LI B R^AFLY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVLR5ITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 8^5 
 
 F2.49f 
 
 v.\
 
 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN
 
 FEEDEKICK HAZZLEDEN 
 
 ^ ^obel 
 
 BY 
 
 HUGH WESTBURY 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I 
 
 Hontion 
 
 MACMILLAX AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YORK 
 1887 
 
 All rights reserved
 
 Printed by R. & R. Clark, Edinbuygh.
 
 82 5 
 
 V. X 
 
 i 
 
 ') 
 
 < 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 TO THE FRIEND WHO TAUGHT ME 
 
 WHOSE COMPANIONSHIP 
 
 HAS BEEN MY PRIVILEGE AND ADVANTAGE, 
 
 E1}is Book 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.
 
 I 
 
 This to a friendship whidi tlie years increased, 
 To it, and out of it ; for well I know, 
 If aught of craft and worth these pages show, 
 
 That it is yours as much as mine at least. 
 
 I am as one who long outstays a feast, 
 
 His guests have gone, the flickering lights burn low, 
 Upon his board the gold and crystal glow, 
 
 But laughter all is hushed, and song has ceased. 
 
 Now through the window of the silent room, 
 
 Across the vacant chairs, steals, cold and gray, 
 The tearful breaking of an autumn day, 
 
 And evening brightness dies in morning gloom. 
 
 The banquet-board is cheerless as a tomb, 
 
 The dust remains, the soul has fled away. 
 
 II 
 
 TVe two. long time, together sailed the seas, 
 
 I at the helm, and you, with hand on chart, 
 Laying our course, perfect in seaman's art, 
 
 To clear each rock, to catch each passing breeze. 
 
 To be your comrade, what could better please ? 
 
 Each striving hand to hand, and heart to heart. 
 Lightening the labour of the other's part, — 
 
 "Who tempts the ocean bids good-bye to ease. 
 
 Xow I alone must shape my course untried. 
 And all the past is but a memory fair ; 
 
 The good I learned of you, my only guide, 
 
 My sails of hope, my harbour from despair. 
 
 If so I float to port upon this tide. 
 
 Thanks to your skill, thanks to your friendly care. 
 
 Hugh Westbury. 
 
 Fehniarij 1887.
 
 CHAPTEK I 
 
 " Do you believe in it, Fred ?" 
 
 "Do you believe in it, Kate ?" 
 
 An impatient pucker gathered between 
 Kate's black brows as she stepped round the 
 tennis net, vainly endeavouring the while to 
 shade her eyes from the setting sun with her 
 racquet. Kate was evidently lost in contem- 
 plation, or she would have discovered that 
 the crossed strings of a tennis racquet make 
 a very ineffectual sunshade. Her opponent 
 was throwing all the energies of his mental 
 and physical nature into the work of keeping 
 three balls in the air together, and, in the 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 distraction caused by Kate's question and his 
 interrogative reply, had allowed one of the 
 balls to drop. 
 
 " Why do you treat me like a child, Fred ? 
 If a man asked your opinion about anything 
 you wouldn't go on throwing those balls about 
 and thinking of nothing in the world." 
 
 The young man dropped the balls at 
 once, thrust his hands into his pockets, and 
 whistled softly. 
 
 "My dear Kate," he said, "don't consume 
 me with those blazing eyes of yours ; believe 
 me, I'm ready to investigate the miracles of 
 your friend, Mr. Arnitte, by the strictest 
 scientific methods." Then, seeing the girl was 
 really annoyed, he added, "But, seriously, 
 what do you think about them yourself?" 
 
 " I think — -well, that I don't know what to 
 think."
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 3 
 
 "A very proper attitude of mind in which 
 to begin an inquiry into the supernatural," he 
 answered w4th assumed gravity. " If every 
 one exercised your wise caution, Kate, half 
 the impostors who fleece mankind would find 
 their occupation gone." 
 
 " Oh ! but I don't say that Mr. Arnitte is 
 an impostor." 
 
 " Certainly not ; blind scepticism is even 
 worse than blind credulity." 
 
 Fred slung his flannel jacket across his 
 shoulder, and added, " Shall we walk down 
 to the bay to look at the Syl^jli ? You can 
 tell me all about it on the way, you know." 
 
 The dark little face, wdth its half-thought- 
 ful, half- angry expression, brightened at 
 once. 
 
 "Oh yes, Fred. We'll go by the 'Apple 
 Walk';" and, evidently pleased to act as
 
 4 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 cicerone, Kate took her cousin s arm and led 
 him across the lawn. 
 
 Before them lay an undulating stretch of 
 cornfields, covering the sides of the ravine, at 
 the head of which stood Lorton House. The 
 wooded grounds of the house, running along 
 the bottom to the beach, divided the fields 
 like a river. From the lawn, down an ir- 
 regular descent of a mile, you looked over a 
 meandering stream of dark foliage winding 
 its way to the shore through the lighter tints 
 of the cornfields, which lost themselves in the 
 sky line at the top of the slopes on either 
 side of the ravine. Beyond, to the west, were 
 the crooked channels and sandy reaches of 
 Lorton Bay, sparkling and glowing beneath 
 the gorgeous rays of a summer sunset. Lor- 
 ton Bay was famous for its sunsets, and this 
 evening there was an unusually fine one.
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 5 
 
 The sun was yet several degrees above the 
 horizon, but had sunk behind a narrow band 
 of cloud which floated in the west. Below 
 it was an amber lake fading away in infinite 
 distance into tender tones of emerald green, — 
 a glimpse of the regions of the blessed, beyond 
 the sea, beyond the falling curtain of cloud, 
 beyond the sun itself, a realm of peace, of 
 grace, of glory, revealed for a few moments 
 to human gaze. Above the cloud-band lay 
 another spectacle. The upper edge had been 
 tossed into a vast chaos, as if by the forces of 
 the passing sun. They had rent a mountain 
 chain, leaving behind ghastly chasms and 
 precipices, and piled-up confusion of rock and 
 ice. Over the scene was a lurid crimson glow, 
 and behind all shot up great beams of golden 
 light, crowTi- shaped, as though nature was 
 stamping upon her handiwork the symbol of
 
 6 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 her strength and sovereignty. The clear 
 heavens above were of deepest blue, to north 
 and south played changing tints of purple, 
 and in the east a low line of hills faded in 
 darkening tones of gray into the evening sky. 
 Kate and Fred stood watching the glorious 
 picture. Presently, like children, laughing 
 "that their eyes were dazzled," they began 
 their pleasant stroll to the shore. At the 
 bottom of the lawn was the "Apple Walk," 
 a narrow path completely enclosed by an arch 
 of ancient apple trees, which the patient hand 
 of some dead and gone gardener had trained 
 when Kate's great-grandfather lived in Lorton 
 House. The "Apple Walk" wound down to 
 the bottom of the ravine, and ended in a 
 mightier arch of elms, called in local speech a 
 "dingle." A low promontory of red sand- 
 stone jutted out from the " dingle " on to the
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 7 
 
 shore, and at the seaward end of it was a 
 rustic seat. 
 
 '' So your magician read the inmost 
 thoughts of your soul," remarked Fred, as his 
 cousin ensconced herself in a corner of the 
 wooden seat, and the speaker found a place 
 at her feet, and began to toss fragments of 
 stone over the end of the little promontory. 
 
 " I don't know what you call my inmost 
 soul ; but he told me to think very much of 
 some one, and then he took my hand and 
 looked into my face for an instant, and whis- 
 pered to me the right name. How could he 
 have told by mere guesswork, out of all the 
 world, the one person of whom I was think- 
 mg? 
 
 Fred turned his head sharply and threw 
 a keen glance at the girl, but her features 
 expressed nothing but quiet puzzledom. He
 
 8 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 failed to trace the faintest sign of self- con- 
 sciousness, and muttering, '^Yery remarkable 
 indeed," returned to his stone-throwing occu- 
 pation. 
 
 *' Of course, you asked him to perform the 
 same wonder for me ?" he carelessly inquired. 
 
 " Oh yes. We were talking of your visit 
 over dinner, and after he had discussed his 
 wonders for half an hour, mamma told him 
 that he must convince you first, for we poor 
 women were under your very severe guar- 
 dianship, even in the matter of metaphysics." 
 
 This time Fred fancied he detected a 
 twinkle of malice under the simple demeanour 
 which this black-eyed young woman of three 
 and twenty had chosen to assume. 
 
 ^ # # # 
 
 Fred's mother and Mrs. Wynnston were 
 sisters. When Fred Hazzleden was only five
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 9 
 
 years old he lost his mother, and then Mrs. 
 Wynnston, already a widow, had gone with 
 her only child to keep house for her brother- 
 in-law. Fred and Kate were inseparable 
 playmates. The girl, three years younger 
 than himself, ruled him with a rod of iron. 
 It wasn't that the boy was particularly 
 chivalrous or romantically attached to the 
 little gipsy. But he was constitutionally 
 indolent and fond of peace, and hardly had 
 he been promoted from petticoats when a 
 will, inflexible as fate, entered into his life. 
 Mrs. Wynnston used to say that when Kate 
 was in the cradle she invariably had her own 
 way. Certainly she was not unfeminine nor 
 unamiable. No one knew better how to be 
 winning and lovable. To look at her you 
 would have said she was a Spaniard with her 
 black eyes, her masses of dusky brown hair,
 
 10 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 her dark complexion, through which you 
 could see a strong tide ebbing and flowing 
 with every impulse which moved her. But 
 with all the quick passion of the South she 
 united the steady determination of Northern 
 temperament. She was a queer mixture of 
 characteristics. Her smile was irresistibly 
 sweet, and her frown, puckering her brow 
 over eyes which reddened with passion, abso- 
 lutely repulsive. She was brave to a degree, 
 helpful to all whom she liked, a bright, inte- 
 resting little personality in the house, and 
 yet withal a cause of perpetual frictions and 
 anxieties. Every one loved her, and every 
 one wondered how anybody could love such 
 a reckless, masterful child. 
 
 The escapades of her childhood had been 
 innumerable, and Fred remembered some of 
 them with rueful amusement. She inveigled
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 11 
 
 him into a hundred juvenile scrapes, and 
 always left him to bear the brunt of them. 
 Once her constant disobedience of her un- 
 fortunate governess came to a serious crisis. 
 She did something which she ought not to 
 have done, or left undone something she 
 ought to have done, and committed one of 
 the unpardonable offences of school life. The 
 long-suffering governess presented a formal 
 ultimatum to the too indulgent mother, and 
 Kate, persistently recalcitrant, was sentenced 
 to twenty-four hours' solitary confinement in 
 her room. Fred, passing beneath her window, 
 saw her beckon, and ignored the signal. But 
 he did not go away. He felt no sympathy 
 with the stubborn child, for he knew that 
 she deserved her punishment. He wanted to 
 go and play cricket, yet lingered disconso- 
 lately about the prison window. Then he
 
 12 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 heard the sash raised, and a soft but imperious 
 voice call, " Come up here." 
 
 Fred knew that he was lost. With his 
 soul full of resentment against the little 
 tyrant he climbed up the roof of a low 
 outhouse beneath the window, and in a 
 moment two soft young arms were round 
 his neck, and the curly black head of the 
 sobbing child was nestling for comfort on his 
 shoulder. Fred was not a hard-hearted lad, 
 but he wanted to go and play cricket, and 
 besides, had a strong and active sense of 
 humour. So he said, in tones of not un- 
 kindly remonstrance, " But you know, Kitty, 
 you ought to have said you were sorry." 
 Whatever Kate should have been, Fred was 
 sorry at once. 
 
 This strange little creature, called to the 
 remembrance of her fancied grievances.
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 13 
 
 dried her eyes, and commanded, '*' Help me 
 out."' 
 
 Fred had not bargained for this adventure, 
 but he was accustomed to give way, not so 
 much from weakness of character as from a 
 strain of philosophy in his disposition which 
 led him to imagine that to swim against the 
 stream was a waste of energy when one could 
 float comfortably along with it. He was as 
 active as a goat, and what Kate lacked in 
 physical strength and nerve she made up in 
 strong determination. She was, in spite of 
 her fixed will, a genuine little woman, wdth a 
 host of feminine weaknesses. She would cry 
 out if a frog jumped up at her feet, and 
 would run away from the mildest -looking 
 mouse that ever peeped timidly from the 
 dark recesses of a hearth. Yet, if any one 
 had induced her to promise such a thing, or
 
 14 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 had disputed her courage to do it, she would 
 have walked across the paddock where her 
 uncle's black bull Rover reigned solitary 
 monarch of all he surveyed, and where the 
 bravest man in the village would not enter 
 without a pitchfork in his hand. 
 
 "Help me out," again came the quiet 
 words of command. 
 
 Fred at once held out his hands, and in 
 an instant the child, lithe and cool-headed as 
 himself, was sliding down the slanting slates. 
 To clamber down an old wooden spout was 
 a trifling feat for the boy ; for Kate it was a 
 more formidable adventure. 
 
 " Help me," again she said, and Fred, by 
 the aid of an old tub, contrived to land her 
 on the ground, all grazed at elbows and 
 knees, and with torn and trembling hands. 
 
 '' What are you going to do ?" he asked.
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 15 
 
 " We'll go away and be married, and 
 never come back any more, Freddy," was the 
 composed reply. 
 
 For once Fred rebelled. He did not want 
 to go away and never come back again ; he 
 wanted to go and play cricket, and had a 
 strong conviction that the situation was ridi- 
 culous. As to getting married he had a still 
 stronger objection ; and the very idea brought 
 to his mind the little golden head and sunny 
 smile of Mary O'Connor, a juvenile playmate 
 of Kate, for whom he nourished, in the secret 
 recesses of his heart, a consuming passion. 
 
 " Oh, we can't go away, Kitty," he pro- 
 tested. '' I couldn't leave ' Nipper,' you 
 know, and besides, we've no money." 
 
 Kate's answer was practical. "Nipper," 
 the companion of Fred's boyish frolics, was 
 asleep in his kennel close by.
 
 16 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 The child ran, caught up the dog, and 
 brous^ht him to Fred's feet. "We'll take 
 poor 'Nipper' with us, and I've ever so 
 much money, and you shall have it all;" 
 and she poured into her cousin's reluctant 
 hands a pocketful of hoarded coppers, inter- 
 spersed with odd sixpences and shillings, the 
 rewards of Kate's very few good and obedient 
 days. 
 
 Fred groaned in spirit. He was twelve 
 years of age, and old for his years. He 
 thoroughly realised the absurdity and incon- 
 venience of two small children, accompanied 
 by one cross-bred dog, and furnished with 
 three shillings and elevenpence, chiefly in 
 coppers, going away to get married. Kate, 
 serenely untroubled by any such considera- 
 tions, was already leading him by the hand 
 out of the yard gate, for they were at the
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 17 
 
 back of the house, and without more ado the 
 pair sauntered down the lane towards the 
 village. Fred was not cheerful. He was 
 dolefully speculating on the result of the 
 cricket match, and at the same time wonder- 
 ing what in the world would become of his 
 obstinate companion and himself when it 
 grew dark. Kate, for her part, was revel- 
 ling in the bright sunshine, and thinking 
 how much nicer it was to be in a pretty 
 country lane on a hot summer afternoon than 
 to be shut up in one's bedroom. 
 
 Still holding Fred's hand she danced along 
 with a kind of shy dignity, noticeable in all 
 her movements. Her mother had taught her 
 some little French ditty, in which ma mie 
 was asserted to be everything, both in ma 
 mort and also in ma vie. This Kate, in her 
 tuneful voice, was humming^ to herself as the 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 pair approached the long village street. Fred 
 already had become an observer of human 
 nature, and one result of his observation 
 was the conviction that sugar is an infallible 
 solvent of feminine determination. He popped 
 into a little shop, the four-feet-square window 
 of which was employed to display a mis- 
 cellaneous stock, varying from finnan haddocks 
 to petroleum, and from lucifer matches to 
 sugar - candy. Drawing upon his store of 
 coppers, he furnished himself with a packet of 
 "acid drops," a packet of "London mixtures," 
 and a stick of chocolate. He was tolerably 
 sure now that they would get home again 
 before very late. On the children strolled, 
 not knowing whither. Now in the open 
 fields, where the warm breeze danced across 
 the corn and frolicked round the whispering 
 branches of the trees. Now between shady
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEX 19 
 
 fern-grown banks, where their feet splashed in 
 the boggy soil, and where ancient, Tsdcked- 
 looking frogs popped their heads out from 
 beneath tufts of marsh grass and tangles of 
 reeds, and, sitting upon their haunches, sur- 
 veyed with an odious leer the little girl who 
 was running away to be married. But pre- 
 sently the sight of Fred, and the intuitive 
 consciousness which frogs have when boys are 
 good shots with a catapult, sent them quaintly 
 grunting into the recesses of the dyke. 
 
 Again, the children's aimless path led them 
 into a fair highway, arched with chestnut 
 trees, between the broad leaves of which the 
 sun's rays glanced and sparkled, casting upon 
 the white road and the rich strips of green 
 turf which skiited it a shimmering fretwork 
 of crolden lio-ht. The lauo-hter of the children 
 resounded along the deep arches of foliage.
 
 20 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 " Burrs," as the natives called them, fallen 
 from the trees, strewed the ground, affording 
 a somewhat light but convenient missile to 
 restless boys, who find tempting marks for a 
 shot in all kinds of terrestrial objects, from 
 tomtits to haystacks. Fred made many an 
 earnest essay to do execution among the 
 hedge-sparrows and linnets which, twittering 
 their tails in the most provokingly imperti- 
 nent manner in the world, hopped on in front 
 of them, apparently little disconcerted by the 
 hail of " burrs " which fell around them. 
 Fred would have rejoiced hugely to hit a 
 sparrow, not that he bore the birds any ill- 
 will, or was inspired by any murderous im- 
 pulses. But Kate was at his side; and if 
 anything ever tended to make a boy try to 
 aim straight, Kate's black eyes and rare smile 
 did. He pictured to himself her unspoken
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 21 
 
 delight at his prowess and her spoken remon- 
 strance, "Cruel boy!" and with renewed 
 energy devoted himself to the utterly im- 
 possible task of slaughtering a bird with a 
 chestnut " burr." 
 
 At last the road, after a sharp descent, 
 brought them to a spot some three miles 
 from the village, famous through the whole 
 midland district. The " Hano^inoj Eocks " 
 were the northernmost spurs of a chain of bold 
 hills, running diagonally across the country. 
 A bridle-path, well known to Fred, turned 
 from the highway, and led for ten minutes 
 up a steep climb through a wood of larch and 
 birches. Then suddenly one of the most 
 glorious panoramas in all England burst into 
 view. The " Hanging Eocks " were half a 
 dozen tremendous heaps of granite boulders 
 shot up, as it were, through the verdant slope.
 
 22 FREDEEICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 and towering, gray and bare, in fantastic con- 
 fusion, above the tops of the wood. Behind 
 the stone heaps the path zigzagged twice or 
 thrice, then came a final scramble over a big 
 smooth block, and you found yourself stand- 
 ing on the summit of the " Hanging Eocks," 
 looking out over the undulating vista of the 
 shires. Just below, like a gem, in a rich 
 setting of foliage, was a tiny lake, on the 
 banks of which stood a quaint old manor 
 house, where in the days of Elizabeth a 
 famous poet had made his home, and where 
 the bearers of his name still live. Away 
 beyond, a running glint of gold, interwoven 
 into the scene, as patient Eastern potters lead 
 a glistening thread through the strange 
 medley of their decorative work, showed 
 where a river ran. In the cornfields the 
 greens had lost their brightness under the
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 23 
 
 summer sun, and a painter would have looked 
 for his " Naples yellow " to reproduce some 
 of the distant tones. Far off for thirty miles, 
 to right, to left, and in front, the rolling 
 panorama spread : farmsteads and baronial 
 halls, pheasant woods and noble park timber, 
 patches of moorland, vast stretches of corn- 
 land, broken by the dark line of hedges ; 
 white thirsty roads, mnding away to the 
 vanishing point ; and over all, like a blessing 
 of God, lay the mellow glow of evening, and 
 up through the stillness, with a whisper of 
 peace, came the gentle breeze and a distant 
 music of the singing of birds. 
 
 Kate and Fred ensconced themselves in 
 the shade of a big block at the very top of 
 the ''Hanging Eocks," she seated in a com- 
 fortable nook, he sprawling at her feet. 
 Children as they were, each in a different
 
 24 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 way was susceptible to the influences of 
 lovely scenery. The lad, on such a day and 
 in such a landscape, would experience a sense 
 of almost sadness which, without understand- 
 ing it, he enjoyed. There was a strain of 
 poetry — sentimentality, if you will — in Fred's 
 nature, thinly disguised by his youthful in- 
 souciant philosophy. Throughout his life a 
 very bright day always made him pensive, 
 and a beautiful landscape filled him with 
 vague dreams, in which he delighted more 
 than in the natural beauties themselves. 
 
 Kate, on the other hand, had a very keen 
 sense of colour. A bright flower or bird 
 would cause her to cry out with a strange 
 sort of physical pleasure. Intellectual delight 
 in a lovely landscape she had none, but she 
 would sit with dilated eyes drinking in 
 draughts of rich colour, and experiencing
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 25 
 
 much the same sort of satisfaction that a 
 gourmand feels in a very choice dinner. 
 
 Now both were looking out over the 
 rich midland country, and enjoying the scene 
 in their different fashions. But Fred was 
 unusually preoccupied. Mingled with his 
 day-dreams was the pressing practical con- 
 sideration where they were to go next. 
 
 He was the first to speak. " Have an acid 
 drop, Kitty," he said. Kate plunged her 
 brown fingers into the packet and extracted 
 a couple. Anxiously Fred watched her con- 
 sume them, as happy and unconcerned as 
 " Nipper," who lay close by sound asleep in 
 the sunshine. He groaned very quietly to 
 himself and then said, " Have another." 
 Kate took two more. Fred helped himself, 
 and munched and meditated on the situation. 
 
 Presently, when the sugar-plums had had
 
 26 FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 time to exercise their soothing influence, 
 Fred inquired, " Where are we going when 
 it gets dark?" 
 
 " I don't know," was the tranquil reply. 
 
 "Then we'll go home again. It will be 
 late before we get there, and aunt will be so 
 glad to see you again that she won't say 
 anything about what you did this morning." 
 The bait took. 
 
 Kate pondered awhile, and then returned, 
 "Mother said I was a bad, obstinate girl. 
 Will she be glad to see me back ? " 
 
 "Oh yes," returned Fred, "she'll be glad, 
 and I'll be very glad to take you back, and 
 * Nipper ' wants to go too," he added, as the 
 dog frolicked backwards and forwards about 
 the rocks, calling his master with perky little 
 barks. 
 
 " Then you don't want to go away and be
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 27 
 
 married?" The clouds gathered upon Kate's 
 features as she spoke. 
 
 Fred laughed a bright laugh and said, 
 " Silly girl ! people can't get married till 
 they're grown up. When we are perhaps we 
 shall get married." 
 
 One of those vibrations of tenderness 
 which sometimes made her influence irre- 
 sistible stirred Kate's nature. "Freddy," she 
 said, leaning forward, her voice low and 
 earnest, ''Mamma was crying the other day, 
 and I asked her what for. She told me 
 because she had found an old letter from 
 papa. But I didn't know what made her 
 cry; and she said that years ago, when I 
 was a baby, papa died, and now she had no 
 one to help her and be good to her, and that 
 made her sorry. She said papa was very 
 strong and brave, and wouldn't let anything
 
 28 FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 hurt her or trouble her; that he loved her 
 and made her life happy. Freddy, I'm not 
 very happy, and I want some one to love me, 
 and to be brave and help me when I get into 
 trouble, and there's nobody so good to me as 
 you, dear, and that's why I wanted you to 
 come away and get married." The child's 
 voice ended in a sob, and her head drooped in 
 a burst of tears. 
 
