nothing of the kind — was too grievous 
 a concatenation even to have suggested itself 
 to her indignation. So—utterly upset and un- 
 done — she uttered a few words of thanks and 
 slunk away like a thief caught red-handed — 
 grievously defeated —with a load of foreboding 
 in her breast, the grip of death upon her heart. 
 
 In this their first interview, the Creole scored 
 one, discomfited the enemy with slaughter, and 
 sent her packing; and, while she marked the 
 victory, she considered it with idle wonder. 
 Why had she acted thus? Was it instinct? 
 What possessed her to prevent Sir Arthur from 
 seeing the girl he babbled of? What could it 
 
FACE TO FACE. 231 
 
 matter if he did see her ? Perchance an inter- 
 view would have been rife with consequences, 
 by which James, her friend, would benefit. She 
 was to blame, she decided — distinctly to blame. 
 As usual, she had been led by impulse, without 
 properly sifting motives. If the two had come 
 together, all kinds of complications might have 
 arisen. The resolve of CI oris might have melt- 
 ed. Her influence over the invalid might have 
 helped to bring him round. Seeing what resulted 
 from cold duty, they might have determined — 
 flinging prudence to the winds — to make a match 
 of it, andset the testament of Sir Noel at defiance. 
 James would return from Scotland to find him- 
 self master of £30,C00 a year! What a privi- 
 lege to carry such a message to the man she 
 loved! What a present to bestow on him! 
 For if she had brought an interview about, and 
 put in here a word and there a hint, she could 
 claim to have had a finger in the pie, and de- 
 mand his gratitude. ^Yhat a pity it was that 
 she could not learn caution. By a little judici- 
 ous management and tact the knot might have 
 been cut — that terrible knot, tied by the bad 
 old man — and James have been raised to the 
 
232 GEHENNA. 
 
 condition of beatitude that goes with money- 
 bags. And she, Brunhilde — How would she 
 act then ? The question fell upon her brain like 
 the stroke of a sledge-hammer. Those fantastic 
 cloudlets on the horizon were becoming volum- 
 inous — were darkening the heavens. Thank 
 God ! It was a toy house of cards she had 
 been building, and they had tumbled down. It 
 was well that the girl was gone, for things must 
 go on as they were. Oh, yes — they must, or she, 
 the Creole, would be forced, out of regard for 
 her own safety, to fly out of the sanctuary, and 
 depart, while there was yet time, for Cuba. But, 
 if the knot had been cut, how would she have 
 acted ? Would she, pinning her faith on a 
 square sheet of paper, have made a bold fling 
 for the stake. 
 
 She shuddered, and pressing both hands to 
 her temples, returned slowly to the Wedgwood 
 Room, resolved to finish her letter, and say no- 
 thing of the prying of the girl. But it seemed 
 as if the impulse of a moment was to leave 
 its brand upon her life. If Cloris had never 
 meddled, the monotonous existence at Dyson 
 Grove would have rolled onward in dreamy 
 
FACE TO FACE. 233 
 
 routine for who might say how many months. 
 Sir Arthur mierht have recovered, or have 
 slipped into imbecility. Either way, affairs 
 would have gone on in a decorous and hum- 
 drum manner, without shock or clamour. But 
 it was not to be so. Sir Arthur, missing the 
 accustomed petticoat as he paused in his work, 
 was seized with a notion that the man in the 
 cloak had spirited away his favourite. In his 
 mind's eye he saw her murdered by lurking 
 ruffians. Growing violently excited — frantic — 
 he dashed howling up the terrace, spade in 
 hand, to be caught, close to the boudoir door, 
 by the faithful henchman, who pinned him by 
 the throat as a dog might. Sir Arthur was 
 strong, but so was Carlo — at least, he had the 
 strength of passive resistance. Like a ferret 
 he clung to the baronet's throat, shouting for 
 help, and, heedless of buffets, swung there a 
 dead weight. Turning round with a furious 
 effort to disengage himself, and foaming now 
 with passion unrepressed. Sir Arthur saw 
 through the south window the retreating figure 
 of Cloris, and, succeeding at last in shaking oft 
 his assailant, rushed through into the hall, call- 
 
234 GEHENNA. 
 
 ing her by endearing epithets, brandishing aloft 
 his weapon, which thundered — on the head of 
 Mrs. Patterson. She fell with a loud cry ; the 
 servants appeared in a body, ran cackling to 
 and fro, calling for the police. Carlo, roused 
 by their outcries and regaining his presence of 
 mind (lost for a moment), bade them hold their 
 noise and leave the police alone. 
 
 " The poor gentleman didn't mean to hurt the 
 lady. See, she revives," he cried. " Hang the 
 pleece for a bad lot — let's give 'em a wide berth. 
 Secure the gentleman, put the lady to bed, and 
 telegraph for Sir Jessamy Dobbs. He's been a 
 goin' cracked this long while, has the poor 
 gent, and ought to have been locked up long 
 since. Telegraph to the doctors, that's about 
 the ticket. Pleece, indeed ! Faugh ! A nasty, 
 scummy crew, as are always a poking their 
 noses where they didn't ought." 
 
 When one only of a party shows the least 
 sign of a power to command, the remainder 
 will obey his behests without attempting to 
 reflect for themselves, and follow his lead 
 helter-skelter. Thus was it in the household 
 of Dyson Grove. A telegram was despatched 
 
FACE TO FACE. 235 
 
 to the bigwig, while Sir Arthur was carefully 
 watched. The butler, the footmau, and the 
 second coachman sat over him like witches, 
 saying, ' ; Xo, you don't," when he attempted to 
 scratch his nose ; while the housemaids put 
 Mrs. Patterson to bed, and dosed her well-nigh 
 into the unknown with jorums of sal volatile. 
 The odour of burnt pens soon brought her to 
 herself, and she declared that she was more 
 frightened than hurt, and that Carlo was a 
 pattern watchdog. A most dependable young 
 man. The rest a posse of addlepates. So well 
 satisfied w r as she with his promptitude and his 
 savoir /aire, that she poured him out a cup of 
 tea and sugared it with her own fair fingers, 
 and nodded her satisfaction while he drank it. 
 When the great authority from town was an- 
 nounced, she was sitting up by the fire, in a 
 ravishing dressing-gown of orange satin, em- 
 broidered with flying cranes, looking none the 
 worse ; and there was a flush of triumph and 
 relief on the mask that was usually so placid, 
 which, in the opinion of good Sir Jessamy, en- 
 hanced her wondrous loveliness. 
 
23G 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " MAPLEDURHAM." 
 
 MRS. PATTERSON had good cause to be 
 -*-"-*- satisfied with her bargain, and was pleased 
 to say so with many complimentary adjectives 
 so soon as Sir Jessamy was gone. Carlo had 
 displayed bravery and presence of mind of a 
 high order, and had shown by averting a scan- 
 dal in the nick of time that he was worthy of 
 the trust reposed in him. If the butler, ceding 
 to the first panic, had summoned the police, all 
 Richmond would have flocked in behind them. 
 The local quill-drivers would have cooked sen- 
 sational articles, relating with circumstantial 
 minuteness how a member of the "upper ten" 
 had slain in cold blood a certain well-known 
 and beautiful foreigner who adorned the high- 
 est circles ; have told about how the said cele- 
 
MAPLEDURHAM. 237 
 
 brated lady was found weltering in blood on 
 the doorstep, her skull beaten in, her raven 
 looks dishevelled. The Police News would have 
 revelled in fearsome pictures, with cartoons of 
 the awful deed, vignettes of the doorstep and 
 the scraper, portraits of murderer and murder- 
 ed, like figures in the Chamber of Horrors as 
 seen at Madame Tussaud's. London reporters 
 would have come down by train, have wormed 
 themselves into the confidence of the footman, 
 have become hand and glove in no time with 
 the groom, and taken in shorthand the opin- 
 ions of the second coachman. The stairs would 
 have been sullied by dirty bootmarks, the pre- 
 mises would have been examined from the top- 
 most attic to the bottom of the kitchen boiler. 
 Hoverers would have hovered for a week, 
 There would have been no eluding their gimlet 
 orbs. They would be discovered with their 
 heads in the saucepan investigating the mate- 
 rials of the soup, in the coal-cellar counting the 
 lumps, bivouacking in the housemaid's cupboard. 
 A hubbub would have been created, whose effect 
 might not be wiped away for years ; the family 
 mansiou would be marked with the brand ; the 
 
238 GEHENNA. 
 
 hapless baronet would never wash out the stain 
 of murder, however constantly his supposed 
 victim might choose to show herself, arrayed in 
 ravishing costumes. 
 
 And all this chapter of impending troubles 
 had been averted by the lanky young man with 
 the queer grin and ferret visage, who had sum- 
 moned his wits about him upon hearing the 
 word "police." Most active, useful, and excel- 
 lent young man; intelligent, dependable fac- 
 totum in deed as well as title. He promised to 
 be faithful, and the promise for once was not 
 traced in sand. Having begun so well, might 
 not more — much more — be expected of him ? 
 A good deal yet remained to be accomplished 
 ere the service was quite complete. 
 
 The interview with Sir Jessamy was pro- 
 longed. He examined the lady's scalp-wound 
 and dressed it, and congratulated her with 
 courtly grace in that her beauty was nnmarred. 
 He protested in strongest terms against her 
 remaining with the maniac. For he was a 
 maniac now ; no doubt about it. There are 
 many cases, he observed — too many, notori- 
 ously — in which it is difficult to decide about a 
 
MAPLEDURHAM. 239 
 
 patient. But here was one concerning which 
 there could be no manner of doubt. He. Sir 
 Jessamy, was very chary of signing certificates 
 — they led to all sorts of annoyance and em- 
 barrassment. " Indeed," he continued, with a 
 sage shake of his perfumed locks, ' ; no one with 
 a conscience will sign a certificate so long as 
 the laws remain as ricketty as they at present 
 are, except in cases of emergency." This was 
 a case of emergency, an exception to the rule. 
 She was a kind lady — might he say of world- 
 renowned loveliness ? — who was sacrificing her 
 convenience and the adulation of admiring 
 crowds to win the crown that never fades. It 
 brought tears — it did, "pon honour — into his 
 eyes to survey the touching spectacle. And 
 what was her reward ? A blow on the head 
 with a spade ! Heaven was to be thanked that 
 it had not proved fatal. Lovely woman — might 
 he without offence say the ministering angel ? 
 — must be protected. It was a most painful 
 thing to see a gentleman who was mad de- 
 serted by his family, but it was some compen- 
 sation to find him watched with tender care by 
 this devoted stranger. When misfortune comes 
 
240 GEHENNA. 
 
 on us, we often find our nearest relatives most 
 indifferent. It is a mercy to come upon genu- 
 ine Christian people, who practise what they 
 preach. Had Mrs. Patterson heard lately from 
 the dear Countess of Fitz-Hoodlum ? What an 
 amiable person ; and the excellent Bishop of 
 Jericho too. and the sweet Duchess of Sark and 
 her dear girls ! So full of life and mirth ! But,, 
 as he was saying, if she insisted upon remaining 
 at her post, she must be protected. It was the 
 clearest of all possible cases. Symptoms had 
 followed one on the other in direct and rhythm- 
 ical sequence. Mental worry had led to 
 sleeplessness, which had resulted in debility 
 and delusions, and now the last strands of 
 reason were rent — acute mania had supervened ; 
 in the interests of the world at large, and espe- 
 cially of the lovely stranger, Sir Arthur must 
 be placed under restraint. 
 
 Oh! no, not on her account, protested the 
 Creole. She was not afraid of the poor man. 
 Did Sir Jessamy consider the case curable 1 she 
 hazarded, when she could put a word in. 
 
