^'of^>£
 
 3 ^^ y- 
 
 , \ 
 
 <->
 
 BERTHA'S EARL.
 
 ■ Oft would I think, O Lord, what may this be 
 That Love is : of so noble might and kind 
 Loving his folk? And such prosperity 
 Is it of him as we in bookes find? 
 May he our heartes setten and unbind ? 
 Hath he upon our hearts such mastery. 
 Or is all this but feigned phantasy ? " 
 
 James I. of Scotland
 
 BERTHA'S EARL 
 
 a Bo\)zL 
 
 LADY LINDSAY, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "CAROLINE." 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 L O N 1) O N : 
 RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON, 
 
 ^ulilisijcrs m ©riiinarg to |ticr fHajrstg tijc €lufm. 
 1891. 
 
 (^All rights reserr ed.)
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 31 
 
 r Miss Millings was the owner of a small 
 house and studio. 
 
 o There are studios and studios. London, 
 perhaps more than any other city, teems 
 
 : with salient contrasts of many kinds — in her 
 ^buildings as in her people — contrasts which 
 
 "^ result in much beauty or much ugliness, 
 
 5 great luxury or exceeding squalor. It is not 
 surprising, therefore, that the decoration of 
 artists' studios should be a matter of distinc- 
 tion and difference. Foremost in our minds 
 stand those palatial apartments connected 
 
 ^ VOL. I. I
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 with many a pleasant afternoon of talk or 
 music — marble halls and gilded domes, won- 
 drous shrines of art and antiquities, where 
 every available corner is hung with velvets, 
 draperies, and *' stitcheries." On the other 
 hand, we are equally interested in some 
 severely simple and silent haunts whose bare 
 plaster walls are scrawled over with charcoal 
 memoranda — sketches for future pictures, or 
 addresses of models — and where the furniture 
 consists chiefly of easels, on which the works 
 in progress blaze like posies of coloured 
 gems. 
 
 There is no rule for a painter's work-shop ; 
 it is not always a question of expense, but 
 often of taste, and the surroundings of each 
 worker must please himself, and himself 
 alone. Before long, the walls become those 
 of his own castle, nay, of his own kingdom — 
 a happy impregnable haven where, un- 
 molested, he dreams dreams and sees visions.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 And, whilst to one painter his luxurious 
 home and its picturesque suggestions are 
 absolute necessaries for the success of art, 
 another, possibly a yet more ideal mind 
 prefers to compose his colour-poem within 
 such quiet greyness — mere absence of decora- 
 tion — as neither defines nor obtrudes itself 
 upon the imagination, but leaves each 
 phantasy free scope to extend its wings. 
 
 Meanwhile, between these two extremes 
 are to be found many pleasant sanctums, 
 neither over large nor exceeding small, not 
 splendidly filled, nor totally unadorned. 
 Therein, busy toilers of various degrees of 
 talent and energy labour on, ever happy in 
 their future pictures, and as surely unhappy 
 in their present ones. 
 
 Miss Millings, for the best of reasons, had 
 not been lavish in the decoration of her 
 studio. It was fairly comfortable neverthe- 
 less, and of moderate size, possessing a high
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 north window which admitted a vast amount 
 of brown London Hght, a sofa, some easy 
 chairs, a writing-table and a piano, whilst a 
 deep Dutch fireplace at one end formed the 
 chief feature of the apartment. A certain 
 number of studio ''properties" were usually 
 scattered about : such as Japanese fans, a 
 quaintly carved Indian stool, a mandoline, 
 an ivory cabinet, a few broken specimens 
 of gaily-coloured Tuscan pottery, and some 
 faded silks and antique dresses, heaped on 
 chairs or screens in picturesque though 
 untidy confusion. 
 
 Opposite the fireplace hung a large and 
 ragged piece of tapestry, whereon several 
 faintly-discernible classic personages in im- 
 possible heroic attitudes appeared to be 
 eagerly following the most inexplicable 
 occupations. 
 
 It was a chilly February afternoon. The 
 firelight had triumphed altogether over the
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 waning and foggy light of day. A huge pile 
 of coal and wood blazed in the big chimney, 
 and red reflections went dancing about the 
 room, merrily lighting up the tapestried 
 personages, and exposing the faulty or 
 " scamped " portions of sundry pictures with 
 as slender pity as the critics would doubtless 
 presently bestow. Above all, the fire-gleams 
 shone ruddy on the faces of two girls who 
 sat together on the hearthrug, employed in 
 toasting muffins. Or rather it should be said 
 that Bertha Millings, a fair young lady of 
 five or six and twenty years of age, whose 
 hands were idly folded in her lap, was merely 
 watching and superintending the efforts of a 
 hoydenish though graceful damsel, consider- 
 ably her junior, on whom the entire labour 
 of toasting had evidently devolved. The 
 toaster knelt, and swayed about, half-sitting, 
 half-balancing herself on her heels. She 
 was armed with a long fork, and seemed
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 well accustomed to her present occupation, 
 and deeply desirous of fulfilling it satis- 
 factorily. Yet, every now and then, she 
 turned tempestuously, and faced her sister, 
 repeating with some annoyance : 
 
 " Oh, I wish, I do so wish you wouldn't 
 marry him ! " 
 
 Bertha shook her head. Possibly, she was 
 a strong-minded woman, for she wore over 
 her dark woollen gown a very plain pinafore 
 of blue cotton. Moreover, there was an odd 
 look in her well-shaped face^ — in her warm 
 brown eyes specially — a look that might 
 mean decision or might denote self-will, and 
 which was not altogether softened away by 
 the aesthetic aureole of fluffy golden hair 
 that encircled and almost shrouded her fore- 
 head. 
 
 '' My dear little Agamemnon ! " she ex- 
 claimed at last ; *' I wish, for my part, that 
 you would not always anticipate events.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 Suppose that such events never take place ! 
 You positively run after Time to seize him 
 by the forelock ! And he has never proposed 
 at all." 
 
 ''Not yet; but he will," replied Agamem- 
 non, with discontent. " Besides, he isn't Time. 
 I wish he was, I do, and then you couldn't 
 marry him." 
 
 "My dear, what absurd nonsense ! Well, 
 suppose I wish to marry him .-* " 
 
 There was a pause. The young person 
 interrogated tossed back the thick yellow 
 mane that was tumbling over her heated 
 face, shrugged her shoulders, and proceeded 
 silently with the toasting of her muffin. 
 
 ''Well, Aggie?" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Why don't you talk ? " 
 
 "Why Ao^t you f' 
 
 " Oh, because I have nothing particular to 
 tell you. I expected you "
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 " To say that I wan^ you to marry him ? 
 To go right away and give up all your 
 beautiful, lovely work ? And for all our nice 
 delightful times to come to an end ? Of 
 course I can't, Booffles, how should I ? He 
 is perfectly certain to hate the whole lot of 
 us — by us, I mean myself and Jemima — and 
 we — that's me specially — have thoroughly 
 made up our minds to loathe and detest 
 him." 
 
 *' I hope you will not loathe and detest 
 him, Aggie ! If I really thought you meant 
 
 it But I don't. My child, he is very 
 
 kind. And he isn't ugly." 
 
 "Well, no, not exactly ugly, of course. 
 Earls never are ugly, I suppose." 
 
 " Oh, bother earls ! " 
 
 " Why, that's just what I say. Besides, 
 he's past being ugly." 
 
 " Past being ugly ? " 
 
 "Yes. Mrs. Weagles says he's sixty if
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 he's a day, and there's a book — that's what 
 Mrs. Weagles says — which is kept altogether 
 for the ages of earls." 
 
 ''Oh, Aggie, what a child you are! But 
 he is not sixty, really ; only fifty-seven." 
 
 " What can you want to think of marrying 
 him for, Booffles ? " 
 
 Miss Agamemnon hereupon, gathering 
 herself up, bent upon her sister so bright, 
 flushed, impertinent, and sweet a face, that 
 Bertha could only laughingly kiss it, whilst 
 she herself blushed deeply. 
 
 " You're a foolish little soul, Aggie. Some 
 day you will understand all these difficult 
 questions better, perhaps." 
 
 ''Perhaps!" answered the young philo- 
 sopher dryly. " And perhaps I understand 
 more now than you think. Well, here's your 
 muffin ; it's a little burnt, I am afraid, 
 though. Now for the bttrror 
 
 The child's lanky arm was already out-
 
 lO BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 Stretched for the butter-dish, when there 
 came a knock at the door, and she started. 
 
 ''Speak of the earl," she murmured, 
 
 " and Oh dear, oh dear, here he 
 
 is ! '' 
 
 Bertha rose hurriedly to her feet and 
 advanced a step or two, whilst Jemima, who 
 was parlour-maid, factotum, and friend of the 
 family all in one, loudly, but with some 
 difficulty of pronunciation, announced : 
 
 " Lord Delachaine." 
 
 An elderly gentleman, tall and of spare 
 figure, entered, after a moment's pause at 
 the door. His hesitation, his precise almost 
 angular manner, might have been mistaken 
 for shyness, as he made his way slowly 
 across the room, cautiously avoiding the 
 bristling easels, and, as he did so, sometimes 
 stepping back, and nearly tumbling into the 
 large pie-dish which Aggie had judiciously 
 placed on the floor in the very middle of the
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, I I 
 
 Studio, preparatory to cleaning her sister's 
 paint-brushes. 
 
 But Lord Delachaine was not shy. He 
 speedily recovered his usual calmness and 
 sedateness of deportment, and, as he shook 
 hands with Bertha Millings, he said with 
 a grave humility that was curiously like 
 condescension : 
 
 ** Forgive me ; your room is rather dark, 
 and I am very awkward." 
 
 In truth, it was Bertha who appeared the 
 more awkward and confused of the two, as 
 she murmured her few words of greeting. 
 
 The earl bent his head slightly but 
 graciously in acknowledgment. He seated 
 himself in the chair which his hostess 
 proffered him. 
 
 '' I am most fortunate in finding you at 
 home. Miss Millings ; I was afraid you 
 were in the country. You had thought of 
 leaving town, I believe."
 
 12 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 '' Yes ; I mean I gave it up, it is so cold — 
 so untempting — won't you have some tea ? " 
 stammered Bertha, who felt unreasoningly 
 nervous. 
 
 "And muffins?" added Aggie, who was 
 not nervous at all. 
 
 " Ah ! thank you," acquiesced Lord Dela- 
 chaine, contentedly depositing his hat and 
 stick on the floor beside him. " But may I 
 be permitted ? Can I not do the toasting 
 for you, Miss Julia ? " 
 
 '* No, thank you, I would rather do it 
 myself," replied the child, with a child's 
 directness. 
 
 *' Aggie always does want to do things for 
 herself," put in Bertha apologetically. 
 
 " She is quite right ; it is a good principle," 
 said Lord Delachaine, with suavity. '* My 
 grandfather was like that, I remember 
 quite well his telling me : ' never let anybody 
 do for you what you can do for yourself. ' "
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. I 3 
 
 There was a pause. And then : 
 
 '' Do you know, Miss Millings," continued 
 the earl, " I have always desired, and yet 
 never quite liked, to ask you something ? " 
 
 " You have ? " 
 
 "Yes. And I think I will venture now. 
 Why do you call your sister * Aggie,' when 
 her name is Julia ? " 
 
 ** Because — because I called her Agamem- 
 non." 
 
 " For the same reason," said Aggie, 
 coming valiantly to the rescue, "just for the 
 very same reason that I have always called 
 Bertha ' Booffles.' Don't you see } " 
 
 " I see," replied the earl, taking this lucid 
 explanation with perfect calmness. *' It is 
 an admirable reason. Miss Agamemnon." 
 
 As he spoke, his mouth moved towards 
 one side with the slow and sphinx-like smile 
 that was its usual muscular expression of 
 amusement.
 
 14 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 " But," continued Aggie, growing very 
 red, " no one else calls me anything but 
 Julia ; 710 one else at all!' 
 
 " Oh, run along now, dear ! " said Bertha, 
 whose feelings were growing as painful as 
 they were complex. '' Do run away, and 
 look after Jemima for me. Thank you, 
 darling ; here, take the Graphic with you. 
 Of course I'll call you presently."
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 There was a prolonged silence after Aggie's 
 departure. Bertha's heart went pit-a-pat. 
 Her little sister's searching questions, so 
 crudely put, so difficult to answer, had gone 
 far to shake her out of the curiously comatose 
 state of mind in which she had indulged 
 during the last few days. And Lord 
 Delachaine's unexpected arrival had dis- 
 composed her yet further. Moreover, she 
 never could get used to his odd precise 
 manner. It was a mixture of stateliness, 
 deference, and haughtiness, all combined, to 
 which she was quite unaccustomed. It was 
 so different to the manners of most of her 
 other friends. It was so chilling, so distant.
 
 l6 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 Yet he must care for her ; else, why should 
 he trouble himself to come ? Of late he had 
 come very frequently. What a pity that 
 Aggie did not take to him ! She, Bertha, 
 might do very much worse than accept him, 
 if in truth he meant to propose ! The mere 
 idea sent a thrill of nervousness from her 
 heart to her very finger-tips. What a 
 curious proposal it would be, were it ever to 
 come about ! Meanwhile, Bertha seemed to 
 feel tangibly the stillness in which she and 
 her companion sat facing each other. Yet, 
 the more she recoo^nized the discomfort of 
 the interview, the less able was she to regain 
 her self-possession. As she sat, sipping her 
 tea with scalding haste, wondering what she 
 should or should not say, her little sister's 
 words, disagreeably persistent, recurred again 
 and again to her mind. She felt half-inclined 
 to laugh, half-disposed to cry. Was Lord 
 Delachaine really too old to be ugly .^
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. I 7 
 
 Miss Millings glanced furtively at the 
 spare aristocratic figure in the arm-chair 
 before her. It was the very type of an 
 elderly English gentleman. She noted 
 approvingly — considering his age — his thin 
 pale features, his high nose and deep quiet 
 eyes, the clean-shaven face, the short iron- 
 grey hair — hair that had surely once been 
 inky black to have turned into so dark a 
 grey. 
 
 Whether Lord Delachaine entertained 
 thoughts of love or not, he was now 
 apparently chiefly occupied in taking off his 
 gloves, before wrestling with a huge piece of 
 muffin that Aggie had placed before him. 
 The gloves were pale lavender kid, stitched 
 with black — a tight fit; but, as their owner 
 pulled them off" with slow^ deliberation, it was 
 evident that he brought a quiet and calm 
 decision to bear upon even the trifling acts 
 of daily life. It pleased Bertha to mark 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 1 8 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 this ; she scarcely knew why. But, presently, 
 as out of the pale gloves came two long 
 slender hands, colourless as wax, with their 
 equally colourless and scrupulously clean 
 nails, she involuntarily withdrew her own 
 dirty little pink palm from the table, and hid 
 it within its fellow on her lap. 
 
 The movement attracted Lord Delachaine's 
 notice. Indeed, he noticed most things. But 
 he only said : 
 
 "• May I have another cup of tea ? " 
 
 Bertha started. The commonplace request 
 broke the thread of her rambling dreams. 
 It was quite pleasant to awake. She 
 suddenly regained her composure and 
 normal brightness. 
 
 "It is always such a comfort when men 
 condescend to tea ! " she said gaily. 
 
 ''Ah, now we can have a good talk!" 
 indirectly replied her visitor, as he leaned 
 back in his chair, with every appearance of
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. I 9 
 
 comfort and complacency. '' I like a good 
 talk, Miss Millings; don't you?" 
 
 " Yes, I do ; but I am a woman. Any form 
 of gossip is supposed to be natural and 
 delightful to a woman." 
 
 ''Ah, that is scarcely complimentary!" 
 
 '' Whilst, however great a chatterbox a 
 man may be, he never gets abused for it." 
 
 '' I am not a chatterbox." 
 
 '' No !" said Bertha, who could scarce keep 
 from laughing at the comical suggestion. 
 
 ''And yet I like to converse." 
 
 " Then again a man " continued 
 
 Bertha hurriedly. 
 
 "Well, a man ? " 
 
 " Most men seem to want to do something 
 else when they talk, as though that were not 
 occupation enough. They turn over the 
 pages of books, or else they pace up and 
 down the room — unless, indeed, they smoke." 
 
 "The conversational powers of your
 
 20 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 friends must be at a low ebb. I should 
 think most people would like to talk to you." 
 
 But Lord Delachaine did not act up to his 
 pretty supposition, for he became silent again. 
 When at last he spoke, it was with some 
 constraint. 
 
 " We have had a good many pleasant 
 chats in this studio of yours. Miss Millings." 
 
 " Yes," answered Bertha. And then she 
 added mischievously : '' Did you want to dis- 
 course upon pictures now 1 I have found 
 a most excellent new medium ; there is white 
 of ^^^ in it. It is a most interesting dis- 
 covery. Shall I show it to you ? " 
 
 *' Pray don't. I understand nothing about 
 pictures ; nor yet about mediums. i\nd I 
 find my ignorance bliss in these days of 
 universal knowledge, I assure you. Not but 
 what I am interested in all that interests you. 
 However, I am occupied just now with the 
 plentiful portion of muffin that kind little
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 21 
 
 Miss Julia prepared for me. By-the-bye, it 
 sounds so pretty to hear you call her ' Aga- 
 memnon.' Agamemnon is so very, so 
 extremely unconventional." 
 
 "Is it?" asked Bertha, somewhat flatly. 
 " I have often been afraid it sounded only 
 foolish." 
 
 " Not at all — not at all. I like what is 
 unconventional. It is charming, very charm- 
 ing. Miss Julia is your only sister I think .^ " 
 
 '' Yes. Oh, Lord Delachaine, she is such 
 a darlinor ! She has been all the world to 
 me ! " And Bertha impulsively threw out 
 her hands as she spoke, and clasped them 
 again with rapidity, almost upsetting the tea- 
 tray in her energetic demonstrance. '' Aggie 
 has always been the greatest joy of my life," 
 she continued more quietly. 
 