 Fred's eyes were moistened, and, getting 
 up, he kissed her and soothed her with awk- 
 ward boyish caresses, vowing to her that he 
 would love her all his life and marry her 
 whenever she liked. Kate was docile enough 
 now, and the pair walked home hand-in-hand 
 to find a state of domestic confusion which 
 Fred had shrewdly foreseen. Mrs. Wynnston 
 had gone into hysterics when Kate's disap- 
 pearance was discovered and the fall of
 
 I FREDERICK Hi^ZZLEDEN 29 
 
 evening brought no sign of the fugitives. 
 The incidents of their return were no sur- 
 prise to Fred. Mrs. Wynnston seized her 
 daughter with foolish delight and over- 
 whelmed her with kisses and reproaches, all 
 of which demonstrations Kate bore with 
 perfect equanimity. Fred's father, on the 
 other hand, spluttering with hasty temper, 
 ordered him off to bed without any supper, 
 and threatened certain unpleasant conse- 
 quences if he appeared again at the family 
 table for a week. Fred knew that protest 
 was useless, so he picked up ^^ Nipper," who 
 was slinking at his heels, and made for the 
 door. But, just as he was going out, Kate 
 jumped from her mother's lap, scattering the 
 sweetmeats and cakes which had been pro- 
 duced for her delectation, and, flinging her 
 arms round Fred's neck, kissed him and said.
 
 30 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 ''Never mind, I love you and will make it 
 up to you, Freddy." Fred did mind, though, 
 and when he reached his room employed 
 himself for an hour before going to sleep in 
 feeding " Nipper " with scraps of biscuit, and 
 meditating on the injustice of the world to 
 boys who never did the world any harm and 
 only wanted to be left alone. 
 
 ^ ^ ^ -^ 
 
 "Tr TV' tI? 'TV* 
 
 The majority of men do not perceive the 
 connection between morals and physiography. 
 They wonder why B is so good and his twin 
 brother A so bad, and never take the trouble 
 to notice that A's house is in a valley and 
 faces the south, while B lives on the top of a 
 hill and his windows look north. Let them 
 change residences, and in twelve months A 
 will become the esteemed churchwarden of 
 his parish, a bright brand snatched from the
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 31 
 
 burning, while all the family will deplore B's 
 inexplicable falling away from grace. Depend 
 upon it, the atmosphere has more to do with 
 the conduct of mankind than philosophers 
 and theologians are willing to confess. Why, 
 for example, is St. John's Wood St. John's 
 Wood, and why is Stoke Newington not St. 
 John's Wood. Go to live in the former 
 district, and if you are a thoughtful man you 
 will soon detect a curious relaxing of your 
 moral fibre. Perhaps you have observed all 
 the commandments from your youth up, and 
 have felt no spiritual pride in the knowledge 
 of the fact. Now you will begin to play 
 havoc with the Decalogue. Probably you 
 will break the last commandment first — most 
 men commence at the end and work back- 
 wards. So far you have done nothing more 
 than covet your neighbour's house or your
 
 32 FKEDEKICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 neighbour's wife, and you will feel quite 
 virtuous because you have not infringed the 
 other two injunctions relating to your neigh- 
 bour's belongings. Not only do you slide 
 easily along the ways of vice, but you un- 
 consciously adopt a very paltry standard of 
 virtue. In Stoke Newington you would 
 have been horrified if you had broken one of 
 the commandments ; now in St. John's Wood 
 you regard yourself as a most estimable per- 
 son because you have not broken them all. 
 These two districts serve as illustrations of 
 the atmospheric theory of ethics, but any one 
 may discover similar phenomena elsewhere. 
 The atmosphere of Paris, for instance, is 
 lowering to the moral system. One has 
 heard of dissenting deacons taking a holiday 
 in the French capital. The first few days 
 are spent in the Louvre, Notre Dame, and
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 33 
 
 the Jarclin des Plantes. But before a week 
 has passed away these good men, who have 
 always spoken of the theatre as one of the 
 widest gates of Satan's kingdom, are found 
 surveying the ballet at the Opera House ; 
 and at the end of a fortnight have seen 
 without blushing the can-can at one of the 
 gardens of delight in the Champs filysee. 
 What another week of Paris air might briog 
 about one shudders to contemplate. 
 
 There must have been some influence 
 dangerous to sentimental young men in the 
 warm breeze which diffused itself, rather 
 than blew, across Lorton Bay this eveniug. 
 The waters of the rising tide plashed with 
 a soothing music against the foot of the 
 sandstone promontory. A quarter of a mile 
 away the Sylioh rode at anchor, motionless 
 in the calm summer sea. So great was the 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 34 FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 stillness that the monotonous, soliloquising 
 whistle of the man on deck, who was Fred's 
 captain, mate, and crew, the silent cousins 
 could distinctly hear. 
 
 The light faded into that deep gray tone 
 in which a plain woman looks beautiful, 
 and in which a beautiful woman becomes 
 irresistible. Kate was communing with her- 
 self, and Fred, who had lighted his pipe, was 
 flinging stones into the water. Two or three 
 times he glanced up in her face, and finally, 
 with a big sigh, got up, knocked the ashes 
 out of his pipe, and seated himself by her 
 side. 
 
 "Kitty," he said, with a laugh in which 
 there was a suggestion of embarrassment, 
 " do you remember when we ran away to get 
 married ?" 
 
 Kate started a little, and in the dusk he
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 35 
 
 saw the colour deepen on her cheek. ''Oh 
 yes," she replied, " I can remember many 
 foolish things we did when children. But 
 shall we not go in ? it is a little chilly." 
 
 Fred took her hand in his and continued : 
 "You told me, Kate, then — I recollect as if 
 it was but yesterday — that you were not 
 very happy, and needed some one to be good 
 to you and help you, and that no one was to 
 you what I was. I was a child then, and 
 didn't fully understand what that meant, 
 nor did you in saying it. But I do now. If, 
 dear, you still feel that want in your life, will 
 you let me try to fulfil if? I've no great 
 talents, or station, or wealth to offer you ; 
 but I can give you a strong and faithful 
 love, and I can try to make you as happy as 
 you will make me if you will become my 
 wife. I've always loved you, dear, without
 
 36 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 knowing it. Now I know all. Do you love 
 me, lassie?" 
 
 He believed it tlioroughly. His voice 
 trembled, his band pressed hers convulsively, 
 bis eyes glistened. But it was pure delu- 
 sion. Until balf an bour ago be bad never 
 dreamed of marrying Kate Wynnston, and 
 bad any one suggested it to bim would bave 
 been amazed and even irritated. But tbere 
 was love in tbe air. His beart was full of 
 pleasant recollections of boybood, and in a 
 moment be bad come to tbe conclusion tbat 
 bis sincere affection for bis cousin was true 
 love. 
 
 Notbinoj can deceive a woman wbo loves. 
 She is a most delicate tbermometer, and 
 registers tbe fluctuating temperature of pas- 
 sion witli minutest accuracy. An inflection 
 of tbe voice, tbe turn of a sentence, are indi-
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 37 
 
 cations to her of the growing or lessening 
 tenderness of her lover, which she will detect 
 before he himself is conscious of any change 
 of feeling. Her intuition is marvellous. It 
 may be true that men are deceivers ever; 
 yet women are rarely deceived. They are for- 
 saken and betrayed, because passion weakens, 
 not the judgment, but the will to act upon it. 
 
 Kate was silent for a few moments, and 
 then replied, in the low but clear and firm 
 tones which were habitual with her, ''It 
 may be unwomanly to speak so frankly, but 
 I confess I do love you, Fred, as I always 
 have done, and always shall do." 
 
 Fred recoiled a little at the calm delibera- 
 tion of her words. 
 
 "You know," she went on, ''that my life 
 has not been very happy. I have experi- 
 enced, it is true, nothing which ought to
 
 38 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 make one unhappy. But ever since I was a 
 little child I have craved for a warmer and 
 closer sympathy than those around me could 
 give. My mother is very kind to me, but 
 her ways and her nature are not mine, and it 
 is because you seemed to understand me best 
 that I have loved you so." 
 
 Her voice ended in a sob, and Fred, with a 
 lump rising in his throat, drew her towards 
 him tenderly. 
 
 But she quickly regained her composure, 
 and began again, "Now you will at least 
 believe that what I'm going to say to you is 
 sincere. I know you better than you know 
 yourself. You are, Fm sure, very fond of 
 me. But that is not enough. The dearest 
 wish of your heart is to enter public life, and 
 to win a great name for yourself. Your 
 father is trying to find for you a seat in
 
 I FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 39 
 
 Parliament, and has built all his hopes on 
 your success as a member. Xow, no man 
 can serve loyally two masters, or two mis- 
 tresses either. You, Fred, have chosen 
 Fame, and you must serve her. We're 
 neither of us very rich, and if we married 
 you might be compelled to abandon your 
 ambition. I dare not put your love to such 
 a test." 
 
 Fred interrupted with a vehement protest. 
 
 She quietly stopped him. 'Tm quite 
 sure you would give up your prospects and 
 marry me, but, dear, Fm also sure that you 
 would live to repine. I am a hasty-tempered 
 and jealous woman, and if, as my husband, 
 vou should reo-ret the sacrifice you made for 
 me, we should neither of us be happy. No, 
 Fred; if, by and by, when your position is 
 assured, you find that you've made no
 
 40 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap, i 
 
 mistake, and that you really do love me, I 
 will become your wife, for I shall never 
 marry any one else. But I love you too 
 much to run any risks." 
 
 At that moment Fred was nearer to real 
 love than he had ever been in his life. He 
 drew her to him, and passionately kissed her 
 lips ; nor did she resist. 
 
 Then, with a happy laugh, she disengaged 
 herself and said, " Let us go home ; it's quite 
 dark ; and, after all, I haven't told you about 
 my magician, Mr. Arnitte."
 
 CHAPTEE II 
 
 Mes. Wynxston sat in her low easy -chair 
 before the fire, and awaited the arrival of her 
 guests. She was tall and well proportioned, 
 and possessed what a brilliant novelist has 
 described as a *' presence." Perhaps she was 
 five feet six or seven inches in heisfht, but if 
 you had seen her by the side of a lady with 
 half a head more you would have declared 
 her to be the taller. This was the efi'ect of 
 the "presence." Like most wines, and unlike 
 most women, she had improved with age. She 
 had entirely outgrown an eailj pencha7it for 
 eau de Cologne and fainting fits. An interest
 
 42 FREDEEICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 had come into lier life which, as a wife 
 and a young widow, she lacked, and that 
 interest centred in the ancient, dilapidated, 
 and ill -attended church in which such of 
 the rustic inhabitants as rejected the minis- 
 trations of a Methodist tailor sought the 
 means of grace. 
 
 Ten years ago her father, the owner of Lor- 
 ton House, died, and, leaving no son behind 
 him, bequeathed his modest property to his 
 only surviving daughter. Mrs. Wynnston, 
 leaving the Midland house of her brother-in- 
 law, returned to the Northern home of her 
 birth. Then it was that an opportunity offered 
 itself to her such as a woman rarely neglects, 
 and she ceased to be hysterical and became 
 evangelical. 
 
 The estimable pagan whom Providence and 
 the patron of the living had called to be vicar
 
 11 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 43 
 
 of Lorton was not in the best odour in Lorton 
 society. For one thing, he had quarrelled 
 with his wife— a terrible shrew— and Society 
 always regards a parson who lives apart from 
 his wife as a rather doubtful character. But 
 he might have lived down calumny had he 
 not been the brother of a baronet who owned 
 half the country-side. Now, the grandees of 
 Lorton had plenty of money ; but, alas ! what 
 they had they had made. The vicar of Lorton 
 cherished strong opinions on the subject of 
 wealth. On one occasion he preached upon 
 the difficulty which a rich man is said to ex- 
 perience in entering the Kingdom of Heaven. 
 He began by delicately hinting that, so far as 
 he was concerned, the acceptance of any king- 
 dom outside the realms of terrestrial experience 
 was a matter of professional rather than per- 
 sonal belief. But, for the purposes of the
 
 44 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 moment, premising the existence of a King- 
 dom of Heaven, or, indeed, a celestial govern- 
 ment of any kind, he was fully convinced 
 that rich men would find it hard to secure 
 the approval of that administration, not 
 because of the evil uses to which they put 
 their wealth when they had acquired it, 
 but rather because of the contemptible tricks 
 they resorted to to make it. Hence, people 
 of birth, who enjoyed the advantages con- 
 ferred upon their ancestors, male and female, 
 by grateful monarchs for services rendered, 
 might possess their riches with untroubled 
 spirits, assured that they would find their 
 way into Abraham's bosom with as little 
 difficulty as the raggedest Lazarus ever 
 transferred to the paternal care of the 
 patient and somewhat to be pitied patriarch. 
 Incidentally the reverend gentleman re-
 
 II FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 45 
 
 marked that Dives was probably a Phoenician 
 shipowner, a Samarian wine-grower, a Jewish 
 lawyer in large practice, or perhaps a Gentile 
 tax-collector. The one thing certain was 
 that he was not a member of an old family, 
 or he never would have found himself on the 
 wrong side of the g-ulf. 
 
 The vicar's theology was perhaps question- 
 able, but his astronomy was perfect. The 
 injunction to search the Scriptures he com- 
 placently ignored ; but then every fine night 
 he searched the heavens through a six-inch 
 refractor. Nothing in the universe touched 
 his imagination and kindled his enthusiasm 
 like the study of the heavenly bodies. It is 
 reported that one Sunday morning he coolly 
 announced, after publishing the banns of 
 marriage between two of his parishioners, 
 "There will be an eclipse of the moon this
 
 46 FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 evening, and therefore no service will be held 
 to-night in this church, in order that the 
 congregation may have an opportunity of 
 witnessing a very interesting natural pheno- 
 menon." Neither his want of reverence nor 
 his ill-disguised scepticism, however, offended 
 his congregation. They, good people, would 
 listen with a delightful shiver of apprehen- 
 sion, an exquisite presentiment of spiritual 
 danger, to a plain intimation from the pulpit 
 that the book of Genesis w^as all nonsense, 
 that Adam and Eve were the rather weak 
 and somewhat improper creatures of barbar- 
 ous imagination, that Eden was about as real 
 as El Dorado, and Moses himself probably 
 nothing but a sun-myth. These things did 
 not distress the people of Lorton, who felt, 
 perhaps, that in the final arbitration any 
 little shortcomings of their own might be
 
 II FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 47 
 
 successfully attributed to the evil example 
 and pernicious doctrines of their pastor. 
 What finally drove them away was the 
 reverend gentleman's intellectual pride. So 
 long as he contented himself with contradict- 
 ing the apostles and ridiculing the prophets 
 they pitied and forgave him. But they 
 could not pardon or forget his insolence to 
 themselves. He would insist on preaching 
 science to them instead of the gospel. When 
 they failed to comprehend him they were 
 secretly humiliated, and when, after labori- 
 ously explaining some rudimentary proposi- 
 tion, he would lean forward and remark, with 
 his sweetest smile, " Even you can under- 
 stand that," they felt openly insulted. Pro- 
 vidence, they plaintively declared, had not 
 bestowed upon every one the advantages 
 of a university education, and to sneer at a
 
 48 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 man because tie could not sum x + 1 to the 
 n*^, or had never heard of Kepler's law, was 
 like casting an imputation upon the wisdom 
 and benevolence of Heaven. One by one 
 they dropped oflf, most of them transfer- 
 ring their patronage to a church three miles 
 away, where the doctrine was more orthodox 
 and the parson more polite. The squire was 
 the first to go. He was not the real squire — 
 only a poor makeshift, a retired banker, who 
 rented the hall from its absentee proprietor, 
 and who had fondly hoped to take on hire 
 also the privileges and authority of a county 
 magnate. He was a disagreeable, purse- 
 proud person, and the vicar cordially detested 
 him. One Saturday they came to high words 
 on the subject of scientific rose -growing — a 
 matter on which the squire claimed to be an 
 authority, because he kept three gardeners.
 
 II FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 49 
 
 Next clay the vicar preached an edifying dis- 
 course on the ejection of the money-changers 
 from the temple, drawing the lesson that if 
 the Church acted in the spirit of her Divine 
 Master she would exclude from her com- 
 munion all who lived on usury and derived 
 a dishonourable income from compound in- 
 terest. The squire was never more seen 
 within the doors of Lorton Church, but, with 
 a fine sense of irony, he insisted that his 
 prominent square pew should be occupied at 
 every service by his kitchenmaids and other 
 under- servants. 
 
 When Mrs. W}mnston went to live at 
 Lorton the congregation consisted of a few 
 villagers and the servants of the departed 
 pew-owners. Mrs. Wynnston saw her oppor- 
 tunity. Like Caesar, who preferred to be 
 
 first in a petty hamlet rather than second in 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 Eome, she chose to rule in Lorton Church 
 rather than serve in a more popular and 
 important place of worship. She at once 
 assumed the position and the dignity of a 
 lady -patroness, and the first person she 
 patronised was the vicar. Of the true 
 beauty of holiness Mrs. Wynnston had 
 nothing, but she was a great stickler for 
 propriety. The vicar's surplice was decidedly 
 a,ntique. Many washings had imparted to it 
 a subtle tone, in which gray, yellow, and 
 brown seemed struggling for the mastery. 
 Mrs. Wynnston suggested that a new one 
 would be an improvement. The vicar 
 blandly acquiesced, but appeared as before 
 in his venerable garment. Mrs. Wynnston 
 wrote to London for a surplice built on the 
 latest and most approved lines, and sent it 
 and the bill to the reverend gentleman. The
 
 II FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 51 
 
 vicar wore the one and paid the other, and 
 from that moment was the bondslave of Mrs. 
 Wynnston. He rather enjoyed his captivity. 
 It amused him. For the interests of his 
 church he himself cared little, and to be 
 driven into manifestations of consuming zeal 
 by a woman whose ecclesiastical enthusiasm 
 was only a hobby seemed to him charmingly 
 comical. In one way Mrs. Wynnstons 
 patronage was very congenial to him. To 
 her he tacitly consigned the spiritual and 
 temporal charge of the parish. While he, in 
 all contentment, shut himself up among his 
 roses and his telescopes, she gave alms to 
 the poor, visited the sick, sought out the 
 wandering, and, but for an absurd canonical 
 prejudice against women, would have taken 
 the chair at the vestry meetings. The vicar, 
 indeed, had once, with the gravest of faces, 
 
 n^^
 
 52 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 hinted that a special episcopal dispensation 
 might open to her ambition the honourable 
 office of churchwarden. But nothing came 
 of the idea. She was successful in most of 
 her aims. The village lads touched their 
 caps to her, and the village girls dropped 
 curtseys. She disposed of the charitable 
 funds of the church, chose the hymns and 
 tunes on Sundays, frequently suggested the 
 texts, and might, with the vicar's great 
 goodwill, have preached on them too, if the 
 law had only permitted it. In one thing, 
 however, she completely failed. Her efforts 
 to brinor about a reconciliation between the 
 vicar and the righteously -offended magnates 
 of Lorton only involved her in the reve- 
 rend gentleman's unpojDularity, and the circle 
 which frequented her drawing-room was con- 
 sequently limited in number.
 
 n FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 53 
 
 The vicar was the first to arrive, and he 
 and Mrs. Wynnston at once plunged into 
 an edifying conversation upon the effeminate 
 affectations of the modern clergy. 
 
 "Now, you remember," said the reverend 
 gentleman, " the young fellow who came over 
 from Longdale to preach for me the Sunday 
 before last. He's six feet high, was stroke 
 in his college boat two years ago, and 
 thrashed every boxing -man at Oxford. 
 When he arrived on Saturday night he sat 
 up with me smoking his pipe and drinking 
 whisky until midnight, and would persist in 
 talking athletics — a subject which I detest. 
 When he went away on Monday morning 
 I am certain he ' chucked ' my housemaid, 
 Mary, under the chin, and indeed I suspect 
 that along with half-a-crown he gave her a 
 kiss."
 
 54 FREDEEICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 Mrs. Wynnston looked appropriately 
 shocked. 
 
 "Yet," continued the vicar, "you saw 
 and heard the young donkey at morning 
 service. As soon as he was in his surplice 
 he put on a sweet and languishing smile, 
 just as a prima donna screws her face into 
 amiable contortions as she runs on the stao^e 
 to sing, and in a voice which seemed to 
 come down his nose from the crown of his 
 head he began his idiotic whining in the 
 vestry." 
 
 The vicar's pale face flushed with angry 
 contempt. 
 
 "And then," he went on, "what an 
 absurd performance he made of the lessons ! 
 Why in the world it should be more respect- 
 ful, or more acceptable to Providence, to 
 sound the ' ed ' to every past tense and parti-
 
 II FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 55 
 
 ciple in the Bible I never could understand. 
 I could scarcely contain myself as he read, or 
 rather snivelled, ' And he talk-ed with the 
 woman, and she pleas-ed Samson well. And 
 after a while he return-ed to take her, and 
 he turn-ed aside to see the carcase of the 
 lion.' Such affectations, both of tone, pro- 
 nunciation, and demeanour, are peculiar to 
 the English clergy. As far as my experience 
 goes, you never find them among dissenting 
 ministers, or Romish priests whom many of 
 our young parsons attempt to ape. There is 
 too much spiritual earnestness among the 
 former, and too much historic dignity among 
 the latter, to permit of such absurd dis- 
 plays." 
 
 Kate and Fred chatted at the other side 
 of the room, undisturbed by the vicar's 
 vehement denunciations — she, radiant and
 
 56 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 happy, casting away, as only a woman can, 
 all her instinctive forebodings ; he, flattered 
 and contented by the undisguised alFection 
 and admiration of a handsome and attractive 
 young woman. 
 
 "By the way," she said, "we have a 
 surprise for you. You recollect our old 
 playmate, Mary O'Connor? You should do, 
 for she was your little sweetheart." 
 
 Fred ventured to make a mild denial. 
 
 " Nonsense ; any one who saw how red and 
 stupid you became whenever she was near 
 could have told it. Well, she and her 
 brother, whom we never knew, are staying 
 for the summer at a farmhouse near the vil- 
 lage. They called on mamma, and she 
 asked them to dine with us to-night. 
 Now, I wonder whether you'll blush and 
 stammer when Mary comes in, as you used
 
 II FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 57 
 
 to do." Kate laughed, but Fred thought he 
 detected a trace of anxiety in her features. 
 
 "You're the only person now," he whis- 
 pered, " before whom I shall blush and 
 stammer." 
 
 "Humph," was the reply, "I haven't seen 
 much modest agitation about you so far. But 
 perhaps you'll improve. Who knows ?" 
 
 The arrival of the guests interrupted the 
 tete-a-tete, and when Mr. and Miss O'Connor 
 were announced Fred, under the mischievous 
 eye of Kate, conducted himself with becoming 
 composure. As for Mary O'Connor, no ordi- 
 nary event of life could have rujffled her serene 
 tranquillity. She had grown into an extra- 
 ordinarily beautiful woman. Her face and 
 figure were those of a Greek statue of the 
 best period. As she stood for an instant 
 talking with his aunt Fred's memory flashed
 
 58 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 to a long corridor of the Louvre, and he 
 remembered how, one gray afternoon, he 
 found himself for the first time looking down 
 a vista of noble figures at the divine loveli- 
 ness of the Venus of Milo. An intense side 
 light and a dark background threw the statue 
 which faced him into strong relief. He walked 
 with hesitating steps towards it, fearing lest 
 a closer approach should dissipate the sense 
 of pure and perfect proportion which filled 
 him. He had never before experienced that 
 feeling of almost religious awe and exaltation 
 which perfection of form sometimes excites in 
 natures susceptible of artistic emotion. He 
 recollected how, after a long and reverent 
 survey of the Venus, the rest of the statues 
 seemed to him so clumsy and unattractive 
 that he speedily left the building. Now 
 he underwent a similar mental experience.
 
 n FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 59 
 
 His eye fell upon Kate, and he suddenly 
 became aware that her fissure was somewhat 
 *' dumpy." 
 