 " Oh ! decidedly, so far as human judgment 
 could foretell," was the vague reply. " Quite 
 
A1APLEDURHAM. 241 
 
 curable by rest and the soothing influence of 
 sympathy ; but perfect rest would be needed — 
 absolute and entire — or else the crisis would 
 pass without the brain being quieted ; and if the 
 crisis should be allowed to pass " 
 
 '• What then V inquired the listener. 
 
 •' What then? — why, heaven only knew, but 
 something most deplorable, most lamentable." 
 
 Had Sir Jessamy ever seen a precisely 
 similar case ? 
 
 '• Oh, dear, yes — many." 
 
 u Had they all recovered T' 
 
 " Well, no. Oddly enough, they hadn't. 
 One case, he remembered, had been sent to 
 Gheel, in Belgium, and had returned in six 
 months charmingly well again. Two cases, 
 much like Sir Arthur's, went to Gorbould House 
 — had the sweet lady ever heard of Gorbould 
 House ? A pretty place with park-like grounds 
 — and, curiously enough, there they were still. 
 Sir Arthur's condition was grave, very grave, 
 for he smelt smells, saw visions, and, worse sign 
 of all, heard voices. He required treatment — 
 careful treatment. His relatives must be sum- 
 moned instantly. They must rally round the 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 
242 GEHENNA. 
 
 head of the family at once, and settle what was 
 to become of him. Meanwhile he, Sir Jessam y, 
 would fill in a certificate, so as to avoid the 
 necessity of coming down again, and tell the 
 bntler how to manage the patient until he could 
 be consigned to competent care. 
 
 As the fashionable physician drove town- 
 wards, Mrs. Patterson sat staring at the fire. 
 The cloudlets she had beheld on the horizon 
 were reflected there, and their shapes grew 
 more weird and more fantastic. Cloudlets! 
 They were heavy banks of rolling cumuli, 
 thunderous of aspect — big with storms of rain. 
 Would they break and drench the land or pass 
 onward out of sight, leaving clear the starlit 
 firmament ? Xothing was to be gained by 
 staring into the glow ; Sir Jessamy had told 
 her what to do, and she must do it, for she was 
 not a free agent ; but merely an implement in 
 the hands of the crabbed three. Gathering up 
 her yellow draperies, she rang the bell for the 
 watch-dog. Having patted him till he wagged 
 his tail with pleasure, she explained at length, 
 and with a circumlocution which was confusing, 
 what remained to be accomplished. While she 
 
MAPLEDURHAM. 243 
 
 proceeded with her confidential talk, the facto- 
 tum glanced downwards with a sidelong flash 
 of startled inquiry ; and his long, upper lip curl- 
 ed, and there was a tawny light under the eye- 
 lids, as if reflected from within. What she 
 seemed to require was singular, but no doubt she 
 had good reason for it. It was for her to com- 
 mand, for him to obey. Had he not promised 
 obedience \ 
 
 "It will require tact," she concluded, with a 
 frank show of openness. " It is by no means 
 easy, and I am resolved to trust you to the 
 uttermost. If not, why are you here ? Sir 
 Jessamy and the local gentleman we sent for 
 have, as you see, each filled in a page of this 
 paper, but, that it should be of any use, it will 
 be necessary that this first page, which you will 
 perceive is a form in blank, should be filled in 
 likewise, and signed by another person. It is 
 obvious that the proper person to do this is Mr. 
 James Dyson, as next of kin, or the other 
 brother, Mr. Barnaby. Mr. James is unfortun- 
 ately away. If Mr. Barnaby should decline 
 (which is possible, as he is eccentricity itself) 
 why then," said the Creole, dreamily, " some 
 
 R 2 
 
244 GEHENNA. 
 
 one else must, for the matter is urgent. Do 
 you quite follow all I have explained ?" 
 
 " Yes," answered the factotum, still with a 
 startled look, which, by degrees, gave way to 
 one of cunning that seemed to fit his features. 
 " Yes ; oh, yes. I'm fly." 
 
 " Mind. I place implicit confidence in your 
 discretion, for it was by your wish, remember, 
 not mine, that you came to live with me. 
 What was it you said?" she inquired, carelessly. 
 " Something to the purpose, if not very elegant- 
 ly turned ; you undertook, I think, to stick to me 
 like wax T 
 
 "And lie across the door-mat, to protect 
 your sleep. That's what I said, and mean it. I 
 gave myself to you for good or bad. Which 
 it's to be I've nothing to do with. It's my 
 pleasure to leave that to you." 
 
 The young man had approached nearer, and 
 there was a hectic spot on each pale cheek, and 
 a feverish glimmer under the lids which were 
 very close together. He would probably have 
 said more, but the Creole's eyes met his with 
 the stony stare of a sphinx, and his half-fawning, 
 half-familiar manner struck as an arrow might 
 
MAPLEDURHAM. 245 
 
 against a Avail of steel, and fell, harmless. 
 
 There was nothing more to be said, so he bit 
 
 his lip and departed to fulfil her bidding, his 
 
 brow wrinkled, his soul racked by doubt. 
 
 " Blest if I can steer clear, even now," he 
 
 muttered. " She'll hint at a thing as do seem 
 
 jolly crooked without turning a hair, and if I 
 
 tip a wink to clinch it as I might toss up a 
 
 feather to try the wind, she'll glower like an 
 
 » 
 image. Angels is tormentin' varmits, jist like 
 
 the t'other lot — sly and cat-scratchy. That's 
 clear, if nothing else is. Here am I left in a 
 fog, and if I make a false step and come to 
 grief, she's jist the soft-furred panther to cry 
 out, takin' her oath she never meant nothing of 
 the kind, and pitch me overboard into the sea. 
 Ain't she artful, and ain't she a sleek-coated 
 beauty — my word !" In the excess of his adora- 
 tion for the goddess who, somehow, seemed 
 nearer to his ken, he smacked his lips and 
 wiped the dew from off his brow, which wrinkled 
 up once more as he plunged again into the 
 difficulty. " But is she artful, or am I on a 
 wrong tack? My experience of her breed is so 
 small. Well — no matter — I must chance it. If 
 
24G GEHENNA. 
 
 she's a vixen, she's the splendidest one as ever 
 was born, bar none, and it's a joy to serve her. 
 But I'd like to know for certain, which of the 
 two she is. May be they both come of the 
 same stock, and there's little difference betwixt 
 'em. Implicit confidence, she said. Why not 
 speak plain, then, what she wants, right out? 
 It can't be as she's ashamed? Showed tact, did 
 I, and deserved praise. Right so far, then. 
 Let's see if we can pay out a trifle more of the 
 article." 
 
 It must be allowed that the young man was 
 justified in his perplexity, for his directions were 
 copious if complicated, and broken up by pauses, 
 which might or might not imply unutterable 
 things. When it occurred to him that the white 
 and black-robed guides of man might after all 
 be brother and sister with a strong likeness, it 
 was with a gleam of satisfaction ; and, despite 
 his good resolves, he felt pretty certain that it 
 would be less wearisome to pursue the flat and 
 well-known thoroughfare, than to toil up the 
 steep and stony one. He was one of those to 
 whom plotting was second nature. Had he 
 been eminently respectable, he might have ex- 
 
MAPLEDURHAM. 247 
 
 pended his zeal in chess, and have outwitted 
 his fellows only to make-believe. It would be 
 better to turn over that new leaf, possibly — 
 more satisfactory when the struggle was past, 
 — but what if he could continue in the old 
 groove, his conscience salved by a conviction 
 that it was not his fault, that he had done his 
 best to rise out of the mud, — had caught at one 
 who stood on terra firrna, but that the helping 
 hand had pushed him down again, and was 
 responsible, therefore, for his floundering. At 
 this period of his career, he groped fitfully in 
 the direction of the upward pathway, but he 
 was very feeble, liable to be driven before the 
 "wind like a stray leaf, and it certainly seemed 
 as if the latest effort of Boreas was setting in 
 the direction of the quagmire. 
 
 Having resolved to "chance it," he conde- 
 scended to show himself in the housekeeper's 
 room, and announced to the terrified maids, 
 who were huddling over the fire, while the 
 menservants sat over their master, that he was 
 off at once to Mapledurham to fetch the Reverend 
 Mr. Barnaby. It was a thousand pities, he said, 
 that Mr. James should be away, but, if people 
 
243 GEHENNA. 
 
 will go on exploring expeditions to the un- 
 known latitudes of the northern Highlands, 
 they must not be surprised if odd things hap- 
 pen in their absence. The scullery-maid, with 
 whom the second brother was a favourite, pro- 
 mulgated a desire that Sir Arthur should de- 
 part this life, as useless, and a dangerous nuis- 
 ance, in order that Mr. James, when he arrived, 
 should find himself in possession of the fortune ; 
 whereupon the head housemaid, who was of a 
 sentimental turn, and had seen the sad face of 
 Cloris as she slowly left the house, rebuked her 
 sternly, and bade her be off to bed. They all 
 agreed, however, that Mrs. Patterson and Sir 
 Jessamy, in the absence of the next-of-kin. were 
 taking the wisest course. Mr. Barnaby must 
 be summoned instantly, or at any rate must 
 decide what was to be done. 
 
 Though the distance between Richmond and 
 Mapledurham is only thirty-seven miles, it was 
 morning ere the messenger from Dyson Grove 
 knocked at the gate of the rectory. Have you 
 ever seen the place ? It is the dreamiest of 
 nooks, the very spot for an encampment of 
 lotus-eaters. After leaving busy Pangbourne, 
 
MAPLEDUEHAM. 249 
 
 the river travels on with tranquil flow 'twixt 
 
 banks of sedge and tufts of briar, with many 
 a gentle curve and shelving shallow, where 
 stand the kine in groups, swishing away the 
 flies with lazy tail, while they contemplate their 
 reflections in the water. On approaching 
 Mapledurham, the highway widens into two 
 branches, that to the left leading through de- 
 crepid lock-gates to distant life and the abodes 
 of men ; whilst that on the right conducts to a 
 sequestered pool, where close-planted clumps 
 of beach bend down with feathery boughs to 
 kiss the stream ere it tumbles, with a roar, over 
 the weir into a frothy bed of foam. Under 
 the lofty trees, pale and russet now with tints 
 of autumn, lurks a house — remote — screened 
 and. concealed by foliage ; a farm-like habita- 
 tion, where a man might cheat Old Time, nor 
 heed the racket of the crowd; and in this house 
 dwelt Parson Barnaby, whose idea of life was 
 peace. Nothing disturbed the quiet of the 
 place save the cawing of rooks that skimmed 
 away at dawn, and came screaming back at 
 dusk. Xo neighbours were ever permitted to 
 intrude on the solitude, for the parson was 
 
250 GEHENNA. 
 
 churlish. Boors, passing to their work and back 
 again, bushed their voices as they plodded by 
 the place, as if it had been enchanted, for they 
 knew that his reverence was passionate. He 
 went over to the crumbling church hard by, 
 and pattered his prayers or droned out his 
 sermon on the first day of every week, and 
 then marched home again, without a nod or 
 salutation, leaving his curates to be civil to 
 parishioners. So you may well imagine that 
 the ancient gardener scarce believed his ears 
 when, on this special morning, he heard the 
 clang of the gate-bell, as it was pulled again 
 and again in haste. 
 
 " Lud-a-mussy ; it was the bell of his rever- 
 ence's gate, and nothing else. "Who dared to 
 take such liberties ? It was not the wind nor 
 a trick of fancy. Profane human fingers were 
 tugging at the bell. Some one seemed deter- 
 mined to effect an entrance, though it was 
 barely seven o'clock. What could be the mat- 
 ter I Was the church on fire ? Had anyone 
 broken into the vestry and stolen the wine, or 
 emptied the poor-box ? A stranger — absolutely 
 a stranger — well-dressed, thin, lanky, with bulb- 
 
MAFLEDURHAM. 251 
 
 ous knees and elbows, and a sodden, white 
 visage, such as was rarely seen in bucolic parts. 
 Wonders would never cease. With a touch of 
 an imaginary hat, the gardener inquired his 
 business. 
 