 "My dear Miss Millings!" said the earl 
 encouragingly. 
 
 " Aggie is twelve years younger than I
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 am. We have been orphans, oh, so long ! 
 And she is such a clever little thinor, a real 
 woman in sense and quickness. I would 
 rather take her opinion than — than the Lord 
 Chancellor's. I really would ! '' 
 
 *' I never had much conversation with the 
 present Lord Chancellor," said Lord Dela- 
 chaine gravely. " I knew his predecessor 
 better. But I am sure that Miss Julia " 
 
 " Oh, now you are laughing at me ! " 
 interrupted Bertha. She was apt to interrupt. 
 (For indeed, as a learned professor once 
 explained to the writer of these pages, 
 women always interrupt ; that is one of their 
 gravest faults. They all talk at the same 
 time, and pause for no answer, whereas men 
 judiciously speak in succession. Neverthe- 
 less, even a professor must admit that the 
 results of most arguments are precisely the 
 same, whatever method be used in the con- 
 ducting of them.)
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 23 
 
 "■ I should never laugh at you," said the 
 earl slowly. " I admire and like you. It is 
 because of your warm heart that I think so 
 highly of you." 
 
 Bertha coloured. 
 
 '' Are you not warm-hearted also ? " 
 
 " I can scarcely say ; I hardly know. In 
 our family, it is not the fashion to be impul- 
 sive. You see things go in families ; don't 
 they?" 
 
 " I suppose so," answered Bertha, dubiously. 
 
 " And in sets. Oh yes, I am sure they go 
 in sets," said the earl meditatively. Then, 
 after a silence, he continued : 
 
 '' My life has been so different to yours, 
 my dear child. I have had no little 
 Agamemnon to pet me, and cheer me on. 
 Ever since I can remember, I have been 
 John Francis Charles, Earl of Delachaine, 
 a being in a responsible and generally annoy- 
 ing position. Born too late for my advantage
 
 24 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 in these democratic times, too early for my 
 tastes, which are often in advance of my 
 years, I have had my hands full of business 
 ever since I was a boy. My holidays have 
 been taken up with dull county meetings, and 
 the management of property and agents, 
 whilst in London my name has headed a few 
 philanthropic or agricultural societies, and 
 helped to make up the list of dinner-party 
 guests chronicled in \}^^ Morning Post. And 
 my extravagancies have been nominal ; per- 
 haps a quiet hack for the park, some parlia- 
 mentary handbooks for my speeches in the 
 House of Lords, and the evening paper I 
 usually read at my mother's fireside ! " 
 
 "■ Ah, your mother ! " interposed Bertha. 
 " I remember my mother so well ! She was 
 so good, so dear, so very pretty ! But I 
 can't bear to talk of her." 
 
 ** Don't," said the earl gently. Then, 
 smiling his strange smile : '' I can mention
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 25 
 
 my mother, however. She is an excellent 
 woman, religious and sensible. Yet we don't 
 hold quite the same views sometimes. You 
 understand, I am sure ? " 
 
 '' I— I don't know." 
 
 " I feel convinced that you comprehend. 
 You have imagination, and I have often 
 remarked that it is the imaginative people 
 who possess most sympathy — they realize 
 life most strongly." 
 
 '' That is true," said Bertha, pleasantly 
 conscious of unusually subtle praise. 
 
 The earl bowed. 
 
 '' My mother and my sister Dosia have 
 lived their own narrow life so long that they 
 strengthen each other mutually in their 
 opinions. To them, the outside world means 
 nothing. But their opinions are not mine." 
 
 Bertha nodded acquiescence. 
 
 " Still, we differ only in little things, in 
 very little things," continued Lord Dela-
 
 26 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 chaine hastily. Then he added, " I am afraid 
 you would think ours a very dull house, Miss 
 Millings." 
 
 " Should I ? " asked Bertha constrainedly. 
 
 Her visitor's measured explanations were 
 making her distinctly nervous. 
 
 " I think so," he affirmed, in his ruminating 
 way. He was, in fact, mentally revolving 
 strange possibilities and potentialities, at the 
 mere thought of which he began to smile that 
 slew faint smile of his again. 
 
 *' You have never been dull, Miss Millings, 
 I suppose ? " 
 
 '* Oh dear, yes ! " replied Bertha heartily ; 
 " I have been dreadfully dull, lots and lots of 
 times, and so has Aggie. I am miserably 
 dull when I have got a headache, or when 
 there's a brown fog, or when I don't sell my 
 pictures and I " 
 
 She ceased suddenly, unwilling to allude to 
 her frequent financial difficulties.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 2 J 
 
 Lord Delachalne earnestly contemplated 
 his boots. 
 
 '' I suppose we all of us have our dark 
 hours," he said quietly. " I can't imagine 
 being very dull in this room, however. Well, 
 Miss Millings, I have been boring you with 
 my own affairs ; let me become your disciple ; 
 show me this new medium, and tell me some- 
 thing of the rival claims of ultramarine and 
 vermilion. I want to study art for the 
 next five minutes ; then, alas ! I must go 
 home."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Lord Delachaine walked slowly homewards. 
 He did not even, as usual, hurry to get out 
 of the somewhat squalid neighbourhood, with 
 its slum-like narrow dingy streets, which 
 surrounded Miss Millings's abode. Despite 
 the chilliness of the weather, he seemed 
 almost content to dawdle. Once, he even 
 paused for a moment to examine with 
 apparent interest an organ-grinder and his 
 monkey, a pair of beings from whom, as a 
 rule, he would have fled in unconquerable 
 dislike. A few minutes later, he seemed 
 struck by the almost weird aspect of a gas- 
 lit public-house, from which the lurid light, 
 as from halls of Eblis, emanated with
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 difficulty through the dense and murky 
 atmosphere. Indistinct figures flitted by on 
 the pavement ; ghostly-looking vehicles came 
 suddenly and sharply into sight. 
 
 It had been raining, moreover. Whilst 
 Lord Delachaine picked his way with dignified 
 composure betwixt the puddles, impertinent 
 little street arabs made faces at him behind 
 his back. But there was within his breast 
 a buoyant cheering sense which neither 
 passers-by nor street arabs were likely to 
 guess at. He had not felt so blithe for 
 years ; he found that he was positively think- 
 ing of himself as young. Is it a blessing, or 
 the reverse that, whilst the body ages without 
 remorse, the minds of men and women both 
 are ever ready to take freaks of rejuvenes- 
 cence ? If only others could see us then as 
 we see ourselves ! 
 
 Presently, Lord Delachaine emerged into 
 a better-paved and better-lighted quarter of
 
 30 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 the town, and neared his own home in 
 Belgrave Square. The way seemed suddenly- 
 very long to him ; the London streets more 
 dark and chill than usual. He had buttoned 
 his great-coat tightly across his chest, for 
 the fog was singularly penetrating and un- 
 pleasant. Certainly, he reflected, Belgravia 
 lies detestably low. Thereupon, his thoughts 
 turned fondly back to the pleasant fireside 
 he had so lately left — that kindly atmosphere 
 wherein Bertha held gentle sway. The 
 warmth and picturesqueness of it had mounted 
 to his brain. He could not forget it. He 
 had himself grown strangely impulsive under 
 this new influence — positively confidential. 
 
 Bertha was wonderfully pretty and attrac- 
 tive ; a charming little goddess, far superior to 
 any other women he knew, whilst Agamem- 
 non — with her affection for her sister, her 
 long lank figure, and childish ways — even the 
 severe Aggie seemed by recollection inexpres-
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 sibly delightful. (For indeed, when he had 
 left that fascinating studio, Miss Aggie, 
 tilting herself well over the balusters of the 
 staircase, had bade him be careful to wrap 
 his scarf thoroughly about his throat, as the 
 weather was dangerous for some constitu- 
 tions.) 
 
 '* Dear sweet little things, the two of 
 them ! " ejaculated the earl as, with an 
 increasingly jaunty sense of the happy hour 
 he had lately spent, he smilingly took the 
 latch-key that hung upon his watch-chain, 
 and by means of that small weapon opened 
 the big and heavy front-door, and entered 
 the mansion of his fathers. 
 
 A mansion it was, for it assuredly pos- 
 sessed the back stair necessary for the 
 appellation ; but, viewed by an ordinary 
 spectator, it appeared a dreary place enough — 
 something not very unlike a prison. To Lord 
 Delachaine, the entrance-hall was naturally
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 too famiiiar in its details to invite comment ; 
 he betook himself immediately to his private 
 sitting-room, the door of which opened into 
 the hall. This room was scantily furnished, 
 and in sombre taste. The hanofin^s were 
 drab, the wall-paper brown ; serious-looking 
 tomes, that filled many shelves, had their un- 
 compromising aspect increased in severity by 
 a wire lattice that protected them from the 
 touch of frivolous intruders. A square table, 
 covered with newspapers, blue books, etc., 
 another — a big one — for writing, with many 
 locked drawers, and a large circular chair, that 
 swung round and turned its back aggressively 
 whenever approached by the uninitiated — 
 these were the chief objects in the room. 
 On the writing-table lay piles and piles of 
 bills and business letters neatly docketed by 
 Lord Delachaine's own hand, a massive 
 silver inkstand, laden with old-fashioned 
 seals, and around it a portentous supply of
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 33 
 
 writing-paper, quill pens and red sealing- 
 wax, whilst beneath the table a huge and 
 empty waste-paper basket seemed positively 
 craving for its daily food. 
 
 The room, though otherwise so cheerless, 
 was fairly well lighted. A careful valet had 
 poked the fire, and drawn the old drab stuff 
 curtains across the high windows ; likewise, 
 he had placed on the writing-table a shaded 
 lamp, and close beside it some newly-arrived 
 letters. 
 
 Nevertheless, the apartment found to-night 
 small favour in its owner's eyes. He pushed 
 aside his letters with a vacant air, leaving 
 them unopened. The transient phase of 
 boyishness was certainly fast fading from 
 him. His thoughts were still with Bertha. 
 Consequently, perhaps, his own stately sanc- 
 tum appeared more empty and far less 
 comfortable than usual. He passed his hand 
 over his brow dreamily, almost irritably, as 
 
 VOL. I. .-:;
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 though to drive away the scenes that haunted 
 him. The effort was a vain, as well as a 
 painful one ; all the more vain because, 
 though he could not cure himself of thinking 
 of Miss Millings, neither could he recover 
 his previous light-heartedness. He sighed 
 and turned, leaving his own room, and went 
 slowly upstairs to the drawing-room. 
 
 The aged countess, his mother, was sitting 
 there in her usual place, reading a religious 
 publication by the light of an old-fashioned 
 unshaded globe lamp. Lady Theodosia, on 
 a sofa at the other end of the room, was 
 evidently extraordinarily busy, surrounded 
 as she was by a perfect litter of notes and 
 invitation-cards, circulars, and other docu- 
 ments, which she was carefully sorting, and 
 building up into little heaps and bundles. 
 
 "How late you are, John!" exclaimed 
 Lady Delachaine, in a feeble and querulous 
 tone ; and, as she spoke, her pamphlet
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 35 
 
 dropped from her knee to the floor with a 
 quick aggrieved tap of its own. " Have you 
 been at the club all the time ? " 
 
 '' No, not this afternoon, mother." 
 
 ''It has been such a dull day. Not a cat 
 has come near the place. I really always do 
 think that February in London is a mistake. 
 I wish you would shut that door properly, 
 John. Now you have set me off coughing 
 again ! Ah, that's better ; thank you, dear," 
 added the old lady, somewhat mollified as 
 the earl drew a screen in front of the offend- 
 ing door, after he had gently closed it. 
 
 "■ I do believe you have been to see those 
 artist people again," said Lady Theodosia, 
 veering suddenly round on her chair. *' You 
 are positively sliding down into Bohemia, 
 John." 
 
 '' I am, at any rate, old enough to choose 
 my own friends," replied the earl stiffly. " I 
 am sorry I am late, mother," he added, after
 
 36 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 a. moment's pause ; *' but I did not know 
 you were expecting me. It wants a quarter 
 of an hour to dinner still, and I won't .be five 
 minutes dressing." 
 
 " That Bond Street man came at six about 
 the cabinet," said Lady Delachalne, relenting 
 easily, ''and I didn't know what to say to 
 him. You understand those things so much 
 better than I do, John. I thought that the 
 piece of embroidery you bought the other 
 day would look very nice over the straight 
 bit at the back. If the cabinet is to stand out 
 in the room as you and Dosia want." 
 
 " What ! Japanese embroidery on a Louis 
 Quinze cabinet! Why, what can you be 
 thinking of, mother ? " 
 
 " I don't pretend to settle anything, of 
 course," said Lady Delachalne, slightly ruffled. 
 " That's just why I wanted you to speak 
 to the man yourself. If you had been at 
 home . But of course there's no use
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 37 
 
 saying any more about it. After all, the 
 place will be covered with stuffs soon. In 
 my day, curtains were put on windows and 
 nowhere else. And as for crockery " 
 
 "Is Miss Millings fond of embroideries ? " 
 asked Lady Theodosia, who was quietly 
 nibbling the feathers of her quill pen. 
 
 '' Oh, bother ! " said the earl. " How you 
 do go on, Dosia ! Everybody is bound to 
 refurnish a little nowadays. Why, this room 
 really looks like a penitentiary ! " 
 
 "You go there every day, John ; you can't 
 expect mamma and me not to be frightened." 
 
 " Frightened .^ Of what ? " 
 
 "Of a possible daughter and sister-in- 
 law." 
 
 " You might have a worse." 
 
 " Scarcely, to our minds. A woman of the 
 people, a regular Bohemian." 
 
 "It is difficult to define the word 
 ' Bohemian,' " quoth the earl meditatively.
 
 -8 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 ''Miss Millings is a thorough lady. One 
 of her uncles was in the Church ; her grand- 
 father was in the army." 
 
 " Oh, John, John ! " said Lady Delachaine 
 piteously ; '* you speak sometimes as though 
 you had made up your mind." 
 
 "Without reference to us/' added Lady 
 Theodosia. 
 
 "• I do not recognize your right to catechize 
 me," said the earl quietly. *' If I marry, 
 mother, it must be to please myself." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Lady Delachaine, with 
 a little jump. " John, my dear son, tell 
 me the truth ; have you proposed to that 
 dreadful woman ? " 
 
 " I have not proposed to any one," replied 
 the earl, his face darkening. 
 
 As he made this remark, he recollected 
 suddenly that Bertha had mentioned her 
 comfort in Aggie's affection as a thing of the 
 past rather than the present. Was it indeed
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 possible that the child held only a second 
 place in her mind ? That was a delightful 
 thought. Then he continued aloud and 
 defiantly : 
 
 "If by * that dreadful woman ' you mean 
 Miss Millings, let me assure you, mother, 
 that you are completely mistaken in your 
 estimate of one who is in all respects charm- 
 ing, and whom I consider to be in every way 
 my superior." 
 
 -John!" 
 
 " I think we need pursue the subject no 
 further," said Lord Delachaine, who had 
 risen, and now made for the door. His 
 hands were visibly trembling, but his figure 
 was exceedingly upright. *' I am sorry that 
 I must dine at my club to-night. Good-bye, 
 mother. If you knew how it pains me to 
 hear you talk like this " 
 
 " Oh, you are very unkind ! " cried Lady 
 Theodosia, with increasing emotion ; '' you
 
 40 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 are very, very unkind to both mamma and 
 me. What have we done to you that you 
 should take up with this commonplace 
 stranger and treat us as you do, because we 
 can't endure to think of her ? No, stop, 
 stop ! " — for the earl had already left the 
 room, and his sister was literally as well as 
 metaphorically pursuing him — " stay ; you 
 must answer me one thing. Are you going 
 to propose to her 1 Do you really think of 
 making such a person your wife ? " 
 
 " Good night, Dosia," said her brother 
 coldly, wending his way rapidly downstairs. 
 
 This had been in truth a painful scene ; 
 yet, as he hastened along the pavement, it 
 seemed as though his mental position were 
 clearer than before. The weather had 
 generously changed for his benefit. The 
 fog had suddenly lifted, and the air was 
 pleasant, almost balmy. His mind, likewise, 
 was more cheerful and at ease. The remarks
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, 4 1 
 
 of his mother and sister had unintentionally 
 exercised a bracing effect upon him, and had 
 actually hurried him to a healthful decision. 
 He was no boy to be coerced, he thought ; 
 no waverer needing guidance. He must 
 be allowed to follow out his own ideas of 
 happiness. Consequently, he would propose 
 to Bertha Millings on the following morning ; 
 there was no time to be lost. What if such 
 a treasure were to be secured by any other 
 than himself? 
 
 But did she love him ? What if she should 
 refuse him ? She was certainly unworldly 
 enough for anything. She had not the 
 rudiments of worldliness in her little finger ! 
 No, she was one of that rare sort who marry 
 for affection only. Then, did she care for 
 him, or did she not ? This puzzle occupied 
 the earl's mind until he reached his club ; it 
 fatigued his thoughts during his solitary 
 dinner, and forced itself between the para-
 
 42 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 graphs of mournful prophecies in the conser- 
 vative evening gazette which he endeavoured 
 to peruse. It even haunted his chilly walk 
 home, and hovered over his pillow during 
 the long and weary sleepless hours that 
 followed.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The earl took Miss Millings by surprise on 
 the following morning. 
 
 It was barely eleven o'clock when he was 
 shewn Into her studio. She was hard at 
 work, painting from a dirty little Italian 
 child, whose large black eyes, unkempt hair, 
 and sullen expression, by no means suggested 
 the angelic infant Samuel which she intended 
 to represent. But, as Aggie had remarked 
 with truth, if the subject failed as Samuel, 
 it might easily be changed to an infant 
 Hercules, or even an infant Christopher 
 Columbus meditating on future discoveries. 
 