 The last arrival was Mr. Arnitte, and Fred, 
 whose left - hand neighbour he was at the 
 dinner- table, furtively studied the man of 
 mystery who had astonished his ingenuous 
 cousin. He was a slender man, of middle 
 height, with long limbs, loose joints, and a 
 certain awkwardness, both of action and 
 repose. His head and face proclaimed him 
 to be a man of no ordinary character. His 
 features were of a slightly Semitic cast. His 
 skin was extremely dark and sallow, but 
 clear. His wavy hair, worn rather long, had 
 the blue-black sheen of a raven's wing. His 
 forehead was remarkably high and broad, 
 with strongly-marked veins, and a portentous 
 knit between the brows. His nose was very
 
 60 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 large and prominent, its shape suggesting 
 aggressiveness, and its dilating nostrils pas- 
 sion. His constant expression was that 
 of carefully -prepared inscrutability, through 
 which a watchful self - consciousness showed. 
 He was evidently either an artificial man, or 
 a man playing an artificial part. His face 
 and figure reminded Fred of a well-known 
 English statesman, and Fred fancied, from a 
 curious curl which he wore, and from his 
 tricks of face, manner, and voice, that he was 
 conscious of, and cultivated, the resemblance. 
 His voice was as peculiar as his appearance. 
 It was rasping and unmusical, but extremely 
 expressive. Though not loud, it dominated 
 all conversation, and when Mr. Arnitte spoke 
 every one else stopped talking and began to 
 listen. He was a well-informed man, who 
 appeared to have been everywhere and known
 
 II FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 61 
 
 everybody. His conversation was briglit and 
 easy, and made piquant by an artistic dash 
 of cynicism. What he said was rarely bril- 
 liant, but always so said as to seem brilliant. 
 Mrs. AVynnston, with the instinct of a hostess, 
 made a mental memorandum that Mr. Arnitte 
 was a man who earned his dinner. Down 
 the table he exchanged amusing banter with 
 the vicar, while Fred, watching, mechanically 
 noted that he had a large, dark, powerful 
 hand, with fingers of great length, gnarled 
 knuckles, and well - shaped filbert nails. 
 There was something remorseless and un- 
 canny about that hand, and it filled Fred with 
 an uneasy sense that he had somewhere heard 
 or read about one like it. 
 
 There was a pause in the conversation, and 
 Arnitte's eye glanced for an instant, with an 
 amused twinkle, on Fred. He immediately
 
 62 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 bent forward and said " Wordsworth's line in 
 Coleridge's Ancient Mariner, ' Long and lank, 
 and brown, as is the ribbed sea sand.' " Then, 
 without noticing Fred's start of astonishment, 
 he went on : " Do you know that line is a 
 puzzle to me ? How ought one to punctuate 
 it ? Should it be ' Long, — and lank, — and 
 brown, — as is the ribbed sea sand,' or ' Long 
 and lank, — and brown as is the ribbed sea 
 sand ? ' The latter reading makes the simile 
 more strictly appropriate, yet, I think, some- 
 how it weakens it." 
 
 Before he ceased Fred broke in, " Really, 
 I don't know which is the better. But do 
 you mind telling me how you managed to 
 conjecture that I was searching about my 
 memory for that line ? " 
 
 Arnitte laughed. "If I were going to 
 found a religion, or intended to appear as a
 
 II FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 63 
 
 public performer, I should say without hesi- 
 tation that I had read your thoughts. As I 
 have no such intentions, I don't mind con- 
 fessing that I'm as much in the dark as 
 yourself." 
 
 The vicar was heard dilating to Mrs. 
 W5mnston upon the curiosities of coincidence 
 and the mathematical principles of the rule 
 of '' Probabilities." 
 
 Arnitte interrupted. " Perhaps you're 
 right. Perhaps it was a curious coincidence. 
 Yet I know what you're thinking at the 
 present moment. The word ' charlatan ' is in 
 your mind now." 
 
 The quick flush which sprang to the vicar's 
 fresh face was a plain confession that Arnitte 
 had again hit the mark. But the reverend 
 gentleman looked frankly up the table and 
 replied, " Believe me, though the word may
 
 64 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 have passed through my mind, my judgment 
 never applied it." 
 
 Arnitte courteously bowed. 
 
 "And if," continued the vicar, "I said 
 ' curious coincidence ' before, I am now 
 tempted to say, ' clever conjecture.' " 
 
 " Well," was the reply, " I hardly know 
 myself. Did you ever read Edgar Poe's weird 
 story of the two friends who were walking 
 along the streets of Paris when one broke a 
 long pause by answering a question which 
 the other was mentally asking ? The mind- 
 reader afterwards explained the process by 
 which he had follow^ed the thoughts of his 
 friend, and traced each step by which his 
 delicate powers of observation and quick 
 associations of ideas had produced the sur- 
 prising result. Yet, I don't know that the 
 explanation is quite satisfying. Now, I cer-
 
 II FREDERICK HAZZLEDEX 65 
 
 tainlv saw that Mr. Hazzleden was looking 
 at my hand, and in some way I felt assured, 
 from the expression of inquiry on his face, 
 that he was trvins: to recollect Wordsworth's 
 line, which I must say is applicable," and he 
 laughingly held up his hand. 
 
 '•'Yet," he continued, ''I cannot trace, as 
 Poe does, the complete process which revealed 
 to me Mr. Hazzleden's thougrhts." 
 
 The vicar quoted Hume on the antecedent 
 improbability of miracles, asserting, with evi- 
 dent relish, that it was more prudent to 
 believe in the error or dishonesty of any 
 person or number of persons than in the 
 possession by any one of powers pronounced 
 by the general experience of men to be suj^er- 
 natural. " Of course," he went on, '' the 
 theory doesn't quite meet your difficulty, 
 for you have fallen into no error, and made 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 no unjustifiable claim. But, if you read every 
 secret thought of every person here to-night, 
 I should marvel at the wonders of coincidence 
 and your acuteness in conjecture, rather than 
 attribute to you a faculty different in kind, 
 as well as degree, from those possessed by 
 myself and the majority of mankind." 
 
 "As a scientific man," returned Arnitte 
 thoughtfully, "you would be quite right;" 
 and, after a pause, — "Yet I sometimes think, 
 in a vague, half- reasoning way, that modern 
 science is altogether on the wrong track." 
 
 The vicar raised his eyebrows, and almost 
 imperceptibly shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 Arnitte went on : "I cannot, I fear, make 
 myself perfectly clear. You are a distin- 
 guished astronomer. Now, do you not think 
 that science takes too much account of the 
 heavenly bodies, and too little of the con-
 
 II FREDERICK HAZZLEDEX 67 
 
 sciousness of those who observe them ? There 
 is no worth or value, intellectual or moral, in 
 a star, or its properties, apart from the effect 
 produced on human minds. Is it not Arnold 
 who has pointed out that knowledge is use- 
 less unless correlated with conduct?" 
 
 The vicar laughed unpleasantly. "I 
 thought," he said, " when you began, that 
 you were going to preach from the gospel 
 according to St. Matthew Arnold. It is 
 lamentable to contemplate the injury to 
 science which that man's ignorance and pre- 
 judice have done." 
 
 "Please don't condemn me yet," pleaded 
 Arnitte modestly. " I was unwise to meddle 
 with the Arnold argument, inasmuch as my 
 personal objection to the methods of science 
 lies in another direction. Again, take the 
 case of your own studies. What are the
 
 68 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 heavens really to you ? Certainly not billions 
 of miles of space and thousands of suns and 
 systems I They are an impression received 
 through two tiny specks in your eyes, and 
 registered in some form or other in your 
 mind. You cannot begin to prove that the 
 impression has any objective reality." 
 
 An ejaculation was rising to the vicar's 
 lips, but Arnitte hastily went on : "You are 
 going to say that I'm now lost in a quag- 
 mire of transcendentalism. But I think 
 you're wrong. I neither dispute nor doubt 
 the reality of our impressions. All I do is to 
 point out that they are impressions, and that 
 science contemptuously refuses to study the 
 methods by which, and the medium through 
 which, they are received. Knowledge is not 
 external fact, of which we have positive 
 comisance, but the reaction of external fact
 
 II FREDERICK HAZZLEDEX 69 
 
 upon human faculties. And yet men of 
 science think it unphilosophical to study and 
 endeavour to understand thoroughly those 
 faculties before professing to examine so- 
 called 'natural j)lienomena.' It seems to me 
 that if we were half as ready to study and 
 develop our own powers as we are to acquire 
 what we are pleased to call * objective facts/ 
 our ideas in many ways would receive valu- 
 able correction." 
 
 The vicar was preparing a crushing re- 
 joinder when Mrs. Wynnston rose, and the 
 conversation was broken off. Nor was it 
 again renewed. The departure of the ladies 
 was followed by that curious relaxing of 
 bodies and minds which is always noticeable 
 after a dinner-party. Man is a dual creature. 
 When seated by the side of a woman he 
 belongs to one species ; when the woman has
 
 70 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 risen and gone away lie belongs to another. 
 The same change is rarely noticeable in the 
 female sex ; but there is something akin to it 
 in the change which takes place in a woman 
 when she puts off her everyday attire and 
 dons her ball dress. The hostess, however, 
 leads from the table to the drawing-room the 
 same beings who sat at it. Those who are 
 left behind are metamorphosed. There is an 
 apparent throwing off of restraint; the host 
 and his friends stretch their limbs and adopt 
 such attitudes as please them most. Cigars 
 are lighted, and wine is swallowed in greater 
 gulps. The whole atmosphere of the room 
 has changed. 
 
 Neither Arnitte nor the vicar was disposed 
 to revert to metaphysics. The former was 
 disputing with Fred the precise spot in the 
 Alps from whence the finest view is to be
 
 II FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEX 71 
 
 obtained. The latter was speculating with 
 O'Connor upon the prospects of a dissolution 
 of Parliament, and of the effects which an 
 appeal to the country would have on the 
 question of disestablishment. 
 
 Presently the notes of a rich contralto voice 
 reached the room, and Fred began to fidget. 
 To his great inward satisfaction most of the 
 men threw awav their cio-ars, and a move 
 was made to the drawing-room, where Mary 
 O'Connor, accompanying herself on the piano, 
 was singing an exquisitely sweet and pa- 
 thetic air from an oratorio. The intense 
 feeling which this girl manifested deeply 
 moved Fred, who thoug;ht he had never 
 heard anything so beautiful in his life. Kate 
 played badly and sang worse — a circumstance 
 which troubled him, for he was unusually 
 susceptible to the influence of music. It was
 
 72 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 his comfort in grief, his occupation in idleness, 
 his friend in happiness. He sometimes, during 
 the few days of their dubious engagement, 
 had felt this deficiency in Kate very acutely. 
 If he asked her to play she would strum an 
 imbecile waltz ; if he asked her to sing she 
 would frolic through the latest absurdity from 
 a comic opera. Now the gracious tones of 
 Mary O'Connor's voice filled him with a 
 mingled sentiment of delight and distress, 
 which he carefully refrained from analysing. 
 
 Later in the evening some one asked 
 Arnitte to sing. He at once consented, and, 
 walking to the piano, rubbed his large hands 
 together, and executed a brilliant j)yrotech- 
 nical prelude, which ended in a sequence of 
 chromatic harmonies. Then he began to 
 sing, in a strong and nervous baritone 
 voice : —
 
 II FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEX 73 
 
 " The morning comes, and the tempest 
 
 Roars from the wild North- West, 
 And its moaning mocks tlie moaning 
 
 Of a heart that can find no rest. 
 Oh ! daylight, how fondly I seek thee, 
 
 While dashed on the window-pane 
 I see, in the first gray dawning. 
 
 The tears of a falling rain. 
 
 " The broad noon comes, and the sunbeams 
 
 Sparkle on lake and lea ; 
 But the passing breath from the mountain 
 
 Whispers no peace to me. 
 The glare of the midday passes, 
 
 The fierce light fades at last, 
 But time cannot temper the memories 
 
 That beat from the pitiless past. 
 
 " The faint eve falls, and a glory 
 
 Crimsons the glowing west ; 
 The sighing song of wind and sea 
 
 Hushes the world to rest. 
 Oh, darkness ! I call thee to cover 
 
 The phantoms of hopes long dead. 
 Till life's stem struggle is over, 
 
 Till Death's swift arrow has sped." 
 
 Fred fancied that as the song drew to 
 an end Arnitte's voice became very harsh, as
 
 74 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 though proceeding from a dry throat, and 
 when the singer finished and swung round 
 on the piano -stool his face was paler than 
 usual; and Fred noticed, or thought he 
 noticed, that his eye rested with a strange 
 flash on O'Connor, sitting at the other end 
 of the room talking to Kate. 
 
 Fred mechanically wondered whether the 
 song was very fine or melodramatic rubbish, 
 but he said to Arnitte, " That's a very efi'ec- 
 tive song. Whom is it by ?" 
 
 " I don't know who wrote the words," was 
 the reply ; "I found them in a newspaper. 
 The setting is my own. It seemed to me to 
 fit the words, and I wrote it down when it 
 occurred to me." 
 
 Again Fred was surprised, and a couple of 
 hours afterwards, when in bed, he tossed 
 about, wonderincy whether this man, who
 
 II FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 75 
 
 seemed both to attract and repel him, was a 
 genius or a quack. Other doubts also would 
 creep into his mind, but he steadily refused 
 to consider them. All that was certain to 
 him was that he was physically and mentally 
 depressed, and that sleep would not come to 
 his relief.
 
 CHAPTEE III 
 
 DupjNG his residence at Lorton O'Connor 
 had struck up an acquaintance with a young 
 fellow named Phillips, the son of a farmer. 
 Richard Phillips, the girls of the village 
 always declared, "looked like a gentleman." 
 He himself was very much of their opinion, 
 and his father, sharing in the prevalent be- 
 lief, determined to make him one. The lad 
 was a weak creature, with a fair, pretty face, 
 languid, nerveless limbs, a flabby body, and a 
 flabby mind. He was ridiculously vain and 
 boastful; and, having by some chance pene- 
 trated into the fringe of the " genteel society"
 
 CHAP. Ill FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 77 
 
 of Lorton, considered himself a great deal too 
 refined for the companionship of the sons and 
 daughters of farmers. He had served an 
 apprenticeship to a solicitor in a neighbour- 
 ing market - town. Now, nearly five and 
 twenty years of age, he was idling away his 
 time in his father's house, waiting for some- 
 thing to turn up, and complacently assured 
 that fortune was secretly contriviug for him 
 a very distinguished destiny. 
 
 Phillips was nearly enthusiastic over one 
 hobby, and that was boating. He was, 
 indeed, an expert amateur sailor, and it was 
 in some excursion on the bay that O'Connor 
 and his sister had first met him. O'Connor's 
 gray eyes were keenly observant. He 
 measured and weighed the young man's char- 
 acter in the first week of their acquaintance- 
 ship. Nor was he long in noting that
 
 78 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 Phillips, with a weak man's timid audacity, 
 had fallen over ears in love with Mary. 
 O'Connor's private opinions as to the advis- 
 ability of transforming his new friend into a 
 brother-in-law he scrupulously kept to him- 
 self But he manifested on all occasions to 
 the romantic Eichard a cordiality and frank- 
 ness unusual in a man of his sullen and silent 
 disposition, and appeared to seek opportunities 
 of cultivating the young man's friendship, and 
 of throwing him into the society of his sister. 
 O'Connor and his friend made many excur- 
 sions among the heather -clad hills around 
 Lorton. One morning the pair had climbed 
 an easy summit, and, sitting in a little hollow 
 sheltered from the wind, were looking down 
 upon a pleasant winding valley which lay 
 shimmering beneath them in the heat of a 
 noonday sun.
 
 Ill FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 79 
 
 A poet has written of " the sleep that is 
 among the lonely hills." Viewed from the 
 hills the vales seem to sleep too. Below 
 there may be busy life and noise and bustle. 
 Yet, look down from heights above, so small 
 a thing is human action, and all seems still. 
 The worker in the fields, a tiny speck, is no 
 longer a conscious being, with parts and 
 powers and will, living and loving and toil- 
 ing ; a troop of laughing boys, racing along 
 the fields yonder, are only as leaves dancing 
 before the breeze ; the country cart, creaking 
 along that white road, has ceased to be a 
 common and convenient contrivance for 
 carrying potatoes to market. The perspec- 
 tive of things is changed. Man no longer 
 stands at the "point of sight," and life is 
 swallowed up in nature. 
 
 A stream ran along the bottom of the
 
 80 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 valley, and O'Connor, directed by the out- 
 stretched hand of Phillips, was trying to 
 discern a little white bridge, from the arch 
 of which his companion had hooked a five- 
 pound trout. 
 
 Presently a puff of steam floated lazily 
 from out of a line of distant trees, and a far- 
 off whistle announced the progress of the 
 mid-day mail speeding away to the north. 
 Only a railway can break the sleep that falls 
 on and from the lonely hills. 
 
 Phillips made some conventional protest 
 against the nineteenth century barbarism 
 which ruins the lovely valleys of England, 
 that directors may earn salaries and share- 
 holders draw dividends. 
 
 " I never can see," replied O'Connor, '' that 
 railways detract from the picturesqueness of 
 a landscape. They make towns noisy and
 
 Ill FREDERICK HAZZLEDEX 81 
 
 dirty, but I rather like to see the track 
 stretching away through a pretty country ; 
 and I never think that a train, at any rate 
 seen from a distance, is an ugly object. I 
 have been in places in the west of America 
 where I should have thought a locomotive, 
 with all its suggestions of life and industry, 
 the most beautiful thing which could cross 
 the landscape." 
 
 Phillips had read Paiskin, and looked 
 shocked. 
 
 '•'Besides," continued O'Connor, his face 
 darkening, '' I am an Irishman. What would 
 I not give to have these engines, dragging 
 trade and wealth and happiness after them, 
 through the valleys of my own country?" 
 
 There was a pause. Phillips gazed down 
 the valley, and O'Connor dug a hole in the 
 turf with his walking-stick. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 Presently he resumed : " Phillips, I know 
 I may trust you. My sister Mary and I " — 
 he stole a keen glance at the young man — 
 " my sister Mary and I are here in England 
 on a sacred mission. We do not love you 
 English, though some of you we think not 
 unworthy to be our friends. We were born, 
 both of us, in Ireland, the children of a 
 farmer who drew from his land enough to 
 live honestly, to clothe himself and us, and 
 to pay a fair rent. It was rather poor, 
 stony land, and one winter, when Mary was 
 a very little girl, and I was just big enough 
 to do odd jobs on the farm, a bright idea 
 occurred to my father. Together we set to 
 work to carry it out. On bitter cold and 
 wet days we went out as soon as it was 
 light, and trudged over the rough land, 
 and gathered up all the stones we could
 
 Ill FREDERICK HAZZLEDEX 83 
 
 find, and carried tliem, and piled them up in 
 heaps at the back of the cottage. It took us 
 two months to clear the fields, which our 
 grandfathers for o^enerations before us — sen- 
 sible men — had thought good enough as 
 they were. Then, for another month, in 
 every moment we could spare from digging 
 and sowing, we turned builders, and before the 
 spring was upon us we had run up a low wall 
 round the yard and a new place for the pigs." 
 
 O'Connor's voice grew harsher and louder 
 as he went on, and he beat the grass at his 
 feet with his stick. 
 
 " In the spring the agent came for his 
 rent. We only saw him four times a year ; 
 he lived twenty miles off, and we were away 
 up in the hills. He collected money for 
 a rich nobleman — nobleman ! Phillips — the 
 owner of the soil which my fathers had tilled
 
 84 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 for centuries. I never saw him, scarcely 
 knew his name. He was said to live some- 
 where in England, in a palace built of gold, 
 and hung with silk, and sparkling with jewels. 
 As a lad I often wondered what this place 
 could be like, and how one would feel always 
 to have a fire when one was cold, and bread 
 when one was hungry, and a bed to sleep on 
 instead of straw. I have seen this great 
 mansion since, and found that it was built, 
 not of gold, but of human flesh, mortared 
 with human blood. I have seen the great 
 nobleman. He is a decrepit old drunkard." 
 
 O'Connor paused again, as if choked. 
 Then he went on : '' The agent came, and 
 my father proudly showed him our winter's 
 work. I can see now — may God Almighty 
 curse him I — the sly smile on the scoundrel's 
 face. He jingled the keys in his pocket, and
 
 m FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 85 
 
 asked many questions : liow long the work 
 had taken us, whether it was fatiguing, if we 
 found the new pig-sty convenient, and if the 
 land promised any great improvement. Then 
 he said, in his soft voice, '"Well, you seem 
 to have done a o-ood stroke of business. I 
 shall only double the rent, and charge you 
 a fair price for building materials. Of course 
 you had no right to use the landlord's stones 
 without his permission ; and if you don't like 
 to pay you can put them back where you 
 found them.' My father, soft-hearted fellow, 
 thought of his children, and began to cry. 
 My mother went down on her knees in the 
 mud of the farmyard, and prayed for mercy 
 from the saints and from him. The saints, 
 however, seemed to be otherwise engaged 
 just then, and the agent rode off, calling 
 back, ' Ta, ta ! I don't want to be hard on
 
 86 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 you. I'll give you six months to pay for the 
 stone.' That year the blight fell on the 
 potatoes. All the crops were a failure. My 
 father sold the pigs to get money to pay for 
 the stone. But all his labour and all his 
 savings were not sufficient to pay the double 
 rent. In the autumn we were evicted. The 
 cottage was set on fire by the agent's orders, 
 and our little household goods — God knows, 
 few and poor enough ! — were burned. That 
 winter we lived and starved in a hut of 
 boughs and mud built in a ditch by my father 
 and me. Not a soul dared lend us a helping 
 hand, but on dark nights a neighbouring 
 farmer would steal up and leave us a bit of 
 turf and a few potatoes. In that hut my 
 mother was confined, and both she and the 
 baby died. My father begged, or stole — I 
 don't know which — a few boards, and made a
 
 Ill FREDERICK HAZZLEDEX 87 
 
 coffin for them, and a poor priest buried 
 them for a shilling, which our old neighbours 
 subscribed, on the edge of the bog, as the 
 nearest churchyard was seven miles away, 
 and we could get no one to help to carry the 
 coffin. Soon after Mary, my sister, took ill 
 with famine fever, and we were fast becom- 
 ing too weak to tramp ten miles to the sea- 
 shore and back to get seaweed to boil and 
 eat. One day, when we thought little Mary 
 was dying, an Englishman, a doctor, rode by. 
 What he was doing in that wild countrv in 
 the winter I never knew. He was a good 
 man, and for his sake I hope that some may 
 be spared from the curse which will pursue 
 the English nation in this world and the next, 
 if there is one. He stopped a whole week in 
 our hovel, and nursed the child himself till 
 she was fit to be moved. Then he gave
 
 88 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 money to my father to take him and me to 
 America. But he had come to love the sweet 
 face of my sister. He was an old man, with 
 neither wife nor child. He offered to take 
 her to his home in England, and to love and 
 cherish her as his own daughter. My father 
 consented, and we found that there was one 
 true and tender Englishman, for he kept his 
 word till he died, and then left his little 
 fortune to Mary. They lived near to the 
 Hazzledens, and that is how my sister came 
 to know young Hazzleden. They were very 
 fond of one another as children," — he spoke 
 in a questioning tone, and again scrutinised 
 the young man ; " but Mary is a true Irish- 
 woman. Her whole heart is in the cause. 
 She has devoted all her means to it, and she 
 v/ill never love a man who is not one of us, 
 in sympathy, if not in birth."
 