 •' I must see the Rev. Barnaby Dyson at 
 once," declared the stranger. 
 
 ' ; Can't be done," returned the other, aghast. 
 Was his reverence a serf, at every man's beck 
 and call ? " He ain't up, and, without orders, 
 nobody dares wake him ; and nobody shall, if I 
 can help it." 
 
 " I come from his brother, Sir Arthur Dyson.*' 
 
 " Sir Arthur Dyson," the gardener slowly 
 repeated, for he seldom heard the name. 
 4i Yon's the house. Sir Arthur Dyson. Lud- 
 a-mussy ! Go and knock yourself, if you will. 
 I dursent." 
 
 This reception amused Carlo, who, after cogi- 
 tation, was convinced that there was more in 
 the sphinx visage of his protectress than she 
 had chosen to put into words. Indifferent to 
 clerical anger, he strode forward and hammered 
 lustily at the hall door. 
 
 After a long while, there was a patter of feet, 
 
252 GEHENNA. 
 
 an opening and shutting of windows, a drawing 
 up of blinds, a poking out of unkempt pates ; 
 and presently a gentleman appeared, in a dress- 
 ing gown and a bad temper, who demanded 
 the cause of the intrusion. 
 
 The messenger announced his mission in a 
 few sentences, which spread blank dismay over 
 the face of Parson Barnaby. 
 
 He walked up and down his study, rubbing, 
 his forehead, and complaining, or rather growl- 
 ing, in an undertone, while Carlo told his tale. 
 
 " There's a curse on Dyson Grove, and on its 
 inmates. I wish it and them were burnt," he 
 whined. iC Why can't they leave me alone ? 
 Did I ever beg of my father or my brother ? I 
 never went near the place in my father's time, 
 nor yet in my brother's. We never met, for we 
 had nothing in common, and I didn't want to 
 bore others or be bored myself; and now he's 
 going to give us all no end of worry, and be a 
 nuisance. It's too bad. All I've asked for is 
 to be left alone. Surely that's not much? Not 
 to be bothered. But no. Worry, worry, bo- 
 ther, bother ; one can't escape it, do what one 
 will ; and one's pulled out of bed in one's first 
 
MAPLEDURHAM. 253 
 
 sleep, and I shall never get over it all day. 
 People ought to be ashamed of themselves, I 
 swear. " 
 
 The parson, by dint of dwelling on his griev- 
 ance, grew very sorry for himself indeed, and 
 tears of mortification rose to his eyes, when he 
 thought what a nuisance was Sir Arthur. 
 
 " There's not a moment to be lost, Sir Jessamy 
 says," affirmed the inexorable messenger. " I 
 should have been here sooner, if I could " (God 
 forbid ! ejaculated the parson) " but it was not 
 to be managed. The trains did not suit. You'd 
 best dress and take a cup of coffee at once, and 
 come. Sir Jessamy wished " 
 
 " Sir Jessamy — Sir Jessamy ! Hang Sir 
 Jessamy !" roared out the unclerical parson, 
 as he trotted hither and thither, holding up 
 his clothes. '• Sir Jessamy doesn't care how 
 much he worries me — he's paid for it, I'm not. 
 Dragged off like this without notice ! Where's 
 James? He's older than me, why can't he look 
 after these things ?" 
 
 " I've told ye, sir,'' retorted Carlo, who was 
 highly amused by this unvarnished specimen of 
 human nature, " that it's a matter of hours lest 
 
254 GEHENNA. 
 
 the baronet should do himself an injury, and 
 that Mr. James couldn't be got at nohow, under 
 a couple of days at least. The poor gent has 
 bin bad this long while, and growing wnss, and 
 is now completely off his nut — as savage as a 
 mohawk. Sir Jessamy says as he's got to be 
 took care of for a bit, or there's no knowing 
 what he'll do. And hell be wuss still before 
 he's better, so he's got to be watched and 
 guarded. If you'll look at this dockyment, sir, 
 you'll see that Sir Jessamy has written on it — 
 all the perticklars — shipshape and k'rect. Q. T., 
 sir, as right as ninepence, or a trivet !" 
 
 " Yes, yes, I see," grumbled the parson, as he 
 perused the paper. " The doctors are the re- 
 sponsible people, so I suppose, as far as I am 
 concerned, it's only a matter of form. I never 
 saw a madman, and would rather perish — 
 especially if it is to be my own brother. Alto- 
 gether too shocking. If it must be, it must. 
 I'll append my signature, and you can take it 
 back." 
 
 " Won't do ; not shipshape," replied the 
 odious Mercury, part of whose mission, it ap- 
 peared, was to make himself as objectionable as 
 
MAPLEDURHAM. 255 
 
 might be. " The gent as signs the order must 
 have seen the one as is to be locked np within 
 seven days afore he signs. It's written there. 
 If he don't, it ain't legal." 
 
 The persistence of this stranger was ex- 
 asperating, and Parson Barnaby, whose temper 
 was never of the sweetest, and who was not 
 accustomed to be thwarted, flew into a towering 
 passion. 
 
 iC It's outrageous. Get out of this !" he 
 stormed. " My own head swims sometimes, 
 and my thoughts wander out of my grasp. 
 When I've had to go to town, I've been ill and 
 muddled for a week, being constitutionally 
 nervous. It's too bad. The sight of a lunatic 
 would fill me with terror, and I don't know 
 when I should get over it. I say it's a cruel 
 shame to drag a harmless gentleman out of 
 his retreat, when all he asks is to be left 
 quiet." 
 
 A few more turns up and down the study, 
 and a second perusal of the cautious and lucid 
 remarks attached to his certificate by the great 
 London doctor, and then, with a prodigious 
 effort, which forced from him a groan, the 
 
25 ti GEHEXXA. 
 
 parson ceased his bluster and submitted to his 
 fate. 
 
 " If I must go I must, I suppose," he grunted, 
 sulkily; and, calling to his parlour-maid, issued 
 the unusual command that a handbag should in- 
 stantly be packed. Then he took the document 
 again and perused it from beginning to end, 
 with an accompaniment of anathemas upon Sir 
 Arthur. While he snarled and grumbled and 
 used bad language, the messenger watched him 
 narrowly, scanning the twitching lips and weak 
 line of jaw, and, recalling what he read on the 
 mask of his goddess, resolved upon another 
 move. If he understood the mission which, as 
 Mrs. Patterson had evasively observed,, required 
 such a vast display of tact, he had gathered 
 that she was not anxious for the presence of 
 Brother Barnaby. What her ultimate object 
 might be he neither knew nor cared. He under- 
 stood, or thought he did, that Barnaby must be 
 urged to come, but that he must refuse to obey 
 the summons. So, like the faithful servitor 
 which it was his pride to be, he shifted his 
 ground, and attacked the parson in flank. 
 
 " You're right, sir," he remarked, nodding his 
 
MAPLEDURHAM. 257 
 
 head approvingly. " Lunatics are a horrid 
 sight, but this one ain't such a bad un. He's 
 pretty certain to get over it in a few months, 
 so that the darker it's kept the better he'll be 
 pleased by-and-by. They're awkward critters 
 to deal with, though/' he continued, as though 
 arguing it out for his own private satisfaction, 
 "for they take you unawares sometimes, I'm 
 told, and pretend to be awful indignant when 
 they regain their liberty for ever having bin 
 locked up at all — bring actions even against 
 their own flesh and blood — their brothers and 
 mothers — for false imprisonment, and mix up 
 unlucky folks in unpleasant lawsuits, who'd 
 much rather have washed their hands of 'em. 
 It's ungrateful — beastly ungrateful, surelie — but 
 then, madmen are madmen, and not responsible. 
 We mustn't lay ourselves out for gratitude." 
 
 The parson, with his eyes fixed on the paper, 
 had kept his ears open, and now, shouting 
 again for the parlour-maid, counter-ordered his 
 previous command. 
 
 The chance thrust had gone home, and 
 quivered in the centre of the clergyman's selfish 
 heart. 
 
 VOL. I. S 
 
258 GEHENNA. 
 
 " You won't want to sleep at the Grove, sir, 
 if we start at once," asserted the messenger, 
 with a nod, displaying no astonishment, in that 
 the parson should have changed his mind. 
 "You can get to Richmond, see the baronet, 
 (in the presence of others, of course, lest he 
 should fly at you), sign your name, and be back 
 in time for dinner ; and, if I might be so bold, 
 sir, I'd recommend you to be quick and dress." 
 
 " You took me aback at first. The sudden- 
 ness of it all — but now I'm settled irrevocably," 
 returned the parson. " I thought it might be a 
 duty to see him, if a damned disagreeable one, 
 and so determined to go through with it at the 
 cost of much annoyance to myself. But I've a 
 duty to myself as well as to others. I've told 
 you plainly, as it seems you are in the confidence 
 of the family at the Grove, my motive for the 
 line of life which I've deemed it needful to 
 adopt. My father was queer in his brain — / 
 know he teas — and I've lived in mortal agony 
 lest 1 should ever go wrong myself. I tell you 
 this as a confidential agent of the family, who 
 will not repeat w r hat I tell him; though if it 
 should become needful to explain my conduct I 
 
MAPLEDURHAM. 250 
 
 shall do so without hesitation. I am very well 
 now, perfectly well, but, as I said before, I feel 
 peculiar when buffeted about in a crowd — and 
 this misfortune of Arthur's fixes me more firmly 
 in my resolve. If he were to get right (and 
 please God he will), and be indignant, as you 
 suggest, which is likely enough, and drag me 
 into a lawsuit, I don't know what would happen 
 to me — or rather I do too well — so I don't in- 
 tend to budge. I am sorry for Arthur, but I 
 can't help it. I wouldn't risk the witness-box 
 for ten thousand pounds. It's James' business, 
 and, knowing what he knew, he should not have 
 gone so far away. If anything happens he'll 
 be to blame, not me. I've no idea of people 
 gallivanting off to Scotland, and neglecting 
 their duties. If they do so they must bear the 
 brunt on their own shoulders," 
 
 This was said in a severely judicial manner, 
 and Carlo was immensely amused, though his 
 countenance was imperturbably solemn. 
 
 et Well, but, sir/' he argued, with well-assum- 
 ed impatience, " what's to happen ? We've 
 telegraphed for Mr. James, but between this and 
 his coming there's not a soul but you to order. 
 
 s2 
 
2 GO GEHENNA. 
 
 What do you wish done 1 The poor gent's non- 
 compos. You see that both the doctors say as 
 he must be put under treatment immediate. 
 Suppose he was to jump out of the window- 
 before Mr. James arrives, or to smash a winder, 
 and make a gash in his throat with the glass % 
 What then? All } 7 ou've got to do — excuse me 
 if I intrude, but this ain't a time for mincing 
 matters — is to take the train now, which ain't 
 much bother, since ye can be back by dinner- 
 time, and see the baronet and sign your name 
 — you can't sign without seeing, there's the rub 
 — and give directions as to where he's to be 
 sent. Your responsibility will only be for a 
 couple of days, at most forty-eight hours. When 
 Mr. James comes he'll take it off your hands." 
 
 " And, later on, both brothers will be had up 
 for conspiracy. Worse and worse." 
 
 "As to that, it's nothing, to my mind. I 
 think nothing of it, and would risk it if I were 
 in your place. The witness-box is rather larks 
 than not. You do your best, and you can't do 
 any more, can you ? You explain to the beak — 
 I mean the magistrate — your motives, and he 
 says, * You are right,' and there's an end of it.'* 
 
MAPLEDURHAM. 261 
 
 iC A scandal between members of a family is 
 a shocking thing — to be avoided at any cost." 
 
 The parson was growing agitated again as 
 he fumed and fretted, and bit his nails and pon- 
 dered. Presently he stopped opposite the 
 messenger of ill, and glared at him with exceed- 
 ing earnestness. 
 