 The entrance of Lord Delachaine caused
 
 44 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 some commotion in the studio. Bertha 
 coloured, painfully conscious that her hair 
 was not tidy, and that her hands were more 
 than usually covered with turpentine. Aggie, 
 engaged in household needlework at the 
 farthest end of the room, was hastily sum- 
 moned to remove the youthful model, which, 
 on seeing the earl, immediately gravely 
 clutched its own right toe, and rolled over 
 into an unconventional attitude such as might 
 have made the fortune of any ambitious 
 painter, but was unappreciated by the be- 
 holders at this particular moment. 
 
 However, Aggie's strong lanky arms bore 
 down upon the poor baby, and she carried it 
 off in triumph, though sorely against its will. 
 Screams were heard, lessening in tone, if not 
 in continuity. The earl, meanwhile, had 
 walked up to the fireplace, and stood gazing 
 into the red embers, and turning his back to 
 every one. This, for him, was no little
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 45 
 
 rudeness. But he was, In truth, greatly pre- 
 occupied, and scarcely knew what he was 
 doing. 
 
 Bertha had, at first, cast terrified and 
 appealing looks at her sister ; but the latter, 
 without returning her glance, hurried so 
 quickly from the room with her burthen that 
 the elder sister found herself alone with 
 her visitor before she had time to prepare 
 for the momentous tete-a-tete. 
 
 Time passed. Aggie, who dismissed the 
 juvenile model — having fortunately found Its 
 mother loitering in the street — went upstairs 
 presently to hang out of a window which 
 commanded a good view of the entrance 
 door in hopes of shortly seeing the earl 
 depart upon his way. Here, after a long 
 while, she was discovered by Jemima ; poor 
 Aggies hopes were not realized, and Lord 
 Delachalne was paying a most unconscion- 
 ably protracted visit.
 
 46 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 ** Wasting all the good beautiful light, 
 too," thought Aggie ; '' and there's not a 
 breath of east wind to-day, and not an atom 
 of smoke in the air ! " 
 
 A darker thought than smoke clouded the 
 child's heart ; but she tried to cast it from 
 her, at least until suspense should have 
 become certainty. Yet it made her sigh ; 
 and Aggie seldom sighed. 
 
 '' Lor ! how you be a-dangling of your 
 legs, to be sure ! You'll be out of the 
 window and on to the pavement in no 
 time ! " exclaimed Jemima, coming into the 
 room, with a duster In one hand and the 
 butcher's book in the other. 
 
 The sight of this well-known shiny red 
 volume brought to Aggie's mind a great 
 complication of difficulties. 
 
 " Suppose Lord Delachalne stays to lunch, 
 Jemima ! " she ejaculated. 
 
 *' Well, suppose he do, miss } " was the
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 47 
 
 phlegmatic answer. "You don't need for to 
 go and worrit your head about that." 
 
 " But I think Bertha would like me to," 
 answered the child meditatively. 
 
 '' Well, then, worrit if you please," said 
 Jemima with sarcasm, as she began polishing 
 the cover of the book with a corner of her 
 apron. '' We poor sinful creatures is all dust 
 alike, and I've no doubt but what his lord- 
 ship's 'ad to content himself with chops before 
 now, and will again, miss, never you fear ! " 
 
 Jemima's religion was of a distinctly gloomy 
 kind. 
 
 " We're all alike, missy," she went on to 
 explain, shaking her head ominously. " Lords 
 and beggars, sinners every one of us, and 
 whether by-and-bye we goes up or down " 
 
 Aggie broke in, laughing irreverently : 
 
 ''We'll have no need of chops, any way, 
 Jemima." 
 
 That worthy woman, notwithstanding her
 
 48 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 affection for the child, whom she considered 
 her nursHng, often had cause to shake her 
 head reprovingly at Aggie's sayings. On 
 this occasion she seemed deeply shocked as 
 she retired from the room. 
 
 In point of fact, and despite her levelling 
 tenets, she was hurrying to her kitchen, 
 where she intended to prepare as elegant 
 an impromptu repast as possible, in case 
 Bertha should press Lord Delachaine to 
 remain. For, as Jemima acknowledged to 
 herself, without any twinges of conscious 
 inconsistency : 
 
 *' Earls is earls, and different to black- 
 berries on a bush. Not that he's anything 
 like a match to look at for Miss Bertha ; but 
 it would be better than them nasty paintings, 
 anyhow, with a smell enough to knock you 
 down, and a mess all over the place, and 
 hard work — which it isn't lady-like — from 
 year's end to year's end."
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 49 
 
 It would, indeed, have been difficult 
 to satisfy Jemima's requirements for her 
 favourite. Though she was fond of her 
 younger charge, the elder was essentially 
 her pride and delight. Bertha's grace and 
 beauty appealed very strongly to the satur- 
 nine woman, who had no ties of her own, 
 and whose ruQfored exterior and Calvinistic 
 character formed so strong a contrast to 
 the radiant nature of her young mistress. 
 Fortunately, perhaps, Miss Millings was not 
 to the full aware of her powerful sway over 
 one who, seldom responsive, was sometimes 
 even aggressively disagreeable. 
 
 Aggie remained tilted upon the window- 
 sill for a considerable time. There were few 
 passers-by, and the outlook was undeniably 
 dull ; still she remained. She had thrown 
 a shawl — one of Bertha's studio properties — 
 around her head and shoulders to keep 
 herself warm. Despite this precaution, how- 
 
 VOL. I. ^
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 ever, when finally her patience gave way, 
 and she drew in her head from the cold air, 
 she felt as chilled as she was sorely depressed. 
 Scarcely knowing where to go or what to 
 do, she left the room impetuously, and ran 
 downstairs. In the passage below she found 
 herself suddenly confronted by Lord Dela- 
 chaine, who was really, truly, at last 
 departing ! 
 
 He was alone, having already closed the 
 door of the studio behind him ; he was 
 moving but slowly, almost standing still, in 
 fact, holding his hat and stick mechanically, 
 and gazing vaguely at the opposite wall. 
 
 Aggie, as she heedlessly advanced, bumped 
 up against him, inflicting a terrible blow on 
 that irreproachable hat. But Lord Dela- 
 chaine did not seem to perceive the injury, 
 nor to resent the attack. There was some- 
 thing very odd in his manner ; Aggie could 
 not but be aware of it instantly. As he laid
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 5 I 
 
 his disengaged hand upon her arm, she saw 
 that his fingers were trembhng. She looked 
 quickly up into his face ; it was grave and 
 dignified as usual, perhaps a trifle sterner in 
 expression. He was surely pale ; but his 
 eyes were shining curiously. 
 
 " I am glad you have come back," he 
 began, in an odd slow voice. ''Will — 
 will you say something to me ? " Then 
 he added precipitately : '* Bertha must tell 
 you. 
 
 It was the first time he had called his 
 hostess by that name. Aggie was instantly 
 struck by the startling fact, and she looked 
 at him yet more enquiringly. An icy fear 
 encompassed her. She could not speak. 
 
 '* She is to be my Bertha now," said the 
 earl, very gravely. '' Will you not wish me 
 joy, dear child ? " 
 
 But Aggie remained as cold as stone. 
 She made an effort to speak, but she could 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNOIS
 
 52 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 find no words. Her lips opened and gave 
 forth no sound. At last : 
 
 " I — don't — know," she said, with a pause 
 between each word. *' Oh yes, of course I 
 wish you joy, only " 
 
 " Only what ? " asked Lord Delachaine, 
 almost eagerly. 
 
 '' You might have married somebody else," 
 said Aggie, staring fixedly. 
 
 She did not niake the foolish speech rudely, 
 but thoughtfully, as though she were con- 
 templating the situation from every point. 
 
 " Yes, you might have married somebody 
 else," she repeated, with melancholy certainty. 
 
 The earl let his hand drop from her arm. 
 Surely, this reception from his lady-love's 
 only relative was dispiriting. Nay, it was 
 positively painful to him. He had cared, 
 more than he knew, for the child's favour. 
 He now felt more disconcerted than he had 
 ever been in his life.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 53 
 
 Aggie, too, was conscious of placing herself 
 in the wrong. She did not know exactly how 
 she had erred. Nor did she mind very much. 
 If Lord Delachaine were wounded, why, so 
 was she. He had attained all he wished for, 
 whilst she had a perfect right to be bitter. 
 
 " Won't you let me pass ? " she asked, in 
 her hardest tones. " I think Bertha is sure 
 to be wanting me." 
 
 ''Oh yes, she is sure to want you," said 
 Lord Delachaine dreamily. 
 
 There was evidently nothing that he 
 could do. He stood aside in the narrow 
 passage, and allowed the haughty little slender 
 figure to pass without another word. 
 
 Then, somewhat forlornly for an accepted 
 suitor, he made his way to the door, and 
 went out into the street. 
 
 Meanwhile, Miss Millings was truly, as 
 Aggie had foretold, ''wanting" her little 
 sister.
 
 54 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 In all the trials and troubles besetting her 
 lonely life during the last few years, Bertha 
 had unreasoningly relied on that plain-spoken 
 young counsellor, claiming, even when not 
 actually asking or accepting counsel, a loving 
 sympathy which was never withheld. For 
 the child had been ignorant, as children must 
 needs be, of much that affects or grieves 
 grown-up folks, and her fresh and tender 
 affection had often comforted Bertha, proving 
 that kisses and happy prattle, and the clasp 
 of two warm energetic arms, can sometimes 
 be more efficacious to soothe and cheer than 
 tons of worldly wisdom or cart-loads of 
 sensible advice. 
 
 But to-day it was different. For the first 
 time in her recollection. Miss Millings had not 
 only passed over much gratuitous advice from 
 Aggie, but had positively run counter to it. 
 She herself was not sufficiently in love with 
 the earl, perhaps, to cast all care and thought
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 55 
 
 aside and make herself perfectly happy in 
 the contemplation of a visionary future. 
 
 It is said that no right-minded woman 
 ever really acknowledges, even in thought, 
 the full amount of her affection for a man 
 until he has definitely proposed. I am 
 afraid that the history of all times and all 
 countries is a strong witness against the truth 
 of this assertion. Women may perforce 
 keep silence until betrothal, but luckless 
 indeed is the wooer who does not read the 
 language of his lady's eyes before he asks 
 the momentous question ! The earl's pro- 
 posal left Bertha more scared than happy. 
 She had partly, if not quite expected it ; yet, 
 even as people allow themselves unreflectingly 
 to drift into many a dangerous stream, she 
 had always been willingly blind to the possi- 
 bilities of the future. 
 
 Even now that the asking and accepting 
 were over and done, there seemed something
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 unreal about the whole scene just past. It 
 appeared odd to Bertha that she was not 
 more delighted, that her heart, in fact, was 
 utterly numbed and unstirred. She did not 
 pause to consider how, at some of the most 
 critical moments of our lives, we realize only 
 faintly what is taking place. Nor was this, 
 perhaps, in truth, now genuinely the case. 
 Her feelings — except those of passionate 
 love, which were altogether untouched — 
 were very tumultuous, even jarring. 
 
 Above all, her sense of responsibility for 
 her little sister s happiness assuredly at this 
 supreme moment more than counterbalanced 
 her desire to please Lord Delachaine. For, 
 though she was conscious of the agreeable 
 thought that, as his wife, she herself might 
 be both secure and happy, whilst also able 
 to procure many advantages for Aggie, this 
 consciousness was embittered and almost 
 overpowered by the reflection that the soli-
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 57 
 
 hide ct detix which she and her Httle sister 
 had cherished as to everyday events, and still 
 more with regard to inward communion, 
 must now be destroyed, never to be taken 
 up again. 
 
 For the first time in her life, Bertha feared 
 to meet the child's innocent courageous eyes. 
 Aggie would read the truth too easily, would 
 be Inconveniently inquisitive. Her unso- 
 phisticated questions might be disagreeably 
 searching, her grief — if, indeed, Aggie should 
 give way to grief — more painful than any- 
 thing that Bertha could imagine. Therefore 
 it came to pass that, after Lord Delachaine's 
 departure, the elder sister did not instantly 
 call the younger, as was her wont when 
 alone. She busied herself with putting her 
 brushes and colours in order, convinced that 
 she could paint no more that day. As she 
 took the canvas of the infant Samuel from 
 the easel, she gazed thereon curiously before
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 turning the sketch with its face to the wall. 
 What a step she had taken during the last 
 two hours ! The paint was still wet on the 
 rosy mouth she had been portraying, but, 
 since she had laid on that careless touch of 
 madder, she had promised Lord Delachaine 
 to be his wife, to give him her thoughts, her 
 ambitions, her affection, her very existence. 
 The painted child's smile was unmoved ; the 
 work, good or faulty, had in nowise altered ; 
 but for Bertha Millings the whole world had 
 changed. 
 
 This particular picture was destined never 
 to be finished. In the future to which she 
 was now tremulously looking forward, there 
 came to the painter a day when she again 
 held the canvas in her hands, and gazed 
 earnestly upon it, the sight of it bringing 
 back (as a drawing, or a perfume, or a bar 
 of music can so vividly bring back) the old 
 associations, the old studio, the old life, and
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 59 
 
 the old sense of wondering and bewilder- 
 ment, whilst she herself seemed aeain to 
 stand in her old place by the easel — Bertha 
 Millings, who had just pledged her troth to 
 the ninth earl of Delachaine. 
 
 When Aggie finally came into the room, 
 she entered noisily enough, her head high, 
 her cheeks flushed. 
 
 '' So you are going to marry him, after 
 all ! " she said, in a voice that, to Bertha's 
 nervous ears, sounded extraordinarily harsh. 
 
 Receiving no answer, Miss Aggie began 
 to wander about the studio, straightening 
 the position of some china pots, which 
 Jemima, according to her usual custom, 
 had placed carefully awry on shelves and 
 cabinets. 
 
 '* I should have thought he was too old 
 to know how to propose ! " she went on 
 aggressively. " I wonder how he managed 
 to begin ! Tell me, did he say, like the man
 
 6o BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 you once told me of: ' Dearest, call m^ plain 
 John'?" 
 
 There was an almost ferocious glare in the 
 child's eyes as she threw a quick glance over 
 her shoulder at her elder sister. Bertha 
 remained standing, perfectly motionless, her 
 hands tightly clasped. It was to be even 
 worse, then, than she had expected ! 
 
 " Aggie ! " she murmured appealingly. 
 
 '' If it had only been Dr. Jackson," con- 
 tinued the tormentor, lifting up and putting 
 down with a bang a plaster cast of an 
 unoffending Diana. '' Why," she repeated, 
 " he thinks of nothing else in the whole wide 
 world but you. Now, he would have known 
 what to say." 
 
 *' You think so ? " asked Bertha, somewhat 
 scornfully. 
 
 *' Well," continued Aggie, '' you will go 
 and live in your castle with your wretched 
 old earl, and I shall be sent to school."
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 6 1 
 
 ''No, no ; I have already arranged about 
 that." 
 
 ''Well, then, I shall go and be Aunt 
 Barbara's slavey, or live with Jemima at the 
 seaside, while you start off on your honey- 
 moon to Paris, and Florence, and Vienna, and 
 — Carthage, and — and — and Seringapatam." 
 
 Aggie's voice broke a little at these last 
 words. She was standing in the middle of 
 the studio, her face flushing more and more. 
 Suddenly, with an expression of the deepest 
 pain, she began to tremble all over ; then 
 she threw out her arms towards her sister, 
 and ran to her, kneelinor and crouchincr at 
 her feet, and pressing closely up to her as 
 she burst into a passion of sobs. 
 
 " Oh, Booffles," she sobbed, " oh, forgive 
 me, forgive me ! " 
 
 And Bertha broke down also, and the two 
 foolish creatures, crying piteously, lay close 
 in each other's arms«
 
 62 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 At last, raising her tear-stained face, Aggie 
 spoke. 
 
 " Darling, will you promise me one thing ? " 
 
 Bertha nodded. 
 
 ''Well, if — if the time ever comes that 
 I'm away from you, Booffles, and got ill, very 
 ill, that's to say, would you leave everything 
 and come to me at once ? " 
 
 "" Why, of course," answered Bertha, a 
 little surprised. 
 
 *' Suppose," continued the child uneasily, 
 " suppose your earl were very ill too ? What 
 would you do then ? " 
 
 '' I don't know," answered Bertha ; '' please 
 don't think of anything so terrible. If he is 
 my husband, I suppose my first duty will be 
 to him ; don't you see that, dear .^ " 
 
 She clasped her little sister very closely as 
 she spoke. It was evident that, as she was 
 not yet married, duty and inclination might 
 still go hand in hand.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 63 
 
 " That's a very disagreeable thing to think 
 of," said Aggie. 
 
 '' Is it, dear ? " 
 
 '' Very ! However, he mightn't be so ill, 
 and if he wasn't, you'd be sure to come ? " 
 
 '' Sure." 
 
 '' You promise ? " 
 
 '' Promise." 
 
 '' You swear ? Oh, Booffles, do swear." 
 
 " Very well ; I swear, then," answered 
 Bertha, half-laughing, half-crying. 
 
 Aggie gave a contented sigh. 
 
 '' I've always thought," she said, '' that it 
 would be almost quite nice to be ill, just ill 
 enough, you know, yet not too ill — or even if 
 I were dreadfully ill, it would make it better, 
 you understand — to have you on one side 
 and Dr. Jackson on the other." 
 
 To this remark Bertha made no reply. 
 She buried her face in Aggie's fluffy mane. 
 
 "I think he does care about you," con-
 
 64 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 tinued the child sententiously ; "- indeed, I 
 am sure of it — your old earl, I mean." 
 