 Ill FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 89 
 
 "How did you get on in America?" 
 Phillips asked. 
 
 "Everything prospered with us. We 
 went West ; we obtained a large concession 
 of land, and our generous friend, to whom 
 my father had written, helped us to buy a 
 little stock. Money seemed to grow under 
 our hands. We paid our debt to our bene- 
 factor, and I paid mine to our old agent." 
 
 "Howr' said Phillips. 
 
 " Well, one fine evening he was found dead 
 on the road, with a bullet in his heart." 
 
 Phillips shrank away from the side of his 
 companion. 
 
 "Oh!" laughed the Irishman, "don't 
 think I shot the ruffian, though I would 
 have done so had I ever met him. I only 
 sent a hundred pounds to a certain society of 
 which I had heard while in New York, and
 
 90 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 to an officer of wliich I told our stoiy. I 
 have not the least idea who murdered the 
 fellow. But. to make a lon£^ tale short, in 
 eight years' time we were independent, if not 
 rich. My father died, and I sold off the 
 ranche at once, and went to Boston. I had 
 always felt, Philhps. that to influence one's 
 fellows one must have some education and 
 social culture. I had read as much as I 
 coidd, and was not absolutely ignorant of the 
 'humanities.'" He laughed, as though the 
 word amused him. '' I entered at Harvard, 
 and my money got me into a fairly good set 
 in the citv. A year later I travelled through 
 the South, to mend my manners, among the 
 Virginian aristocrats. Oh, I met plenty of 
 fine people, and had a Tery good time. Then 
 Mary's old friend died, and I came over and 
 taught her my plans, and inspired her with
 
 Ill FREDERICK HAZZLEDEX 91 
 
 my ideas. Don't you think we make a very 
 pretty pair of conspirators ?" 
 
 Phillips babbled some words of assent. 
 
 " Yes," resumed the Irishman, " whatever 
 wealth and ability we possess we have de- 
 voted to the service of Ireland. Your 
 country has shown no mercy to mine for five 
 hundred years. You have used it as a tool, 
 you have robbed it, you have oppressed it, 
 you have slaughtered its people, you have 
 crushed its trade, you have turned its fields 
 into a desert, you have never done one good 
 thins: to Ireland for Ireland's sake, and now 
 the hour of retribution has come, and we are 
 its ministers. Go and tell your police, your 
 magistrates, your rulers ; they will give 
 much for the bodies of Mary and me." 
 
 There was careful study in all this rant. 
 O'Connor, while seeming to open his heart to
 
 95 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 Phillips, had really told him nothing, except 
 that he had been concerned in the death of 
 the asrent. Into this confession he had 
 slipped unawares, and his subsequent wild- 
 ness was partly assumed in the hope of 
 blurrinor the recollection of that unfortunate 
 admission. 
 
 Phillips was simply dazed. He had come 
 to worship Mary with all the fervour of his 
 weak nature, and to lean with quite a fra- 
 ternal confidence upon O'Connor, — and they 
 were Irish revolutionaries, probably assassins 
 and " dynamitards." A stronger man would 
 have been troubled. But what to do? He 
 could not abandon his hopes of Mar}' were 
 she ten times an Irish conspirator. Doubt- 
 less she was under the influence of her 
 brother, and he, poor fellow, was clearly 
 a monomaniac. His early sufferings had
 
 in FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN 93 
 
 afifected his brain. He must be liumoured, 
 and, if possible, weaned from his mad j)ro- 
 jects. 
 
 They strolled down the zigzag hillside 
 paths, and Phillips, as he thought, with 
 infinite address, soothed O'Connor, and at 
 the same time drew from him his desio-ns. 
 
 " I know it is hard," the latter remarked, 
 '•'to compel justice from thirty millions of 
 people for the benefit of five. You have all 
 the warlike resources, the wealth, the num- 
 bers ; yet we are not quite helpless. I have 
 looked down twenty feet through the water 
 of an American bay to the white sand, 
 and I have seen a pulpy creature, which 
 somehow always reminded me of a fat, 
 over- fed, apoplectic city man — perhaps an 
 alderman. It had no scales, no teeth, and 
 no powerful jaws. Apparently the Creator
 
 94 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 forgot to give it either the means of fight- 
 ing or running away. Presently a fish, alert 
 and fierce, swift as a swallow and savage as a 
 vulture, would see, through its horrible cruel 
 eyes, the wretched alderman lying on the 
 sand. A dozen other ugly brutes, all with 
 murderous intent, would glide, from heaven 
 knows where, towards that big -bellied old 
 glutton. By the way, don't you think there 
 is something creepy about the noiseless 
 motion of a fish, especially when he is darting 
 down on his prey? Well, all these hungry 
 fishes would glide towards the ^alderman,' 
 who never moved a muscle, and you, of 
 course, expected in a few seconds to find the 
 assassins quarrelling over the pieces. Not 
 a bit of it. Before the swiftest of the 
 gang could reach our friend a dense black 
 cloud spread all round him through the
 
 Ill FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN 95 
 
 \Yater. It looked very nasty, and you could 
 easily imagine that it smelled and tasted 
 very nasty. The first fish dashed quickly 
 into it, but dashed out again even quicker. 
 You could see that that fish was sick. His 
 stomach couldn't stand the black stufi". The 
 other fishes would try their luck, but all with 
 the same result. Some, desperate for their 
 dinners, would go into the nauseous stuff 
 three or four times, till they rolled over on 
 their backs and floated, either dead or 
 stupefied. By and by, when all was quiet 
 ag^ain, the old fellow would wobble out of his 
 abominable cloud and go, I suppose, off" home. 
 The illustration is not complimentary, but, 
 upon my word, Phillips, I never saw that fish 
 without thinking that Ireland is not so help- 
 less as people suppose. She has no teeth and 
 jaws — but muskets and ironclads are not the
 
 96 FEEDEEICK HAZZLEDEN chap, hi 
 
 only offensive and defensive resources of 
 civilisation." 
 
 They had reached O'Connor's door. "Won't 
 you lunch with us ?" he said to Phillips. The 
 young man hesitated, then with an embar- 
 rassed smile plunged through the doorway. 
 O'Connor, who had closely watched his hesi- 
 tation, could not repress a sigh of relief as he 
 followed his friend into the house.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Feed was anything but happy. Lorton 
 House, with its low rooms, its heavy hang- 
 ings, and its ancient furniture, oppressed 
 him. The society of his aunt and cousin 
 wearied him. He would have started on a 
 cruise, or gone home, or gone anywhere, but 
 for two reasons. One was that he had 
 ens^ao-ed himself to Kate, and could not in 
 common civility cut short his visit without a 
 very good excuse ; and the other was that he 
 did not at the bottom of his heart desire to 
 leave Lorton just then. He was attentive 
 and affectionate to Kate. They strolled 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 about the lanes together, they made excur- 
 sions in the pony phaeton, Kate driving, Fred 
 lolling at once listlessly and restlessly at her 
 side. They played tennis together on the 
 lawn, but Fred never proposed another stroll 
 down the Apple Walk to the shore. He 
 knew that Kate's eyes would sparkle, that 
 she would nestle caressingly at his side, if 
 he suggested another evening chat at the 
 dingle. He secretly wondered if he should 
 ever again think Kate so irresistibly lovable 
 as he did that night when, with full heart 
 and honest conviction, he asked her to be his 
 wife. He constantly endeavoured to stifle 
 all such thoughts, yet sometimes the conscious- 
 ness would steal into his mind that down by 
 the shore in the evening light, with her full 
 eyes bent upon him, he should say and mean 
 once more, " Kitty, darling, I love you."
 
 IV FREDERICK HAZZLEDEX 99 
 
 But he never asked her to go. Was he sure 
 that he wished to say and feel as on the 
 first eveninor of his visit ? Fred would have 
 
 o 
 
 found it difficult to answer this question, 
 and, after his wont, carefully abstained from 
 putting it to himself. 
 
 Arnitte remained in the neighbourhood 
 fishing, boating, riding, walking, and appa- 
 rently enjoying to his heart's content a spell 
 of outdoor life in glorious summer weather. 
 Fred frequently encountered him, and was 
 greatly attracted to him by his brilliant talk 
 and by a sweet and ingratiating manner 
 which he either manifested naturally or 
 assumed with great success. He felt the need 
 of male companionship to relieve the sense of 
 tedium which was overmastering him. He 
 would have preferred to be friendly with 
 O'Connor, but that gentleman, while always
 
 100 FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 studiously polite, contrived, in ways which a 
 man of the world is never at a loss to dis- 
 cover, to check his advances. He had en- 
 countered Mary O'Connor riding out in the 
 cool of the morning two or three times, and 
 had had several pleasant talks over old times. 
 Fred, never an enthusiastic horseman, had 
 begun to ride out regularly before breakfast ; 
 but at the end of a week Mary ceased to 
 appear in the narrow high-banked lane where 
 fern and bracken grew beneath the shelter of 
 the hedges, and which wound away down for 
 a mile to Lorton Church. Then Kate, who 
 could ride anything, and who only refrained 
 because her mother was nervous and kept 
 nothing in the stable but " a venerable family 
 pair," as Kate scornfully dubbed them, began 
 to hint at a morning gallop — " That is, Fred," 
 she laughed, ^*if you can persuade mother's
 
 IV FREDERICK HAZZLEDEX 101 
 
 fiery Arabians to go quicker than a walk." 
 But Fred's equestrian ardour had evaporated. 
 He said, " Oh yes, certainly," but the morn- 
 ing was always too hot, or it was too late, or 
 there was something else to do. He had 
 written to invite the O'Connors to an after- 
 noon cruise in the Sylph, but as yet they 
 had sent no answer. Apparently they were 
 not eager to cultivate his acquaintance. 
 
 So he was thrown back upon Arnitte, and 
 a man more fitted to cure a friend of ennui 
 could not have been found. Arnitte fell into 
 the habit of calling at Lorton House in the 
 evening to play a set of tennis with Fred, or 
 perhaps against Fred and Kate, for he was 
 an expert at the game, and then to smoke a 
 cigar till dusk on a garden-seat which over- 
 looked the ravine and the bay beyond. 
 
 Insensibly Fred had been led to give his
 
 102 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 new acquaintance a dozen little confidences. 
 There was his engagement to Kate, which 
 for some reason or other had not been an- 
 nounced. Mrs. Wynnston was just then too 
 busy reorganising the church choir to think 
 of anything else. Kate, of course, could not 
 talk about it, and she had, moreover, no girl 
 friends. Fred felt that it was a matter 
 which in fairness to Kate ought to be made 
 known, and would resolve over night to tell 
 every one. But in the morning, if ever 
 he thought about it, he would soliloquise, 
 " Oh, everybody can see we're engaged, and 
 besides, it's Aunt Wynnston s business to an- 
 nounce it." As the result, none of the 
 friends who visited Lorton House had the 
 smallest idea that Kate and Fred were 
 enoraojed to be married. 
 
 But Arnitte found it out. Fred never
 
 IV FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 103 
 
 told him in so many words, and he, on his 
 part, never mentioned the subject. Yet Fred 
 knew perfectly well that Arnitte was aware 
 of his engagement. One evening Kate sug- 
 gested a set at tennis. Fred, who was in 
 a contrary humour, refused. Kate pleaded, 
 Fred grew sullen, and in a minute a very 
 sharp quarrel was raging between the cousins. 
 The ominous red glow showed in Kate's eyes, 
 and she ended the incident by tossing her 
 racquet over the net and marching off to bed. 
 Fred whistled defiantly ; and Arnitte, who 
 had been absorbed in the contemplation of a 
 common daisy at the far end of the lawn 
 which, alone out of all its family, the mowing 
 machine had spared, now slipped his arm 
 within Fred's and strolled to his favourite 
 seat. He chatted pleasantly, and soothed, 
 with all the art of a clever friend, the young
 
 104 FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 man's irritation. The conversation at length 
 drifted to the subject of marriage. 
 
 Fred, completely won over, blurted out, 
 " The difficulty always seems to me that one 
 can never be sure a woman is — is " 
 
 " Good enough for one," suggested Arnitte, 
 blandly. '^ That's vanity." 
 
 "No, I didn't mean quite that; rather, 
 whether she was suitable." 
 
 ''Much the same thiug," muttered Arnitte. 
 
 Without noticing the interruption Fred 
 went on, ''Perhaps it is vanity, or perhaps 
 humility, or perhaps both. But I've always 
 felt that to really love a woman a man should 
 think her perfect. She should either be per- 
 fect, or his love should be strong enough to 
 create a perfect delusion. What I doubt is 
 whether some men — of course I am speaking 
 generally," he added nervously. Arnitte
 
 IV FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 105 
 
 nodded. — " What I doubt is whether every 
 man can submit himself to such a lasting 
 delusion. After marriage, or perhaps before, 
 he begins to find out little faults of disposi- 
 tion and little blemishes of culture. He may 
 even criticise the very face which once seemed 
 nothing but beauty to him." Fred spoke 
 with warmth, and, meeting Arnitte's laugh- 
 in o- eve, coloured. 
 
 But the grave and kindly reply reassured 
 him. '' The moral of your observation and 
 argument is, Hazzleden, that men should live 
 in the world, and not in romantic visions. 
 I don't think that because a man loves a 
 woman he should take leave of his senses. 
 You may as well seek for the philosopher's 
 stone as for perfection of character. You 
 know it doesn't exist, and you're a fool if 
 you marry any woman with the expectation
 
 106 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 or even the faint hope of finding it. You 
 and I have kno^Ti each other for two or 
 three weeks, and no doubt you, as a thinking 
 man, have noticed faults in me, as I may 
 have detected weaknesses in you. Do you 
 think, then, that we could, either of us, marry 
 a woman and go all through life under the 
 belief that she was an ans^el ?" 
 
 '' That's just my point," interrupted Fred. 
 " Of course I should find her out, and then I 
 should feel that I didn't really love her." 
 
 ''But why," said Arnitte, "should you 
 ever begin the mistake ? For my part, I 
 don't believe in marrying angels. If it were 
 possible it would be extremely unsatisfactory. 
 A good woman is quite good enough for me. 
 Besides, what proof of love can there be 
 when the object is perfect? Now, my theory 
 is this. A man falls in love with a woman
 
 IV FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 107 
 
 partly through circumstances and partly of 
 his free will. He feels that he needs her 
 companionship and help and aflfection through 
 life. He sees other women and, as a reason- 
 able beinor he admits that this one is more 
 beautiful, that one better tempered, another 
 plays the piano better, a fourth is more 
 widely read or of keener intellect. He 
 recognises these things just as he would see 
 that this one is taller or that one darker. 
 It is when he knows that his sweetheart or 
 his wife has, like the rest of the world, faults 
 and shortcomings, and still knows that she is 
 necessary to him, that he is sure of the truth 
 and strength of his love," 
 
 He rose and threw away his cigar. Fred 
 followed him, and the pair strolled towards 
 the house. Arnitte took his friend's arm 
 and, after a pause, spoke again. " Hazzleden,
 
 108 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 when I was a youth my elder brother was 
 drowned. He was engaged to a sweet young 
 girl, and one day they went boating on a 
 river near our house. The boat, we sup- 
 posed, must have capsized from some cause 
 or other, and next day their bodies were 
 dragged up from the weeds at the bottom, 
 clasped in one another's arms. I remember 
 my mother's agony of grief, and how gray 
 and solemn for a while my own life seemed. 
 But my father never shed a tear, and when 
 some one spoke to him words of conventional 
 comfort only replied, ' Why should I sorrow ? 
 The lad is happy to have died before he 
 found the earthen feet of his golden image.' 
 — ' But do you think,' said his friend, * the 
 image had earthen feet?' — 'I do not know, 
 answered my father ; ' but I am quite sure at 
 some time or other he would have thought it
 
 IV FREDERICK HAZZLEDEX 109 
 
 had.' The philosophy was false, Hazzleden, 
 — false and yet true. Wise men do not 
 search for golden images, then it is false ; but 
 if they do, ah ! " — there was a quiver of pain 
 in his voice — '' then how true it is !" 
 
 Man is an abode of three chambers : 
 there is the outer hall, where casual callers 
 are received ; there is the inner reception - 
 room, where friends are welcomed and pass 
 hours of loving intercourse ; there is the 
 secret inmost apartment, where no foot, how- 
 ever near and dear, ever may tread, where 
 the man sits with his owti soul. None else 
 may know its angles, its recesses, how it 
 is furnished, whether it is well appointed 
 or squalid, whether it is bright or gloomy, 
 whether it is garish or modest. Yet there 
 are moments when the curtain before the 
 door seems lifted for an instant and the
 
 110 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 eye of a friend may see, or fancy it 
 sees, something of the sacred solitude. 
 Fred imagined he had caught such a 
 glimpse and unconsciously pressed Arnitte's 
 arm. 
 
 The latter went on : '' Don't dream dreams, 
 Hazzleden, for you are certain to awaken ; 
 and don't covet too much happiness. I'm 
 a heretic in most things, and I doubt whether 
 happy men are the happiest. That sounds 
 like a paradox, but it isn't. It's a good thing 
 to be ground in the mills of God ; to know 
 what heartache is ; to be crushed down — ay, 
 even into the mud of life. Those who feed 
 on sugar grow fat and stupid ; the soul needs 
 bitter tonics as well as the body. The men 
 to whom the world owes most gratitude 
 are not those who live in fairy gardens, but 
 those who have sinned and suifered and
 
 IV FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 111 
 
 sorrowed. A man shouldn't fret like a child 
 because the paint wears off his toys." 
 
 They had reached the house, and were 
 stepping through the open window. He 
 broke off with a short laugh, "Heavens! I 
 believe I've been preaching to you. Never 
 mind, the text was a large one, and my 
 homily was as useful as most sermons. 
 Good -night." He shook Fred warmly by 
 the hand and strode off home. 
 
 It was next morning that Fred heard from 
 the O'Connors. They presented apologies 
 and compliments ; they would be happy to 
 join him on the Sylph at twelve o'clock, and 
 might they presume so far as to bring with 
 them their friend Mr. Charles Phillips. 
 
 Fred read the note at breakfast. At the 
 first glance he was delighted ; at the second 
 he was profoundly embarrassed. He cracked
 
 112 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN" chap. 
 
 his eggs, munclied his toast, and secretly 
 cursed his own want of courage and address. 
 
 Kate had awakened radiant. Her passion 
 was like the narrow partial cyclone, which 
 ploughs its way with fierce speed through 
 the fields, tearing everything before it. But 
 on each side of it the sun is shining, the birds 
 are singing, and all is peace. And when its 
 quick course is over the air is still and balmy, 
 and only scattered traces of destruction re- 
 main to show that a whirlwind has blown 
 across the land. Kate's anger was cyclonic 
 in its sharp and transient fierceness. She 
 was seldom more winning than when her 
 tears of rage gave place to tears of regret, 
 and both to a sunny smile at once defiant 
 and appealing. In the earlier days of their 
 engagement Fred would mischievously pro- 
 voke her to wrath just to get the enjoyment
 
 IV FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 113 
 
 of a stormy " tiff," which he knew would end 
 after five minutes in the sweetest of recon- 
 ciliations. But the pastime had lost its 
 charms for him ; and to be perfectly frank, 
 it must be confessed that Kate's whirlwinds 
 came frequently enough to gratify any 
 curiosity without wanton provocation. 
 
 This morning she had marched into the 
 breakfast -room with a red rose in her dusky 
 hair and another in her hand. She had gone 
 straight up to Fred, put her hands on his 
 shoulders, and said with a shy audacity, which 
 was bewitching but not convincing, '* Freddy, 
 I am very sorry ; won't you forgive Kitty's 
 nasty tempers?" Then she kissed him, 
 fastened the rose in his coat, drew him to 
 the table, poured out his coffee — for Mrs. 
 Wynnston breakfasted in bed — and made that 
 display of domestic solicitude which, before 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 FKEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 marriage, is perhaps the most delicate and 
 irresistible flattery that a woman can offer 
 to the man she loves. 
 
 Fred knew that Kate was looking forward 
 with pleasure to their cruise. His cutter had 
 been lying idle in the bay ever since its 
 arrival on the memorable evening of their 
 engagement. He had originally intended to 
 make only a short stay at Lorton, and then 
 to take a month's cruise among the Scotch 
 islands. But many of his intentions had 
 undergone a remarkable change, and he had 
 several times made up his mind to send the 
 Sylph back to the seaport from wdiich she 
 hailed, and where she was laid up during 
 the winter. At Kate's suggestion he had 
 arranged for this afternoon sail, but he had 
 not mentioned to her the fact that he had 
 invited the O'Connors to join them.
 
 IV FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN" 115 
 
 Now he crumbled his dry toast disconso- 
 lately, for he had prevision of a storm. He 
 called himself a fool for asking these people 
 without telling Kate, and wondered how 
 in the world he should get out of his 
 dilemma. 
 
 Presently he said uneasily, " I think it 
 will be a fine day." 
 
 " Oh yes," said Kate ; ''I looked at the 
 glass this morning. It has been steady for 
 four -and -twenty hours. We shall have a 
 jolly time, shan't we, Fred ? " 
 
 That miserable young man rose and looked 
 out of the window. " There's a nice breeze 
 from the south ; if it holds we shall have a 
 smart run out and back again." 
 
 There was a pause, and presently he went 
 on with a nervous attempt at indifference 
 which a child could have noticed : "By the
 
 116 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 bye, I told you, Kate, didn't I, that I had 
 asked the O'Connors to join us ? " 
 
 The blood leaped to Kate's face and the 
 flush was reflected in his own. " No, you 
 didn't," she replied. " Are they coming ?" 
 
 " I've a note here from O'Connor accepting, 
 and asking if he may bring some fellow named 
 Phillips." He tossed the letter across the table 
 to her. 
 
 She sprang up, tore the luckless note into 
 fifty pieces and ground them beneath her 
 heel. 
 
 " Do you think I'm blind 1 " she panted ; 
 " do you think I've been blind all these 
 weeks ?" 
 
 "Kate! Kate!" he protested, "what in 
 the world do you mean ? " 
 
 " Ah ! you never loved as I do, and you 
 think you can befool me. Did I not tell you
 
 rv FREDEEICK HAZZLEDEX 117 
 
 down there when you asked me to be your 
 wife that you didn't know your own mind ? 
 I knew it, though you didn't." 
 
 " But, Kitty, I do love you," he feebly in- 
 terrupted, and drew nearer to her. 
 
 She raised her arm as though to thrust 
 him away. " Do I not know the secret of 
 your morning rides ? Have I not watched 
 vou drift in 2" awav from me ever since you 
 came to me ? You're tired of me and bored 
 with me, and you've seen some one you think 
 will make you happier. Oh Fred, I love 
 you, I hate you ! " 
 
 The storm was now over and the gentle 
 rain followed. Kate, sobbing as though her 
 poor little heart would break, fell into her 
 chair and covered her face. 
 
 Fred hated scenes. He knew in his inmost 
 soul that there was a good deal of shrewd
 
 118 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 truth in Kate's passionate outburst. But she 
 was the attacking party ; she had flown into 
 a furious rage, a thing he never did, and he 
 began to feel himself a deeply injured person. 
 
 He stood before her with his hands in his 
 pockets and began in a tone of priggish virtue : 
 " You're very foolish, Kate, to put yourself 
 into such passions. I suppose you can't help 
 being jealous, but that's no reason why you 
 should behave like this. You've made your 
 eyes all bloodshot, and your face isn't fit to 
 be seen. Such temper must be very bad for 
 you. You really should try to check it." 
 
 Kate's hands fell and her eyes blazed again 
 as she looked him in the face. 
 