 "I see a way out of the difficulty," he said, 
 as with slow effort be unwound the skein of 
 thought. " You ask me to act as locum temens 
 till the arrival of James, which I decline to 
 do for reasons given. But there is no reason 
 why you should not step into the gap, since 
 you say you are not afraid of the witness- 
 box. I should go out of my mind if cross- 
 examined. You are evidently a person of trust 
 — I know nothing of affairs at the Grove, and 
 I do not wish to — but it is evident that if you 
 are despatched after me by Sir Jessamy, or 
 some one, and know so much about it, you must 
 be a person of trust ! You have seen the pa- 
 tient, and know all the ins and outs of the busi- 
 ness. I haven't, and decline, once for all, to be 
 mixed up in it. The words here on the paper 
 are, I observe, ' Degree of relationship, if any, 
 
2<J2 GEHENNA. 
 
 or other circumstances connected with the pa- 
 tient/ Hence, it isn't a sine qua non that the 
 signer should be a blood relation." 
 
 " Couldn't do it, sir. Though honoured with 
 the confidence and, I may add, respect of those 
 at the Grove, I'm a stranger. That is only in 
 case there should be no relations." 
 
 "It does not say so, nor do I see any cause 
 for such interpretation," retorted the parson, 
 whose selfish cowardice cleared the cobwebs 
 from his intellect. " And, as you've said, it's 
 for a couple of days, no more. What if I 
 beg you to do this, to oblige me? You can say 
 I had an attack of gout." 
 
 " It ain't my business," objected Carlo, uncer- 
 tain whether he was doing right, and wonder- 
 ing what his goddess would desire. "The 
 family comes first. I've given myself no end 
 of worry in doing this much, and Mr. James 
 might think I'd not troubled to come to you 
 at all." 
 
 " No doubt, and very kind and proper of you 
 to display such interest," assented the parson, 
 who, seeing daylight, was growing amiable and 
 persuasive. " What if I write you a note, ask- 
 
MAPLEDURHAM. 203 
 
 ing yon to take my place, since my gout 
 is so bad, and stating besides that there are 
 urgent reasons why I can't consent to see my 
 brother ? This will satisfy James, and clear 
 you from any imputation of pushing yourself 
 unduly forward. The gout is the gout, as those 
 who suffer know right well. From what Sir 
 Jessamy has written here, I have no doubt in 
 my mind that the poor fellow should be attend- 
 ed to at once — nor will James have, of course, 
 nor anybody else in the face of the signature of 
 Sir Jessamy. Ill scribble you a note to show 
 to James, but on the distinct understanding 
 that it goes no farther. When he has seen it 
 you will be good enough to return it to me by 
 post, for I would not have Arthur know that I 
 have been in any way mixed in this affair for 
 any possible consideration." 
 
 Events were taking a curious turn, and the 
 factotum hesitated. How would his mistress 
 desire him to act? How foolish people are not 
 to speak out ! u Trust me all in all or not at 
 all," is one of the wisest of maxims, and the 
 ignoring of it leads to terrible blunders. What 
 should he do? The parson had been finally 
 
264 GEHEXXA. 
 
 induced to refuse to sign the paper. His self- 
 interest roused, and in arms, he could be as 
 obstinate as any mule. It could do no harm to 
 take the note. As a measure of precaution, it 
 might be well to possess such a note. Rapidly 
 reviewing the position, the punctilious factotum 
 agreed to do as the clergyman entreated, and 
 so he departed, after a hearty breakfast, on his 
 way back to Richmond, without Parson Bar- 
 naby, but with a letter indited by his hand. 
 
 • 
 
265 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 ADVICE. 
 
 pARLY in October, James returned from 
 -*-* Scotland, when the blustering winds 
 ■were making havoc of the summer's wealth. 
 They shook the boughs, and bent and tore 
 them, shouting to the ruddy and emerald 
 leaves, "Come! Your time is up. Minister to 
 the pleasure of the human race no longer. 
 Four months of sunshine is more than they de- 
 serve. Off from your stems ! swirl and rot ! 
 Render foul the air, foreshadow their fate. Lav 
 bare your bones." And, tussle as they would, 
 the blast was too much for them. By main 
 force the leaves were rent and scattered, a 
 melancholy allegory ; and as they huddled, 
 chattering in corners, they sighed one to 
 another, " It is well. The lives of these human 
 
266 GEHENNA. 
 
 wretches are never pleasant for long. "We must 
 not deceive them. Summer is brief, and so is 
 hap pin i 
 
 •Dyson Grove resumed its accustomed aspect. 
 The master was absent, but, as for some time 
 past they had not been accustomed to look to 
 him for orders, the servants went about their 
 work as usual, no longer cowering like sheep 
 or whispering as though King Death were there. 
 Mrs. Patterson returned to the cottage so soon 
 as her presence as Sister of Mercy was no 
 longer needed, and Carlo was in the seventh 
 heaven because he had been shrewd enough to 
 read her riddle aright, and she had deigned to 
 tap his cheek with a finger. He was growing 
 accustomed to her strange ways, to her alter- 
 nating fits of petulance, wrath, affability, and 
 imperious hauteur. He no longer trembled and 
 turned red when she condescended to be play- 
 ful as he did when she smote him with her 
 glove; was no longer plunged iuto a sea of 
 misery w T hen she looked through him as though 
 ignoring his existence. These peculiarities 
 were due, he assured himself, to circumstances 
 connected with her early life, of which she 
 
ADVICE. _ '7 
 
 spoke vaguely now and then, sometimes with 
 disgust, sometimes with a regretful sadness, 
 according to her mood. Those early years 
 seemed to have been strangely spent. Putting 
 two and two together, he concluded that she 
 must have led a nomad existence as a girl. 
 There were hints of night orgies, a knowledge 
 of tricks at cards, that jarred with that stately 
 mien, a familiarity with the behaviour of men, 
 when untrammelled by the presence of ladies, 
 which in a well-bred woman was curious. 
 Whether the guardian who was to guide his 
 steps belonged to the black or the white con- 
 tingent mattered not, for the features of the 
 floating one began to recall something seen 
 before. In the glamour of distance they had 
 looked different, but as the deity loomed out of 
 aether, nearer, nearer, he distinguished here and 
 there a trait with which he had been acquainted 
 from childhood, at which he nodded as to an 
 old friend, and in the bewilderment that fol- 
 lowed was quite unable to decide whether to 
 be pleased or the reverse. 
 
 Though it was a subject fur regret to be 
 baulked in a noble aspiration, yet it was 
 
268 GEHENNA. 
 
 satisfaction to know that an attempt to attain 
 it had been made. On the whole, he was re- 
 lieved in that the flickering flame was being 
 driven in the direction of the quagmire. Was 
 he not accustomed to quagmires — as little 
 averse to paddling in mud as those usually are 
 who were born gutter-snipes? It was natural 
 to have longed for a glimpse of what, in his 
 ignorance, he supposed to be the upright, just 
 as it is natural to crave in theory after the un- 
 attainable; but this was not to be. What right 
 had such as he to suppose for a moment that it 
 should ? He had been led astray by beauty, 
 and was relieved, despite a whimsical tinge of 
 disappointment in that the beautiful and bad 
 harmonise quite as well as the beautiful and 
 good, if not better. Not that her factotum 
 presumed as yet deliberately to set down Mrs. 
 Patterson as bad. He was merely led to a 
 conclusion that in her admired person that 
 which he had vaguely worshipped as beyond 
 his reach was not so far removed as it seemed 
 at first ; a discovery fraught with satisfactory 
 emotions, so that there was no wonder if he 
 were gay and jubilant. 
 
ADVICE. 2(30 
 
 The changing conditions of his was so com- 
 plex that they were beyond his unravelling. 
 Under a stratum of profound ignorance, and 
 another of habit, and a third made of the ten- 
 dency to baseness which is inherent in our 
 nature, lay a crystal brook of purity and gener- 
 osity which would come bubbling through the 
 layers, arriving in drops at the top sometimes, 
 but so discoloured by that which it had pene- 
 trated as to be changed and unrecognisable. 
 He was racked at times by aspirations which, 
 coming to him by uneducated instinct, were as 
 far beyond his ken as his control. They dis- 
 turbed his equanimity like galvanic shocks, 
 then passed. At other times he bethought 
 him of the prowess of his gutter days with 
 pride, mingled with self-scorn in that he should 
 have ever been so silly as to be ashamed of 
 them ; panting, as he considered his escapades, 
 to win fresh laurels, to caracole on pastures new 
 and wide ; and then he would grind his teeth 
 with rage for that one act of egregious folly, 
 committed long ago, should have tied him hand 
 and foot. 
 
 That his mistress's commands should turn 
 
270 GEHENNA. 
 
 out to be well within his range was satisfactory. 
 fle bad been prepared for bis own welfare, and 
 to please ber, to learn a new language, pain- 
 fully, with grammar and lexicon. Was it not 
 a subject for gratulation, then, that the tongue 
 she desired him to speak should be so like his 
 native one ? For, when he returned from 
 Mapledurham, she showed herself well satisfied 
 with what he had done, and, though he knew 
 not what her ulterior object might be, he guess- 
 ed that she was anxious to keep Barnaby away 
 from his brother in his trouble, a tactic that, 
 to say the least of it, was of dubious aspect. 
 
 James returned from the north distracted by 
 hopes and fears. He was shocked to find that 
 there was something not displeasing to him in 
 the masterless house, and the deference paid to 
 himself by the household; and by no effort 
 could he banish the insidious reflection that, if a 
 certain damsel had proved less coy, the mansion 
 w r ould, by this time, have been his own to do 
 with as he chose, instead of merely in his occu- 
 pation as a tenant. It was a singular condition 
 of things, to find himself half master here of 
 that which, by no great perversion of ideas, he 
 
ADVICE. 271 
 
 might look upon as his very own by right. If 
 marriages are made above, then the unhappy 
 pair, whose love was so enduring as to have 
 cost the one his reason and brought the other 
 to despair, were surely one flesh in the sight of 
 heaven ; and, if that were so, then Dyson Grove, 
 its pictures, statues, china, and Limoges enamels 
 belonged to James instead of Arthur. Pursu- 
 ing this vein of casuistry, he could feel that he 
 was treated most abominably, and he grieved 
 as well for the stricken one, for actually the 
 house and its agreeable adjuncts belonged to 
 neither, so far as complete enjoyment was con- 
 cerned. He could, for the time being, do any- 
 thing he liked with Dyson Grove, except sell 
 it, and yet he was an interloper. It was as if 
 a burglar had locked the rightful owner of the 
 place up in the coal-hole, and was feasting on 
 precious wines and foie gran above, with a con- 
 sciousness that the prisoner below might escape 
 at any moment and oust him from the delights 
 he had usurped. For, admitting the baronet 
 was really insane — out of his mind for the time 
 being — there was no reason why he should not 
 regain his senses shortly. There was the rub, 
 
272 GEHENNA. 
 
 and it was with genuine pain that the next-of- 
 kin found himself speculating on his brother's 
 misfortune,, wondering if it was likely to be 
 permanent. At last he grew so uncomfortable 
 that it was no longer possible to sit in the 
 solitary drawing-room, for the grisly shadow 
 of a base imagining seemed to lurk in each of 
 the handsome cabinets which Sir Noel had pur- 
 chased on his travels ; and so, dismayed at his 
 own thoughts, he walked over to the neigh- 
 bouring cottage to take counsel with his dearest 
 friend. 
 
 Nothing could have been more picturesque 
 than the appearance of the Creole in her golden- 
 hued peignoir, with the bandages about her 
 head. Even bandages can be becoming, if 
 arranged with coquettish touch, and Mrs. Pat- 
 terson had succeeded in disposing hers like a 
 turban, so that she resembled more than ever 
 Domenichino's Sybil. James was in a peck of 
 troubles and low in his mind, though his health 
 had manifestly improved, so his friend lighted a 
 cigarette for him and another for herself, and, 
 gathering her feet under her, bade him expose 
 his griefs. 
 