 *' Oh, do you, darling?" ejaculated her 
 sister joyfully. '' Tell me why ; dear little 
 Aggie, tell me why ! " 
 
 "- Because," said Aggie, somewhat shame- 
 facedly, '' I tried him yesterday. I put a 
 taste, just a wee little bit of a smear of 
 turpentine on the corner of his muffin, and 
 he ate it all up quite contentedly. Now, if 
 he hadn't cared about you, Booffles, don't 
 you see " 
 
 *' Oh, you bad child, you very naughty 
 child ! " exclaimed Bertha, who was really 
 horrified. 
 
 But at this juncture the door opened, and 
 the two girls started to their feet, as Jemima 
 announced : 
 
 *' Dr. Jackson."
 
 ®# 
 
 ^^ 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Dr. Jacksox entered. He was a short thick- 
 set young man of about eight and twenty years 
 of age. His step was quick and energetic, 
 his eyes were quick and bright, and he spoke 
 quickly, as indeed he did most things. 
 
 " My dear Miss MlUIngs, It is unpardon- 
 able to disturb you at this time of day — I 
 know your laws are those of the Medes and 
 Persians — I never dreamt of It, believe me — 
 it was my friend Jemima who persuaded me 
 — I called at your door for a moment to ask 
 when I might see you — she told me you had 
 sent away your model, and were not working." 
 
 " Indeed, I am quite idle," answered 
 Bertha, who was too accustomed to her 
 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 visitor's Idlosyncracles to be surprised at the 
 rapidity of his disconnected speech. ** I 
 have left off work for to-day altogether." 
 '' Really ! What, with such a light .^ " 
 Aggie, painfully conscious of red eyes and 
 a generally tempestuous aspect, had already 
 made a hasty escape. Bertha, though gracious 
 in word, turned her back upon the new- 
 comer. She was not wont to trouble herself 
 to bestow much civility of greeting on one 
 whose own courtesy was habitually scant. 
 The young man, in nowise disconcerted, 
 followed his hostess across the studio, and 
 settled himself down by the fireplace in the 
 very chair wherein Lord Delachalne had 
 rested his limbs but a short time previously. 
 
 It was Impossible for Bertha, even In her 
 present perturbed mood, not to mark the 
 difference between these two men. Yet, 
 though youth was on his side, the doctor was 
 not especially good-looking. His hair and
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 67 
 
 eyes were dark, his face exceedingly pale ; 
 his teeth were perfect, but he scarcely ever 
 shewed them, not because, like the earl, his 
 lips seldom relaxed Into a smile — nay, he 
 talked and laughed nearly as much as he 
 _gestlculated — but because his mouth was 
 hidden by a bushy moustache and beard. 
 He was powerfully built, with broad shoulders 
 .and strong square hands. This manly 
 strength of aspect saved him from ungaln- 
 llness, for power has a grace of Its own ; 
 nevertheless, the shortness of his stature de- 
 prived him of any claim to elegant or artistic 
 proportion. 
 
 We all cherish a secret vanity, and the size 
 •of his biceps and the breadth of his chest 
 •were regarded by Dr. Jackson as his most 
 Inestimable merits. Even his scientific 
 •capacities were not so gratefully contemplated 
 by himself. But his friends, who appreciated 
 his physical gifts less warmly, liked him
 
 68 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 chiefly because of his deep soft voice, and a 
 certain sympathy of manner which, with all 
 his off-handedness, bespoke a lurking tender- 
 ness that called around him every beast, bird, 
 child, or human being in need or distress. 
 
 Dr. Jackson s patients — for though a young 
 man he already boasted many — were well 
 aware of the kindness of heart that underlay 
 his brusque speech, and they often traded 
 upon that kindheartedness. 
 
 "Well, what have you to say to me?" 
 asked Bertha, leaning back in her chair. 
 
 She had suffered from such great tension 
 of nerves during the whole morning, that 
 the prospect of a quiet chat with this sym- 
 pathetic friend was an absolute relief. He 
 was indeed her greatest friend, and, next to 
 Aggie, her favourite confidant. For, as she 
 frequently told herself, Edward Jackson's 
 benevolence took the place of other people's 
 tact, and it was almost a charity to lay a
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 69 
 
 slight share of one's own burthens and vexa- 
 tions upon his cheerful broad shoulders. 
 Consequently, the doctor habitually listened 
 to many a piteous tale of financial difficulties, 
 chilling" anxieties, or — occasionally — eager 
 professional hopes. He had become such a 
 fidus Achates to Bertha that she took up a 
 great deal of his valuable time without the 
 slightest compunction. Needless to say, he 
 had been witness to the ardent commence- 
 ment of nearly all Miss Millings' pictures, 
 and had followed their career with deep, 
 though unlearned interest, often wishing 
 that he might become the writer of leaders 
 In the Times to extol their merits, or a rich 
 city merchant to purchase them freely. Oddly 
 enough, however, she had never mentioned 
 Lord Delachaine to him, except very casually 
 and carelessly. There had not, as she always 
 said to herself, been really much to mention 
 — as yet.
 
 70 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 In return for Dr. Jackson's advice and 
 help, Bertha s soft womanly ear had many a 
 time hearkened to the recital of the young 
 man's own efforts, of his courageous battling 
 with difficulties and poverty, and recently of 
 his rapid rise in his profession — rapid con- 
 sidering his youth — all expressed with the 
 ardour of much faith in the future. He had 
 no mother and no sisters. His fairest ideal of 
 home was that quiet corner in Bertha's studio, 
 where the fireliQ^ht Q^leamed and flickered on 
 the frames of her pictures, and lit up the 
 ragged tapestry. His spare minutes were 
 chiefly those of twilight, and the darkness of 
 London, its fog, or intermixed rain and snow, 
 made the warmth and lio^ht within but the 
 more appreciable. 
 
 Of late, certainly, when he had called in 
 the gloaming, he had occasionally been told 
 that Miss Millings was engaged. Once, 
 indeed, he found Lord Delachaine sitting
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 7 1 
 
 with her, but that nobleman's manner was 
 so courteous that the younger man, who had 
 but few deahngs with the aristocracy, and 
 imagined that an earl must be the very best 
 buyer of large oil works by rising young 
 artists, (became himself unusually unobtrusive 
 and polite. Nay, on that solitary occasion. 
 Dr. Jackson bade his hostess the quickest 
 possible farewell, and was not a little dis- 
 appointed afterwards to find that Lord 
 Delachalne had neither ordered a full-length 
 portrait, nor desired the Immediate removal 
 to his own house of that large composition of 
 Ruth and Boaz which had hung fire so long. ' 
 Despite the fact that Dr. Jackson was a 
 rapid talker, on this present occasion he 
 seemed to deliberate as carefully before 
 giving utterance to his thoughts as even the 
 earl might have done. When at last he 
 spoke. It was by no means brilliantly, for he 
 merely said :
 
 72 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 " How odd it seems, Miss Millings, for 
 you and me to be sitting here opposite each 
 other on a fine morning like this, idling and 
 wasting our time ! " 
 
 ''Very odd," replied Bertha; ''only. Dr. 
 Jackson, I must draw your attention to the 
 fact that it is not civil to call talking to me 
 waste of time." 
 
 She smiled as she spoke. Any other day 
 she would probably have laughed outright, 
 but to-day there was a tightening at her 
 heart which made even smiles difficult. She 
 had not yet recovered from the emotion of 
 her scene with Aggie, to say nothing of her 
 interview with Lord Delachaine. 
 
 Probably, also, at any other time the young 
 man would with alacrity have responded to 
 her attempted banter, but to-day he quietly 
 ignored it. 
 
 " I can't think what fellows do with stupid 
 wives," he remarked irrelevantly. " To my
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 73 
 
 thinking there would be nothing so delightful 
 as a woman who worked at home all day, 
 whilst her husband went out." 
 
 *' So as to see as little as possible of each 
 other, do you mean ? " 
 
 " No, no, of course not ! " answered the 
 young man impatiently. '' You see, I have 
 come to talk seriously to you, Miss Millings," 
 he w^ent on, after a moment's pause ; " to 
 ask your advice, in fact, and you don't make 
 it easy." 
 
 Bertha started. Was it possible that her 
 friend, like herself, contemplated matrimony ? 
 What a curious coincidence ! She was 
 touched. 
 
 '' If I hurt you by talking nonsense, I am 
 sorry," said she, strangely humble ; " I have 
 asked your advice. Dr. Jackson, so often — 
 oh, scores and scores of times — and you 
 have been so kind, so helpful ! " 
 
 There was a quiver in her voice as she
 
 74 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 spoke, and tears came Into her eyes. Pos- 
 sibly, Dr. Jackson misunderstood the cause 
 of her emotion, for he leaned forward in his 
 chair very eagerly, and began talking in his 
 usual rapid way, with an energy and fire that 
 needed no further encouragement. 
 
 '' I will tell you. I have had the offer of a 
 very good practice away in Devonshire, not 
 far from where my father is living, a nice 
 cheery town, a comfortable big house, a view 
 of the sea — I know you like the sea, Miss 
 Millings ; I mean, I'm awfully fond of the 
 sea myself, you know. I used to be there 
 ever so much when I was quite a little chap. 
 Of course it's not London ! There's no 
 chance of quite — well, perhaps not quite the 
 same distinction ; but I'm not a genuinely 
 scientific man, you see. I don't think — I 
 really don't think I'm an ambitious one. 
 Now, tell me the truth, do yoiL think I am 
 ambitious ? "
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 75 
 
 '' I — indeed I cannot say," answered Bertha 
 thoughtfully. '' Perhaps you ought to be 
 ambitious ; yes, I am sure you ought. Why, 
 when I come to remember, there was no 
 limit to what you meant to do. Surely, Dr. 
 Jackson," she added, once more trying to 
 be playful, '' you intended first to set the 
 Thames on fire, and then put it out again by 
 means of some wonderful nostrum that you 
 should discover yourself." 
 
 *' I don't know what I may have meant to 
 do," said the doctor, with a sigh, leaning his 
 face on his strong hands. '' I suppose we 
 are all of us foolish when we are young ; the 
 only hope for a man is to get less and less 
 of a fool as he grows older, and I'm not very 
 old yet, so w^ho knows ? I may grow to be 
 a Socrates or a Solon before I've done, after 
 all. You wouldn't care for me, Miss Millings 
 a bit the more, would you, if I were an elderly 
 fellow, with scanty grey hair and a thin face,
 
 76 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 and a hesitating sort of a wrinkled mouth 
 that had lost all its sense of fun, and a new 
 shiny hat that shewed I had grown great 
 and prosperous and grand ? Would you 
 like to see me taking particular care of my 
 gloves and umbrella, member of all kinds of 
 learned societies, with perhaps a baronetage 
 in prospect, and an old age of discriminating 
 and well-regulated comfort ? " 
 
 There was something in this picture — Dr. 
 Jackson could not guess why — which made 
 the red blood mount precipitately into Bertha s 
 cheeks. With an abrupt action of her arm 
 she threw down a book that lay on a small 
 table beside her ; her face was hidden as 
 she bent hastily to pick up the book. The 
 young man bent also, their hands met for 
 an instant ; then his soliloquy — for it seemed 
 almost to be one — took another turn. 
 
 '' I told you I wanted your advice. I have 
 come to you for it, so please reflect carefully.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. "J "J 
 
 I mean to take your advice and yours only. 
 Tell me what I shall do. Shall I accept this 
 country practice, and work for — for happi- 
 ness, or shall I stay here in my dreary little 
 lodging, a votary of Fame, till I have climbed 
 a few steps higher ? Tell me, Miss Millings; 
 tell me quickly." 
 
 *' I tell you ? " exclaimed Bertha, turning 
 very pale as the real meaning of his questions 
 began to dawn upon her. " Oh no, no ; I 
 cannot tell you. You must decide for your- 
 self. Dr. Jackson. Every man's life is his 
 own making; his friends cannot interfere 
 in it." 
 
 '' His friends ? No, perhaps not — that is, 
 not his ordinary friends and acquaintances ; 
 but you have been, you are, far more. You 
 — ah, what might you not be ! Why, it is 
 you who are yourself my life, even while you 
 hold It, to break or to make. Bertha, Bertha, 
 I have thought it all out. Only listen to me."
 
 78 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 '' No, no ! ' cried Bertha, trying to stop 
 him ; but he would not be stopped. She had 
 risen to her feet ; he barred her path. 
 
 " Fame is nothing to me," he urged ; 
 " nothing in comparison with what I plead 
 for. Until to-day I have never dared to say 
 anything — my lips were shut because of my 
 poverty — it would not have been honourable 
 otherwise — don't you see that it would not 
 have been honourable ? I had nothing to 
 offer you. I could not speak." 
 
 *' Oh, do not speak now ! " cried poor 
 Bertha, clasping her hands. "' Oh, : hush, 
 hush ! We shall both be the happier if you 
 have not spoken." 
 
 A change came over the young man's face. 
 Something in the tone of Bertha's voice dis- 
 illusioned him. He also had risen to his 
 feet. Now he drew back a step, and stood 
 staring in silence at his companion. 
 
 '' I don't know what you will think of me,"
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, 79 
 
 began Bertha slowly, and then she paused. 
 Something seemed to rise In her throat 
 which made her words inaudible. Then she 
 took courage anew, and forced herself to 
 continue : 
 
 ''It wall make me so dreadfully sorry, If 
 I have ever said or done anything to give 
 you unhapplness. Forgive me, oh, please 
 forgive me If I have. I am engaged to Lord 
 Delachalne." 
 
 She had been afraid to look up. She was 
 fearful, though of what she scarcely knew. 
 
 No answer came to her avowal. The 
 Impetuous torrent of her friend's speech was 
 surely checked now ; yet his flashing eyes 
 w^ere fixed upon her with a look of keen 
 enquiry ; his pale face was even paler than 
 before. At last he spoke : 
 
 '' You have done it for Aggie's sake," he 
 said. 
 
 His voice, though very gentle, was so
 
 80 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 piteously altered that Bertha looked up 
 hastily, scarce recognizing the sound. 
 
 *' No," she answered, crimsoning deeply ; 
 '' it would not be altogether true to say that. 
 I have done it for many reasons ; yes, for 
 many, many reasons." 
 
 There was a long silence. The young 
 doctor sat down once more, and buried his 
 face in his hands. He sat mute and stunned. 
 It seemed to him as though an icy blast were 
 suddenly driven between him and the warmth 
 of expected happiness. At this one stroke 
 all his hopes were dashed to pieces ; there 
 was such vividness in his sense of wreckage, 
 that he almost expected to see the walls of 
 the room wherein he sat totter and fall about 
 him. Then swiftly the sensation changed. 
 The whole world had grown suddenly blank 
 and empty ; he did not want to go out into 
 it any more. And his heart was blank and 
 empty likewise, except that therein raged
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 8l 
 
 and swelled a fierce wave of indignation, that 
 for the nonce ousted all tenderer thoughts. 
 At last he rose to his feet ; time was passing ; 
 was it morninor or afternoon ? He knew 
 not ; he only knew that he must go. And 
 he spoke out of the bitterness of his soul : 
 
 '' This is the first time that you have not 
 chosen to ask my advice." 
 
 " Oh, do not say so ! " pleaded Bertha 
 tearfully. '' Do not be angry with me ! 
 Indeed, indeed, I never knew that — that " 
 
 " You never knew ? " echoed the young- 
 doctor roughly, almost contemptuously. 
 " Why, even Aggie knew^ ! Ah well ! I shall 
 never hold the child on my knee any more 
 now. It will be good-bye to the old friend- 
 ships. As for you, Miss Millings, if things 
 are as you say, we shall doubtless both 
 be the happier for not explaining too much 
 now." 
 
 '' Don't go quite yet," pleaded the trembling 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 girl, laying- her hand on his sleeve. '' Oh, 
 don't go, don't ! " 
 
 " What should I stay for ? Well, tell me 
 one thing ; are you happy ? " 
 
 '' I ought to be," she answered, droop- 
 ing her eyelids ; then, raising them as 
 suddenly, she looked up with strange de- 
 fiance. *' And I am going to try to make 
 Lord Delachaine happy ; I ought to do 
 that — you will say that I ought to, Dr. 
 Jackson." 
 
 ** I have nothing to say for or against it," 
 he answered, turning away wearily. " How 
 should I?" 
 
 The conscientiousness of her effort was 
 assuredly lost upon him. 
 
 " Good-bye once more. You will scarcely 
 need congratulations from me. Miss Millings ; 
 your friends will lavish them on you suffi- 
 ciently, believe me." 
 
 '' Oh, don't let us part like this ! " she
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 83 
 
 exclaimed, following him. ''Won't you say 
 just one word of comfort to me before you 
 go? 
 
 " Comfort ? " he ejaculated, almost with 
 a laugh. Then, after a pause, he added 
 more gently : " I will say this, just this. It 
 will be better for us not to see each other 
 any more — what have I to do with the Earl 
 of Delachaine's affianced wife ? But remem- 
 ber that, if ever you want me, if ever you 
 are in need or trouble, and I, from my lonely 
 corner of the world, can help you — let me 
 know. To me you will always be Bertha." 
 
 Here the young man's voice shook, and 
 he turned his head aside. Was this really 
 his last farewell to the fireside he so loved, 
 to the woman he had so long adored ? " 
 
 '' Ah ! " he resumed, with a wretched 
 attempt to smile. '' There's no need to ask 
 your advice now ! The house on the Devon 
 coast may be given to the first comer for all
 
 84 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 I care — London for me, and a draught of 
 Lethe. Well, good-bye." 
 
 *' Good-bye/' said Bertha timidly. 
 
 He took her hand, and held it in his strong 
 grasp. His face was pathetic in its misery. 
 
 ''Good-bye, my dear; God bless you 
 always," he murmured almost solemnly. 
 Then, with quick strides, he crossed the room. 
 Before she could speak again he was gone. 
 
 As Dr. Jackson passed out of the house he 
 seemed to carry away with him an echo of 
 Bertha's voice, half a sigh, half a whisper — 
 a last farewell. Was it a recall ? He neither 
 stopped nor looked back, however. His 
 strength of mind had been taxed to the very 
 utmost degree. He was longing passionately 
 now to leave this place, to return to the 
 solitude of his own four walls. 
 