 He went on : " You seem to have no regard 
 or consideration for me. Only yesterday you 
 greatly embarrassed me and shocked Arnitte 
 by your violence. Now to-day 3^ou place me
 
 IV FREDERICK HAZZLEDEX 119 
 
 in a most diliicult position. I've asked the 
 O'Connors to spend the afternoon on the 
 Sylph — a most ordinary civility — and your 
 l:)ehavioiir makes me doubt whether I ought 
 to go. I don t see how I can stay away/' 
 — there was a tone of c[uestion in his voice, — 
 '•' yet it will be most painful for me to go." 
 
 A woman's tenderest pity often covers a 
 vein of scorn. Kate rose and, takintr Fred's 
 hand, said, " I'm very sorry to trouble you 
 so, Fred ; my temper is as great a punishment 
 to me as it can be to any one else. Of course 
 vou must o-o. You can't do otherwise." 
 
 "When will you be ready?" returned the 
 young man, grudgingly. 
 
 '•' You must go without me. Fve made 
 myself ill, and, as you say, my face isn't fit 
 to be seen." 
 
 She hastilv left the room, and Fred
 
 120 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap, iv 
 
 lighted a cigarette and uneasily paced up 
 and down. Of course he knew he had be- 
 haved as meanly as a man could behave, 
 and he was a good deal ashamed of himself. 
 He knew that he ought to send to the 
 O'Connors, and, pleading an accident to 
 the boat or some other reasonable excuse, 
 postpone the expedition. He debated the 
 point with himself, and apparently found it 
 hard to solve, for twelve o'clock drew near 
 and still he was smoking cigarettes and 
 fidgeting up and down. At length he 
 seized his hat and strode with hesitating 
 steps across the lawn down towards the 
 beach.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 Ix the evening the vicar called at Lorton 
 House. Mrs. Wynnston was in distress 
 about her tenors. Basses were plentiful 
 enough, and she had installed half a dozen 
 young fellows in the choir whose trombone- 
 like voices made the old church shake. 
 Balance, she said, was now wanted. They 
 must strengthen the tenors. The tenors 
 indeed needed support. At present they 
 consisted of two mild youths, whose idea of 
 singing tenor was to squeak out on " domi- 
 nant sevenths " at the end of lines and verses, 
 and to patch up the rest of their parts with
 
 122 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 snatches of bass, alto, and soprano. It did 
 not matter much, for no one could hear them 
 throuo^h the roar of the vi^xorous and as^erres- 
 sive '' basses." Still, from an artistic point 
 of view, Mrs. Wynnston was right in de- 
 manding more tenors. 
 
 There was a dearth of them in Lorton. 
 The vicar had been commissioned by Mrs. 
 Wynnston to hunt up half a dozen, and he 
 had been inquiring through the parish for 
 likely young men. His mission had been 
 attended with indifferent success. He was 
 depressed. He was sorely tempted to blas- 
 pheme all the four parts of harmony. 
 But Mrs. Wynnston encouraged him. She 
 pointed out the great necessity of a thorough 
 reorganisation of the musical portion of the 
 service. She enlarged upon the attractive- 
 ness of good singing, held out a tempting
 
 V ■ FREDERICK HAZZLEDEX 123 
 
 bait of increased offertories, and hinted that 
 respect to Heaven urgently dictated a change 
 from the present slovenly arrangements. 
 
 The conversation, or rather the monologue, 
 — for Mrs. Wynnston did most of the talk- 
 ing, — was YJi'otracted, and the evening was 
 growing dusk as the vicar stood at the door 
 taking his leave. 
 
 "What a glorious evening it is!" he said. 
 " By the way, I haven't seen Kate ; where 
 is she to-night ?" 
 
 " That reminds me," said Mrs. Wynnston, 
 *' I wanted to consult you about Kate ; our 
 business drove the subject out of my mind. 
 I'm rather concerned about her." 
 
 The vicar wakened up to a more obvious 
 interest than he had shown during the "busi- 
 ness " discussion. " You alarm me," he said ; 
 " is your daughter in ill-health ?"
 
 124 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 " Oh no ; she is well enough. What 
 troubles me is this. You see, she and her 
 cousin have gone and engaged themselves to 
 be married." 
 
 '' Indeed ! " ejaculated the vicar with a 
 long intonation, which expressed surprise, 
 contemplation, and something else not so 
 easy to discover. 
 
 Mrs. Wynnston was not quick of appre- 
 hension, and without noticing the vicar's inter- 
 ruption went on : " Fm afraid they've been 
 rather hasty. Of course, they're very fond 
 of one another, and I know Kate is devotedly 
 attached to Fred ; but for some reason they 
 don't seem to get on very smoothly together. 
 They had a quarrel this morning, I believe, 
 for Kate has been crying in her room all day." 
 
 A flush crossed the clear, fresh cheeks of 
 the vicar.
 
 V FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 125 
 
 She continued : " Of course, mothers ought 
 not to interfere in such matters. It never 
 does any good. It's very difficult to know 
 what to do. I suppose all will come right 
 in the end." 
 
 " Let us hope so," said the vicar very 
 gravely. '' But I must go now ; we will 
 talk of this another time. Good-nioht." 
 
 He walked out into the dusky lane 
 plunged deep in meditation. The evening 
 breeze across the fields stirred with a sooth- 
 ing rustle the thickening ears of corn, and 
 here and there in playful sport bore down to 
 his feet from the tree -tops a leaf cut off 
 before its time. The birds twittered in their 
 nests, talking together, as it were, of the 
 adventures and enjoyments of another day. 
 Far away, below the church, from an old elm 
 by the brook side, rose up the strong, sw^eet
 
 126 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 song of the nightingale — a musical ecstasy 
 of sadness. Above, in the larch woods, 
 sounded, like an echo of half- spoken fare- 
 wells, the rich late note of the cuckoo. 
 
 But the vicar heard none of these things. 
 He was saying to himself with a maddening 
 mechanical iteration, " Little Kate is going to 
 be married." 
 
 He had known her from a child, and had 
 never seen that she had ceased to be a child. 
 She had plagued him, mocked him, mimicked 
 him, and had always been a tender, wayward 
 little friend. For ten years her dark eyes 
 had beamed affectionately on his life. Then 
 she was "little Kate," and until half an hour 
 ago he had never thought of her as anything 
 but " little Kate." She was warmly attached 
 to him. To the lonely passionate girl he 
 seemed the only lovable being in Lorton.
 
 V FREDERICK HAZZLEDEX 127 
 
 She had never known her father, and she 
 loved him as a father. The vicar was lonely 
 too. A hateful woman had chilled his man- 
 hood. For years his heart had ached with 
 emptiness, and the child had crept into the 
 void. But he had never known it, never felt 
 it, and nuw it was surprise which stunned him. 
 
 '•' Oh dear ! oh dear ! I never dreamed of 
 this," he muttered ; and then the old refrain 
 rang again and again in his ears, '' Little Kate 
 is croino' to be married." 
 
 His head drooped, and he slowly paced 
 along like one who walks in sleep. 
 
 Presently he stopped, clenched his walk- 
 incr- stick tioditlv. and drew himself up. 
 ^'This will not do," he said. "AYhat am I 
 thinking; what am I daring to think? Old 
 fool ! old parson ! you are nearly sixty and — 
 married ! "
 
 128 FEEDERICK HAZZLEDE>^ chap. 
 
 Married — the sweetest word of happiness, 
 the irrevocable knell of misery. God binds 
 chains of iron round men's lives, but men 
 bind chains of adamant round themselves. 
 The whole living creation craves for union. 
 The flowers mate and bloom ; birds, beasts, 
 and men seek and strive for consorts. If 
 conduct is three -fourths of life, love is the 
 other quarter. It keeps life living ; it sends 
 spreading and working through the centuries 
 the good and the evil that men do. These 
 are the chains of iron. But there are laws, 
 there are social requirements, there are 
 customs, which men have set up for them- 
 selves. By them evil and good are linked 
 together in unbreakable fetters — wise and 
 foolish, grave and frivolous, strong and weak. 
 Hearts that love are severed ; hearts that 
 hate are doomed to beat each other to pieces
 
 V FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN 129 
 
 in enforced contact. These are the chains of 
 adamant. Conduct is good, conduct is need- 
 ful, but conduct is hard. Why should life 
 be made more difficult to live and no more 
 worth living by social fear and social folly ? 
 Why should men and women be tempted 
 from small irritations to great sins because of 
 Hebraic traditions and Philistine prejudices? 
 There are sins from wdiich no one escapes ; 
 there are griefs which all must endure ; there 
 are weaknesses common to humanity; there are 
 pains which all must bear. Fate has so ordered 
 it, and the world must bow. The path of 
 life at best is rough, yet men seem to walk it 
 of their own free will in boots that pinch. 
 
 Thoughts such as these, wild and bitter, 
 coursed throuofh the vicar's brain as he strode 
 on to his home. It was an old house bedded 
 in richest foliao^e. The ancient lawns were 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 soft as velvet. Over the walks old-world 
 gardeners had bent the trees into fifty 
 fantastic arches. Kound the grounds ran a 
 high rubble wall, covered within by clinging 
 pear-trees. The house itself — a low, white 
 building — was almost hidden with ivy and 
 with creepers, and the wooden porch blazed 
 with the blossoms of the purple clematis. At 
 the side was a great rose-garden, where the 
 plants stood in rows, as vines grow in a vine- 
 yard. It was the vicar's especial pride. 
 There were thousands of rose-trees, tens of 
 thousands of flowers; the garden gleamed 
 with mingled colours like an artist's palette 
 when his day's work is done. The breeze 
 passing over it came laden with a scent 
 cloying sweet, as is the breath of the Italian 
 fields when the summer moon shines and the 
 white mists rise from the plains.
 
 V FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 131 
 
 The house was in darkness, and as he 
 pushed open the door and stood hesitating 
 for a moment within the porch an unwonted 
 sense of solitude stole over him. He was 
 alone in the world. No glow of domestic 
 tenderness brightened the evening of his 
 days. No whisper of peace came from above 
 to comfort him. His faith had long been 
 dead. The past was pain, the present weari- 
 ness, the future blank. There was nothing 
 but the dark house and the whisper of night 
 among the leaves. The stillness seemed to 
 orather round him and to choke him. He 
 stepped inside and hastily closed the door, 
 then climbed to his observatory, where he 
 was wont to pass silent hours searching the 
 heavens. 
 
 It was a small circular room built through 
 the roof. In the middle stood the great
 
 132 FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 telescope, its brass tube glittering like a 
 shaft of ghostly light in the rays of a tiny 
 night-lamp which the vicar carried in his 
 hand. A chronometer on the walls solemnly 
 ticked. On a shelf the spectroscope stretched 
 out its triple limbs. A dozen books stood 
 on a small shelf; one or two celestial charts 
 and a table of logarithms were hanging up. 
 An easy- chair was fixed so that the observer 
 could use the telescope with comfort ; and a 
 couple of wheels and a lever enabled the 
 occupant of the chair to direct the telescope, 
 and to turn the entire room round in fol- 
 lowing the motions of the stars. 
 
 This little chamber divided with the rose- 
 garden the vicar's keenest interest and min- 
 istered most constantly to his happiness. 
 He would sit for hours peering into the 
 depths of space. His soul would expand
 
 V FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 133 
 
 and exult in a sense of limitless and illimit- 
 able freedom. He would pass in review the 
 hosts of heaven, would sweep from satellites 
 to planets, from planets to suns, from suns 
 to awful congeries faintly glittering on the 
 threshold of the infinite ; then, lost to time 
 and space, would plunge into misty nebulse 
 as the portals through which to seek on the 
 glowing wings of imagination new galaxies, 
 new universes. 
 
 For many years the vicar had lost all 
 spiritual emotion, and its place had been 
 supplied by the physical and intellectual 
 exaltation produced in him by the scent 
 and colour of his flowers and by the cold 
 beauty of the stars. To-night, all troubled 
 and dismayed, he flung himself down into 
 his chair to seek peace in the infinite 
 expanse and eternal calm of space. He
 
 134 FREDEKICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 sought but found not. Instead of floating 
 through ether as was his wont, without 
 effort, even the effort of will, he found 
 himself toiling and striving through the 
 unending and everlasting towards a goal 
 which everlastingly receded. The stars 
 maddened him with their fixed stony eyes 
 — he living, panting, struggling, suffering; 
 they lifeless, changeless, cold. He craved 
 for help, for solace, but none came. The 
 stately systems moved round him in their 
 majesty, and as he followed them with yearn- 
 ing look he longed to say to them, "Oh, 
 greater than I, help me and save me!" But 
 the words died upon his lips. "No," he 
 thought, " they are dead ; I live and think 
 and suffer. I am better than a whole uni- 
 verse of blind force." 
 
 The vicar could bear his loneliness no
 
 V FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 135 
 
 longer. Just as he had sought refuge in the 
 house from the sweet stillness of his rose- 
 garden, so now he turned with a groan from 
 his telescope, eager to escape from the un- 
 broken silence of the night. He trimmed 
 his little lamp, took a book, and sat with his 
 elbows on the low shelf where stood his 
 spectroscope, his head resting between his 
 hands. He read of atoms clashinoj tooether 
 in the shimmering cloud of nebulous systems, 
 of planets glowing with fervent heat, of 
 whirlwinds of fire, and hail of molten metal, 
 of vapour, of rain, of seas and floods, of 
 earthquakes, of ice, and of great beasts 
 wallowiug in the mud of mighty rivers. All 
 passed like a pageant through his mind, but 
 brought no peace. There was no point in 
 this spectacle of strength and duration on 
 which his human sympathies could fix.
 
 136 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 The want was new to him. Formerly he 
 would follow with revelling imagination 
 the path of light flashing through centuries 
 from some far distant sun, or would trace to 
 its creation through ancient fires and floods 
 and glaciers some morsel of stone chipped 
 from the bare hillside. It never had seemed 
 to him that any element of satisfaction or 
 comfort or profit was lacking. Now he 
 was as one who watches a stage with its 
 scenery set for a great drama, where all the 
 appointments are present and all the lights 
 burn, but no player enters and no voice 
 sounds. He ceased to read, and his memory 
 by some unconscious operation called up 
 again the conversation he had with Arnitte 
 over Mrs, Wynnston's dinner-table. *' There 
 is no worth or value, intellectual or moral, 
 in a star or its properties apart from the
 
 V FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 137 
 
 effect produced on human minds." The 
 transcendental mystic had said something 
 of this kind, and had flung at him a tag 
 of Arnold — that knowledge is useless unless 
 correlated with conduct. Well, was not all 
 knowledge inherently worthy ? He scribbled 
 logarithms on a slip of white blotting-paper, 
 tried to smile scornfully, and ended by smiling 
 painfully. In his heart he began to doubt 
 whether perfect peace could be drawn down 
 the tube of a telescope, and whether com- 
 fort would come at the call of the integral 
 calculus. Then the old jingle came back 
 into his ears, "Little Kate is going to be 
 married." 
 
 The dim lamp shone on the vicar's gray 
 hair, and when he raised his head there 
 was conflict, manful strife, showing through 
 his firm set features. This was a weakness
 
 138 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 which had come on him without warning, 
 all unexpected. It sometimes happens that 
 a man who seems in usual health and spirits 
 learns from his physician that fatal disease 
 has seized him, that the sum of his life 
 must be counted in months, perhaps in 
 weeks. The vicar felt like such a man. 
 He believed himself sound, and suddenly a 
 horror and an agony had fallen upon him. 
 But he would conquer. He was strong; he 
 would fight this thing. 
 
 His thoughts were brave, but in spite of 
 his self-reliance his whole being cried out 
 for help and strength. Where should he 
 go ^ where could he look ? He turned over 
 the pages of his book, and at length rose, 
 took his lamp, and went down to his study. 
 A low desk at which he wrote his sermons 
 was in the middle of the room. He placed
 
 V FREDEEICK HAZZLEDEN 139 
 
 the liglit upon it and strode noiselessly up 
 and down over the soft thick carpet. Eound 
 him were crowded shelves on which stood 
 brown volumes of theology and controversy, 
 the survivals of past years when, as a young 
 man, with living faith and enthusiasm he 
 had entered the church, passionately con- 
 vinced of the truth of what he preached, 
 and earnestly desirous of winning men to 
 the knowledo'e of his Master. Mino^led 
 with these were the classics of his college- 
 days and works of history, of travel, and 
 of fiction. He seldom touched them now. 
 Horace indeed stood on his desk, and by 
 him Lucretius. In idle moments he would 
 snatch glimpses of sardonic enjoyment from 
 the Sybarite, or gain strength and con- 
 viction in his materialism from the j)liilo- 
 sopher. But to find well - fingered works
 
 140 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 you had to seek the little shelf in his 
 observatory. 
 
 To and fro he paced between the desk and 
 the shelves till a great longing seized him to 
 look for comfort among his forsaken friends. 
 The idea was repugnant to him. It savoured 
 of weakness, of sentimentality. He '' pished " 
 to himself, turned his back on the brown rows, 
 and renewed his weary walking and his endless 
 self-searching. At last he took up the little 
 lamp, and, throwing the light forward with 
 outstretched hand, slowly passed along the 
 line of books. Three or four times, with un- 
 certain glance and step, he walked from end to 
 end, and finally pulled out a small old book. 
 Setting down the lamp, he knocked the thick 
 dust from the volume into the fireplace, then 
 seated himself at his desk. Doubt, shame, 
 and hope flitted across his face, and then, as
 
 V FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 141 
 
 though he had found some expected, half- 
 remembered passage, his finger stayed upon a 
 page. 
 
 His lips moved, but no voice sounded as he 
 read, " When a good man is afflicted, tempted, 
 or troubled with evil thoughts, then he under- 
 standeth better the great need he hath of God, 
 without whom he perceiveth he can do nothing 
 that is good." He stopped, pondered, and 
 listlessly read on till another passage arrested 
 his attention. "Although thou shouldest 
 possess all created good, yet couldest thou not 
 be happy thereby nor blessed ; but in God 
 who created all things consisteth thy whole 
 blessedness and felicity." 
 
 He leaned back in his chair, his hands fell 
 into his lap. The draught from an open 
 window blew over and over the leaves of the 
 book. An old chord had been sounded in the
 
 142 FREDEKICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 vicar's heart, a long dammed-up spring of 
 memory had been set free. He was young 
 again, with life before him, with faith and with 
 love in his nature. Both had failed him. His 
 reason had rejected the dogmas of his child- 
 hood, and the woman upon whom all the 
 tenderness of his youth was poured had filled 
 his life with misery. The remembrance v/as 
 bitter, but it was good. Long he sat there 
 motionless, thinking, thinking, thinking. And 
 as he thought a barrier as of ice between him 
 and his soul slowly melted away. The light 
 of morning, gray and cold, showed through 
 the window's '^ glimmering square," and the 
 vicar's eyes were full, and tears were trickling 
 down his face. 
 
 He bent forward once more and read, " 
 Lord my God, be not Thou far from me ; my 
 God, have regard to help me ; for there have
 
 V FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 143 
 
 risen up against me sundry thoughts and 
 great fears afflicting my soul." 
 
 Gently he closed the book, went to his bed, 
 and slept. 
 
 Another trial was before him. The morn- 
 ing was Sunday, and the vicar rose tranquil 
 and composed. He breakfasted and glanced 
 over the notes of an old sermon, for he had no 
 inclination to prepare a fresh one, jotted down 
 in pencil one or two new points, and then, as 
 an hour remained before church time, strolled 
 out into his rose-o-arden. He drank in the 
 fresh air, the sweet scents, and the bright 
 colours, with something of his old exhilaration. 
 He had a secret sense of shame at his last 
 nio-ht's ao'itation. 
 
 The experience is not a singular one. How 
 many of us have composed eloquent speeches, 
 written scenes of heartrending pathos, or come
 
 144 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 to heroic resolutions overnight, and blushed 
 to remember it in the morning. A cruel spirit 
 of common sense pervades the early hours ; 
 the morning light is remorselessly searching. 
 Nocturnal eloquence then seems absurd ; 
 pathos becomes bathos — heroism, imbecility. 
 
 The vicar struck his stick upon the gravel 
 paths, squared his yet straight and broad 
 shoulders, and inwardly desired to pick up 
 St. Thomas a Kempis, still lying on the desk, 
 and push him to the back of the dusty shelves. 
 Possibly he would have done it had not a 
 creaking gate in the wall swung open, and 
 Kate Wynnston hurriedly tripped along the 
 path towards him. 
 
 There was nothing unusual in her visit. 
 She was '' free " of the rose-garden, a privilege 
 only enjoyed by the vicar's first favourites. 
 She would come in at all times, would revel
 
 V FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 145 
 
 after her sensuous manner among the flowers, 
 
 would wage deadly war upon certain little 
 
 green flies which grew fat in opening buds 
 
 and curling leaves, would deck her hair with 
 
 the choicest blossoms. There were many roses 
 
 in Mrs. Wynnston's garden, but they never 
 
 seemed so fragrant to Kate as her ^' dear old 
 
 vicar's." Often she would burst in upon him 
 
 on Sunday mornings before church, merrily 
 
 threaten him with ]\Irs. Wynnston's newest 
 
 scheme of church reform, walk across the 
 
 churchyard with him, and perhaps take her 
 
 place along mth his old housekeeper in his 
 
 square pew below the " three-decker " pulpit. 
 
 He was always glad to see her bright face, 
 
 but this morning his first impulse was to 
 
 hasten to the house and shut the door. He 
 
 obeyed the second, which was to swing round 
 
 and meet her. She came with both hands 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 FKEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 extended, and, as he took them in his, he 
 noticed that her eyes were sunken and heavy, 
 and that her lip quivered a little. They 
 turned towards the house. What the vicar 
 said he never could remember ; perhaps it was 
 some comment on the weather or the roses. 
 But in his heart he was repeating, " Help me, 
 for there have risen up against me sundry 
 thoughts and great fears afflicting my soul." 
 
 There was a silence which Kate broke. 
 
 '' I — I want to speak to you," she said ; 
 ''please will you help me if you can, and tell 
 me what to do." 
 
 They seated themselves, the vicar on a 
 garden-seat with an elm trunk for the back, 
 she on a log at his feet. They often sat there 
 " watching," as Kate said, " the roses grow." 
 
 "Forgive me for troubling you," she con- 
 tinued; "perhaps I ought not to talk even
 
 V FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 147 
 
 to you. I don't know. I have nobody in all 
 the world to go to ; and oh I I am so very, 
 very unhappy." 
 
 There was a dry despair in her voice more 
 painful than tears. The vicar laid his hand 
 upon her head and caressed her dark curls. 
 
 " It's Fred, my cousin," she said, as though 
 the vicar needed no further explanation. 
 " He was so good to me when I was little — 
 better than anybody else ; we always said 
 we should be married ; and once, when we 
 were very little, we ran away together. I've 
 always loved him" (this very softly). " I never 
 could love anybody else in this world; and 
 now" (with a tearless sob) " he is tired of me. 
 I've driven him away with my temper and 
 jealousy, and he has seen some one he likes 
 better. What shall I do ? what shall I do ?" 
 
 Kate could not see the vicar's face, or she
 
 148 FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 would have forgotten her own troubles. He 
 was youthful for his years, and few lines of 
 care and age had marked his features. Just 
 now he looked a hundred. Several times he 
 tried to speak, but the words died away in 
 his throat. Kate must have felt the trem- 
 bling of his hand upon her head. 
 
 At length he said, " Poor little lassie ! 
 Everything seems very dreary, doesn't it, and 
 life hard to bear, and hope all gone ? Yet, 
 my dear, you have not begun to know trouble. 
 In the spring there are cold, rough days when 
 the wind blows and the hail beats, but next 
 morning the sun shines, and the world is 
 bright and warm. And then summer lies 
 ahead, and every week brings fewer storms 
 and more leaves and buds. Such weather is 
 easily borne. It is when the leaves are fall- 
 ing, and the nights bring frost, and the earth
 
 V FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 149 
 
 grows harder, and the green things have gone, 
 and winter and darkness are before, that 
 storms are really searching. Do you under- 
 stand me, Kate ? " 
 
 *' I think," she said, " the storm m spring 
 is worst, for then we have a right to expect 
 suDshine." 
 