ADVICE. 273 
 
 As a woman, it was natural, he condescend- 
 ingly explained, that she should be unable to 
 fathom the ins and outs of the difficulty, -with- 
 out their being brought down to the level of 
 her comprehension. Hence he would put the 
 case plainly before her inexperience. This was 
 kind and considerate, and she thanked him with 
 becoming gravity. He explained that there 
 were the most complicated ins and outs con- 
 nected with this peculiar case. She had de- 
 haved admirably, of course, but the position at 
 present was untenable. Though the patient 
 had the advantage of two brothers, yet he had 
 been consigned to durance under the order of a 
 perfect stranger who, moreover, occupied an 
 anomalous position, almost like that of a 
 menial. 
 
 11 No," she murmured. " A trusted factotum." 
 
 This was curious to begin with. The estate 
 of the patient was worth £30,000 a year, yet it 
 belonged to nobody, but w r as hanging in the 
 air for people to snap at, as we snap at sus- 
 pended fruit when we play at the game of bob- 
 cherry. The only way out of that absurd pre- 
 dicament was to place the patient in Chancery, 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
274 GEHENNA. 
 
 and even then the case would be little im- 
 proved ; for the expense of an inquisition before 
 a jury would be enormous, and the patient 
 himself would be justified in being wroth, 
 should he recover within a month or two, at 
 the riotous squandering of the substance for 
 the fattening of a tribe of lawyers. 
 
 As he dilated on what he called the ins and 
 outs, the Creole puffed her cigarette, and kept 
 her velvet eyes on him — crouched in a heap 
 with chin supported upon hands, and elbows 
 resting upon knees. Having smoked the cigar- 
 ette til) it scorched her ruddy lips, she flung it 
 away, and with it her impassive manner. 
 
 " You are mistaken, James," she said, in her 
 rich contralto. " You see things awry. Let 
 me put them straight for you, although I am 
 only a woman. There is every reason against 
 Sir Arthur Dyson being made a Chancery pa- 
 tient, as rich persons are by way of being. His 
 estate is not in land (except this box of a place 
 — a mere bagatelle) ; hence, even if the Chan- 
 cellor were asked to interfere — which he will 
 not be, since there is nobody but you to ask 
 him — it would be next to impossible for the 
 
ADVICE. 275 
 
 authorities to discover how much he is worth, 
 or how his money is invested. Even if he were 
 a large landed proprietor, the Chancellor would 
 not set his machinery in motion without much 
 pushing, for when a patient is likely to recover 
 it is the interest of the relatives to keep the 
 calamity a secret, and as a temporary measure 
 to manage the property among themselves. 
 This is all very right and proper, so long as 
 the family agree, and the law admits as much. 
 The expenses of an inquisition come out of the 
 estate, and they are always large, hence it is a 
 thing to be avoided. You object that the 
 order has been signed by a stranger. That is 
 so, and it could not be helped, as it happens. 
 I doubt the wisdom of going through the for- 
 malities of a fresh order, simply because things 
 are well as they are. The fact that Sir Jes- 
 samy broke through his well-known rule, and 
 gave a certificate, shows that there is nothing 
 underhand. Besides, the world is so wicked 
 that it might at a push be an advantage to 
 have the signature of one who is entirely dis- 
 interested. My protege, by your brother Bar- 
 naby's written desire, signed the paper, con- 
 
 T 2 
 
27(3 GEHENNA. 
 
 signing Sir Arthur to the asylum. There were 
 no questions asked, nor will there be, for it was 
 all straightforward. The ' menial,' as you call 
 him (he won't be flattered, I think), will do 
 what he is told. He will have to go and see 
 his patient two or three times a year, which 
 you would not care to do, for it is painful to 
 look upon one's brother in such a plight. He 
 will go and see him and report to us, so we 
 shall be kept an courant, and you will be con- 
 tent. Now as to the estate. It must not, of 
 course, remain in the bob-cherry condition. The 
 poor fellow will cost where he is some five or 
 six hundred a year at the outside. He has no 
 children. You are the natural guardian of the 
 property, and if anyone is to reap the advan- 
 tage of this sad catastrophe you are the one 
 to do so. How is that to be done? Easily 
 enough. You will have to get a power of at- 
 torney from Sir Arthur to act for him until 
 such time as he can act for himself. What did 
 you say? Illegal instrument! Fudge! It is 
 often done. I know a case of a gentleman who 
 was an ordinary patient under the lunacy com- 
 missioners, and who for fourteen years was in 
 
ADVICE. 277 
 
 the habit of signing deeds and documents, 
 which were acted on as perfectly valid, though 
 he was incarcerated as a lunatic."' 
 
 The amazement whicli had been gradually 
 stealing over James became at this point so 
 ludicrous that Mrs. Patterson burst into a shout 
 of laughter, and, assuming the airs of a barris- 
 ter, made believe to push up her bandage as if 
 it were a cumbrous wig. 
 
 4i That is my case, my lud," she said, smiting 
 an imaginary brief. " I will refer your ludship 
 to Thomas t?, Thomas, and many another ex- 
 ample. Nothing could be more lucid, I'm sure, 
 than this my exposition. What say you, gen- 
 tlemen of the jury, is it not so? Ought I not 
 be to Attorney-General ?" 
 
 ' ; How in heaven's name do you come to 
 know all this ?" gasped James. 
 
 "But I may add a few words, my lud," she 
 continued, avoiding the demand, or rather 
 drowning it in exuberant high spirits. " The 
 poor gentleman was sent to the nearest place 
 till your ludship should finally decide where he 
 had better live. If your ludship thinks well, he 
 might go to a large private asylum where he 
 
278 GEHENNA. 
 
 will be well attended— have his carriage exer- 
 cise, and bis wines and dainties, and be as happy 
 as his state permits. Or, if your ludship approves, 
 he might be placed as a single patient with a 
 private family ; hardly advisable for many and 
 obvious reasons. Wherever you may choose to 
 place him you may rest assured that he will be 
 thoroughly well looked after, for a body of 
 Argus-eyed and kindly creatures, who are 
 known as Commissioners in Lunacy, go about 
 from asylum to asylum, examining the beds, 
 and seeing that the sheets are clean. I don't 
 think they do much more, but what they at- 
 tempt is picturesquely done, and the keepers of 
 such establishments are quite beyond reproach. 
 Sometimes — supervision is so severe — officers 
 from public asylums are even sent to give 
 opinions about private ones, which is an admir- 
 able safeguard, since more often than not, my 
 lucl, their savings are invested in these places, 
 so of course they are in no wise interested. 
 Your ludship will perceive that it must be so. 
 If, in consequence of showing up an ill- 
 managed asylum it should be swept off the face 
 of the earth, and if their own savings should 
 
ADVICE. 279 
 
 chance to be invested in it, they would not be 
 losers, would they ? And it's a very common 
 case." 
 
 Underlying the Creole's merriment was a cold' 
 bitterness which struck a chill to the breast of 
 James. How on earth did she come to know 
 all this ? Why was she so scornful on the sub- 
 ject of asylum management? By what possible 
 means could she have become aware that certain 
 managers of public asylums play into the hands 
 of the managers of private ones ? How did she 
 know that Commissioners in Lunacy turn their 
 attention to the outside of the sepulchre with- 
 out heeding the uncleanness within ? There 
 was a snake, too, under the flowers of her 
 speech, whose bite caused him to winch. Was 
 she not hinting that, if her counsel were follow- 
 ed, the second-born might enjoy the property 
 while the elder was left in duress ? He became 
 a prey to the same perplexity as had assailed 
 the faithful henchman. She was speaking a 
 vague parable. Was it the base lees of his 
 own heart that were surging thus to the sur- 
 face and filling him with dread and disgust, or 
 was it the temptress who instilled poison into 
 
280 GEHENNA. 
 
 his mind, and made a pretence of its being a 
 spontaneous growth ? 
 
 He scrutinised the olive features as Carlo had 
 done, but, unlike him, who was accustomed to 
 quagmires, he could not see so plainly through 
 the mist. Mrs. Patterson doffed the barrister, 
 and became once more the beautiful sultana — 
 majestic, calm, with the low, soft voice, and 
 feline ways, which had entrapped the affections 
 of James ; and, as he looked, he hated himself 
 with a fierce loathing, in that he should so have 
 wronged her. 
 
 But that idea about the power of attorney 
 was a good one, supposing that it were feasible. 
 What was Thomas v. Thomas 1 Just what had 
 been stated. A certain Mr. Thomas was put 
 away about 1860, and remained a prisoner for 
 fourteen years or more, during which period he 
 was permitted to sign a form of attorney, and 
 other deeds; to annul and alter others; and 
 when he finally escaped, he not unnaturally 
 argued that if he was considered capable of 
 managing his affairs, he certainly was fit to be set 
 free, which somehow (though it seemed simple 
 enough) the Commissioners could never be got to 
 
ADVICE. 281 
 
 confess ; for bad they done so they would have 
 stultified themselves. If so astounding an 
 arrangement was to be winked at in one case, 
 why not in another ? Why not in this one, 
 where the parties were so strangely situated I 
 Arthur was very ill now ; and, as the most acute 
 examples of mania are generally the most 
 curable, he would be free in six months, or, at 
 the outside, a year. If he could be induced 
 voluntarily to transfer the reins of government 
 to the second in command during the interreg- 
 num, it would simplify matters amazingly, and 
 grease the wheels for the time being. Unless 
 some such thing were done, the machine must 
 stop altogether. 
 
 The more he considered it, the more con- 
 vinced did James become that an inquisition 
 would be worse than folly, until the malady 
 should declare its intentions. It would be time 
 enough later on to settle the course to be pur- 
 sued. Should the disease increase in virulence 
 instead of abating, why then perhaps it would 
 be well to apply to the Chancellor — or not ; for 
 it was clear, on second thoughts, that, if Arthur 
 was destined to spend his life in seclusion, it 
 
282 GEHENNA. 
 
 was better that the next heir should enjoy the 
 honours, instead of vegetating on a small allow- 
 ance, with all the cares of management to boot, 
 as would be the case were the estate to be 
 placed in Chancery. Oh ! why was there this 
 question of money, which would rise up and 
 make it all so difficult ! If there had been no 
 fortune, nothing could have been simpler. Why 
 was it not possible to ignore the fortune — for- 
 get all about it — act as if it were at the bottom 
 of the sea ? Can agony of mind be counter- 
 poised by thousands ? Can we say one year of 
 misery is worth £10,000 ; two years of racking 
 is equivalent to £20,000, and so onV Why 
 have we not strength and resolution to close 
 our eyes to the auriferous glitter, and say cold- 
 ly, " We will have none of it " % Every mind 
 seems capable of entertaining so limited a 
 quantity of real happiness during its earthly 
 existence ; happiness which no art can in- 
 crease, which is independent of its surround- 
 ings — that it is surely better to accept things as 
 they come, and let them take their course with- 
 out harrying and torturing our souls. Gratified 
 ambition or poignant calamity discompose our 
 
ADVICE. 283 
 
 waters but by a ripple or two ; they then sub- 
 side to the dead and monotonous level of their 
 pristine equanimity. 
 
 It was all very well for James to theorise 
 thus as his dearest friend sat watching him, but 
 are we not all given to the propounding of 
 theories which we know we could not put into 
 practice ? The same idea crossed the mind of 
 the next of kin, which Carlo had suggested to 
 the parson. What if Arthur, so soon as he 
 were free again, were to prosecute his brother V 
 What if, from the recesses of his prison-house, 
 he were to denounce him, write to all kinds of 
 people, sow slander broadcast, give rise to libels 
 in society journals ! Perhaps the dearest friend 
 could advise on this point, since she was so 
 exceedingly glib and learned. 
 