 He had shut Bertha's front door behind 
 him, and had already begun to cross the 
 road, when that echo was wafted to him
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 85 
 
 again ; this time even louder and clearer 
 than before. Then he stood still, and looked 
 about him. In his present excited mood 
 he could have believed anything possible — 
 any vision, any phantasmagoria of fancy. 
 Nay ! there was no one visible. Why, he 
 was standing in the very middle of the road, 
 which, on every side, was quite deserted. 
 
 Again came the floating and mysterious 
 " good-bye." This time he solved the mys- 
 tery, for, looking up, he saw Aggie at an 
 open window. She was gazing after him 
 wistfully, her face softly framed in its masses 
 of fair hair, some blue draperies protecting 
 her from the cold. 
 
 Ill silence he lifted his hat, and waved it 
 to the child. Then he ran on very fast. 
 The little vision had given him a fresh pang 
 of intense pain. He loved Aggie better 
 than everything else in the world ; yes, every- 
 thing — except Bertha.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The remainder of that never-to-be-forgotten 
 day passed heavily enough. Bertha was 
 thoroughly disinclined for all work, being 
 alternately listless and restless. Aggie made 
 several heroic though unfortunate attempts 
 to appear cheerful ; each one resulted in 
 abject failure. 
 
 There was nobody in particular to whom 
 the good news of Berthas engagement 
 need be hastily communicated ; hence both 
 sisters were conscious of a flatness which is 
 seldom felt under such circumstances. The 
 orphans had indeed many acquaintances, but 
 scarcely any relations, and only few friends. 
 The old Aunt Barbara, to whom Aoroie had 
 impetuously alluded, was an elderly spinster.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. Z-] 
 
 who dwelt in a secluded village in Yorkshire. 
 She was neither as rich nor as generous as 
 maiden aunts are usually supposed to be. 
 She was extremely deaf, excessively ill- 
 tempered, and she did not care to hold 
 any correspondence or communication with 
 her nieces. She considered herself deeply 
 offended by the degrading fact that Bertha 
 had become an artist. Had that young lady 
 gone out charing, Aunt Barbara could scarce 
 have been more Irate. At the time of Bertha's 
 choice of a profession, Aunt Barbara had 
 indited and hastily posted many angry letters. 
 These, at first lengthily responded to, had 
 been gradually neglected, and left unan- 
 swered. As a natural result, since the In- 
 stallation of jNIIss MIllInQ^s In the London 
 studio, the rupture had been complete. 
 
 On the other hand, Mrs. Weagles who 
 lived next door, though In nowise a relation, 
 was a truly kind and affectionate friend.
 
 88 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 Nevertheless, and despite an enormous dis- 
 crepancy of years, she was in reality more of 
 a companion to Aggie than to Bertha. In 
 the eyes of the latter, Mrs. Weagles was 
 but a commonplace uninteresting old lady, 
 too fond of gossip to invite much confidence. 
 Thus it was that Miss Millings, even whilst 
 she bethought herself of the fairly numerous 
 circle who invited her to dinner, or who 
 joyfully flocked to her tea-parties on Show 
 Sunday or other festivals, could not call to 
 mind any choice spirit to whom she specially 
 longed to rush and unburthen herself of the 
 great news. Aggie and Edward Jackson 
 had been so continually the recipients of her 
 confidence that she had hitherto felt the need 
 of none other. 
 
 As for Jemima, that trusty and faithful 
 retainer was speedily made aware by Aggie 
 of the earl's proposal ; but she received the 
 information with her usual mysterious severity.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, 89 
 
 " Wants to marry Miss Bertha, does he ? 
 Well, well, there's no knowing what may fall 
 on any of us, any day. Peer or pauper, 
 we're sinners every one alike — man is but 
 a fading grass, all travelling In the same 
 direction." 
 
 "Are you glad he's got a lot of money, 
 Jemima ?" asked Aggie, Intensely desirous of 
 shifting the responsibility of expressed satis- 
 faction on steadier shoulders than her own. 
 
 "Eh, Miss Julia," came the chilly answer, 
 " ' God help the rich, the poor can beg.' 
 I'm not one of those to speak again' 
 authority. But I've heard it said as how ' a 
 gentleman without living Is like a pudding 
 without suet,' and so maybe s maybe, and 
 there's wiser ones than I who've found them- 
 selves In the wrong box before now, though 
 • Like to like, and Nan for Nicholas,' seems 
 the more nat'ral way of the world." 
 
 *' Bertha's as crood as Lord Delachaine,
 
 go BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 and better," began Aggie hotly, as she dimly- 
 guessed the oracle's meaning. 
 
 " Ay, ay, missy, that's the very nutshell of 
 it. But he's one that gives no trouble, as 
 I will say for him, wiping his feet as nice as 
 nice on the new rug that lays outside, and 
 it's a fine sounding name and a fine gentle- 
 man for his years." 
 
 Yet Aggie, as she stalked out of the room 
 with her head in the air, was not satisfied ; 
 nor did Jemima, to do her justice, for one 
 short moment imas^ine that her well-selected 
 words were likely to give satisfaction. 
 
 The afternoon wore slowly on. When it 
 was already late, Bertha declared her inability 
 to remain any longer at home, and the two 
 sisters wandered out without any distinct pur- 
 pose. Finally, they chartered a hansom, and 
 were driven to Oxford Street, where they 
 walked for some time, amusing themselves 
 by scanning the passers-by, and peering in
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 9 1 
 
 at the shop-windows, until their spirits had 
 somewhat risen. The flush of exercise 
 mantled in the cheeks of both girls, and 
 there were many who turned to look with 
 admiration, and even smiling benevolence, 
 at the two pretty faces. 
 
 Aggie, her rebellious mane tied into a 
 decent plait, hung with clasped hands on 
 Bertha s arm, expressing much pleasure with 
 regard to the novelties of the season exhibited 
 in the windows ; but Bertha was naturally 
 graver and more sober. 
 
 " Do walk straight, dear Aggie ; do walk 
 quietly." 
 
 The jewellers' shops especially attracted 
 Aggie's attention, and she held forth on the 
 subject of rings. She was specially delighted 
 with a small ring representing two tiny 
 forget-me-not flowers wrought of turquoise, 
 with diminutive green enamel leaves on either 
 side.
 
 92 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 '' Such a dear, sweet, wee little thing ! " 
 she exclaimed. " Just what I should like 
 you to be given by somebody, Booffles. I 
 hate great, big, flaring, diamond sorts of 
 things, don't you ? " 
 
 But Bertha, decorously uncertain of what 
 the future might hold in store, refused to 
 pronounce any opinion. 
 
 " There are rings and rings, you know, 
 Aggie," she said evasively. 
 
 '' Oh, of course ! " answered that young- 
 damsel airily. I only know what I should 
 
 like, if I were you, and — and By-the-bye, 
 
 Booffles, what am I to call Lord Delachaine '^. 
 You won't be hurt, will you, darling, if I say 
 — I mean, if I think — he really is a great 
 deal older than I am, you know ? " 
 
 Aggie's explanation was only calculated 
 to make matters worse. In truth she had 
 dropped unexpectedly back into the burning 
 question. She had not intended to be again
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 93 
 
 flippant on the subject of her future brother- 
 in-law's aee. But she was unaccustomed to 
 conceal her thoughts. Through her foolish 
 young mind flitted sundry diminutives befit- 
 ting an affectionate relationship ; but these all 
 seemed equally unsuitable. *' Chainie " and 
 '• Dellie " would surely be pert appellatives, 
 whilst '' Johnnie " was certainly out of the 
 question ! Yet she did not wish to say 
 anything that might hurt Bertha's feelings. 
 The elder sister, meanwhile, turned her head 
 slightly away. 
 
 '' Take care of that omnibus, Aggie — now 
 we can cross. I think you had better go on 
 calline him Lord Delachaine, dear." 
 
 " All right ! " answered Aggie, immensely 
 relieved. Then, child-like, she immediately 
 flew to another train of thouorht. '' I foro^ot 
 to tell you, Booffles, that, just before we came 
 out, I was playing in the garden, and Mrs. 
 Weagles beckoned me Into her house. She
 
 94 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 was what Jemima calls * all of a twitter ' ; you 
 know what I mean, dear, don't you ? She 
 said she had guessqd the wonderful news, 
 and w^as ever so delighted. She considers 
 the earl quite one of the grandest-looking 
 people she has ever seen. I thought you 
 would like that ; but, somehow, I forgot 
 about it. Then she said our positions would 
 be a great deal changed. Will your position 
 be changed, Booffles ? " 
 
 '' Yes, darling, I think a little," said Bertha 
 gravely. 
 
 " But mine won't ? " asked Aggie nervously. 
 '' Mine won't, will it ? " 
 
 " I hope not, dear," replied the elder sister, 
 somewhat tremulously. '' You are not going 
 to leave me, you know, darling ; and we 
 ought to try and think of all the bright things 
 — all the pleasant things." 
 
 ''Yes," said Aggie, nodding her head ; 
 '' I know what you mean. Mrs. Weagles
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 95 
 
 said they'd be sure to come and see you — 
 all the relatives." 
 
 Bertha passed over in silence this sugges- 
 tion of pleasant things to come. 
 
 '* Fancy all the good we shall be able to 
 do ! " she said encouragingly. 
 
 " Shall we be richer ? " asked the practical 
 Aggie. " Will you be richer ? " 
 
 '' I — I think so," answered Bertha hesi- 
 tatingly. 
 
 " Not richer than if you had sold Ruth 
 and Boaz — at the catalogue price, I mean ? " 
 
 " I really can't tell," said Bertha, wath a 
 slight — a very slight — touch of asperity. 
 ''It is getting late; we ought to be going 
 home, now. And do look where you walk, 
 Aggie ! You have gone right into another 
 puddle ! " 
 
 They reached home, tired but invigorated 
 by exercise. On the hall-table, Jemima had 
 ostentatiously placed a small parcel and a
 
 96 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 note. The parcel — quickly opened — con- 
 tained an extremely fine old-fashioned 
 diamond and sapphire ring, that seemed 
 positively to blaze into Bertha's eyes, and, 
 by its magnificence, to illumine the dingy 
 little entrance-hall like a shining star. 
 
 The note — a short one, eagerly conned by 
 both sisters — was written in a small, precise, 
 almost crabbed hand ; the wide marmn and 
 straight accuracy of the lines being very 
 noticeable. It ran as follows : 
 
 "My dear Bertha, 
 
 " Pray accept from me, as a token 
 of regard and affection, a ring which belonged 
 to my great-grandmother, and which I trust 
 you will wear for my sake. 
 
 '' Your affectionate 
 
 '' Delachaine." 
 
 Bertha turned to look at her sister, but
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 97 
 
 the child was gone. Then Bertha sHpped 
 on the ring with a sense of possession that 
 was decidedly pleasurable. She could not 
 help admiring the beautiful stones ; more- 
 over, it was certainly gratifying that her 
 betrothed had lost no time in making her 
 this first offering. 
 
 Meanwhile Aggie, as she fled upstairs 
 with burninof cheeks, wished, in the sensitive- 
 ness of her heart, that the earth had opened 
 and swallowed her up before she had made 
 that unlucky remark respective of flashing 
 diamonds. Also, in her wilful spirit there 
 arose a jarring thought which was annoying 
 to her, though she could not give expression 
 to it aloud. Surely the earl might have 
 gone himself to a shop to buy something 
 nice and new for Bertha, instead of sending 
 her a nasty snuffy old ring that had been 
 worn by his great-grandmother ! 
 
 Possibly, however, had Lord Delachaine 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 q8 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 purchased a ring of the very latest make and 
 design, he might still have failed to satisfy 
 the requirements of one small critic of his 
 acquaintance !
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " I SUPPOSE we ouofht to ofo and see that 
 horrid woman," said Lady Theodosla. 
 
 '' I am afraid so," answered Lady Dela- 
 chaine, with a sigh. ''We must do our 
 duty, Dosia. Of course it is no use for me 
 to enter into details and explain to yo2i " 
 
 *'Why, no, of course not," said Lady 
 Theodosia pettishly. '' Really, mamma, I 
 know as well as you do that John has gone 
 and done for himself, and that he won't find 
 it out at once, though zue may. After all, we 
 ought to consider ourselves very fortunate 
 that it didn't happen long before." 
 
 " Yes, my dear, I am sure you are right — 
 there is always a bright side to everything."
 
 lOO BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 '* I meant that we ought to thank our 
 stars the evil day was put off so long-. 
 Mothers and sisters go for very Httle in 
 these things, mamma ; and when a man once 
 gets on the wrong side of fifty, he is sure to 
 be led by the nose by some woman or other. 
 And there are lots of dangerous ones about." 
 
 '' My dear," interposed Lady Delachaine, 
 '' I don't think you speak quite — quite as 
 you should. John is your brother, you know 
 — your elder brother." 
 
 ''Yes, he is my elder brother," admitted 
 Lady Theodosia, with a short laugh; ''and 
 men have this advantao^e over women, that 
 they can make idiots of themselves at any 
 age." 
 
 " It is very sad," said Lady Delachaine, 
 shaking her head, and letting her keys and 
 needlework fall in a forlorn tinkling heap 
 from her lap. " It is certainly very sad." 
 
 She heaved another long sigh, then spoke.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. lOI 
 
 '' Would you mind ringing the bell, Dosia, 
 to have the fire made up ? " 
 
 Lady Theodosia gave the bell a vigorous 
 pull. 
 
 '* Don't you think you had better order 
 the carriage, mamma ? " 
 
 Lady Delachaine gave a little start, which 
 sent her pocket-handkerchief and gloves 
 ■ — she always carried gloves, according to 
 bygone fashion — sliding down after the rest 
 of her belongings. 
 
 " Do you think we really need go 
 to-day ? " she asked piteously. 
 
 " Certainly," replied her daughter with de- 
 cision, stooping briskly to pick up the pocket- 
 handkerchief and other items. '* Here, 
 mamma, are your things. Winslow, the 
 carriage at three punctually." 
 
 "Yes, my lady.'' 
 
 " And the fire," added Lady Delachaine. 
 
 " Yes, my lady."
 
 I02 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 *' Ah, dear, dear! it is very sad," repeated 
 Lady Delachaine, patting- her eyes gently 
 with the handkerchief she once more held, 
 and sighing so deeply that Winslow presently 
 communicated to friends downstairs his con- 
 viction that the future bride must be a 
 most undesirable addition to the family — 
 judging b}^ the appearance of the family 
 ladies. 
 
 At three o'clock the barouche, Avith its big 
 bay horses and ponderous accessories, stood 
 at the door. The coachman, who had been 
 five and twenty years in his present situation, 
 and wore a wig, knee-breeches, etc., sat 
 proudly on the box ; the powdered footman 
 was drawing on his gloves, and joking in an 
 undignified way as he stood by the carriage, 
 pleasantly conscious that his afternoon duties 
 had not really begun, for the elder of the 
 ladies of the house Avas never remarkable for 
 her punctuality.
 
 BERTH/VS EARL. 
 
 But to-day, exact to the minute, Lady 
 Delachaine rustled downstairs, her long 
 black silk robes (much betrimmed and fur- 
 belowed) flowing three or four steps behind 
 her. Stern Nemesis was behind her also, i.e. 
 Lady Theodosia, in a tightly-fitting tailor- 
 made suit that was rather short in front, 
 whilst the plain bonnet, firmly fixed upon her 
 smooth hair, as well as the double-soled boots 
 that frankly peeped from her skirts, seemed 
 to be constantly repeating : "no nonsense, no 
 nonsense." 
 
 Lord Delachaine, after the manner of men 
 in difficult positions, had absented himself 
 for the whole day. He had much pressing 
 business on hand — so he had stated at an 
 early hour, as he swallowed a hasty breakfast, 
 during which meal his mother shed intermit- 
 tent tears, and his sister glared stonily at the 
 tea-urn. 
 
 On the preceding evening he had worn all
 
 I04 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 his best arguments thoroughly threadbare ; 
 he had endeavoured to melt his mother, but 
 she had not melted in the special manner 
 that he wanted. She had clung to him 
 damply, begging him to take pity on her. 
 As for Lady Theodosia, she had summed up 
 her feelings in one terse sentence : 
 
 '' You are old enough to know } our own 
 mind, John, and so I trust you will have 
 no reason to repent ; but, as you did not 
 choose to consult us in this matter, you 
 cannot expect mamma and me to say much 
 about it." 
 
 "You have said quite enough," retorted 
 the earl, turning at last. Then, for he 
 honestly desired to be a peace-maker, he 
 added : ''I am sure you will like her, 
 Dosia." 
 
 To scorn and entreaty alike, however, 
 Lady Theodosia had deigned no reply, and 
 the earl's pride kept him silent forth^vith.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. I05 
 
 Some days had passed since the announce- 
 ment of the engagement, before her future 
 mother and sister-in-law proposed to visit 
 Miss Minings. They had no tangible cause 
 for such disapproval as would have allowed 
 them to remain away altogether. On the 
 other hand, it was quite unnecessary to 
 evince undue haste, which might easily be 
 construed into approval. 
 
 On the present alarming occasion, Bertha 
 sat anxiously expectant. That morning the 
 earl had called, and she had spent an hour 
 of pleasant conversation with him ; but neither 
 his mother nor his sister were mentioned. 
 Bertha had praised the diamond and sapjDhire 
 ring, and expressed her gratitude. Lord 
 Delachaine, as was but just, had praised the 
 finder on which the rinof had been bestowed. 
 When the betrothed pair presently bade each 
 other a smilinof o-ood-bve, Lord Delachaine 
 announced his obligation to pay an immediate
 
 I06 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 visit to his lawyer, and departed in a sudden 
 fit of hurry, promising to look in again during 
 the afternoon. 
 