 '•' And there is sunshine, my little spring 
 iiower,'' he replied, " and there will be sun- 
 shine, and the summer must follow. I do not 
 say your griefs are light, girl, but, believe me, 
 no grief is mortal till the autumn has come, 
 till life's tree has ceased to shoot, till life's 
 course is unalterably fixed. Cheer up, lassie, 
 and be sure that whatever happens now these 
 clouds must pass away, for your summer has 
 not begun. Think of those for whom there 
 is never more summer, and be comforted." 
 
 She thought he spoke of his own short
 
 160 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 and ruined season of happiness, and slie took 
 his hand and pressed it between hers. He 
 bent forward and kissed her forehead. 
 
 " We must go to church now," he said ; 
 "it is time." 
 
 Kate sat in the square pew beneath him 
 and greatly wondered as he read the service. 
 He was never in earnest before, and never 
 seemed in earnest. Now his whole nature 
 quivered with fervour. The bumpkins around 
 saw and heard nothing new or strange. Kate 
 vibrated in sympathy with the poor unloved 
 parson. Who has not felt that splendid 
 crescendo of entreaty with which the Litany 
 closes ? Prayer upon prayer has floated up- 
 ward in the calm devout tones of the priest, 
 and the people have whispered their beseech- 
 ings. Then yearning grows and prayer 
 becomes passion ; the voices quicken, and at
 
 V FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 151 
 
 last people and priest together besiege the 
 throne of God : " Lamb of God, that takest 
 away the sins of the world, have mercy upon 
 us." ''Lord, have mercy upon us." " Christ, 
 have mercy upon us." 
 
 As he read his tones rose and rang above 
 the dull rustic voices, and the anguish of 
 them struck one hearer with pity and amaze- 
 ment. Then the passion was assuaged, and 
 in quiet reverence the Lord's Prayer should 
 have fallen from the lips of the priest. But 
 for a moment he was silent, bent forward 
 on his knees. The vicar was praying. 
 
 Praying ! Yes, but to whom ? Was it 
 to an all-strono^, all-orood Beingr watching from 
 afar over the petty lives and fates of men, 
 ready to bestow help and comfort upon those 
 who ask ? Or was the man appealing to all 
 that was best and truest in himself, drawing:
 
 152 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap, v 
 
 from fountains of strength hidden deep in 
 his own nature ? Who can tell ? Perhaps 
 he was not sure himself. 
 
 Enough to know that the vicar's prayer 
 was answered.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 The war was followed by a truce. 
 
 Fred, somewhat ashamed of himself, and 
 really concerned by the obvious grief of his 
 cousin, grew kindly and even tender. The 
 vicar found an opportunity of speaking to 
 him, in the most delicate and affectionate 
 way, of his duty to Kate and of the great 
 trouble she was experiencing. 
 
 Fred would have resented this interference 
 if he had found a chance. But the vicar was 
 too clever a man of the world to give him 
 one, and besides, Fred could not but recognise 
 his right, as Mrs. Wynnston's nearest male
 
 154 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 friend, to act in the matter. The conversation 
 was quite casual in outward forms and hy- 
 pothetical in its terms. But Fred recognised 
 its legitimate application, and at its close 
 shook the vicar's hand with the most friendly 
 goodwill and respect. 
 
 Kate, for her part, was much gentler and 
 more patient. She could not forget the 
 vicar's words in the garden and his tones in 
 the pulpit. She did not understand his 
 deep anguish, but she knew it existed, and 
 her own troubles seemed to grow trivial 
 before it. 
 
 A woman's life is to be glad and to be 
 sorry. Good women rarely know what agony 
 of soul is. Perhaps they do not know joy 
 of soul either. Hand in hand with a lover, 
 or chirruping to a first-born child, a woman 
 is happy with a happiness as bright as the
 
 VI FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 155 
 
 blitheness of a bird. The lover proves false, 
 the child dies, and see her tears, her wringing 
 of hands, listen to her cries of pain. The 
 trouble seems very real, and so it is to her. 
 But the cure is usually certain, often speedy. 
 Sometimes there is balsam in a black bonnet. 
 What would you ? For her the hidden things 
 of life do not exist. It is not her fault, but 
 the fault of social conventions which mould 
 her nature. She has learned that her func- 
 tions are to love, to marry, to bear children, 
 to dress becomingly, to go to church, to 
 curtsey in the creed to the Second Person of 
 the Trinity, to play the piano, to read the 
 last novel, perhaps to dance and to make 
 pastry. She goes through life smiling and 
 crying. Not for her are agonies of doubt, 
 searchings of spirit, high endeavour, divine 
 renunciation. Woman, indeed, is the sacrifice
 
 156 FKEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 of man, only she does not know it, and a 
 sacrifice made unconsciously is no sacrifice. 
 She bears the limitations of her existence as 
 she bears her children, patient in pain and 
 peril, believing that she fulfils her duty. It is 
 pitiful, not heroic. When our first parents 
 robbed the tree of knowledge. Eve but tasted 
 the fruit, Adam alone ate it to the core. 
 Yet there are women whose eyes have been 
 opened, who have peered into the heart of 
 earth's mystery, who have drunk deep the 
 sweet and bitter draughts of life. And what 
 are they "? where are they found ? Look at 
 their haggard faces, hear their hollow laughter, 
 seek them in dark corners. Shameless and 
 unsexed you call them ; so some are, but not 
 all. Have you thrilled from head to foot 
 when that great actress as Cleopatra, clasp- 
 ing her dying lover to her bosom, cries, with
 
 VI FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 157 
 
 an agony that stops the beating of your 
 
 heart — 
 
 " Die where thou hast lived ; 
 Quicken with kissing ; had my lips that power, 
 Thus would I wear them out." 
 
 A school -girl could not have clone it. Nor 
 could your good -wife, who, sitting a little 
 shamefaced at your side, whispers, "How 
 very pathetic ! " You are glad that she 
 could not, and perhaps you are right. That 
 actress has felt the surge of passion. She is 
 only kissing a paid player to whom she will 
 carelessly nod as she passes him to-morrow. 
 See how her breast heaves, the blood mounts 
 to her face, she strains the body of her 
 Antony closer and closer, her voice is choked 
 in one long kiss. It is only acting. Ah ! 
 but how did she learn to do it ? The world 
 applauds and admires the actress. In the 
 life of the woman there are passages which
 
 158 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 men discuss with many a brutal jest, which 
 women whisper amid the clatter of the tea- 
 cups, and nod and wag their heads. If your 
 wife met her in the street she would gather 
 up her skirts. You are rather pleased; you 
 would be shocked if your wife clasped her 
 hand, kissed her polluted lips, and said, " Poor 
 sister." Don't fear. There is no danger. 
 Your estimable spouse is incapable of such a 
 breach of decorum. 
 
 Mrs. Wynnston having settled the great 
 tenor question more or less satisfactorily, 
 found time to devote some attention to Kate's 
 affairs. She did not understand her daughter, 
 and even Fred's simpler character perplexed 
 her. She reasoned with herself — " Here are 
 two young people, good-looking, comfortable 
 in circumstances, fond of one another, com- 
 panions from childhood, evidently destined
 
 VI FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 159 
 
 by fortune for one another ; why should they 
 not make love and get married like sensible 
 beings, instead of squabbling and sulking and 
 making themselves miserable ? In my time 
 boys and girls were made more reasonable. 
 What is coming to the rising generation I 
 don't know. What can a body do with two 
 such stupid lovers ? If I sympathise with 
 Kate she will fly at me ; if I remonstrate 
 with Fred he will think Kate has complained 
 to me and go into the sulks for a week. 
 Perhaps I had better leave them alone, yet I 
 feel it's my duty to do something. If I only 
 knew what." 
 
 She ended by writing to Mr. Hazzleden, 
 senior. 
 
 Three or four mornings after Fred found 
 the following letter by his plate at break- 
 fast:—
 
 160 FKEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 "My dear Boy — What have you been 
 doing with yourself all these weeks ? It is 
 quite a month since you wrote to me. I 
 thought you were cruising among the 
 Hebrides, or gone in search of the North 
 Pole, and now I infer from that wonderful 
 woman, your Aunt Wynnston, who sends 
 me a beautiful letter three times a year, 
 that you are still at Lorton. What is the 
 reason of it ? From your aunt's account I 
 should imagine you had joined the church 
 choir and were singing tenor all day and a 
 considerable portion of the night. I admire 
 your aunt, Fred, but her letters are a little 
 confusing. Or is it black-eyed Kitty who 
 has kept you? Now dont write *yes' or 
 I'll disinherit you. I tell you I'm jealous. 
 I never think with patience of that bit in 
 the prayer-book about a man not marrying
 
 VI FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 161 
 
 his niece. The old buffers who wrote it 
 couldn't have been uncles. Anyhow, they 
 hadn't Kitty Wynnston for a niece. I only 
 wish she was here. That good soul, your 
 Aunt Maria, will drive me crazy. She's a 
 ' hyper -Calvinist' now, she says. I don't 
 quite know what that is ; do you ? It's 
 something unpleasant, for yesterday I just 
 read her a chapter of Darwin (I do wish 
 you would read Darwin, Fred, the greatest 
 man of the century), and your worthy Aunt 
 Maria said it was all very fine, but she was 
 content to know she was preordained to 
 salvation, and I was preordained to another 
 ' ation.' It's very consoling for her, no 
 doubt, but I say it's all confounded nonsense. 
 There are some new people, by the way, in 
 Dr. Gordon's old house. I suppose it be- 
 longs to Miss O'Connor now. The man is 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 called Williamson, was something 'in shoes/ 
 made money, shaky on h's, and rather fat. 
 Your Aunt Maria and Mrs. W. have struck 
 up an acquaintanceship. She is an inoffen- 
 sive woman, young for her years, and as 
 amiable as she is ungrammatical. She too 
 has a turn for theology, and your aunt and 
 she make the evenings hideous with their 
 eternal chatter. Your aunt confided to me 
 that Mrs. AV. was 'a poor creature clothed 
 in the filthy rags of righteousness and pre- 
 ordained to perdition from before the founda- 
 tion of the world.' I suppose Maria knows, 
 for she has gone deeply into the subject ; 
 but upon my word, Fred, I think it was 
 anything but kind of Providence to do such 
 wholesale preordination and not give men 
 and women a chance. I ventured to suggest 
 this idea to your aunt, but I was sorry
 
 VI FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 163 
 
 afterwards. She went oflf into a sermon 
 on free will. She said my doubts were all 
 the result of my stubborn belief in free will. 
 She wanted no free vriYl ; she knew where her 
 free will would lead her, — ' Free grace if you 
 like, John, but no free will.' I certainly 
 have noticed that your aunt has abundance 
 of will ; as she says it is not ^ free,' I suppose 
 it isn't. Darwin, my boy, is a great help 
 in all this nonsense. He never wastes his 
 time over such stuff. That retired boot-man, 
 W., is frightfully ignorant. I^just sounded 
 him the other day as to his views on the 
 origin of species, and he did not seem to 
 have any very definite opinions. So I 
 asked him what he thouo-ht of Darwin. He 
 said he didn't know much about it himself, 
 but he knew a man who had a mill there. 
 The idiot thought I meant some wretched
 
 164 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 town where they make cotton or something. 
 We have a new curate here, a dear young 
 creature, whom your aunt immediately pre- 
 ordained to a place with the patriarchs. 
 I've lent him * Natural Selection,' but I 
 don't expect it will do him much good. It's 
 very hard to drive sense into the head of 
 a parson. I was only arguing evolution 
 with him yesterday. He pretended that 
 he could never see any possible link be- 
 tween vegetable and animal life. I took 
 him into the vinery, Fred. Any man who 
 has grown vines must know that plants 
 aren't half such fools as they look. The 
 vines, as you know, run along the roof One 
 of them has a branch hanging a foot from the 
 glass. Six inches above it a wire runs all 
 along. Would you believe it, in a fortnight 
 that vine had shot up half a dozen tendrils.
 
 VI FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 165 
 
 hooked them over the wire, and the branch 
 is now hanging as safely and comfortably 
 as possible. I pointed this out to our curate, 
 and he screwed up his eyes and said some- 
 thing about the beautiful designs of Pro- 
 vidence. All bosh, Fred, and I told him so. 
 That vine has what Darwin calls a low form 
 of consciousness — ^just the same consciousness 
 as yours and mine, only less of it. If this 
 is so, where is the difficulty of the evolution 
 of men from plants, the lower forms giving 
 place to the higher ? For my part I should 
 not be the least ashamed to trace my 
 ancestry to a cabbage. Indeed, I've noticed 
 manifestations of practical common - sense 
 about several species of cabbages which 
 would really surprise you. But I must 
 tell you all about that another time, for I 
 am gossiping on and quite forgetting the
 
 166 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 chief reason of my letter. Last week I ran 
 up to town and breakfasted with one of the 
 ' Whips.' He tells me the dissolution cannot 
 be delayed more than a few weeks. The 
 Government really is in a minority, and a 
 vote of censure may be carried almost any 
 night. The Premier has made up his mind 
 not to resign, so an appeal to the country 
 must be taken. The Whip was good enough 
 to say he knew a seat which would just suit 
 you, where you will have to fight, but with 
 an excellent chance of winning. I think 
 you had better come home to-morrow or the 
 day after, when we can talk the matter over. 
 The Whip expressed his great surprise that 
 I, a high and dry old Tory, should be anxious 
 to see my son a Liberal candidate. To be 
 quite frank, Fred, I am delighted that in 
 this respect, at any rate, you are a better man
 
 VI FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 167 
 
 than your father. You see, your sainted 
 mother had Conservative tendencies, and I 
 am a peaceful person. Has Kate any politics : 
 Ordinary girls call themselves Tories ; they 
 think it more respectable. But Kate isn't 
 an ordinary girl. Bless her bonny face, I 
 warrant she's a Republican, or something 
 equally dreadful. I remember once when 
 she was a little chit she refused to kneel 
 down to say her prayers. Her mother 
 punished her, and, of course, it was very 
 naughty, but I gave her a penny. Don't 
 tell your aunt or my character will be gone 
 for ever. I always think that Darwin 
 throws a strong light on party politics. You 
 see, there are two ways of looking at the 
 world. One is that it was made in six 
 separate pieces, and that the whole job was 
 completed when Adam lost that rib of his.
 
 168 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 The other is that it slowly grew through 
 millions of years, that it is not finished yet, 
 that it is always developing and is always 
 capable of development. The first is the 
 Tory view. We think things are very good 
 as they are, always were as good as they 
 could be, and that it is our duty to do 
 nothing in particular. The other is the 
 Liberal view. You think that new forms, 
 new thoughts, new methods are always being 
 evolved ; that in society the less complex is 
 always giving birth to the more complex ; 
 that it is your duty to promote the process 
 in every way you can. We have an ideal 
 behind us, you have one before you. Per- 
 haps you don't quite know what it is, and 
 what it is worth. Still you are always 
 trying to get at it by steps of natural and 
 artificial selection. After all this you will
 
 VI FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 169 
 
 say I am a queer sort of Tory. I often think 
 I am ; yet I tell you, Fred, if I had a vote 
 in your constituency I would give it against 
 you. Ever since I married I have voted 
 Tory, and I'm too old to change now. If 
 I voted Liberal even for you, your poor 
 mother would not rest in peace. Now, just 
 one serious word. I have always hoped that 
 you would some day marry my little pet. 
 If you and she have arranged it I am very 
 glad. If not, I only wish she may get as 
 good a husband as I know my lad would 
 make. But you must be prudent. You 
 want to go into Parliament, and I should 
 like to see you there. It is one thing to 
 be a member as a bachelor and another as a 
 married man. We have not a great deal 
 of money, and when I am gone I expect 
 you will have to give up this place and settle
 
 170 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 entirely in town. So, my dear boy, think 
 over all these things before you make up 
 your mind. You must remember Kate as 
 well as yourself # # # :^. That 
 man Williamson has just been here. It 
 seems he took his girls last week to see some 
 actor give a drawing-room entertainment. 
 Mrs. W. has strong views about theatrical 
 amusements and remonstrated. W. de- 
 fended himself and came to get my opinion 
 in the matter. ' I told Jane,' he said, ' the 
 man hadn't his play-hactin' clothes on, and 
 that makes all the difference. Don't you 
 think it does?' I said the point was a 
 very nice one, but I thought that he had 
 very accurately discriminated between legiti- 
 mate and illegitimate theatricals. He has 
 gone away quite happy. Give my love to 
 your aunt and Kate, and with the same to
 
 VI FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 171 
 
 yourself, I am, my dear Fred, your affec- 
 tionate father, John Hazzleden. 
 
 " P.S. — I have spent the whole day in 
 writing this and must run off to water the 
 greenhouse. I promised to read a chapter 
 of ' Darwin on Worms ' to your Aunt Maria 
 to-night, but I'm afraid there won't be time." 
 
 Fred packed his bag and asked Arnitte 
 to stay with him a few days at home, and 
 afterwards give him a lift with his election 
 business. Xext day the pair started for Mr. 
 Hazzleden^s house.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 South the travellers journeyed to Barkleigli 
 Junction, a great railway centre named from 
 the village of Barkleigh, and ten miles 
 from Soarceter, a thriving and populous 
 manufacturing town. Mr. Hazzleden lived a 
 couple of miles from Barkleigh, and when he 
 succeeded to his father's property thirty-five 
 years ago Soarceter was a quaint old place, 
 consisting principally of coaching inns and 
 churches, and remarkable for nothing except 
 some Roman remains, which the people would 
 tell you were built by Julius Caesar, who was 
 Pope of Rome many years ago, and who took
 
 CHAP. VII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 173 
 
 a great number of Englishmen prisoners in 
 battle, and set them free again because they 
 looked like angels. This tradition is sup- 
 posed to lack historical foundation, but the 
 people of Soarceter a generation back lived 
 and died believing it. They were moderately 
 happy and prosperous in their lives, and their 
 descendants are firmly convinced that they 
 ultimately achieved perpetual felicity. If so, 
 what reason have we for boasting ? We have 
 reached a high degree of culture, we know 
 that Csesar w^as not Pope, that he crossed the 
 Paibicon, and that Brutus killed him i' the 
 Capitol. Yet the old Soarceter folk earned 
 their bread with a little butter, and at last 
 went to heaven. At length a remarkable change 
 came over the spirit of Soarceter life. A 
 persevering cobbler in a cellar in the High 
 Street discovered a new and cheaper way of
 
 174 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 making boots. For a few years he kept his 
 discovery to himself, but when he left his 
 cellar and went into the biggest shop in the 
 town the secret leaked out. The people of 
 Soarceter seemed at once to be inspired by 
 the genius of bootmaking. They worked in 
 '' soles " and " uppers " as poets work in 
 words and thoughts. They were born 
 cobblers, not made. They revelled in their 
 calling, perfected its smallest details, and 
 scraped together comfortable fortunes. The 
 cellars gave place to shops, the shops to big 
 factories. Every one prospered. The factory 
 hands saved money and eventually became 
 employers themselves. Five times over the 
 population doubled itself, and Soarceter be- 
 came one of the OTeat towns of England. 
 
 Mr. Hazzleden watched this growth with 
 interest. IMany of his friends became very
 
 VII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 175 
 
 rich on the prosperity of Soarceter. They 
 bought up hind in the town when Lmd 
 was worth little, and sold it again when the 
 industry of a hundred struo-oiins; bootmakers 
 had made it worth so much that if you had 
 covered it with a carpet of £5 notes you 
 would have hardly exceeded its market value. 
 Mr. Hazzleden had never increased his means 
 by speculating upon the success of his fellows. 
 He did not like the principle. " I don't make 
 boots myself/' he said, "and I don't see 
 why I should put my hand in the pockets of 
 the man who does." Mr. Hazzleden drew 
 his income from his farm land and his 
 consols, and remained comparatively poor. 
 His friends and the world generally said, 
 "Serve him right." Soarceter had been a 
 ofold mine to the industrious and the idle 
 alike, and the man who refused to dig for
 
 176 FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 nuggets, and who declined to permit other 
 people to pour them into his lap, deserved 
 to be hard up. 
 
 Mr. Hazzleden scorned the pity of his 
 acquaintances as much as he scorned their 
 means of making money. He watched them 
 heap investment upon investment and then 
 disappear — for Barkleigh presented few at- 
 tractions to the affluent. He himself was 
 happy enough. His only regret was that 
 Soarceter had spread over the hilltop, that 
 a cluster of distant factory chimneys was 
 visible from the dining-room windows, and 
 that the west wind was sometimes laden 
 with more smoke than was good for the 
 flowers and fruit. Accident, and to some 
 extent disposition, made him a solitary man. 
 His wife died when he was still young, 
 and he never married again. The growth of
 
 VII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 177 
 
 Soarceter dispersed all gentle society in 
 which he miorht have found intimate ac- 
 quaintances. Walking through the old Soar- 
 ceter market-place he sometimes pointed out 
 to Fred the occupants of the splendid carriages 
 which dashed about. " See that man," he 
 would say, as a pompous old fellow clattered 
 past ; " twenty years ago he sold pies from 
 a tray in this very market-place. I re- 
 member when you were a little lad you 
 used to tease your mother for coppers to buy 
 his cakes. He was mayor last year and 
 entertained the Prince of Wales. He ex- 
 pects to be knighted." Again he would 
 remark, " Look at that handsome woman 
 with the red parasol, the one behind the 
 green livery. You see her ? She was our 
 first cook at Barkleigh, before you were born. 
 She married a factory hand who invented a 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 new loop for pulling on boots, and I suppose 
 she's worth a hundred thousand pounds at 
 least. Her husband has been dead several 
 years, and I'm afraid there's some truth in 
 the scandal which has been talked of her." 
 
 So he reviewed the mushroom magni- 
 ficence of Soarceter. He was not envious or 
 contemptuous of it. His own equals and 
 companions had been enriched and driven 
 away by it, but he owed it no grudge. He 
 felt the enormous advantage which a com- 
 munity possesses where the poorest members 
 may hope to raise themselves to comfort 
 and wealth by industry and ingenuity. Mr. 
 Hazzleden was not a man of high education. 
 He was a country gentleman, the son of a 
 country gentleman, bred in the tradition 
 tliat it is a much finer thing to take a five- 
 bar gate neatly, and to shoot straight, than
 
 VII FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN 179 
 
 to read Homer, Virgil, or Milton. But he 
 was of singularly powerful mind, and looked 
 at all questions from a high, clear standpoint. 
 He felt his own limitations and regretted 
 them, and his son Fred he sent to Rugby 
 and Oxford. Of course he could not emanci- 
 pate himself entirely from the prejudices of 
 his class. That would have been super- 
 human. He always refused the hospitality 
 of the pieman mayor, and shunned those 
 social circles where his ancient cook was a 
 great lady. Maybe it was weakness, but 
 it was natural. 
 
 Mr. Hazzleden's dogcart awaited the arrival 
 of Fred and Arnitte at the station. Fred took 
 the reins, Arnitte mounted beside him. They 
 drove past a dozen red brick villas, very new, 
 very respectable, and bearing an indescribable 
 appearance of awkward and unaccustomed
 
 180 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 affluence. As they turned up the lane to 
 Barkleigh Fred heaved a sigh of relief, and 
 said, " Now we're out of the atmosphere of 
 boots." 
 
 " You don't like the smell of leather," re- 
 turned Arnitte. " Ah, but if you want to get 
 into Parliament you must learn to relish worse 
 smells." 
 
 "I don't mind leather," said Fred; "it's 
 brass which smells so nasty. I wonder how it 
 is that a rich boor is so much more offensive 
 than a poor one. You can tolerate beneath 
 corduroy what is insufferable beneath broad- 
 cloth. The people about here by industry and 
 skill have made money, yet they are much less 
 to my taste than the men who are still earning 
 a pound a week." 
 