 " You must take your chance of the prosecu- 
 tiou," she answered, quietly, as she lit another 
 cigarette. "The law is on your side. You 
 will not transgress it. As to his despatch- 
 ing complaints while in the asylum, there 
 need be no fear of that. The statute ordains 
 that no signer of an order may regulate the 
 correspondence of a patient or his visitors. 
 
284 GEHENNA. 
 
 But there is nothing* to prevent the said signer 
 from coming to an understanding on the sub- 
 ject with the doctor in charge. It is an under- 
 stood thing, that the letters written by a patient 
 are enclosed under cover to the signer. Even 
 the commissioners, when applied to, generally 
 communicate with the signer ; and the reason 
 for this is obvious. By sending letters off with- 
 out inquiry, no end of mischief might be un- 
 wittingly done by the ignorant ; for there may 
 be, and not unfrequently there are, family 
 secrets, of which neither the commissioners nor 
 the doctor in charge possess the key. There 
 was the case of one, Marshall, 1 think, who only 
 by a ruse obtained paper to write at all. He 
 was told — when removed to Ticehurst — that he 
 might write to the commissioners, to his wife, 
 and six other persons named ; but that all 
 other letters would be sent to his wife, who for 
 once had her rights, and could treat the crea- 
 ture called a husband like a cupboard or a 
 chest of drawers. And a very nice thing, too 
 — you tyrant ! This was in 1874. She was 
 the signer of the order for his incarceration, and 
 as such was the individual who was really held 
 

 ADVICE. 285 
 
 responsible for the patient, so it was only 
 natural to apply to her in the first instance." 
 
 " Then it will never do to leave the certifi- 
 cate as it is. It places too much power in the 
 hands of a stranger." 
 
 " As you deem right, of course," the Creole 
 replied, with indifference. " Though it seems 
 hardly worth the trouble of a change, until at 
 least we know what to expect. It is such a 
 very temporary arrangement ; the young fellow 
 is mine, body and soul — did I not tell you he was 
 my thousandth lover? I can trust him, and I 
 suppose you can trust me ? All letters which 
 your poor brother may endeavour to send out 
 will be delivered to yon. If we discover any- 
 thing underhand, it will be quite time enough 
 then to make a new arrangement. But it's no 
 concern of mine. Decide for yourself." 
 
 "I believe you were bred a lawyer," exclaim- 
 ed Mr. Dyson, with appreciative raillery. 
 
 But the mood of the Creole had changed. 
 She was tired of the subject, and replied, with 
 an ill-suppressed yawn, 
 
 " Though I'm only a woman ? Portia was 
 learned in the law, a favourite pupil of Belario. 
 
2S6 GEHENNA. 
 
 I've dabbled in it too, just to amuse myself. I 
 could tell you other things if they were not a 
 bore. There is nothing so open to abuse as 
 these ridiculous laws of yours. Do you know 
 that a superintendent may receive a patient 
 upon an imperfect certificate, and be allowed 
 three days wherein to have it completed? But, 
 once in its pigeon-hole and the prisoner gagged, 
 who cares? There was a case like that not so 
 long since. You don't believe it? Only the 
 other day — 1873 — name of victim, Mrs. Petsch- 
 ler, ' who never got the delinquents punished, 
 because she was too poor to pay.' ' 
 
 u Brunhilde, there is some mystery. How is 
 it possible that you " 
 
 "What a worry you are!" said Mrs. Patter- 
 son, with a laugh, and becoming lively all at 
 once. " Don't ask rude questions, sir. Yon are 
 one of those tiresome people who always want 
 to see to the bottom of everything. Xow, we'll 
 go over to the Grove, and have the lamps 
 lighted, and examine the enamels. I dote on 
 enamels." So saying, she threw a shawl over 
 her shoulders, popped his hat on the head of her 
 
ADVICE. 237 
 
 adorer, and, taking his arm, rushed him across 
 the lawn. 
 
 What a woman she was — a perambulating 
 enigma ! Acting on every passing fancy, and 
 certain to have her way. She was right, as she 
 always was, and her dearest friend was worry- 
 ing himself without a cause. It would be best 
 to watch and wait, and be led by the course of 
 events. James convinced himself that the cer- 
 tificate had better be left without alteration for 
 the present, and determined to explain the 
 matter fully to the gentleman who had charge 
 of the patient. For he had no desire, like 
 Parson Barnaby, to shirk his duties — at least, 
 not boldly and without concealment. Of course 
 it was horrid to be involved in such a business, 
 but, being involved, he would go through with 
 it as best he could, doing no more than he was 
 obliged, but keeping well within the bounds of 
 propriety, lest the world should point an ac- 
 cusing finger. 
 
 On the next day after his return, he sum- 
 moued the family solicitor, and with him visited 
 the asylum. The situation was carefully re- 
 
2«8 GEHENNA. 
 
 viewed for the sake of all concerned. The 
 proprietor bowed to the lawyer, groaned and 
 turned up his eyes in respectful sympathy for 
 the relative, and then glanced again over the 
 order, which requested him to take charge of 
 the barouet. Was the patient curable? the 
 lawyer asked, to which the proprietor said, 
 ' ; Oh, dear, yes ! it is merely cerebral excitement 
 due to external causes. With careful manage- 
 ment he may be well in a month or two, or 
 perhaps in three or four. At least, I hope so, 
 though it's impossible to be quite certain." 
 Then the lawyer looked at James, and pro- 
 pounded Mrs. Patterson's scheme. Dividends 
 would have to be signed for, all kinds of things 
 would have to be seen to during the intervening 
 months. It was an unusual course, no doubt, 
 but perhaps the proprietor had known cases 
 where a power of attorney had been given by a 
 lunatic ? Certainly he had — several ; and. 
 though he was exceedingly particular about 
 the proceedings which took place under his 
 roof, yet there were exceptions to all rules, and 
 this was evidently one of them. Property must 
 be looked after by some one, and Chancery is 
 
ADVICE. 289 
 
 an unwieldly engine. He must apologise to 
 Mr. Dyson for mentioning it, but the public are 
 so silly, so ridiculously suspicious, even of 
 men of the most honourable intentions, that — 
 &c, &c. Mr. Dvson did not wish for a new 
 order? Well, it was for him to satisfy himself. 
 If he and the Reverend Barnaby Dyson were 
 equally content with the present signer, there 
 was no cogent reason for procuring a new 
 order. Sir Jessamy Dobbs' signature was so 
 rarely affixed to such papers that it was a 
 guarantee in itself. They would like to see the 
 patient — of course they would. He was calmer, 
 nnd might be got to complete the requisite deed 
 now, if the family lawyer, in whom he had 
 much faith, were carefully to explain to him its 
 purport. If he should chance to be violent and 
 suspicious of his best friends, as so many mad- 
 men are, why, they must return again another 
 day when he might be in a more tractable 
 mood. 
 
 But, as it happened. Sir Arthur was tranquil. 
 The vision of Cloris departing with her head 
 bowed down was flitting before his eyes. He 
 remembered the prostrate figure of Mrs. Patter- 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
290 GEHENNA. 
 
 son with poignant pangs of remorse. Had he 
 indeed slain the kindly lady by accident, or was 
 it the man in the cloak? He listened with a 
 listless clawing of the fingers to the words of 
 the family adviser, and then peered dreamily at 
 James, as though he were standing a long way 
 off. Being exhorted by the legal gentleman 
 who managed his affairs, he took up the pen 
 like an obedient child, and, feeling about like 
 one groping in the dark, scrawled his name, 
 and murmured, as he gazed from one to the 
 other of his visitors : 
 
 " They say I am insane. Perhaps I am. 
 God grant me my reason back or take away 
 my life. I am in your hands. Don't let me 
 sign things which I may deplore when I get 
 better. So that I may be grateful, and not 
 curse you." 
 
 The dulness of his voice, his weary, haggard 
 listlessness, and the absence of the suspicions 
 with regard to his brother, which had for so 
 long haunted his waking moments, filled James 
 with sorrow". 
 
 " Good-bye, Arthur,'' he said, with tears well- 
 ing from his eyes. " Pray God you may soon 
 
ADVICE. 291 
 
 get your reason back. Is there anything you'd 
 wish for or could fancy ?" 
 
 The glimmer of sense which had lighted the 
 dim eyes for a little while was fading visibly. 
 
 ' ; Oh ! my head, my head !" he groaned " take 
 me away from here — take me away ! I hate this 
 dark place and the people. The man in the cloak 
 stands over me at night with something that 
 smells of sulphur. He'll murder me. He will ! 
 as I murdered poor Brunhilde !" 
 
 James and the lawyer drove back to the 
 Grove, both saddened and oppressed. As they 
 neared Richmond, the former broke the silence. 
 
 " Do vou know,'' he said, " that I can't tell 
 when I shall see him again. I haven't the 
 courage. It's heart-rending. That voice will 
 dwell with me for weeks. Barnaby, who's so 
 excitable, did well when he refused to act." 
 
 "It is an awful spectacle," said the lawyer. 
 " Poor fellow ! So generous and thoughtful of 
 others as he always was, when well. I trust 
 the crisis may soon pass." 
 
 " Amen !" returned James. " He seemed to 
 dislike that place — nor is he wrong in that. I 
 thought it damp and dismal. It might do him 
 
 u2 
 
292 GEHENNA. 
 
 good to be removed. What do you think?" 
 " Kindly imagined, Mr. James. Like your 
 good heart!" The family adviser said this with 
 hearty commendation. " There's Corbould 
 House I've heard of as a nice home. I'll make 
 inquiries, if you like." 
 " Do." 
 
 When Mrs. Patterson was told that Sir Arthur 
 was to be moved to Corbould House, she said 
 nothing, but she wondered whither she was 
 drifting. 
 
293 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MISGIVINGS. 
 
 1|ISS GALBRAITH'S secret journey had been 
 -"-*■ a failure from every point of view. Instead 
 of banishing suspense, and learning the worst, 
 as she had nerved herself to do, she had been 
 made more wretched and uncertain than ever, 
 for the little new information of which she had 
 become possessed, was of a harrowing descrip- 
 tion, and inflicted upon her misery unutterable. 
 She had learned that her beloved one was very 
 ill — so ill that none might see him without 
 permission of the doctor — and, to make it worse, 
 the news had been imparted to her by a beauti- 
 ful and gorgeous female whom she had never 
 seen before, or even heard of, and who in some 
 inexplicable manner was in possession both of 
 her lover and his abode. This was in itself 
 
294 GEHENNA. 
 
 sufficient to set fluttering the timid soul of the 
 governess. AVho was this woman, and what 
 was she doing there ? To abandon a man one 
 loves, from high-flown motives, is one thing, 
 to see him in the arms of a rival is another. 
 Who was that too beautiful woman 1 To what 
 extent was the beloved Arthur indisposed ? By 
 what right had she said, ' ; Without the doctor's 
 permission, I could not take the risk upon myself "1 
 This plainly implied that she was nursing the 
 sick baronet, just as her costume suggested the 
 horrid fact that she must be dwelling in the 
 house. How was it that Arthur had never 
 spoken of this ally of his? Who was she, and 
 what was she doing there ? Where had she 
 dropped from? Neither in accent nor appear- 
 ance did she resemble an Englishwoman. 
 
 Miss Galbraith, like many of our simple but 
 worthy compatriots who have never travelled, 
 had suspicions of foreigners. She had a nebu- 
 lous notion, which would have shocked her 
 common sense if it had assumed a definite shape, 
 that they are capable of untold iniquities, that 
 they stand lower in the social scale than the 
 thrice-blessed inhabitants of our " tight little, 
 
MISGIVINGS. 295 
 
 right little island." She -would angrily have 
 repudiated such an idea, but it was there, 
 born of her strait-laced bringing-up, lurking 
 in an innermost cavern. That any foreigner 
 should take possession of Sir Arthur Dyson and 
 Dyson Grove was grievous, but that the in- 
 truder should be beautiful, and also overbear- 
 ing, and given to scorn, was worse. 
 