 It was only after he had left the studio 
 that he seemed to recollect that there Avas 
 something else to say. Then he reopened 
 the door gently, poked his head in, and, 
 startling placid Bertha with the following 
 casual remark : '' Oh, by-the-bye, my sister 
 Dosia tells me my mother's probably going 
 to call some time to-day," he disappeared as 
 swiftly as he had but just reappeared. 
 
 On their way to the abode of the dreaded 
 Miss Millings, neither Lady Delachaine nor 
 her daughter uttered a syllable. They leaned 
 back in the barouche, with that bored ex- 
 pression which people usually wear when out 
 for a drive. It has been aro-ued in favour 
 of the contentment of the poor, that folks in 
 carriages are often seen to yawn ; but this 
 is surely due rather to the swinging motion
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 107 
 
 which induces languid contemplation and 
 repose, than to the lack of such a happy 
 heart as necessarily cheers the pedestrian. 
 
 But it was neither the mildness of the 
 w^eather, nor the cee-springs of the barouche 
 that evoked an expression of annoyed 
 lassitude on the faces of these two ladies. 
 They were thoroughly irritated — ^justly so, as 
 they thought — with the world and the decrees 
 of Fate. Nor were they soothed with regard 
 to each other. Lady Delachalne considered 
 her daughter unsisterly in her mode of 
 speech ; Lady Theodosia mentally charac- 
 terized her mother's manner as absurdly 
 limp and yielding. 
 
 When they finally reached the artist's 
 home, they looked at each other enquiringly. 
 Was it better or w^orse than they had 
 expected ? 
 
 Jemima answered the bell. (There was, 
 alas ! no knocker whereon the footman might
 
 I08 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 exercise his skill.) It was Jemima also, who, 
 in appearance rather red and almost as 
 haughty as the visitors themselves, ushered 
 them into the studio. After she had an- 
 nounced their arrival she departed, muttering 
 to herself, as was her Avont. She was orreath' 
 displeased by Lady Theodosia's general 
 aspect, but she viewed Lady Delachaine 
 with more indulgence. 
 
 " The poor body ! " quoth Jemima to 
 herself. '' She's near her end. The young 
 may die, but the old miist'' 
 
 So saying, the worthy woman hurried off 
 to communicate her impressions to Susan, 
 who w^as factotum to Mrs. Weagles, and who, 
 despite her youth and consequent new^-fangled 
 ways, was held in some estimation by solitar}' 
 Jemima. But alas ! for that good opinion. 
 Susan, having hastily donned a most becoming 
 new cap, had already started the rudiments 
 of an interesting conversation with Lady
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. IO9 
 
 Delachaine's tall footman from her vantage 
 ground on the steps of Mrs. Weagles' house. 
 Meanwhile, Bertha hurriedly rose from her 
 sofa corner, and advanced with rapid steps 
 to greet the new-comers. She looked very 
 lovely in her pale grey gown with its clinging 
 folds, her soft short hair pushed back, her 
 eager face slightly flushed, and her eyes 
 bright with that particular appealing glance 
 which had dealt such an unerring stroke at 
 Lord Delachaine's heart. But the hearts 
 of some people's female relatives are by no 
 means unprepared for the attacks of a pretty 
 young creature of their own sex. With a 
 momentary survey Lady Theodosia took in 
 the whole situation, stiormatlzinof the ragfeed 
 tapestry as pretentious, the velvet draperies 
 as tawdry, the pictures on the easels as 
 miserable rubbish, and the owner of the 
 studio herself as nothing- more nor less than 
 a little minx. However, Lady Theodosia
 
 1 I O BER THA 'S EA RE. 
 
 Stepped forward briskly as usual, and, taking 
 Bertha's trembling hand in her strong grip, 
 she gave it a shake that positively hurt, 
 whilst Lady Delachaine, flurried and nervous, 
 could only vaguely stammer : 
 
 " Oh, my dear ! We felt we ought to 
 come and see you, you know. Is it really 
 true ? Are you going to marry my poor 
 John ? Oh dear, oh dear, you must talk to 
 her, Dosia — this is Dosia, you understand. 
 And is this really where you live ? And do 
 you paint all day ? And is this your draw- 
 ing-room ? And don't the oil paints smell 
 very nasty, and make your head ache ? And 
 are you obliged to stand ? It's so bad for 
 the ankles. There, Dosia, I've dropped my 
 pocket-handkerchief again ! " 
 
 Bertha placed the old lady on the sofa 
 and sat down beside her ; her own head — 
 whether from oil paints or other reasons — 
 was certainly in a whirl. She could think of
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. I I I 
 
 absolutely nothing to say that in the very 
 least befitted this momentous occasion. 
 Lady Theodosia sat opposite, having chosen 
 the high stool which was generally reserved 
 for models, where she perched, like a long- 
 legged bird, apparently uncomfortable and 
 insecure, yet refusing to move. 
 
 Bertha, who was blessed — or afflicted — 
 with a strong sense of the ridiculous, now 
 began to feel positively hysterical. It seemed 
 too absurd to talk of the weather ; it was 
 equally impossible to allude to the hopes and 
 fears of impending matrimony. It was Lady 
 Delachalne who broke the spell of silence. 
 
 ''You have a nice face, my dear," she 
 said meditatively, " though I don't altogether 
 like the way you wear your hair. But I 
 hope you are a Conservative .^ " 
 
 "I — I don't know," answered Bertha 
 giddily. '' I really am not quite sure — does 
 It matter much ?"
 
 112 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 '' Not very much," answered Lady Theo- 
 dosia shortly. '' For of course, if you become 
 Lady Delachalne, you will have to be a 
 Conservative ; my brother is one." 
 
 This speech was calculated to rouse 
 Bertha s independent spirit ; she managed 
 to keep her temper, nevertheless, earnestly 
 wishing to do her best to create a good 
 impression on the minds of these future 
 relatives. She choked down both her 
 indignation and her desire to laugh. 
 
 " Politics are very engrossing to some 
 people," she said mildly. 
 
 Fortunately, at this juncture in the flag- 
 ging conversation, the door opened, and, to 
 Bertha's intense joy, Aggie appeared on 
 the scene. 
 
 The child came forward with her customary 
 look of extreme confidence in the gratification 
 of other people to receive her. This con- 
 fidence was well founded, being generally
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, TI3 
 
 rewarded by success, for her face was so 
 fair, her eyes so frank, and her general 
 demeanour so engaging, together with her 
 comical half-graceful, half-awkward move- 
 ments — not unlike those of a young foal or 
 an overgrown lamb — that it had seldom, if 
 ever, been her fate to meet with a rebuff. 
 
 Yet, on this occasion, as she caught sight 
 of the two strange figures, Aggie hesitated 
 and paused midway in the room, gazing from 
 one to the other of the visitors, as though 
 seeking some encouragement to advance. 
 Finally, her enquiring gaze rested upon 
 Bertha ; then, instinctively aware that her 
 sister needed protection, she hurried forward, 
 flung one arm round Bertha's neck, stand- 
 ing beside her, and pressing as closely as 
 possible. 
 
 There was a moment's pause of stillness. 
 
 '' You should shake hands, Aggie," then 
 said the elder [girl, looking tenderly up Into 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 her young champion's defiant eyes. *' This is 
 Lady Delachaine, and this Lady Theodosia. 
 My little sister, Lady Delachaine — the 
 dearest and best thing I have in the world." 
 
 "Till now," added Lady Theodosia 
 sententiously. 
 
 "A very good girl, I am sure," said the 
 old lady ; '' is her name Agnes or Agatha ? " 
 
 " No ; Julia," answered Bertha with haste, 
 and feeling extremely guilty, she knew not 
 why. ''It is very foolish of me to call her 
 Aggie, but somehow we always do it, don't 
 we, Aggie ? " 
 
 '' Of course we do," was the sturdy 
 reply. 
 
 "It seems odd," returned Lady Delachaine 
 vaguely. Her eyes were wandering round 
 the upper part of the room ; she was con- 
 sidering whether such extraordinary windows 
 were not liable to cause innum.erable 
 draughts.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. II5 
 
 '* It sounds very odd indeed," said Lady 
 Theodosia briskly. '' Come here, my dear 
 child, and tell me what you know." 
 
 Aggie moved half a step nearer to her 
 questioner, but gave no answer. 
 
 " What do you do ? " continued Lady 
 Theodosia. '' Have you a governess ? " 
 
 '* No," replied Aggie. 
 
 '' Do you go to school ? " 
 
 " No," said Aggie. 
 
 " Dear, dear ! What would the school 
 board say ! I suppose your sister teaches 
 you ? The true gift of teaching is a very 
 rare one ; don't you think so, Miss Millings? " 
 
 '' Very," answered Bertha uncomfortably. 
 She was, by this time, thoroughly frightened, 
 for Aggie's accomplishments were peculiar 
 though useful, and so unorthodox that she 
 feared lest the child mio^ht be led on to 
 recount them. 
 
 Certainly, her little sister was an adept in
 
 Il6 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 the art of arranging and tidying a studio, 
 cleaning brushes, setting a palette, and even 
 laying in a rudimentary background if neces- 
 sary. She was a first-rate (elementary) 
 arithmetician, having been known to discover 
 defects in the sfreen grocer's book that had 
 eluded the vigilance of the rest of the house- 
 hold. She had a pretty voice, though she 
 was still so young, and could sing a few 
 French ditties that Bertha had taught her, 
 and also two or three German student-songs 
 which Dr. Jackson had delighted to impart 
 to her retentive ear. She possessed, as has 
 already been said, shrewd common sense and 
 mental capability much beyond her years, so 
 tnat she was Bertha's counsellor as well as 
 companion, and had seen and thought and 
 even learned in a desultory way more than 
 most children of her age. But of ordinary 
 schoolroom education she was almost as 
 Ignorant as Jemima herself. If Aggie spoke
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 11/ 
 
 French and German with ease and fluency, 
 it was because she and Bertha had spent 
 a couple of winters abroad together ; con- 
 cerning the grammar and Hterature of either 
 language, the Httle girl had never troubled 
 herself, nor had any one troubled her. 
 
 Consequently, Bertha felt painfully that, 
 in this asking of questions. Lady Theodosia 
 pointedly alluded to the daily routine of a 
 well-brought-up child. For the first time, 
 perhaps, in her own life, the elder sister was 
 disturbed by the reflection that her play- 
 fellow knew but little of history or syntax, 
 and was in outer darkness concerning the 
 use of the orlobes. 
 
 " Aggie has been so much with me always,'* 
 murmured Bertha apologetically. 
 
 '' She must have masters," said Lady 
 Theodosia, with off-hand cheeriness. *' I 
 can recommend several. I belong to a 
 registry — also to a society for the special
 
 Il8 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 cultivation of the intellect of girls in their 
 teens ; an admirable society. We meet once 
 a fortnight." 
 
 '' The poor little things have so much 
 stuffed into their brains nowadays," said Lady 
 Delachaine hesitatingly, " and of course you 
 — she — her position will be very different." 
 
 Unconsciously, Lady Delachaine echoed 
 Mrs. Weagles' prophecy. So thought Aggie, 
 with a sinking heart. 
 
 *' Perhaps the best, after all," said Lady 
 Theodosia reflectively, " would be for the 
 child to go to school." 
 
 But at this unwarrantable excess of inter- 
 ference, Bertha fired up. 
 
 " Aggie will remain with me," she said. 
 
 '' I shall learn what Bertha wishes," put in 
 Aggie, drawing herself up with a defiant air, 
 " and do what Bertha wants, and stay where 
 Bertha likes." 
 
 *' Oh, indeed ! " said Lady Theodosia
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. II9 
 
 coldly. ''And not listen to any one else's 
 advice, I suppose ? " 
 
 ''Certainly not," retorted Aggie fiercely. 
 
 " A spoilt child," murmured Lady Theo- 
 dosia with a sigh. " It is always a sad sight 
 to see a spoilt child," she added, addressing 
 Lady Delachaine. 
 
 " But Aggie is not spoilt ! " cried Bertha, 
 her voice trembling, partly from anger, 
 partly in sorrowful astonishment. What ? 
 Did they think her own dear tender devoted 
 little Aggie spoilt ? She stretched out her 
 arms to the child, who immediately nestled 
 closely into them. 
 
 " Aggie never was spoilt," repeated Bertha, 
 with great dignity. 
 
 But at this critical juncture, when the 
 smouldering elements of opposition and 
 dislike were about to leap into active flame, 
 there came the sound of arrival at the door, 
 which Jemima flung open with a sort of wide
 
 I20 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 consciousness of possessive grandeur, to 
 usher in the Earl of Delachaine, whose name 
 she had by this time thoroughly mastered. 
 
 Lord Delachaine stood for an instant at 
 the entrance of the studio, his quiet face 
 wearing an unaccustomed look of surprised 
 discomfort. But he readily grasped the 
 situation. He knew by the outline of Lady 
 Theodosia's back the exact frame of mind 
 she was in. His mother was never difficult 
 to read. As for Aggie — the centre of the 
 group — she had not chosen to take him into 
 her affections with the cordiality he deserved, 
 whilst he, on his side, could not quite forgive 
 the lukewarmness of her congratulations ; 
 yet, even acknowledged neutrality between 
 him and Bertha's sister must verge into a 
 friendly alliance in the presence of sudden 
 difficulty and danger. 
 
 The earl advanced with a cordial manner. 
 
 ''You here, mother?" he asked airily.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 121 
 
 '' And you, Dosia ? That's right — I am glad 
 to have met you on your first visit. Good 
 afternoon, Miss Julia ; I have just ordered 
 some flowers for you." 
 
 Then, moving towards Bertha, he took 
 her hand and bent over It, touching it lightly 
 with his lips, as he asked : 
 
 ** What commands has the lady of my 
 heart to lay upon me ? " 
 
 At these words the two warriors of the 
 Delachaine family remained stonily rigid, 
 although the elder sighed audibly, whilst 
 tears came Into Berthas eyes, as, with both 
 hands, she almost clung to Lord Delachaine. 
 A sudden warmth of feeling, greater than 
 she had ever yet felt for him, rose ardently 
 within her. She had been so lonely before 
 his arrival ! His action had been a graceful 
 one. There was indeed a natural charm 
 about him which advancing age had not 
 diminished, for orrace of manner, like that of
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 thought, by no means belongs exclusively 
 to the young. 
 
 Whilst his betrothed thus meditated in her 
 gratitude, the earl gazed down at her with 
 his most sphinx-like smile. 
 
 '' I hope you have promised to come to 
 us, Bertha," he said cheerfully. '' It will be 
 your turn now. Mother, have you asked 
 her ? And this little damsel also ? " 
 
 ''The house is yours, John," said Lady 
 Theodosia with brevity, rising as she spoke. 
 
 *' But my mother is its hostess," replied 
 the earl. 
 
 '' My dear John ! my dear Dosia ! " en- 
 treated Lady Delachaine nervously. Then, 
 turning to Bertha, she faltered : 
 
 "• Will you come Wednesday — the day 
 after to-morrow '^ " 
 
 " The day after to-morrow, at luncheon — 
 two o'clock," acquiesced the earl firmly ; "■ and 
 we will show you the family mansion. I am
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 almost afraid you will call it a barrack. 
 There is nothing picturesque about it. And 
 ask Mary Baynham, Dosia ; I have a sort 
 of fancy that Bertha will get on with her. 
 Now I will see you two to your carriage, 
 and drive home with you if you like. My 
 business is over for to-day." 
 
 Then, for all the ladies were too astonished 
 to protest or even utter, the earl led the way 
 out, still speaking as he went : 
 
 " Take care, here's a step, mother — let me 
 give you an arm — that's the garden door, 
 Dosia ; please follow us." 
 
 And Lady Theodosia followed.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The Duchess of Baynham spent her Hfe in 
 a perpetual round of energetic pursuits. She 
 managed to crowd into the available hours 
 of each day as many fulfilled engagements 
 as most of her friends completed in a week. 
 At night she slept the peaceful sleep attri- 
 butable to a good conscience and a good 
 digestion, and awoke refreshed, and ready 
 for the labours of the following day. 
 
 Young and pretty, she was moderately 
 political, and ardently philanthropic, organiz- 
 ing, and conversational, whilst never too 
 busy to do a kindness, even to a com- 
 parative stranger. It Is not therefore sur- 
 prising that she gathered around her a
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. I 25 
 
 vast circle of acquaintance, amongst which 
 were doubtless many satellites and some 
 detractors and enemies, but also a fair 
 sprinkling of really true and affectionate 
 friends. 
 
 Continually occupied as she was, the 
 duchess was enabled to make her triumphant 
 way through multitudinous engagements only 
 by means of the most carefully-regulated 
 punctuality and method. She spent but a 
 comparatively short time in the society of 
 her husband, whose interests, being entirely 
 sedentary and studious, lay in an opposite 
 direction to her own. The duke was fond 
 of solitude ; the duchess was eminently 
 gregarious and sociable. She wrote notes 
 from early dawn to dewy eve ; bought 
 pamphlets on all sorts of humanitarian 
 subjects, and glanced over and discussed the 
 latest religious controversial works. Above 
 all she belonged to and stoutly defended
 
 126 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 from derision a curious group of friends — 
 men and women both — who termed them- 
 selves '' the spirits/' and who all were 
 pledged by solemn vows to study the same 
 difficult metaphysical books, and to meditate 
 on the same disquieting and unanswerable 
 questions. 
 
 The duke turned his back altogether upon 
 this and other bonds of society. He had 
 been engaged during the last twelve years 
 on a rhythmical translation of Dante, to 
 which should be appended copious notes and 
 explanations — a work which was to prove 
 superior to anything of the kind hitherto 
 attempted, and which must needs fill a want 
 lone felt in the world of literature. 
 
 The duchess often bemoaned the seclusion 
 of her lord with a pretty bemoaning that 
 made some of her audience shrug their 
 shoulders, yet which possessed so undoubted 
 a ring of truth that many envied her husband,
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. I27 
 
 even whilst blaming him for allowing her to 
 go her own unfettered way rejoicing. 
 