 Arnitte laughed. " Your Eadicalism is as 
 remarkable as what you tell me of your father's
 
 VII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 181 
 
 Toryism. My dear boy, your stiff-neckedness 
 will some day get you into trouble. I shouldn't 
 be surprised if you so far forgot yourself as to 
 shake hands with a duke." 
 
 It was Fred's turn to laugh now. " Upon 
 my word, Arnitte," he said, " you can call a 
 fellow a snob as neatly as any one I know. 
 What I said sounded snobbish, I dare say, 
 but it wasn't meant so. I detest men whose 
 pockets are always bulged out, who seem always 
 to be saying, ' I began life as an errand boy, 
 and now I'm w^orth £10,000 a year.' Surely 
 it isn't alw^ays snobbish to despise the upstart 
 who has lived to make money ?" 
 
 "Yet," returned Arnitte, "I think it can 
 be argued that money is the only thing worth 
 living for." 
 
 " Perhaps it can, but you are the last man 
 to do it," Fred warmly replied, for he was no
 
 182 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 believer in the genuineness of his friend's 
 cynicism. 
 
 " Don't be so sure of that. Eemember what 
 your Political Economy handbook tells you — 
 ' Money is not wealth.' To suppose that it is 
 involves a moral as well as an economic fallacy. 
 The man who lives merely to get wealth is a 
 beast, but I don't think every eager money- 
 getter is. You are going to say I am chopping 
 straws." Arnitte had an irritating trick of 
 anticipating his opponent's retorts in argu- 
 ment ; he was a thought-reader. 
 
 Fred nodded ; he knew his friend's uncon- 
 scious habit. 
 
 "It's not straw -chopping," Arnitte went 
 on. " Money is the greatest instrument of 
 enlightenment and civilisation in the world, 
 and those who have none ought to live to get 
 as much as they honestly can. Look at the
 
 VII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 183 
 
 people in those hideous villas. AVhen they 
 were children they probably lived in ugly 
 squalid houses, grinding ten hours a day to 
 make a few shillings, and finding no pleasure 
 in life but beer and tobacco. Now they live 
 in comfort and in some degree of refinement. 
 The man perhaps buys pictures. He has no 
 more taste than a Hottentot ; still it's a siorn 
 of grace that he cares to have pictures on his 
 walls. His wife is dreadfully vulgar in her 
 silk gowns and jewels, but I believe she is a 
 more civilised creature than when she was a 
 slipshod factory hand finding no shame in her 
 dirty cotton rags. The bumptious vulgarity 
 of the pair ofi'ends you. But what can you 
 expect ? Social refinement only comes with 
 breeding. You're not compelled to make 
 them your bosom friends. On the other 
 hand, you shouldn't despise them because
 
 184 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 they ve made money and are proud of 
 it." 
 
 Fred meditatively flicked the horse with 
 his whip, and presently replied, " There's a 
 good deal of truth in what you say. I tell 
 you what it is," he went on, " it's a ]3ity you're 
 not going to try for Parliament instead of me. 
 We want men with ideas there. You have 
 plenty ; I've none." 
 
 Arnitte shrugged his shoulders. " I may 
 have some ideas," he said, " but I have no idea 
 of going into your Parliament." 
 
 The pronoun and the slight accent which he 
 laid upon it struck Fred as peculiar. Then 
 the Parliament was not his Parliament. Fred 
 remembered a discussion he had had with 
 Kate a few weeks before. Kate declared 
 that Arnitte was not an Englishman. Fred, 
 on the other hand, was of opinion that no
 
 VII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEX 185 
 
 foreigner could be so thoroughly acquainted 
 with English affairs and so perfectly at home 
 in English society. As a matter of fact 
 neither of them could remember to have heard 
 him refer in any way to his past life. Who 
 he was, where he came from, and wdiat had 
 brought him to Lorton were mysteries. They 
 could only agree that he was a gentleman, 
 an accomplished man, and a very delightful 
 companion. 
 
 When they reached Mr. Hazzleden's door, 
 Fred jumped down to greet his father, who 
 came out to welcome them. 
 
 " Well, Fred, my boy, how are you ? Mr. 
 Arnitte, glad to see you, sir. I've heard of 
 you from my sister-in-law, Mrs. Wynnston," 
 and he shook his guest warmly by the hand. 
 " ^Irs. Wynnston thinks there's something- 
 supernatural about you. She told me all you'd
 
 186 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 done. Now, Darwin's a great help in these 
 matters. All natural enough. You're a fine 
 example of evolution, sir." 
 
 Arnitte knew from Fred of his father's 
 hobby, and gravely replied that he too had 
 found Darwin of great assistance in many 
 difficulties. 
 
 Mr. Hazzleden stopped to shake Arnitte's 
 hand once more. " I'm delighted to see you, 
 sir — delighted. You've read him, and of course 
 you've found him a help. The greatest man 
 of the century, sir. But we'll have a long 
 talk after dinner. There are several points 
 on which I should like to have your opinion." 
 
 Fred followed Arnitte into his room. 
 " Dear old dad," he said, " I'm sure you'll like 
 him. Don't think he's a fool because he's 
 Darwin mad, for he's one of the shrewdest and 
 most observant men I ever knew."
 
 VII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 187 
 
 Arnitte made some kindly reply. 
 
 " King if you want anything. We dine at 
 six, and the first bell has just gone." Fred 
 went off to his own room. 
 
 A party of four sat down to dinner. There 
 were Mr. Hazzleden, Aunt Maria, Fred, and 
 Arnitte. The last quietly noted his surround- 
 inojs. It was an old-fashioned room with 
 three large windows. Two of them looked 
 out over flower-beds and a small lawn up to 
 an orchard. Seen out of the other a stretch 
 of cornfields, broken only by the red roofs of 
 Barkleigh cottages, extended to the distant 
 chimneys of Soarceter, a vanguard advancing 
 over the hill. The furniture was old and 
 something the worse for wear. A mahogany 
 easy -chair upholstered in some velvet -like 
 material of crimson colour stood by the hearth- 
 rug. On the back was a dark patch where
 
 188 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 evidently for many years Mr. Hazzleden's 
 head had rested, as in the evening after early 
 supper he pored over the pages of Darwin, 
 and perhaps read a passage aloud to Aunt 
 Maria knitting stockings on the other side of 
 the fireplace. In a shallow alcove stood a 
 sideboard with a tall looking-glass back. On 
 it were a dozen quaint pieces of china. At 
 each side, on a crochet mat of red wool, was a 
 round ball of china, deep blue in colour, 
 with clouded markings. There were three or 
 four small teacups, some cracked, also a 
 flask -shaped object, which reminded one of 
 a powder-flask in blue china. Three large 
 vases stood at the back, very old and valuable, 
 and the middle one bore a great mass of 
 bright flowers. There were flowers every- 
 where — on the sideboard, on the table, on 
 brackets on the walls. Some, especially the
 
 VII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 189 
 
 pansies. were most unusual in shape and 
 colour. Mr. Hazzleden, wlio was very proud 
 of them, called Arnitte's attention to them. 
 
 '•' Governor s own breeding," ejaculated Fred 
 ^ith a twinkle. 
 
 Arnitte looked inquiringly. 
 " Get up early in the morning and you'll 
 find him in the pansy-bed with a camers-hair 
 brush impiously interfering with the order of 
 nature." 
 
 Mr. Hazzleden laughed and explained that 
 by transferring the pollen from one flower to 
 another with a small brush it was possible 
 to blend shapes and colours in a very re- 
 markable manner. He had been most suc- 
 cessfal in this method — thanks to Darwin, he 
 said, from whom he had gleaned many hints 
 as to the principles of selection. Mr. Hazzle- 
 den was now fairly launched upon a favourite
 
 190 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 topic. He broached the theory of the con- 
 sciousness of plants and gave a dozen illus- 
 trations in support of it. He was plucking 
 a large double fuchsia that morning when 
 his nail slipped and he accidentally inflicted 
 a long jagged wound on the stalk. " I was 
 sorry," he said, "because I hate cruelty." 
 
 " But surely you don't suppose," inter- 
 rupted Arnitte, "that the plant was hurt 
 that it felt any pain ?" 
 
 " Precisely what I do suppose, my dear sir,' 
 replied Mr. Hazzleden. " Depend upon it 
 that fuschia is suff'ering from my carelessness 
 Now, if I scratched you perhaps you would 
 jump and cry out. Plants can't do that 
 their feelings are slower. But if you saw 
 that fuschia now, if you noticed how it has 
 drawn up and contracted its wounded limb, 
 how listlessly the leaves hang near the
 
 VII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 191 
 
 wound, you would believe that the plant was 
 suffering." 
 
 He went on with great earnestness, ex- 
 plaining his theories of vegetable life. Plants 
 had some rudimentary social sense, he said. 
 Put two flowers side by side in the green- 
 house and both w^ould languish ; move them 
 apart and both would thrive. Some people 
 were greatly perplexed to explain these facts. 
 To him they were simple enough. When a 
 man and woman of uncongenial dispositions 
 married they soon became unhappy. Now, 
 plants had their sympathies and antipathies 
 just like human beings. Condemn tw^o anti- 
 pathetic plants to companionship and they 
 began to pine, and if not separated at length 
 died. In answ^er to a question from Arnitte 
 he declared that he had not been able to 
 imagine how and through what medium
 
 192 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 plants formed their impressions and received 
 their sensations. Of course thej had neither 
 eyes, noses, nor ears like human beings, yet 
 he felt sure they had some sensations corre- 
 sponding to sight and smell, if not to hearing 
 also. "This should be no difficulty to you 
 at any rate, Mr. Arnitte, for you can see into 
 men's minds with your eyes shut." 
 
 Arnitte was interested and amused. In 
 spite of the apparent extravagance of his 
 host's theories he was not disposed to assert 
 that there was no element of truth in them. 
 And then Mr. Hazzleden had such a wide 
 knowledge of plants, and for years had em- 
 ployed such acute powers of observation, that 
 he could give plausible evidence in support of 
 all his propositions. Arnitte mentally decided 
 that Fred was right in regarding his father 
 as an unusually shrew^d and observant man.
 
 VII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 193 . 
 
 From the foot of the table Aunt Maria 
 talked to Fred. She was a little, thin-faced 
 woman of sixty, with a long, sharp nose, 
 straight lips and high -arched eyebrows, which 
 made her always appear as though she had 
 just thought something very astonishing. 
 Inward surprise was her constant expression. 
 In this respect, however, her face was decep- 
 tive. Aunt Maria was too much engaged in 
 the contemplation of those celestial duties and 
 delights to which she believed she was pre- 
 ordained, to wonder greatly at any mere mun- 
 dane matters. In truth, she was a kind-hearted 
 old maid who cheerfully occupied her hands 
 with the domestic concerns of Mr. Hazzleden's 
 house while her mind was revelling among 
 the golden streets of the New Jerusalem. 
 But for an occasional touch of rheumatism 
 
 she might have imagined herself bodily there. 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 At such times she would rub the afflicted 
 part with a decoction of her own manufacture 
 and earnestly murmur, " Ah, there'll be no 
 pain there." What with the lotion and what 
 with the thouQ;ht, Aunt Maria contrived to 
 endure her aching, and even to extract some 
 subtle enjoyment from it. She was a rather 
 provoking controversialist. From incessant 
 brooding, matters of faith had assumed a 
 concrete reality in her mind which admitted 
 of no discussion. It seemed foolish to dis- 
 pute whether there was such a place as 
 Heaven when Aunt Maria could give you 
 the carats of the golden pavement and the 
 tide times of the Jasper Sea. She was 
 equally well acquainted with the duties of 
 the future life and the services required to 
 attain it. In all these matters she was 
 placidly certain, and would no more doubt
 
 VII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 195 
 
 the reality and truth of her convictions than 
 she would doubt that King John signed 
 Magna Charta, or that Paris is the capital of 
 France. She was not self-righteous or up- 
 lifted ; she simply regarded her preordination 
 as a divine mystery to be accepted without 
 question. It did not confer upon her any 
 sense of personal superiority. She was a 
 humble little woman, who, in spite of her 
 grotesque creed, lived a useful, self-sacrificing 
 life. She was full of pity and charity to all 
 mankind, except indeed the Jesuits, whom 
 she regarded as incarnations of the evil one, 
 and whose handiwork she saw in every crime 
 committed in the country. For those who 
 differed from her she had a gentle toleration 
 which was sometimes rather irritating. Fred, 
 out of mischief, w^ould argue with her such 
 momentous questions as whether the saints
 
 •196 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 are now in the enjoyment of full bliss or 
 awaiting in a middle sphere the final accom- 
 plishment of the prophecies, or whether the 
 service of Heaven is all praise, or praise and 
 prayer combined. This latter was a favourite 
 topic of Aunt Maria. She held strong views 
 upon it, and defended them with a dexterity 
 and a knowledge of the Scriptures bearing on 
 the problem which were most formidable. 
 "No prayer, Fred," she once said, "no prayer. 
 It's all praise there." Fred, with the levity 
 of youth, expressed some heterodox opinion, 
 but Aunt Maria was not 'shocked. She 
 had too much confidence in her relio;ious 
 convictions. She knew that he was preor- 
 dained to salvation, and his theological eccen- 
 tricities gave her no trouble. Every argument 
 she closed with " Ah, my dear boy, you'll 
 know some day," and then she smiled, nodded,
 
 VII FREDEKICK HAZZLEDEN 197 
 
 twiddled her thumbs, perhaps dropped a tear, 
 and sat silently staring into that eternity 
 which had become as familiar to her as 
 church on Sunday. There was no shaking 
 her serene confidence. Sometimes, when 
 she had lightly brushed aside the dicta of 
 Darwin, Mr. Hazzleden impatiently retorted, 
 "Maria, you know nothing about it. You 
 never read him, and I can't make you under- 
 stand his first principles." Then the dear 
 old thing, forgetting her sixty years, answered, 
 •'' Out of the mouth of babes and suck- 
 lings, John, out of the mouth of babes 
 and sucklings ; ah ! you'll know some day." 
 A part of the future great reward for which 
 Aunt Maria looked was, evidently, the con- 
 fusion of those who encountered her in 
 argument. Whatever doubts may rest on 
 her creed, none can be cast upon her fidelity
 
 198 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 to duty. She managed Mr. Hazzleden's house 
 with firmness and skill, and exerted a con- 
 trolling influence felt in every corner of it. 
 Mr. Hazzleden often said in simple admira- 
 tion, ''Maria, it's a pity you never got 
 married. You'd have made a splendid wife." 
 Then she would sigh, perhaps simper, and say, 
 " Who knows, John, maybe it's all for the 
 best.'' When a young girl Maria had been 
 engaged to a curate. He jilted her, and 
 the afi'ection which she bestowed on the in- 
 dividual seemed to spread over the whole 
 class. She had a w^eakness for curates ; she 
 subscribed to their benevolent societies and 
 made them slippers. In her heart, it is prob- 
 able, she still cherished a faint, tender hope 
 of making happy the home of some parson. 
 Old maids have a curious power of self- 
 deception ; the older they get the bigger does
 
 vii FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN 199 
 
 the possibility of marriage loom in their 
 minds. The handsome woman of forty, when 
 rallied by some intimate friend on her single- 
 ness, will laughingly reply that she is too old 
 and ugly to find a husband. When the same 
 woman is fifty -five the same jest wdll call 
 up a flush of self - consciousness and a dis- 
 ingenuous answ^er that she "doesn't want 
 to get married." The explanation seems to 
 be that so long as marriage is quite within 
 the bounds of probability, a woman regards 
 her future with easy indifierence ; but as soon 
 as age has put it out of the question her 
 thoughts brood on matrimonial companion- 
 ship with morbid intensity, and she begins 
 to persuade herself that more unlikely things 
 have happened than that she should find a 
 husband. Thus it occurred that Aunt Maria, 
 if not absorbed in devotional meditation,
 
 200 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 treated with an attention almost coquettish 
 any young men, especially curates, who 
 visited Mr. Hazzleden's house. 
 
 It was not until dinner was over, and 
 the three men were smoking their cigars, 
 that the subject of the election was men- 
 tioned. In a pause of the conversatioa 
 Fred said, '' Well, dad, what about tlie 
 constituency V | 
 
 ^' Bless me," said Mr. Hazzleden, ''Mr. 
 Arnitte and I have had such an interesting 
 chat that I forgot all about business. It's a 
 seat at Dockborough, and is now held by a 
 Tory. But he's not a popular man, and 
 besides, has given great offence to the Irish 
 electors. If you can please them without 
 offending the Whigs you're sure of a small 
 majority. Have you, by the way, any views 
 on Irish policy ? "
 
 VII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 201 
 
 ''Fred is partial to the Irish," said Arnitte, 
 cracking a nut. 
 
 Fred could not tell why a flush, half of 
 anger, half of shame, burned in his cheeks, 
 for there was no spark of malice in the clear 
 eyes which met his across the table. He 
 answered with embarrassment, " Of course 
 I think the Irish have been very badly 
 used for hundreds of years, and we ^ owe 
 them every reparation. Besides, the Prime 
 Minister knows better than any one else what 
 to do, and I'm quite ready to follow him." 
 
 Mr. Hazzleden impatiently strummed on 
 the table, and Arnitte quietly remarked, 
 " You have a great deal to learn in politics." 
 
 Fred was beginning to resent his friend's 
 calm assumption of superiority — an assump- 
 tion, he thought, hardly warranted by the 
 difference of their years. He answered
 
 202 FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 warmly, '' I don't profess to be an experienced 
 politician, but all my life has been passed 
 in England, and I've thought a good deal 
 about affairs. It seems to me, if I pledge 
 myself to support every just measure of relief 
 for Ireland, and to follow the Prime Minister 
 faithfully, the Irishmen will be satisfied, and 
 the Whigs ought not to quarrel with me." 
 
 "You really suppose," asked Arnitte, "that 
 justice and faith count for anything in 
 politics? My dear fellow, you are fitter to 
 be a minor canon than a member of Parlia- 
 ment. Except by exalted enthusiasts, such 
 as the Premier, these considerations are never 
 thought of. At the present time your Irish 
 friends want reform, partly for revenge and 
 partly to spoil the landlords. The fact that 
 their cause is that of justice is only an acci- 
 dent. The Whigs and Tories care nothing
 
 VII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 203 
 
 about the question for itself, but they know 
 that while this Irish question blocks the way 
 they are safe. All they want is to dish the 
 democracy. The masses are puzzled and are 
 waiting to discover which side pays best 
 before they make up their minds." 
 
 " I don't believe it," said Fred. " If I did 
 I would take to cabbage-growing rather than 
 enter public life." 
 
 "You'll find out before your election is 
 over,'' Arnitte grimly rejoined. 
 
 Mr. Hazzleden, to his son's surprise, in- 
 timated that Fred was evidently a baby in 
 politics, and that Arnitte was right. 
 
 The latter exclaimed again, '* Why, when 
 we were at Lorton I picked up a local paper 
 with a speech by the Tory who is going to 
 contest the county. What did the fellow tell 
 the acrricultural labourers ? Not that Irish
 
 204 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 reform was right or wrong, or good or bad 
 for the empire, but that if it was passed Irish 
 labourers would flock over here to all the 
 farms, and wages would go down. I don't 
 defend it. I say it's thoroughly con- 
 temptible. But he'll go in, and he wouldn't 
 if he had taken any other line. My conten- 
 tion is that English politics is a mixed busi- 
 ness, and that, if you are going in for it, you 
 mustn't be too nice." 
 
 Fred eagerly replied, "He was a Tory; 
 that's what the Tories always do. They 
 appeal to the basest passions of the mob. 
 But I am a Eadical ; I believe in the justice 
 and honesty of the people, and the only 
 appeals I will ever make to them shall be on 
 grounds of justice and right." 
 
 '' I admire your enthusiasm," said Arnitte, 
 '^but you'll never be member for Dockborough."
 
 VII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 205 
 
 The evening was hot, and Fred, rising, 
 threw open a window and stepped out on to 
 a small verandah. He called to Arnitte, and 
 the pair, lifting out their chairs, sat down to 
 finish their cigars. Mr. Hazzleden slipped 
 away to join Aunt Maria. 
 
 Fred was saddened. Here was a young 
 man, with little experience, but high ideal of 
 public life, hearing upon its threshold that 
 the only means of entering was to fling away 
 his ideal. The game already began to seem 
 not worth the candle. He was in the habit 
 of bringing all problems before the bar of 
 reason and conscience. He imagined that 
 other people did the same, and that in 
 a constituency, as well as in an individual, 
 the judgment of this tribunal must be 
 supreme. The gospel of pocket versus prin- 
 ciple always seemed to him too base to
 
 206 FKEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 be influential, yet if Arnitte and his father 
 were right it was the one thing he was to 
 preach. He was half inclined to abandon all 
 idea of Parliament. Would it not be better 
 for him to marry Kate and settle down at 
 Lorton ? This last thought left him more 
 perturbed than before. 
 
 Arnitte sat by, his chair tilted back against 
 the wall, his feet on the railing of the 
 verandah, puffing out the smoke in rings, 
 and silently reading the troubled question- 
 ings of Fred's mind. 
 
 "You're disgusted with the whole busi- 
 ness," he said. 
 
 Fred, half angrily, grumbled an assent. 
 
 '' I'm pretty quick at understanding char- 
 acter," replied Arnitte, " but there are some 
 things about you, Fred, I admit I can't make 
 out. You aren't fickle or weak, yet you seem
 
 VII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 207 
 
 to keep no grip on your convictions. One 
 moment you think you're in love, the next 
 you think you're not. Then you're con- 
 sumed with political ambition, and now you 
 find it a mean passion. Forgive my frank- 
 ness ; I know our short friendship scarcely 
 justifies it." 
 
 Manifestations of personal interest always 
 touched Fred, and he replied, '^ I believe 
 you're right, Arnitte. I haven't understood 
 myself of late. I seem to have no roots at 
 all." 
 
 Arnitte swung round. " Let me try and 
 give you one. Don't fling up public life 
 because the way to it isn't as pleasant as you 
 hoped. Stick to your ideals all you can, and 
 remember this : methods which the best men 
 in your country — the Prime Minister, for in- 
 stance — don't shrink from adopting, can't be
 
 208 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 wholly bad. You're dealing witli an unedu- 
 cated democracy and an intensely selfish 
 aggregation of classes. You must make some 
 concession to their fears and prejudices, if 
 you want them to give you the opportunity 
 of doing any good at all. If I were stand- 
 ing for Dockborough I would learn to 
 catch votes without abating a jot of my 
 self-respect." 
 
 Fred was consoled without being con- 
 vinced. They rose and went into the house. 
 In the drawing-room they found Aunt Maria 
 with Mrs. Williamson, who had called to pay 
 an evening visit. Mr. Hazzleden, in his easy- 
 chair, his head tipped back, his elbows on the 
 arms, and finger-tips meeting, was meditating 
 on the origin of species. An open volume of 
 Darwin lay upon his knee. According to his 
 wont he had set the women chattering, and
 
 vii FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 209 
 
 then, tired of their talk, had gone off into a 
 dream. 
 
 After the introductions Mrs. Williamson 
 continued with great earnestness, " I were say- 
 ing to your Haunt Maria, Mr. Fred, that this 
 here evolution theory won't do." 
 
 "Contrary to the revealed word of God," 
 said Aunt Maria. "Oh, fools and slow of 
 heart to believe all that the prophets have 
 spoken." She looked affectionately towards 
 her brother, and Mrs. Williamson shook her 
 head and sighed dolorously. 
 