 Instinct whispered that the handsome stranger 
 whom she had never seen before or heard of, 
 was somehow or other her bitterest foe. The 
 tall lady with the olive cheeks had laid stress on 
 the supposition of Miss Galbraith's engagement 
 to Sir Arthur, and the respect which it entailed 
 for his betrothed ; and Gloria felt that this was 
 done with the intention of discomfiting her by 
 underlining the boldness of her conduct. For 
 it stood to reason that, if the lady was so inti- 
 mate with the invalid as to have assumed the 
 position of head nurse, she must be perfectly 
 aware that the bond between him and the 
 governess was broken. All this came as an 
 afterthought- The bolt was a woman's, forged 
 in a feminine arsenal. The strategy of the foe 
 had been crowned with success. Miss Galbraith 
 
296 GEHENNA. 
 
 had fled from the field, leaving behind both 
 guns and colours. As she considered the ques- 
 tion over and over again, her anxiety became 
 more poignant, her uneasiness more intense. 
 Although discomfited and disarmed in this 
 encounter, she would not admit permanent 
 defeat. Not without another effort, and yet 
 where was she to procure weapons to vanquish 
 such an enemy ? 
 
 Who was the lady, and what was she doing? 
 Again and again did the questions arise with a 
 peremptory demand to be answered. By what 
 means was a reply to be obtained ? Daily and 
 hourly did she ask herself this, racking her 
 pretty head for some means of communication 
 with the Grove, while her pupil marvelled at 
 her dulness. 
 
 But what was to be done ? Leave the affair in 
 its then condition she would not. Desperation 
 impels us to bold deeds of which, in calmer 
 moments, we should be incapable. It was an 
 extraordinary thing for a retiring, well-behaved 
 damsel to do ; but, goaded beyond bearing by 
 a new feeling of jealousy, the modest Miss Gal- 
 braith, who had been the idol of a narrow 7 - 
 
MISGIVINGS. 297 
 
 minded, precise parent in a secluded northern 
 manse, actually opened a clandestine corres- 
 pondence with one young man concerning 
 another. In her heart, she knew Melvil Wiu- 
 throp's secret, and resolved to make him useful, 
 without considering the amount of pain she 
 might thereby inflict on him. Love is selfish 
 as well as blind— has, indeed, such a host of 
 ugly attributes that it is a wonder folks have 
 anything to say to him. She pretended to 
 ignore the doctor's secret, and determined to 
 remember only that he had claimed the right of 
 brotherhood with her. What a convenient 
 fiction. 
 
 " For shame ! Why do you flirt with that 
 gentleman, you audacious baggage ?" asks Mes. 
 Grundy. 
 
 " I'm not flirting," is the demure answer. 
 " It's settled that he's my brother, so I'm only 
 behaving as a good sister ought;" and then 
 Mrs. Grundy (who asks but to be hoodwinked) 
 gives an engaging smile, and expresses entire 
 satisfaction at the arrangement. Melvil Win- 
 throp, faute de mieux, had gone in for brotherly 
 affection, whilst hoping for something better 
 
208 GEHENNA. 
 
 one day, and Cloris, seeing no other method of 
 achieving her end, sat down and opened her 
 heart to him ; but not quite all of it. There 
 was no mention of the stranger in her letter, 
 for she could not bring herself to confess, even 
 to a brother, that she doubted the constancy of 
 her beloved. She had said "Farewell for ever," 
 and it would not raise her in the fraternal 
 esteem if she displayed jealousy about another 
 woman. 
 
 She indited a note, therefore, to Dr. Win- 
 throp, begging him to find out how Sir Arthur 
 was ; to this the dreadful reply arrived in due 
 course that the baronet was suffering from an 
 attack of acute mania, under the influence of 
 w r hich he had nearly murdered somebody. 
 Again she sat down and exposed a portion of 
 her heart. This was too terrible. The writer 
 was ashamed to give so much trouble, but was 
 on the rack till she knew more. Who had 
 charge of the invalid 1 What had become of 
 him 'l The answer was re-assuring, if not suf- 
 ficiently precise. Dr. Winthrop had, of course, 
 not gone to Richmond to inquire; but had 
 heard all about it from another doctor who was 
 
MISGIVINGS. 299 
 
 also interested in lunacy. Sir Arthur Dyson 
 was a very dangerous lunatic indeed, and had 
 been placed under restraint by his brothers, 
 who had taken the best advice. Though pro- 
 foundly distressed, Cloris' fears were quieted. 
 Her correspondent made no mention of the 
 lady. It must be a false alarm. Her presence 
 at the Grove at that particular period was 
 doubtless to be accounted for satisfactorily. 
 His brothers had taken the best advice. This 
 was quite proper, and as it should be, under the 
 deplorable circumstances. 
 
 Cloris again wrote to thank Dr. Winthrop, 
 and to explain that, being of a timid tempera- 
 ment, she had been possessed by suspicions of 
 danger to the patient ; that she could not help 
 looking upon herself as to some extent the 
 innocent cause of his misfortune, and that there- 
 fore it was her bounden duty whilst he was 
 helpless to keep such guard over him as was 
 possible for so weak a champion. She could 
 not forget that the precious invalid was hers 
 once, and would be again, in Heaven, though 
 the machinations of a wicked man had divided 
 her from him on earth. Her painful and 
 
300 GEHENNA. 
 
 singular situation must be her excuse for enter- 
 ing into this correspondence. 
 
 Insane persons are the most to be pitied of 
 all the great band of the unfortunate, for 
 they are prisoners who are dumb, the only 
 ones in the world to whom it is impossible to 
 give any evidence about themselves. Hence 
 she would be glad to know from time to time 
 how the patient was progressing, though it 
 was an understood thing that he and she were 
 to meet no more. 
 
 This letter struck Dr. Winthrop as a curious 
 one for a girl to write ; and it did not tend to 
 raise his spirits. When she informed him that 
 all was over between herself and the baronet, 
 the idea had come into his head that there 
 might now be hope for him. But it was evi- 
 dent that, although she had given Sir Arthur up, 
 she was still deeply attached to him. Yet, 
 what an aggravating state of things it was. 
 What was to happen next? Miss Galbraith 
 had plainly shown that her principles would 
 not allow her to make Sir Arthur happy at the 
 expense of his worldly ruin. Even the disastrous 
 result did not make her regret this resolve. It 
 
MISGIVINGS. 301 
 
 was her duty, so her conscience instructed her, 
 to refuse to drag down her lover to the level of 
 her own poverty. If the result should prove to 
 be loss of reason, that was not her fault. Our 
 fate is in higher hands than our own. All she 
 could do was to watch, and be assured that he 
 was not wronged. But what was to be the 
 end of it? Would Sir Arthur recover? And, 
 if he did, would he still hanker after Cloris, or 
 find another mate and be happy ever after- 
 wards. And what would she do in that event ? 
 This was the all important point. The causes 
 that impelled her to cut the thread were still 
 in full activity and would continue so to be 
 through life. The theory of the second will 
 which had been hinted at was proved to be 
 worthless. Miss Galbraith could not shuffle off 
 her nationality. Do what she would she must 
 remain a Scotchwoman till she should cease to 
 exist, and so long as Sir Arthur existed he was 
 forbidden to espouse a Scot. There was no 
 way of evading the conditions. Given that 
 her chance of becoming Lady Dyson was al- 
 together crushed and annihilated, how was 
 she to shape her life? Would she expect Sir 
 
302 GEHENNA. 
 
 Arthur to die a bachelor, and herself remain a 
 maid % Wear the willow till death — descend to 
 the grave a spinster and a governess till the 
 end — or, forgetting the past, hearken to the 
 pleadings of another? 
 
 Lest life on earth should become quite in- 
 tolerable, it is ordained that human grief should 
 have its limits. How long would hers endure V 
 That is what Dr. Winthrop pined to know, 
 and, as she had commenced the correspondence, 
 he knew better than to let it drop. He laid 
 epistolary snares for her, pretending to protest 
 with disinterested heroism against the sternness 
 of her resolution. Whether is it preferable, he 
 asked, to lose your reason or your purse ? If 
 it were to be done again — if for example Sir 
 Arthur were to grow better, and be threatened 
 with a relapse in consequence of the hopeless- 
 ness of his attachment, would Cloris dare to 
 refuse him, even though by doing so she made 
 of him a pauper? Would not the man whom 
 she had professed to adore, he cogently remark- 
 ed, be happier earning a modest crust (butter- 
 less though it might be) with the partner of his 
 sorrows by his side, and a troop of babies 
 
MISGIVINGS. 303 
 
 clamouring for food, than immured between 
 the walls of a madhouse with maniacs and 
 idiots for his comrades ! Was it not better to 
 be sane and poor, than rich and mad ? Melvil 
 became a diplomatist. He feigned to urge his 
 rival's suit in order to probe her inclinations. 
 He conjured her to reconsider her determination, 
 to consent to be Lady Dyson when opportunity 
 offered. No brother could have lectured a 
 younger sister more calmly. But, like many an 
 astute statesman, he made the mistake of go- 
 ing too far. Miss Galbraith became indignant, 
 vowing that it was cruel to tempt a weak 
 and friendless girl. Please God Arthur would 
 recover and get over the disappointment ; but 
 if this were not the will of Heaven she could 
 not help it. Duties are duties, and they have 
 to be carried through in the faith that what is 
 right is best ; and so she went on, with a 
 string of heroic platitudes. She had done 
 what was right, and hoped that courage would 
 be g'iven her to do it again, if such a contingency 
 were unavoidable. 
 
 Xow, what was the luckless young doctor to 
 gather from this ? Were there hopes for him 
 
304 GEHENNA. 
 
 in the future or not ? Did ambition point to 
 professional fame and the hand of CI oris, or 
 would it be wiser, she being as far from him 
 as ever, to trample once for all on the snake 
 that had been scotched instead of killed, and 
 which he yearned to take into his bosom 'i 
 There was something grotesquely grim about 
 the idea that he was expected to watch over 
 this rival ; to look after the well-being of the 
 man who stood between him and happiness. 
 How could he possibly watch over him — by 
 what right and to what end % It was not, nor 
 ever would be, within his province to take any 
 step concerning him. Sir Arthur Dyson was in 
 the hands of his brothers, honourable gentle- 
 men, who had done all that could be expected 
 of them. And yet he sometimes abandoned 
 himself to day-dreams — idle, bootless castle- 
 building — wondering how he would act were 
 sundry circumstances to arise — -whether he would 
 really have strength of purpose to do his duty 
 in spite of selfish considerations — even in direct 
 opposition to his own interests. Were his 
 principles strong enough for heroism ? Was 
 he capable of that greatest of heroism which 
 
MISGIVINGS. 305 
 
 sacrifices itself id private, with no chance or 
 hope of a reward ! And Cloris, what of her ? 
 Was she likely to be steadfast — likely to resist 
 temptation agaia and again? Or would she, 
 like a castle cleverly bombarded, surrender, if 
 frequently attacked ? One thing, at any rate, 
 was evident. She was not so certain of her- 
 self as calmly to affront temptation. She even 
 declared that, if her brother chose to torture his 
 sister with Tantalian suggestions, the corres- 
 pondence must* be brought to an end. 
 
 Melvil changed his tactics. He wrote lengthy 
 disquisitions on lunacy in the abstract, copied 
 verbatim from " Bucknil and Tuke," described 
 symptoms of cases, choosing those that resulted 
 in recovery. He was determined that, if he 
 could help it, the correspondence should never 
 be dropped. Though absent in the flesh, it 
 was essential that he should keep himself be- 
 fore her eyes ; that she should grow accustom- 
 ed to look upon him as thoroughly dependable 
 and honest. And this plan answered better 
 than the last. For she was but too anxious to 
 learn as much as might be concerning the 
 terrible malady to which the baronet was a 
 
 VOL. I. X 
 
30(5 GEHENNA. 
 
 victim. The letters that passed between the 
 two might have been those of medical students 
 so wrapped up in the study of their art that 
 the world contained nothing more important. 
 