 The Duchess of Baynham was first cousin 
 to Lord Delachalne and Lady Theodosia. 
 Her mother, sister to the late earl, had 
 married Viscount St. Phippen, the possessor 
 of much wealth and an exceedingly old 
 title. It need scarce be chronicled here 
 how the St. Phippens came over Avith the 
 Conqueror, conscientiously bringing with 
 them voluminous scrolls bearinof the record 
 of their genealogy for a tolerable number of 
 previous centuries. Nor does any one doubt 
 that the ruins of the Chateau de St. Fipin 
 (sometimes in ancient archives spelt Phlpin 
 or Phipen) still stand — a pile of mournful 
 grey stones — on the storm-tossed wave- 
 bound shore of one of the most desolate 
 points of Normandy. 
 
 It was now seven years since the only 
 child and heiress of the English branch of
 
 128 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 the St. Phippens had been given in marriage 
 to the present Duke of Baynham, then Lord 
 Cassingdene, whose future estates were 
 known to be heavily mortgaged, the pro- 
 perty having become impoverished under the 
 rule of his father and grandfather, two nobles 
 of the good old reckless, hard-drinking, easy- 
 living sort. It had been agreed by the 
 friends of both families that the union was in 
 all respects an admirable one, and, when the 
 two young people allowed themselves to be 
 gently guided towards betrothal and marriage, 
 nothing seemed wanting in the happy future 
 before them. 
 
 Nor, since that brilliant wedding-day, had 
 anything serious occurred^ to cause a change 
 in public opinion ; yet, especially during the 
 first three or four years, the gossips of the 
 town were not altogether satisfied. The 
 duke was seldom seen ; the duchess, on 
 the contrary, was too often seen. So much
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. I 29 
 
 for their public life. As to their private 
 existence, the chief grievance was that no 
 one was admitted into it, whilst rumours 
 were afloat, rumours of hot and hasty words, 
 wrangles in fact — not to say quarrels. How 
 could it be otherwise ? The duchess was 
 evidently a headstrong woman ; so said the 
 duke's supporters. He was a selfish stay-at- 
 home misanthrope ; thus murmured the 
 partisans of the duchess. 
 
 Gradually, gossip died out — a painless 
 death — for want of natural sustenance, and 
 people turned readily to the far more 
 interesting scandals that were occurring 
 daily in other great families. The wedded 
 pair were let alone, to do as they pleased, 
 which indeed was a result they had long 
 desired, and whether they disagreed or dwelt 
 in peace became a matter of absolutely no 
 moment to anybody. Not even when Lord 
 Cassingdene succeeded to the dukedom, as 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 was the case shortly after his marriage, had 
 it been possible to glean any further details 
 of his character ; nor, when his wife's parents 
 died, and her wealth was added to her 
 husband's income, did the busiest body record 
 any facts of real interest. They were evi- 
 dently a commonplace couple. 
 
 Only, as need scarce be intimated, people 
 were always delighted to welcome the 
 duchess to their parties. On such occasions, 
 the host and hostess liked the sound of 
 her title, the men were one and all attracted 
 by her bright face and merry laugh, and, 
 strange to say, the women were seldom 
 jealous. '' Perhaps because she is not 
 beautiful enough to cause envy/' said one ; 
 *' perhaps because she mostly devotes herself 
 to some snuffy old person, whom nobody 
 talks to," said another. 
 
 The day after Bertha had received her 
 future relatives, the duchess was seated
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 according to custom at her writing-table, 
 busily scribbling, when a footman entered, 
 and presented to her a note from her 
 cousin Theodosia. This was no unusual 
 incident, as the two ladies, despite great 
 differences of character, were on friendly 
 and affectionate terms. On this special 
 occasion, however, the duchess was much 
 startled by the contents of the note, which, 
 though It began with an invitation to lunch 
 on the morrow, ended by a statement, curt 
 and cold, of Lord Delachaine's engagement 
 to Bertha Millings. 
 
 *' There is no answer," said the duchess 
 as quietly as she could. '' Or rather, say I 
 will go at once to Belgrave Square. And 
 call me a hansomi." 
 
 But left alone, being transfixed with 
 astonishment, the recipient of the note gave 
 vent to many exclamations. Good gracious ! 
 Mercy me ! Who would have thought
 
 1^2 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 it ! and so forth. Then, drawing a long 
 breath, she jumped up from her seat, and 
 proceeded hurriedly to tidy — some people 
 might have said to untidy — her writing- 
 table. 
 
 K gigantic and varied mass of papers was 
 strewn upon this forbearing piece of furniture. 
 Begging-letters, notices of committee-meet- 
 ings, programmes of charity concerts, invita- 
 tion cards and notes, and here and there 
 lengthy and interesting epistles from some 
 whose names stood high in the worlds of 
 literature or science. 
 
 With difficulty, for her hands were 
 positively trembling with eagerness, the 
 duchess gathered up many of her papers in 
 a chaotic bundle, and threw them into a 
 drawer. Forthwith running upstairs — she 
 mostly preferred to run than to walk — she 
 donned her outdoor garments with the same 
 vivacity that she brought to bear upon
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 everything", and a few minutes later she was 
 whirled off in her hansom. 
 
 On the way, however, she had thrust her 
 head in at the secluded study, where the 
 duke was, as usual, pacing up and down, his 
 hands in the pockets of an old shooting--coat, 
 his hair much ruffled, and his eyes fixed 
 thoughtfully on the dingy ornamentation of 
 the ceilinor. 
 
 '' You are going out ? " he asked dreamily, 
 as the door opened sufficiently to allow him 
 to see the bonneted head of his wife noddine 
 pleasantly at him. 
 
 ''Just for an hour — only to Dosia's," she 
 replied ; " how are you getting on .^ " 
 
 " Pretty well," was the answer, with a 
 long-drawn sigh. '' I have not written much 
 to-day. I was thinking over a most interest- 
 ing treatise on the tei'za rwia, sent to me by 
 Professor Giovannini. You remember him 
 at Pisa, don't you, Mary ? "
 
 134 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 " Oh yes, dear. He was a good-natured 
 slow old thinof, as tall and as crooked as 
 the tower itself, with a beard a yard and 
 a half long. And he was terribly fond of 
 eating eggs at luncheon. Ah, those eggs ! 
 How little of them ever really reached his 
 mouth ! " 
 
 And the duchess, laughing, disappeared, 
 closing the door gently. 
 
 Lady Theodosia was somewhat surprised 
 when the answer to her note came in the 
 shape of her cousin in person. 
 
 *' I couldn't wait till to-morrow," began the 
 eager visitor. " What, is it really, truly 
 going to be ? Had you any idea of it ? To 
 think of John, at last ! John, caught, landed 
 like other men ! Let's sit down, Dosia, and 
 you shall tell me all about it. It's too 
 romantic — it really is ! She's an artist, isn't 
 she ? And does she think of nothing: but 
 pictures ? "
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 1 35 
 
 " Romantic, you call it ? " echoed Lady 
 Theodosia with a bitter smile. " I call 
 it disgraceful, shameful." Thereupon she 
 launched forth into a lengthy and sour ex- 
 planation of the terrible fate about to befal 
 the Delachaine family, owing to the projected 
 alliance with Miss Millings. 
 
 But when, at last, the angry narrator paused 
 to take breath her cousin, haply like Mother 
 Hubbard's dog, was actually laughing. 
 
 '' After all, it might have been a great deal 
 worse, Dosia. Cheer up. Anyhow you and 
 I can't prevent it. If the girl is pretty and 
 ladylike — she is not of low origin, you say — 
 and if she is not vulgrar and has no horrid 
 relations, I don't see that matters are quite 
 so bad as you make out. How dear old 
 John has managed to go free all these years, 
 I can't imagine ! You should think of that ! 
 And I should have hated a regular society 
 girl myself, or an American, even though it's
 
 136 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 the thino:, or an Australian ! And it mi^ht 
 have been an actress ! Only think what 
 stuck-up, worldly-wise creatures men often 
 bring home to sit upon their simple-minded 
 mothers and sisters ! I do declare you 
 ought to go down on your knees and be 
 positively thankful." 
 
 '* But, Mary, you don't realize it ! Shall 
 I describe our visit to you again ? " 
 
 '' No, no. It must have been horrid." 
 
 ''It zuas horrid." 
 
 '' For her too — poor little wretch ! I 
 wouldn't face you and Aunt Mary both 
 together when you have, yes, just that 
 expression in your eyebrows down to the 
 corners of your mouth ! I should have gone 
 on the roof, or in the cellar ! " 
 
 '' Nonsense, Mary." 
 
 " I can't help it, Dosia. I think she 
 must be a plucky girl to swallow the whole 
 family."
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 137 
 
 *' It is a pity she does swallow it, then. 
 She does not appear very diffident." 
 
 "She is plucky, as I say. So is John, for 
 that matter. Poor dear old John ! Well, 
 I shall be better able to console you to- 
 morrow, Dosia. I shall have seen our new 
 relative then. By-the-bye, what are we to 
 call her ? " 
 
 *' Bertha," said Lady Theodosia, shortly. 
 
 " A good Anglo-saxon name. Perhaps 
 her ancestors were yeomen, or squires — 
 which is it ? at the time of the Conquest. Do 
 you think I might ask her ? It would be so 
 very interesting. I was skimming a most 
 delightful paper the other day. It was read 
 at the archaeological meeting at Newington- 
 cum-ditchpool by the great Midgkins — you 
 know who I mean — who sent it me, only 
 I've forgotten most of it. But it said — oh 
 yes, I remember — the archers in olden days 
 didn't care to make bows out of Enelish
 
 138 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 yew-trees — it was the Spanish yews that 
 were so highly thought of." 
 
 *' Indeed," said Lady Theodosia calmly. 
 She was used to her cousin's divagations, 
 and seldom followed or interrupted them. 
 
 '' It is so difficult to keep up with every- 
 thing," continued the duchess, sighing. 
 " Oh ! and Dosia ! What do you say to 
 this ? " 
 
 The speaker jumped up, and pointed 
 triumphantly to her own left shoulder whereon, 
 amidst folds of soft lace and bead trimmings, 
 reposed two badges : the first, an enamel 
 brooch representing a primrose, the second 
 a simple knot of dark blue ribbon. 
 
 ^' Of course, Dosia, you know I have 
 a habitation to look after ; but I hadn't told 
 you about the other, eh ? I signed the 
 pledge only yesterday. It's an excellent 
 thing to do nowadays." 
 
 '' I've no doubt of it," said Lady Theodosia,
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. I 39 
 
 frigidly. " I belong to five total abstinence 
 societies and the Church Temperance one 
 myself, though I do not wear any decorations." 
 
 '' But the blue ribbon's half the battle, 
 don't you think so ? Force of example and 
 all that. The only drawback is that at the 
 boat-race people are sure to think I'm all for 
 Oxford, whereas Cas swears by Cambridge 
 — was brought up there, you know — that's 
 to say there and Eton — and they're both 
 light blue — really, Dosia, I quite wish you 
 were a comfortable drunkard ! It would 
 have been such fun to convert you ! " 
 
 " Thank you," said Lady Theodosia drily. 
 
 '* And how about the pretty artist ? 
 Painters are g^iven to drinking, I believe. 
 Isn't there a proverb ? " 
 
 ''No, that has to do with fiddlers," said 
 Lady Theodosia, who this time relaxed into 
 a smile. 
 
 " Or lords," continued the duchess imper-
 
 I40 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 turbably. '' ' Drunk as a fiddler, drunk as 
 a lord. ' I Avonder why ? It is a very 
 curious question ; don't you think so, Dosia ? 
 ril write by this afternoon's post to Dr. 
 Monkshood. He has written the most 
 beautifully-convincing paper on legal techni- 
 calities in Patagonia. He's perfectly sure to 
 know about proverbs. And now tell me 
 something else." 
 
 The duchess was standing in front of the 
 fireplace, gazing at her own reflection in the 
 looking-glass, and patting the sides of her 
 bonnet with her two little soft gloved hands. 
 
 *' Don't you think this is quite the dearest 
 darlingest bonnet you ever saw, Dosia ? I 
 walked down Regent Street the other day 
 and looked in at all the shop-windows — it 
 was great fun — and I finally invested in this 
 bonnet. It's what my little friend the 
 Marquise de Grosgrain would call ' tout ce 
 qu'il y a de plus fin de siecle.' "
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, 141 
 
 " I do wish," protested Lady Theodosia 
 severely, *' I do really wish, INIary, that you 
 would give up seeing quite so much of that 
 silly Frenchwoman." 
 
 '' My dear girl, she is quite the ' haute 
 volee,' I assure you. Cas says her husband 
 is cocksure — that's not viy word, so don't 
 shake your head again — cocksure of being 
 ambassador somewhere or other next time 
 there's a chanQ^e. Besides, her mother was 
 a Croque-mitaine, and that means a great 
 deal in itself, you know. But now I really 
 must be off. I've got a meeting of the 
 Friendly girls at half-past twelve, and some 
 sewing mothers to look up after that, and 
 poor old Cas is always so lonely if I'm not in 
 to lunch. I really scarcely ever see him now. 
 Good-bye, dear, or rather * sans adieu.' Two 
 o'clock to-morrow. I'm so curious to see the 
 little painter, you can't think ! Don't you be 
 downhearted, Dosia. Marriage is a lottery,
 
 142 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 and women are to men just what men think 
 them. Suppose you and I had found a real 
 paragon, do you Imagine that John would 
 have cared about her ? He, as your brother, 
 was bound to fish somebody out for himself 
 whom you would detest. That Is, at first. 
 Try to like her, Dosia dear, If only for your 
 own sake." 
 
 '' For my own sake ? " repeated Lady 
 Theodosia proudly. 
 
 *' Well, yes, just a little. If John is really 
 fond of her, you oughtn't to make It too 
 miserable for him. He'll only like her the 
 better." 
 
 ** And me the less ! Thank you, Mary." 
 
 " I did not quite say that. Try for John's 
 sake, then." 
 
 '' Ah, for John's sake ! " 
 
 '' He may not be as altogether happy as 
 you think." 
 
 ''He is at any rate happy enough about 
 her."
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 H3 
 
 '' Well, Is not that as It should be ? " 
 
 " If only It had been some one else ! " 
 
 '' Yes, I know ; Lady Cecilia. Well, I 
 
 will promise to criticize severely to-morrow. 
 
 Poor John ! Poor old John ! Good-bye 
 
 again, Dosia ! No, never mind ringing. 
 
 I'm awfully late ! Poor old John ! Good-bye, 
 
 good-bye ! "
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It was three minutes before two o'clock on 
 the following day, when Bertha and Aggie 
 stood beneath the ugly portico which enabled 
 Lord Delachaine's mansion so closely to 
 resemble its neighbours. The sisters had 
 elected to seek their destination on foot, 
 having pronounced themselves ready to start 
 so early that their chief danger lay in arriving 
 too soon. 
 
 Aggie had carefully superintended Bertha s 
 toilet, and Bertha had equally tenderly 
 arrayed her little sister. Aggie put a good 
 face on the whole matter, for she could see 
 that her darling's spirits were drooping and 
 perturbed. Only once, when Jemima had
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, J 45 
 
 come Into the room, and Bertha had gone 
 out of It for a moment, did the child give 
 vent to her genuine feeHngs. 
 
 " It's just Hke going to the dentist, 
 Jemima ! " she exclaimed sorrowfully. 
 
 '' Laws, miss ! " replied that confidant 
 soothingly, and with real charity considering 
 that her mouth was full of pins. '' Don't 
 you go for to worrit yourself, there's a lamb. 
 They ought to be proud to have two such 
 pretty faces as Miss Bertha's and yours 
 a-coming Into the family, which It seems 
 terrible sparing of good looks. Though 
 beauty's naught but a fleeting show," added 
 Jemima, suddenly remembering her favourite 
 tenets. 
 
 Now, at last, the destination had been 
 reached, neither too soon, nor yet too late. 
 
 *' Isn't It fishes ? " asked Aggie suddenly, 
 and enigmatically. 
 
 " Fishes, clear?" repeated Bertha, surprised. 
 
 VOL. I. lO
 
 T46 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 " Fishes and serpents and frogs, I mean, 
 who've 2fot cold blood." 
 
 ''Why, dear, why ? " 
 
 '' Nothing, Booffles ; I suppose they get 
 along just as well as other creatures, don't 
 they ? Oh ! do you know I could really 
 beein to wish we hadn't had to come. 
 They're going to open the door ! " 
 
 " Of course they are," said Bertha with 
 dignity. Then, almost unnecessarily giving 
 her name, she and her sister followed the 
 butler upstairs. WInslow, to whom the 
 reader has already been Introduced, was an 
 old family servant, and as such cast many 
 furtive glances In Bertha's direction — glances 
 prompted not by curiosity alone, but also by 
 interest in the family, and even by hopeful- 
 ness for the future. 
 
 " My word ! There will be changes ! " 
 thoueht WInslow to himself, as he viewed 
 the bright young faces ; but aloud he merely
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 147 
 
 politely offered to relieve Bertha from the 
 weight of her umbrella ! Then, In a 
 triumphant voice, he heralded the arrival 
 of ** Miss Millings and Miss Julia Millings." 
 
 Whilst Aggie scarcely recognized her own 
 Identity under this Imposing name, the 
 occupants of the drawing-room seemed for 
 the nonce equally disconcerted, although, 
 naturally, the visitors had been expected. 
 
 The room was large, opening with folding- 
 doors Into another apartment, that was 
 smaller but equally cheerless. Both had 
 been evidently decorated some fifty years 
 ago, when solid walnut furniture, elaborate 
 gilt cornices, velvet pile carpets strewn with 
 giant roses, and white and gold papering, were 
 just coming Into vogue. A ceiling, rich with 
 mouldings of no particular style or design, 
 loomed heavily above the naked walls, whose 
 lofty bareness was sparsely broken, yet not 
 relieved, by two or three large mirrors.
 