 "Is it not written," continued Aunt Maria, 
 
 " ' Man was made upright, but they have 
 
 sought out many inventions ' ? Yet, Mrs 
 
 Williamson, they would have us believe that 
 
 man was made on all fours, and only learned 
 
 to stand upright by his own cleverness. In 
 
 the pride of their stubborn free will they 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 seek out many inventions, which do but 
 humble them to the level of the beast that 
 perisheth." Aunt Maria raised her eyebrows 
 until her forehead seemed gradually to fold 
 itself up into the roots of her hair, and she 
 gazed at Mr. Hazzleden as though she ex- 
 pected him to frisk barking round the room on 
 his hands and knees, or to squat jabbering like 
 a monkey on the floor. 
 
 " It's an insult to us," said Mrs. William- 
 son, taking up the parable. " My family was 
 most respectable people, and never 'ad no 
 relations with hapes or any other disgustin' 
 beasts." When Mrs. Williamson's shallow mind 
 was stirred up her aspirates were tremend- 
 ously emphatic. It was consequently a pity 
 that, as a rule, they fell in the wrong places. 
 
 " It's all nonsense and 'ortiness of 'art, as 
 you say, ma'm," she went on. " Besides, are
 
 vn FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 211 
 
 we to think that the patriarchs and apostles, 
 and even 'olier ones than them, was descended 
 from the hugly reptiles as orgin-grinders carries 
 about with them ?" 
 
 "That is conclusive," said Aunt Maria; 
 "the same thought has occurred to me. 
 Explain it away if you can, John. By your 
 irreligious theories you would compel us to 
 believe that the Being whom we worship was 
 descended from the beasts. Could anything 
 be more shockingly blasphemous?" 
 
 " I can't explain anything," said Mr. 
 Hazzleden ; " I'm sleepy and going to bed," 
 and with brief "good-nights" he retired. 
 Aunt Maria folded her hands and smiled 
 triumphantly. Fred, who, like his father, 
 was utterly bored, would have been glad to 
 escape, but Arnitte, with the manner and 
 tones of deferential courtesy which were
 
 212 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap.vii 
 
 usual in his conversation with ladies, had 
 taken up the discussion and was leading the 
 pair of theologians through the most grotesque 
 dilemmas. There was no suggestion of irony 
 in his demeanour. A man of coarser fibre 
 would have "drawn out" Aunt Maria and Mrs. 
 Williamson for his own amusement. Fred 
 w^as quite sure Arnitte had no such intention. 
 He had the art of finding pleasure in all 
 subjects and all persons. He had discovered 
 two types of character new to him and was 
 studying them with grave interest. Fred at 
 once acquitted him of all discourtesy, but he 
 w^as thankful when the discussion ended and 
 Arnitte condescended to go to bed.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 The following day a deputation from the 
 Dockborough Liberal Association waited upon 
 Fred. It consisted of Robert Davies, Esq., 
 merchant, the President, and Arthur Bradley, 
 Esq., solicitor, the Hon. Secretary. They 
 were an interesting couple. For many years 
 past, over daily lunch in the local Reform 
 Club, they had settled the political affairs of 
 Dockborough. Every one distrusted them, 
 every one abused them, yet every one appeared 
 to believe that they were essential to the 
 Liberal party. The Dockborough Liberals 
 had an elaborate representative organisation.
 
 214 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 and at committee meetings fiery Eadicals 
 thundered out denunciations against the 
 "hole-and-corner" management which was 
 ruining the prospects of the party. There 
 was an epithet of local significance which 
 was frequently applied to them. They were 
 called the chiefs of the *' strawberry jam" 
 clique. Who invented the term and how it 
 was derived no one knew; perhaps it was 
 adopted because of its subtle suggestion of 
 social superfluity. At any rate, to have a 
 banking account and pretensions to refinement 
 were to be " strawberry jam." If Lord Dock- 
 borough, the president of the club, gave a 
 dinner to the heads of the party, or if the 
 newspapers reported the presence of Messrs. 
 Davies and Bradley at a reception at the 
 Foreign Ofiice, or if a rich Liberal was made 
 a Justice of the Peace, the sturdy Eadicals
 
 VIII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 215 
 
 muttered, "strawberr}^ jam again," and 
 felt greatly relieved by the scornful ejacu- 
 lation. But Messrs. Davies and Bradley 
 kept their places and continued their oli- 
 garchic rule. The reasons were, that they 
 were the only men in Dockborough able and 
 willing to pay for their political hobby, and 
 that they were really the ablest and most 
 experienced party tacticians in the constitu- 
 ency. The imputation of "strawberry jam" 
 they bore with tranquil resignation. 
 
 A short time before their visit to Fred 
 the pair met at the lunch table. Mr. Bradley 
 had just returned from a business mission to 
 London. 
 
 " Hullo ! " he said ; " how's things ? " 
 " Pretty well, thank you ; how are you ? " 
 replied Mr. Davies, who had a weakness for small 
 jokes. This was their customary salutation.
 
 216 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 " Got hold of any one yet ? " inquired Mr. 
 Bradley as he studied the bill of fare. 
 
 " No," grumbled Mr. Davies ; " we've got 
 such a beastly bad name nobody worth having 
 will look at us. Tell you what it is, Bradley, 
 we shall have to put you up to give Lawson 
 a run." 
 
 Mr. Lawson was the sitting Tory member. 
 
 *' Not good enough, Robert," replied Mr. 
 Bradley. " Prophet in his own country, you 
 know." 
 
 Mr. Davies disconsolately consumed his 
 mutton cutlets and a half-pint of thin claret. 
 
 Presently Mr. Bradley carelessly remarked, 
 " I saw the Whips on Friday." 
 
 " Of course you did," retorted Mr. Davies 
 irritably. " I wish you'd drop those lawyer 
 tricks and speak out. I knew you'd heard 
 of some one when you came in."
 
 VIII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 217 
 
 Mr. Bradley was moulding a piece of 
 bread into a large pill, his eyes were fixed 
 CD. a gilt star in the decoration of the ceiling, 
 and he seemed to hear nothing. 
 
 " One of the Midland members has recom- 
 mended to them a young chap named Hazzle- 
 den who lives near Soarceter," he continued. 
 " I knew his father years ago." 
 
 *'Not a philanthropist I hope, Bradley,'' 
 said Mr. Davies impressively. 
 
 Mr. Bradley winced slightly. At the 
 last general election he had a brilliant idea. 
 He secured a worthy man who knew nothing 
 about politics, but whose lavish charity made 
 him very popular in the constituency. The 
 worthy man recited half a dozen speeches 
 which Mr. Bradley wrote for him, and won 
 the election. But a month or two after 
 he was unseated on petition. The costs were
 
 218 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 heavy, and they came out of the pockets of 
 Messrs. Davies and Bradley. 
 
 " He's only a lad," resumed the latter, 
 " not long from Oxford. He spoke well at the 
 Union and took a good degree. That's 
 about all you can say of him. The old man, 
 who's a Tory by the way, wants to send him 
 into the House and will pay up, which is the 
 main point, Eobert. You know as well as I 
 do that there's precious little chance of any 
 one turning out Lawson, and we only fight to 
 save our credit." 
 
 " Not much left to save," Mr. Davies 
 blandly interposed. 
 
 ^'True enough. But, you see, we're be- 
 tween two fires. I wasn't very cordially 
 received at headquarters I can tell you, and 
 if we don't fight we're done there. Then the 
 Association will be turning up rough again."
 
 VIII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 219 
 
 " Think we can get the Association to take 
 this young sprig ? " inquired Mr. Davies. 
 
 "Oh, damn the Association," said Mr. 
 Bradley. 
 
 " Wish I knew how%" piously murmured 
 its president. 
 
 " Look here, Robert," said his friend, " if 
 you won't be serious I'll chuck up the whole 
 business." 
 
 Mr. Davies raised his hands in affected 
 consternation. 
 
 Taking no notice of the grimace Mr. 
 Bradley proceeded, '' You can lead them by 
 the nose if you like. If I were you I'd 
 quietly spread it about that the Council is 
 thinking of selecting him, and, by the way, 
 you might get a puff in the papers — member 
 of old family, brilliant young man, distin- 
 guished university career, strong Liberal
 
 220 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 convictions, and all that. We can easily 
 make them think that they've discovered 
 him themselves, and then they'll jump at 
 him." 
 
 Mr. Davies smiled sweetly and stroked 
 his curly brown beard. 
 
 " But for goodness' sake say nothing about 
 the money. Those fellows take a delight 
 that's positively devilish in bleeding us." 
 
 Mr. Davies smiled again, and remarking, 
 " You're a nice man, Bradley," sauntered 
 away, devouring with apparent relish the 
 pointed end of a wooden toothpick. 
 
 It was a foible of Mr. Bradley to coach 
 his friend, who, to use an expressive colloqui- 
 alism often applied to him in Dockborough, 
 " knew his way about " as well as most men. 
 Within a week the members of the Libera] 
 Executive were running everywhere dropping
 
 Mil FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 221 
 
 mysterious hints that an absolutely invincible 
 candidate was shortly to be produced, and 
 the principal local paper one morning " under- 
 stood that negotiations were in progress with 
 Mr. Frederick Hazzleden of Barkleigh, one 
 of the rising hopes of the Liberal party, a 
 gentleman of high social position, brilliant 
 university career, and unusual oratorical and 
 political attainments, with the view of in- 
 ducing him to contest the seat." Whereupon 
 Mr. Bradley addressed an indignant letter to 
 the editor, intended for publication, inquiring 
 on what authority a statement was made 
 which was, to say the least of it, premature. 
 This was the final stroke. The " General 
 Council " of the Association assembled next 
 evening, and Mr. Davies warmly protested 
 that the members, in unofficially considering 
 the question of a candidate, and communicat-
 
 222 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 ing with the newspapers, had not treated 
 their officers with becoming courtesy. A 
 chorus of deprecation and denial followed, 
 and then, without a single dissentient, Mr. 
 Frederick Hazzleden was invited at an early 
 date to address the Association. Messrs. 
 Davies and Bradley, who always paid their own 
 expenses on such expeditions, were deputed 
 to visit Barkleigh, and make the necessary 
 representations to Mr. Frederick Hazzleden. 
 
 A certain sect of Dissenters has the 
 custom, when any one wishes to join the 
 denomination, of despatching to the "candi- 
 date," as the aspirant for admission is called, 
 two members of the church, selected for the 
 occasion, and known as "messengers." These 
 messengers examine the ''candidate" in the 
 articles of faith and belief, — especially those 
 articles which constitute the peculiar distinc-
 
 VIII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 223 
 
 tion of the denomination, — and subsequently 
 make a formal report to the church in meet- 
 ing assembled, as to the candidate's fitness for 
 communion with the saints. One may well 
 wonder how the numerical strength of the 
 sect is maintained in spite of an ordeal so 
 severe. Fancy a trembling young housemaid 
 called upon to demonstrate her Scriptural 
 information and doctrinal soundness, beneath 
 the cold eyes of a brace of deacons in the 
 solemn privacy of the back-kitchen ! How 
 any one can manifest creditable theological 
 attainments under such conditions is a 
 marvel. 
 
 Fred felt a good deal like the young house- 
 maid when he entered his father's little 
 library and discovered two gentlemen drink- 
 ing port wine with Mr. Hazzleden. One was 
 a big loud-voiced man ; the other a slight.
 
 224 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 short individual of subservient tones and 
 gestures, and a face which reminded one 
 slightly of the Christ's head in the Leonardo 
 fresco. The big man, Mr. Bradley, was 
 smiling on Mr. Hazzleden, but as Fred 
 walked in he turned his smile upon the son. 
 It was a remarkable smile, and people in 
 Dockborough said it was worth £3000 a year 
 to its owner. It produced under and at 
 the side of the eyes, a series of transverse 
 wrinkles, and it drew the mouth up at the 
 corners, showing the side teeth as an angry 
 dog does, while concealing the front ones. 
 It had no meaning which any human being 
 had ever been able to discover. It was not 
 Mr. Bradley's natural laugh, which was simple 
 and jolly enough. He only used it in business, 
 and then the person upon whom it was turned 
 began to feel a sort of hypnotic helplessness.
 
 vin FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 225 
 
 Mr. Bradley directed upon Fred his 
 business smile and shook his hand. "Glad 
 to see you, Mr. Hazzleden. And how are 
 things ? " 
 
 It was a peculiarity of the honorary 
 secretary of the Dockborough Liberal Associa- 
 tion that he rarely waited for an answer to 
 his questions. Until you got accustomed 
 to it the habit was annoying. Now, he was 
 paralysing Fred's faculties with his smile, 
 and furtively measuring the future candidate 
 from head to foot, little concerned about his 
 opinions on the state of things. 
 
 "How d'ydo?" said Mr. Davies ; "hope 
 you're all right and hope you'll be right 
 honourable some day." The president laughed 
 softly and rubbed his hands. 
 
 Fred remembered the first time he stood 
 before an awful apparition in cap and gown 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 after he went to Kugby, how very small he 
 felt. Until the present moment he had 
 never felt so small again. His first thought 
 was that his visitors were drunk, his second 
 that he himself had gone mad. Mr. Hazzle- 
 den, senior, who understood the situation 
 much better than his son, at last came to 
 the rescue. 
 
 " Sit down, Fred," he said, '' and take a 
 glass of wine." 
 
 Fred mechanically obeyed. 
 
 Mr. Bradley relaxed his smile, and re- 
 marked, '* Now we can get to business." 
 
 *'Weve heard, Mr. Fred," he said, "that 
 you wish to fight a seat this election, 
 and weVe come to ask you to address the 
 Dockborough Liberal Association. They told 
 us great things of you at headquarters, and 
 the constituency is just the place for a
 
 VIII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 227 
 
 clever young man wlio wants to make a 
 beginning." 
 
 Mr. Bradley began to smile again, and 
 Fred turned hastily to his companion. " The 
 present member is a Tory ? " he asked. 
 
 ''Well, you see," said Mr. Davies, ''we 
 were rather unfortunate. We fought last time 
 with a capital candidate — a very good man, 
 very good indeed. But there was great in- 
 discretion somewhere, wasn't there, Bradley ? 
 Lawson petitioned and the case went against 
 us." 
 
 "What was your majority?" inquired 
 Fred. 
 
 "Two hundred and forty -seven," said 
 Mr. Bradley, who had a head for figures. 
 " Small, perhaps, but sufficient." 
 
 " Some of your people were scheduled, 
 don't you call it ? " carelessly remarked
 
 228 FKEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 Fred. "Doesn't that mean that they can't 
 vote this time?" 
 
 The deputation opened their eyes. This 
 was more than they had bargained for. They 
 expected to meet a green college lad who 
 knew no more about scheduling than about 
 sheep-stealing. As a matter of fact Fred had 
 had a long conversation with Arnitte that 
 morning, who, with the help of Dodd's 
 Parliamentary Companion, had posted him 
 in the recent political history of Dockborough. 
 
 "Ahem," ejaculated Mr. Bradley, "we 
 did unfortunately lose a few voters. But 
 Lawson is very unpopular — a member who 
 wins by petition always is. Then there's a 
 considerable Irish population which will move 
 heaven and earth to get you in. Of course 
 we can't promise you a safe thing, but if you 
 work you'll stand a firstrate chance."
 
 VIII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 229 
 
 " And about expenses ? " 
 
 " Seven fifty," murmured Mr. Davies. 
 
 " Well," said Fred, '' I think I understand 
 the situation. A young man ought to fight 
 a doubtful seat for a beginning, and if my 
 father consents, and the Association will have 
 me, ril stand." 
 
 Mr. Davies and Mr. Bradley rose and 
 shook him by the hand, assuring him that his 
 sentiments did him honour, and that the 
 Government would be grateful to them for 
 introducing such a candidate to public life. 
 
 Mr. Hazzleden expressed his approval of 
 the arrangement, and invited the deputation 
 to remain to luncheon. 
 
 At table, aided by Arnitte, Fred cross- 
 questioned the deputation as to the state of 
 parties and opinions in Dockborough. 
 
 '* We're a little mixed, it is true," said Mr.
 
 230 FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 Bradley, who had just begun his second 
 pint of champagne, and was growing con- 
 fidential. " First, there's the Whigs. Davies 
 has always been able to manage them before, 
 and I hope will do so again, but we must 
 confess they're jibbing. They're chiefly the 
 shipping people — men who have made money; 
 some have been made knights and even 
 baronets, and they're very respectable. Oh 
 yes, damned respectable." 
 
 Aunt Maria dropped her knife and fork 
 with a great clatter and rolled her eyes 
 wildly, but Mr. Bradley was a man upon 
 whom delicate hints were wasted. He was 
 absorbed in Pommery and politics, and con- 
 tinued serenely : 
 
 "Then there's the Irish — a rum lot, who 
 all went Tory last time. They made things 
 very lively, I can tell you. They called
 
 VIII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 231 
 
 Davies ' buckshot spouter ' on his own plat- 
 form." 
 
 " And they dubbed our friend here ' the 
 devil's attorney,' " interrupted Mr. Davies. 
 
 "They're penitent now, and will vote 
 straicrht to the last man. You can't get both 
 the Whigs and the Irish, I'm afraid, though, of 
 course, the AYhigs will find it hard to desert a 
 country gentleman. But our main trust must 
 be in the great mass of the people. The 
 heart of the people nearly always goes right, 
 doesn't it, Eobert ? " 
 
 " Yes,'' repeated Mr. Davies, solemnly fill- 
 ing his glass as though for a toast, '* the great 
 heart of the people nearly always goes right ; 
 and the great vote of the people," he added, 
 sotto voce, " nearly always goes wrong." 
 
 ** Now you know the difficulty of the 
 situation," resumed Mr. Bradley. " The
 
 232 FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 seat is Liberal without a doubt, and if tbe 
 fight went on strict party lines Lawson would 
 lose by at least a thousand. But the Dock- 
 borough Liberals, especially the leaders, have 
 peculiar views, and you'll have to humour 
 them. For instance, there's old Sir Alexander 
 Blio^h, who's withdrawn from the Association 
 because the Daily Gazette argued that men 
 with more than a million were a public 
 nuisance, and ought to be suppressed. Little 
 Alec, who'll come into the money when the 
 old man goes, has put up for the Tory 
 Club." 
 
 *' Little Alec's a fool," said Mr. Davies 
 with quiet decision. 
 
 *' Damned fool," said Mr. Bradley fiercely. 
 
 Aunt Maria had retired, so the expletive 
 didn't matter. 
 
 " Would it not be best," asked Fred, *'for
 
 vm FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 233 
 
 the candidate to go his own way, saying what 
 he thinks and believes, without trying to 
 humour anybody ? " 
 
 '' Best for Lawson, decidedly," said Mr. 
 Davies. 
 
 "But," continued Fred, "even if it were 
 dignified or honest to trim, it would be 
 useless. For instance, if I win over this man 
 Bligh, I shall lose five hundred of the people 
 in doing it." 
 
 " My dear boy," replied Mr. Bradley as he 
 pushed the bottle across the table, "you'll 
 learn a great many surprising things in the 
 next few weeks. Old Bligh is a popular man. 
 He pays his clerks as much as £250 a year, 
 and his work - people get fair wages and 
 constant employment. Of course they've 
 helped to make the baronet's two and a 
 half millions. Now, if you proposed to do
 
 234 FKEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 sometliing which would take away some of 
 his money-bags, and distribute the contents 
 among his employes, Bligh would raise Old 
 Harry to get you defeated. He'd tell his work- 
 ing men that you were a communist, socialist, 
 and perhaps an atheist, and they'd all go 
 against you. If you get Bligh on your plat- 
 form, and talk of the commercial glory of 
 Dockborough, and say a judicious word for 
 existing institutions, Bligh will call you a 
 safe and enlightened Liberal, and the voters 
 will shout themselves hoarse for you. Of 
 course I don't mean to imply that the great 
 heart of the people isn't sound " 
 
 " He only means," said Mr. Davies, " that 
 the great head of the people is devilish soft." 
 
 "Don't be flippant, Eobert," retorted Mr. 
 Bradley. " I want our candidate to have 
 a good idea of the constituency. It's a
 
 VIII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 235 
 
 great help to a man to understand the 
 people he's fighting among. By the way," 
 he continued, "you're not married, are 
 you?'^ 
 
 Fred answered that he was not. 
 
 "Pity," said Mr. Bradley. 
 
 "But he's going to be," exclaimed Mr. 
 Hazzleden. 
 
 "Ah," was the languid rejoinder. Out- 
 side politics Mr. Bradley's sympathies were 
 dull. 
 
 "What advantage would it be to me to 
 be married ? " asked Fred. " I mean," he 
 added, reddening, " as far as my election 
 prospects are concerned." 
 
 " Well, you see," Mr. Bradley ex- 
 plained, "nothing goes down with a public 
 meeting like a young wife, pretty and well 
 dressed. And then in canvassing she's in-
 
 236 FEEDEEICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 valuable. All she has to do is to smile and 
 look nice, and the effect is enormous. Ten 
 years ago young Douglas, who's now gone 
 to the Upper House, poor fellow, carried the 
 seat, and his wife did it all." 
 
 " How ? " inquired Fred. 
 
 "How? Why, by sitting next him on 
 the platform, and looking as pretty as paint — 
 that's all. On the polling-day, during the 
 dinner hour, we made her drive to the booth 
 through the labouring quarter with a very 
 dirty working-man in the carriage beside her. 
 It was a fine touch, and served us splendidly. 
 Davies made her do it, and she never forgave 
 him. She vowed that she didn't feel clean for 
 a fortnight." 
 
 "Well, I fear," said Fred with a little 
 sigh, "that I shall have to do without such 
 pleasant assistance."
 
 VIII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 237 
 
 "Couldn't Kate go with her mother to 
 Dockborough ? " said Mr. Hazzleden. "My 
 niece," he explained, " the lady to whom my 
 son is engaged to be married." 
 
 " Not nearly so good as a wife," said Mr. 
 Bradley. "People aren't sentimental and 
 make fun of engaged couples. Spooniness 
 is no good in politics. You couldn't get 
 married at once, I suppose now ? — archbishop's 
 license, private ceremony for family reasons, 
 and that sort of thing." 
 
 Fred feared not. 
 
 In the end it was decided that if Mrs. 
 Wynnston was willing, she and Kate should 
 visit Dockborough during the election and 
 work for Fred. 
 
 After the deputation had gone Fred felt 
 sick at heart. He rushed out to avoid 
 Arnitte, whose cool sarcasms would have
 
 238 FEEDERICK HAZZLEDEN chap. 
 
 driven him mad. He found a shady spot 
 at the top of the orchard, and flung himself 
 down on the grass and lighted his pipe. 
 This was his introduction to public life ; 
 this was the avenue to the honourable career 
 which his imagination had pictured. Why ! 
 the dirt of the few paces he had gone would 
 stick to him for ever. What would he be 
 when he had waded on to the House of 
 Commons? Then he was ill at ease about 
 the invitation of Kate to the election. He 
 had been more tranquil since his departure 
 from Lorton. He had begun to consider his 
 marriage as a distant event which must be 
 regarded as a matter of course. He had even 
 learned to think with warm affection of Kate. 
 But he was not eager to see her again so 
 soon ; he had had sufficient experience of the 
 region of storms for a while. Musing thus
 
 VIII FREDERICK HAZZLEDEN 239 
 
 Fred let his pipe go out and at last fell 
 asleep. 
 
 The deputation were driven to Barkleigh 
 station in Mr. Hazzleden's carriage. 
 
 On the way Mr. Bradley remarked, 
 " Good Pommery that ! " 
 
 " Seventy-four, I think," said Mr. Davies. 
 
 There was a pause, and at length Mr. 
 Bradley spoke again. "Young man isn't 
 altogether a fool. He'll make a good fight 
 when we've licked him into shape." 
 
 " Poor devil ! " said Mr. Davies, and the 
 pair relapsed into silence. 
 
 END OF VOL. I 
 
 Printed by R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh.
 
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