 If he was ill at ease with reference to Cloris, 
 he was still more so with regard to his pro- 
 fession. Young, ardent, earnest, he desired to 
 atone by a career of usefulness for the mistake 
 into which he had been led by inexperience. 
 But he found himself face to face with a hydra. 
 The more he studied the patients under his 
 care at Bethlehem, the more convinced did he 
 become that nothing tangible is known of 
 lunacy. Who shall say who is mad and who is 
 not, since the most outrageous lunatics are 
 adepts at concealing their delusions ? Who 
 shall say where eccentricity ends, and madness 
 begins ? Vainly he tried to trace the disease 
 to its source. The fact became obvious to him 
 that the stories which come with patients are, 
 as a rule, false ; that it is the interest of those 
 who bring the stricken ones to conceal their 
 own negligence by putting the physician off the 
 scent. 
 
 There are so many reasons for reticence. Re- 
 
MISGIVINGS. 307 
 
 latives are conscious of neglect, or — if really 
 affectionate — have put off the evil hour when 
 the clear one must be removed from his home 
 until the last moment. When the patient ar- 
 rives, he is violent, frantic; and it is not possi- 
 ble to learn, either from himself or from those 
 whose lips are closed designedly, either the 
 duration of the malady, its early symptoms, or 
 its cause. How, then, is it to be treated with 
 any certainty of success ? Febrile excitement 
 glides into inflammation of the brain, and that 
 ends in paralysis. If taken in time, the earlier 
 symptoms might be treated before the tissues 
 become inflamed. If this may not be possible 
 — and it seldom is — why, then the inflamma- 
 tion must run its course, watched carefully, 
 like fever for a crisis. If, through want of care, 
 the crisis be allowed to pass unobserved, alas 
 for the hapless victim ! Imbecility supervenes 
 — chronic dementia — the patient is insane for 
 life — or, in cases of extreme rarity, wakes up at 
 last after a nightmare of years, lamed, broken, 
 shattered. 
 
 At Bethlehem, Melvil found that the wheels 
 ran as smoothly as could be hoped, for the pa- 
 
 x 2 
 
308 GEHENNA. 
 
 tients were not too numerous and the staff was 
 sufficient ; but, when he came to study the sys- 
 tem pursued at other madhouses, he became 
 aware of unseemly proceedings, of ghosts that 
 required to be exorcised. He found large 
 county asylums built like palaces, embellished 
 with splendid architectural adornments, rich in 
 ferneries and hot-houses, pictures, pianos, and 
 aquaria. He found there an army of paupers — 
 the poorest and least educated class — unaccus- 
 tomed to such things, unappreciative of them, 
 and unable to become so by reason'of the condi- 
 tions of their life. They were penned like cattle 
 in large droves, sleeping at night in immense 
 dormitories, where quiet never reigned ; herded 
 by day in huge corridors, where hubbub never 
 ceased ; turned out at stated hours into the ex- 
 ercising ground like hounds, regardless of 
 fancies that might come to them — till at last 
 they ceased to have whims, or fancies, or 
 peculiarities, and became wheels in a monster 
 machine, with no volition of their own or de- 
 sire to exercise their will. This was bad 
 enough, but worse remained behind ; for the 
 effect of aviaries and aquaria were more than 
 
MISGIVINGS. 309 
 
 counteracted by the horrid sights that the pa- 
 tients were called upon to contemplate. Xo 
 matter what was their condition, whether they 
 were quiescent, or suffering from recurrent 
 mania, or from a recent crisis of violence, they 
 had to move like herrings in a shoal, so closely 
 packed that escape froin hideous and distract- 
 ing sights and sounds was impossible. 
 
 They never could seek solitude, for it existed 
 not ; they were always en evidence one to the 
 other ; they were forced day after day to listen 
 to the same wearying delusions. Unless a 
 patient was absolutely rabid and dangerous, 
 which seldom occurred, he remained with his 
 battalion, horrifying his neighbours — in whom, 
 perchance, the flame of returning reason began 
 to glimmer — with his bestial language, foul 
 habits, frantic gibbering. The chronic and the 
 convalescent were mingled together, though it 
 is well known that the insane require a 
 standard to win them back to sanity. Too 
 often, as might have been expected, the flicker- 
 ing flame went out again, never to re-awaken, 
 and, wrecked by his unconscious comrade, the 
 patient sank into the condition of hopeless 
 
310 GEHEXXA. 
 
 lunacy, known as asylum made. Melvil, when he 
 surveyed the monster wards with their sparse 
 sprinkling of attendants, their flaunting decora- 
 tions, and groups of puling idiots watering at 
 the mouth, behaving like the most degraded 
 animals, was compelled to come to the conclu- 
 sion that, if any of the stricken ones return 
 again to the world from out this seething mass, 
 it is in spite of the treatment they receive, 
 rather than on account of it. He found that in 
 such vast establishments it is impossible for the 
 physicians in charge to follow individual cases. 
 A man's capacity for work has limits, and, how- 
 ever earnest and anxious he may be, he cannot 
 wade through more than a certain amount. 
 With overwork comes lassitude, and with that 
 carelessness ; and the New Broom, which was 
 desirous of sweeping so very clean, because 
 painfully aware that perfunctoriness character- 
 ised the " system ;" that certain prominent 
 lunatics — the cunning ones — received an undue 
 share of attention, because they were amusing 
 — like a two-headed calf or a pig-faced lady — 
 while the majority (and these the most curable) 
 received no attention whatever, because, con- 
 
MISGIVINGS. 311 
 
 scions of the ban, they moped in corners and 
 concealed the shame that oppressed them by 
 plunging under the common tide. He could 
 not but observe that the heads of establishments, 
 knowing that there was no use in attempting 
 to individualise, left the care of the patients to 
 their subs — excellent young persons, but neces- 
 sarily wanting in experience — only interfering 
 themselves where their attention was specially- 
 directed. He would have liked to cross-examine 
 some of the chiefs, as to how much they knew 
 of individuals — of those retiring ones who 
 shrank from putting themselves forward — but 
 then, he reflected, that little good would come 
 of it, for these gentlemen are adepts at empty 
 metaphysical chatter, and delight in mystifying 
 outsiders by gamboling in the gardens of specu- 
 lation. 
 
 He attended balls and strawberry feasts got 
 up for the patients, and these saturnalia filled 
 him with sorrow. For the patients — such of 
 them as were permitted to appear — only two 
 or three hundred sometimes out of a total of 
 more than a thousand — were shoved away into 
 corners, while the ball-room floor was monopo- 
 
312 GEHENNA. 
 
 lised by the local gentry, and the strawberries 
 were devoured by the ladies. Weighed down 
 by a sense of over-weening humbug, Melvil felt 
 inclined to sit down and give it up — pondering 
 sadly upon the uselessness of everything ; half 
 convinced that it is wisest to eat and drink and 
 do nothing besides but sleep, for to-morrow we 
 surely die and are forgotten — and generally to 
 conduct himself in a despondent and idiotic 
 manner. 
 
 His experiences were distressing to the New 
 Broom, for, being ingenuous and young, he was 
 awed by the gilding on the gingerbread. He 
 felt like the votary of Thespis, who goes for the 
 first time behind the scenes. It was humiliating 
 and conducive to misanthropy to find that the 
 bower of bliss was pasteboard — that the 
 dancer's legs were padded, her cheeks bedaubed 
 with rouge. 
 
 He had heard that private asylums are awful 
 places, where captive princesses are consigned 
 to the deepest dungeon beneath the castle 
 moat ; but he had always been led to believe 
 that the palaces that stare at us with red com- 
 plexions as we blink at them from a window in 
 
misgivinc 313 
 
 the train, are models of all that is excellent ; 
 and (considering the cost of the doll — the money 
 expended upon gew-gaws) was distressed to 
 find that the interior thereof was composed of 
 humble bran. " Lunacy/' he had been taught, 
 " is due to the dethronement of the will." It 
 is then the bounden duty of those who assume 
 the responsibility of treating that fearful 
 scourge, to do all that is possible to put Humpty 
 Dumpty on the wall again. Their task should 
 be to help the patient to clutch at the errant 
 will, which evades his grasp, and to teach him, 
 having caught it, how to keep it. As a child 
 is taught to walk, so should the feeble intellect 
 be placed tenderly on crutches, and instructed 
 how to use them till the bones should be firm 
 again. Instead of this, Melvil could not help 
 perceiving that the tendency of our big asylums 
 is to ignore the principle of free will, which is 
 the crowning glory of God's image. Instead 
 of being taught to lure it back from its flight 
 among the clouds, the patient is instructed to 
 do without it ; he is clothed and nourished, and 
 driven out to exercise, and hounded off to bed 
 at regular times and seasons ; he is in fact re- 
 
31 J: GEHENNA. 
 
 dnced to the condition of an automaton. Why 
 should one strive to regain one's birthright, 
 since responsibility has gone with it ? If liberty 
 has departed so has carldng care, which grinds 
 so many into their graves. The hog of the 
 field is irresponsible and perishes, and after that 
 is pork. The spear- thrusts which wound 
 humanity are naught to him, and his fate is less 
 hard than ours. If we find ourselves reduced 
 to his level so much the better for us, perhaps, 
 since animals that are not ill-used are more 
 fortunate than the common run of men. 
 
 This was the teaching of the English public 
 lunatic asylums, when stripped of their glitter- 
 ing tinsel ; and Melvil was pained to see good 
 and well-meaning persons dazzled by its sheen, 
 jingling their keys in highest glee, delighted to 
 display the picturesqueness of their palaces to 
 him, the casual visitor. He did not venture to 
 argue — it was not his place — but he saw, 
 penned together in close communion, ex-crim- 
 inals, convicts who had done their term, and in- 
 dividuals who had dwindled into pauperdom 
 from better things. He saw the earthen pip- 
 kins of the world who had been shattered bv 
 
MISGIVINGS. 315 
 
 the iron pots ; and cbeek by jowl with them the 
 vilest refuse of society — ignorance and crime 
 and vice, rampant, exaggerated in hideousness, 
 distorted by disease ; and he reflected how the 
 human pipkins must suffer during the moments 
 of temporary respite from the racking of their 
 own delusions. Under such auspices what 
 chance had they of recovery ! He saw a series 
 of luxurious salons, with a charming view be- 
 yond of blossom and shrubs and closely-shaven 
 lawns, with a delicate gentleman in an arm 
 chair, and Mr. William Sykes sprawling in 
 another ; and hard by a gruesome imbecile, 
 with sore eyes and puling lips. This last 
 object could have no lucid moments. He 
 was dribbling, dribbling to the sea towards 
 which the helms of all are turned, without the 
 least chance of divergence from the straight 
 road of Hopelessness. Why then shock an 
 educated but pauperised mono-maniac with the 
 sight of this abject being? Why not, with less 
 pomp and circumstance, if need be, sub-divide 
 and classify the wretched creatures ? Why not 
 keep the puling imbeciles to themselves ; the 
 pots of iron, with homicidal tendencies, to them- 
 
31 G GEHEXXA. 
 
 selves? The refined but unfortunate and blighted 
 pipkins to themselves % But, no, in those asy- 
 lums the lion and the lamb lie down together, 
 and the place is not the garden of Eden. 
 
 From his visits to the county asylums, Melvil 
 always returned to Bethlehem miserable and 
 unhinged ; but he was young, ardent, resolved 
 to persevere, and he began to wonder if the 
 public system was so false, what the private 
 establishments could be. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY DUNCAN MACDONALD, BLENHKIM HOUSE. 
 
UNIVERSfTY OF ILLINOtS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 056547307