 148 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 Round the rooms were ranged some 
 marble-topped consoles, whereon a few 
 Qm^ty jardinieres and other pieces of Sevres 
 china were the only ornaments. Meanwhile, 
 the armchairs and ottomans, covered with 
 shiny old-fashioned chintz, were placed at 
 such decorous intervals round the polished 
 centre table that they seemed no more in- 
 tended for use than the table itself, which was 
 scattered over with stray books, methodically 
 piled, and tall glasses supporting lanky grass, 
 immortelles, and dried bulrushes. 
 
 Perhaps, after all, Lady Theodosia's daven- 
 port and high stool, and cumbrous basket of 
 poor people's clothes in process of making, 
 all crowded too^ether in what Avas known as 
 " Dosias corner," gave their only life-like 
 appearance to the dreary rooms. 
 
 The Delachaine family were on the present 
 occasion grouped in a sort of chilly settle- 
 ment of bleached chintz furniture, osten-
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 1 49 
 
 tatiously waiting. The daughter of the house 
 sat upright on a loosely-shrouded chair of 
 nondescript form. Her mother leaned back 
 amongst many slippery cushions at the end 
 of a large sofa, beside which same end 
 Lord Delachaine was standing very upright 
 and expectant, whilst on the other the 
 duchess had gracefully balanced herself, her 
 tiny feet (encased in the smartest and shiniest 
 of boots) dangling, and her gloved hands 
 rattling their many bangles and gesticulating 
 at every remark made by their owner. 
 
 When the new-comers entered. Lady 
 Delachaine rose as hastily as she was able, 
 and advanced to greet them, followed by her 
 son who, to Berthas eyes, had an unfamiliar 
 brushed-up appearance, which made her 
 instantaneously shy and silent. The earl 
 was at all times Irreproachably neat and 
 tidy ; but to-day there was surely an air of 
 constraint about the cut of his coat and the
 
 I =;o BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 turn of his necktie. The same stiff pohte- 
 ness perv^adecl Lady Delachaine's black silk, 
 whilst from every seam of Lady Theodosia's 
 tight tweed costume peeped an angry though 
 suppressed superciliousness. 
 
 Bertha's depression was doubtless infec- 
 tious, as Aggie had caught it already ; even 
 the earl seemed speedily to participate in it. 
 Under these novel circumstances, he appeared 
 scarce happier than his guests, yet his voice 
 was cordial as ever when he ofreeted his 
 betrothed, and there was even the faint ghost 
 of a smile visible on one side of his crrave 
 mouth. 
 
 " Dear, dear ! " began Lady Delachaine, 
 who was at a loss what to say, after the first 
 formal greeting. But the duchess, who had 
 alighted gently on the points of her toes, 
 came swiftly to the rescue. 
 
 *' Introduce me at once, John ! " she ex- 
 claimed. '' This is Miss Millinofs, isn't it }
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 151 
 
 I must call you Bertha at once. You look 
 so like a Bertha, with such nice soft golden 
 hair. Will you give me a kiss ? And this 
 is your little sister of whom Dosia told me 
 so much ? " 
 
 Here Lady Theodosia glanced reprovingly 
 at her cousin, but the latter, mentally gliding 
 from what she would herself have termed 
 an unavoidable tarradiddle, proceeded gaily : 
 
 '' Do let's all sit down on this bie sofa. 
 Now, Bertha, you absolutely niiLst take your 
 cloak off! Dosia, my dear, how abominably 
 your poor people's things smell of flannel ! 
 Don't you always wonder. Bertha — I must 
 call you Bertha, you know — why poor people's 
 things so persistently smell of flannel ? 
 
 *' Things that are made of flannel smell 
 of flannel," said Lady Theodosia severely. 
 
 Bertha could not help laughing, neither 
 could the earl. Lady Delachaine, looking 
 almost pleased, gave the offending basket a
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 slight push with her thin old hand. Only 
 Lady Theodosia remained grave, but the 
 slight push sent the basket reeling against 
 the table — some flannels fell out and seemed 
 to set all the ornaments in tremulous motion. 
 One of the tall glasses wavered for a moment, 
 then slowly capsized, happily to be caught in 
 Lord Delachaine's outstretched arms, whilst 
 a very cascade of novels tumbled to the floor. 
 
 Aggie jumped forward to pick up the 
 volumes ; so did Bertha ; so did the duchess, 
 whose head came in such close proximity to 
 Aggie's that the two were nearly knocked 
 together, at which the duchess laughed, and 
 Aggie smiled, though in a frightened way. 
 Like a jarring note came the incisive tones 
 of Lady Theodosia's voice. 
 
 " That's the best part of those dry bul- 
 rushes," she remarked; ''they require no 
 water." 
 
 " So I should Imagine," said the earl.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. I 53 
 
 The duchess went into another unreasoning 
 fit of laughter. 
 
 " What a funny girl you are, Dosia ! " she 
 exclaimed after a little spasmodic paroxysm ; 
 and Bertha, who in her wildest moments 
 could not have alluded to Lady Theodosia 
 as a funny girl, admired the courage of the 
 duchess exceedingly. 
 
 '' Why, here's the very book," exclaimed 
 that voluble lady, ''the very thing I've been 
 hunting out for days at all the libraries ! " 
 
 "What is it?" asked Lord Delachaine, 
 with as much show of interest as he could 
 muster. 
 
 " It's a novel written by a man," replied 
 his cousin. " That's why all the ladies want 
 to read it. Don't you know, John, that 
 when a man does condescend to write a 
 naughty book he piles and ladles it on, whilst 
 poor women — though they're always getting 
 unjustly abused — only dare to deal out bad
 
 154 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 things, in tea-spoonfuls, or tiny, tiny pills and 
 powders — homeopathically, so to speak." 
 
 The earl looked pained. 
 
 "■ How you do run on, jNIary. Besides, I 
 am not quite sure of the facts of the case." 
 
 "■ My dear child ! " expostulated Lady 
 Delachaine. 
 
 "What will Miss Millings think of you, 
 Mary ? " asked Lady Theodosia sourly. 
 
 The duchess put on a look of the blandest 
 innocence, but even this did not soften the 
 heart of the earl. 
 
 " Your one weakness, Mary," he said in a 
 low tone, " is to make us all think you as bad 
 as possible, whereas " 
 
 *' Whereas .^ " asked the culprit defiantly. 
 
 Her laughing brown eyes suddenly met 
 Aggie's. The child was standing scarce 
 a yard in front, staring with all her might. 
 In vain did Bertha give a gentle pull at her 
 little sister's sash — Aggie stared on.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. I 55 
 
 The duchess did not object ; there was 
 somethlncr in that childish face which had 
 taken her fancy from the very first. She had 
 Intended to Hke Bertha, and to make great 
 friends with her, but, as the two visitors 
 entered, she had quickly turned aside from 
 the elder sister to watch the younger. With 
 the close consideration which she brought 
 to bear on most things, despite her careless- 
 ness of speech, the duchess was accustomed 
 to watch and take note of all around her. 
 
 " Whereas ? " she repeated enquiringly ; 
 " you shall give the verdict, little Julia. Do 
 you think I am bad ? " 
 
 Aggie, whose eyes had never wavered 
 from the countenance of the duchess, whose 
 liking she already returned — for surely 
 magnetic attraction Is usually as reciprocal 
 as It Is Instantaneous — Aggie hesitated, but 
 only for a moment. There was just one 
 Instant of awful silence which terrified Bertha,
 
 156 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 SO that she reddened and grew hot ; then 
 Aggie advanced a step, and with her sweet 
 mouth broadening Into a very genuine smile, 
 that was no longer affected by shyness or 
 nervousness : 
 
 '' I think you are very good," she said. 
 
 The duchess stretched out her arms, and 
 in her Impulsive way drew Aggie close, and 
 covered her face with kisses. 
 
 '' You are a dear little thine ! " she ex- 
 claimed. '' Will you be my friend ? Now, 
 John, you see," she added, looking trium- 
 phantly up at the earl, '' everybody doesn't 
 judge me as you do." 
 
 '' I only spoke of how you meant us to 
 judge you," he answered quietly. 
 
 But 1 there was no further discussion, for 
 luncheon was announced. Lady Delachalne 
 Invited Bertha to accompany her downstairs, 
 and the whole party adjourned to the dining- 
 room.
 
 i^^^^^fip' 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A FEW weeks passed. To Bertha her present 
 life seemed like one of those pleasant dreams 
 which sometimes occur when, conscious that 
 we are half asleep, we are unwilling to wake. 
 The chanee and excitement that came with 
 every rising sun, the numberless trifling 
 enofaofements of each morning^ and each 
 afternoon, prevented her from sitting down to 
 think. The Immediate present was certainly 
 delightful ; the future, If considered at all, 
 appeared fair and easy. Bertha was floating 
 down a smooth and shining river ; the earl 
 was steering, and with his strong and skilful 
 arm warding her from rocks or other perils. 
 She could see nothing before her but a
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 prosperous sunlit view. Her old studio 
 life seemed already years behind. Her 
 betrothed, with his kindly grave courtesy, 
 and delicate attentiveness, was surely more 
 suited to her than a younger and less 
 polished lover might have been ; and 
 his position (with the agreeable expect- 
 ancy of her own), his sheltering care, 
 his wealth even — all brought within her 
 capacity many unforeseen advantages and 
 pleasures that were to her an almost 
 tangible happiness. 
 
 One day came a gracious letter from Lady 
 Delachaine, enclosing a cheque for two 
 hundred pounds, which she begged Bertha 
 to accept as a help towards the necessary 
 trousseau. Miss Millings* pride was up in 
 arms for a moment, but was soon stilled 
 again by the benevolent terms in which 
 the letter was couched. Moreover, it was 
 certainly pleasant to be treated with deference
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 159 
 
 in shops, where her engagement became 
 speedily known, for, though Bertha was by- 
 no means vulgar, her path had not always 
 been strewn with such thornless roses as now 
 fell to her lot, and during the six and twenty 
 years of her life she had known many 
 struggles and privations ; possibly, indeed, 
 Aggie herself had scarcely been aware of 
 them all. 
 
 Meanwhile, to Aggie, the passing days 
 shewed only the reverse of the gilded medal. 
 She would not allow herself to lament old 
 times, yet, occasionally, she longed to throw 
 her arms round the dusty easels, and caress 
 them like friends — silent friends who had 
 shared happy bygone hours with her, and 
 w4io were now obliged to learn the hard 
 lesson of neglect. Aggie herself was not 
 precisely neglected ; that could not be 
 admitted. Bertha's love for her was as 
 strong as ever, and, if Lord Delachaine's
 
 l6o BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 betrothed felt in honour bound to consider 
 him before any other person, her feelings 
 towards Aggie had not necessarily under- 
 gone any change. Bertha walked or drove 
 with her elderly lover every day ; she went 
 with him to choose a horse, a pony-carriage, 
 a necklace and other items ; she often dined 
 or lunched at the family mansion, which, to 
 do her justice, she had never yet viewed 
 with envy. There were a fairly numerous 
 number of Delachaine relations to whom, 
 of course, it was necessary that the future 
 countess should be introduced. Sometimes, 
 when she appeared, her little sister accom- 
 panied her, but, though a few people talked 
 to the child, and apparently endeavoured to 
 put her at her ease, Aggie — who was odd in 
 some things — shewed no partiality for the 
 new society into which she found herself 
 suddenly thrown. She infinitely preferred 
 remaining at home with Jemima, or spending
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. l6l 
 
 a couple of quiet hours with old Mrs. 
 Weagles. 
 
 Bertha who, consequently, went forth often 
 alone, made some way with her future 
 relations, though Lady Theodosia remained 
 frigid and disagreeable, whilst Lady Dela- 
 chaine was so mentally limp as to be practi- 
 cally useless as a defender. The duchess 
 was invariably friendly, though in truth her 
 heart went out chiefly to Aggie, and the 
 latter returned this affection with an ardour 
 that was all the more conspicuous from her 
 general coldness. Moreover, when the two 
 Miss Millings were invited to the ducal 
 abode, Aggie pleased not only the duchess, 
 but the duke exceedingly. As his lively 
 spouse afterw^ards remarked, she had never 
 before seen him so taken with anybody but 
 a learned professor, whilst of himself she 
 enquired : 
 
 *' Dear Cas, isn't it a dreadful pity that my 
 
 VOL I. II
 
 I 62 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 cousin John didn t wait a bit longer, so as to 
 marry that dear little person instead of her 
 sister ? Not that I don't like Bertha, and of 
 course he would have been as old as the hills, 
 but he's old now, there's no use denying it, 
 and really he's waited so long already " 
 
 " He might have waited a little too long," 
 replied the duke grimly, turning over the 
 worn pages of his Dante. 
 
 About this time a great discontent fell 
 upon Aggie's mind regarding herself. She 
 fought hard to be unselfish, and she blamed 
 herself exceedingly for not entering more 
 fully into Bertha's happiness. This betrothal 
 was the first thing that had in any way 
 appeared to divide the sisters, and, however 
 earnestly they mutually strove against the 
 patent fact, it was evident to both of them 
 that they had become a little — just a very 
 little — not estranged, but divided. For the 
 first time in her life the elder sister did not
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 1 6 
 
 J 
 
 shew every one of her letters to the younger, 
 whilst there often arrived a particularly aggres- 
 sive square envelope, bearing a small coronet 
 and initial, that Aggie learned to know well, 
 and equally to detest. The very aspect of 
 it was annoying, with its "Miss Millings" 
 written in small precise caligraphy, and the 
 D. down in the left-hand corner according 
 to old-fashioned custom, though it was surely 
 unnecessary further to advertize the writer 
 of that ever-recurring epistle. 
 
 Sometimes, as she lay awake at night, 
 Aggie would make new resolutions to throw 
 off the erowlnof constraint she felt in con- 
 versing with her sister of Lord Delachaine, 
 and to put on with her morning garments 
 the very brightest and most joyous smile 
 which she could possibly assume. But the 
 light of day brings many of our good resolu- 
 tions to naught, and Aggie acknowledged to 
 herself, with regret, how repeatedly she failed.
 
 1 64 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 Once she appealed to Jemima. Lady 
 Theodosias words deeply rankled In the 
 child's heart, and she often wondered whether 
 in truth she had been hopelessly spoilt. 
 
 "■ T)o yoic think I am spoilt, Jemima ? " she 
 asked one day. 
 
 " Lawk-a-mussy, little miss ! " was the 
 astonished answer. " It's some of us as is 
 spoilt, that's positive. But to my thinking 
 'taint you. All our hearts is black — as black 
 as black, and that's the fact of it, and them 
 that's whitest often turns out to be the black 
 ones after all." 
 
 With which doubtful consolation Aggie 
 was fain to be content. 
 
 The wedding-day was now fixed ; it was 
 to be In the last week of April. Indeed 
 there was no reason for delay. The generous 
 setdements made by Lord Delachaine were 
 of so simple a description as not to detain 
 the most dilatory of lawyers. Bertha, need-
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, 1 65 
 
 less to say, had no legal arrangements to 
 make. Her future husband was undeslrous 
 of overstepping his next birthday ; Lady 
 Theodosia had already uttered every un- 
 pleasant remark which could be made on 
 the subject of the marriage ; Bertha was 
 docile, Aggie silent, as to dates and arrange- 
 ments. There was no one else to consult. 
 
 Meanwhile, though Miss Millings had no 
 relations, she had more friends than she 
 seemed to have counted upon, for, when her 
 fortunate eno^ao^ement was made known, 
 numbers of people flocked to visit and con- 
 gratulate her. They one and all agreed In 
 their approval of the marriage. It was so 
 delightful, so charming, so satisfactory In 
 every way. The artists of her acquaintance 
 held Bertha to be a lucky girl, and spoke 
 kindly on the Lsubject, but did not trouble 
 her about this time. Assuredly, they were 
 greatly occupied with their pictures for the
 
 1 66 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 various spring exhibitions, and the attend- 
 ing anxiety of such work, after which, as 
 every one knows, they would hate the very 
 mention of paint and painting, and woukl 
 be tempted to shun each other's studios for 
 a while. 
 
 There was, however, one of these friends 
 whom Bertha sometimes regretted that she 
 could not go to see. He was an old and 
 tried friend — Henry Eldon by name — and 
 likewise a man of acknowledged genius : but, 
 in this present dream-life of hers, whatever 
 her good intentions might be, the right 
 moment never came for carrying them out. 
 Eldon lived some little way out of town ; he 
 w^as not fond of interruptions ; he had not 
 wTitten any congratulatory letter ; it was even 
 rumoured that he had gone off on a sketching 
 trip — all these were good and weight)' 
 reasons. On the other hand, and despite 
 narcotics, Bertha's conscience occasionally
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 1 67 
 
 awoke to whisper that she owed Eldon 
 the debt of an ancient and true friendship, 
 and that, In former days, when she had 
 needed encouragement, and even valuable 
 recommendations and Introductions, Eldon 
 had never pleaded business nor Insufhciency 
 of time or inclination. 
 
 Oddly enough, and perhaps by force of 
 contrast, it was during a prolonged interview 
 with her dressmaker one day that Bertha's 
 mind recurred persistently to the bygone 
 times when, to her great joy, she had been 
 allowed to wield a brush in a corner of the 
 great painter's studio, when her one ambition, 
 the one Idea that filled and almost over- 
 flowed her soul, was a life dedicated to the 
 art which she firmly believed she loved, a 
 life gladly given up to that glorious calling of 
 which she was but an humble votary, whilst 
 he, Eldon, was past master, standing in his 
 old age even higher on the ladder of fame
 
 1 68 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 than he had stood In the strength and prime 
 of manhood. 
 
 Was It a presentiment which on this 
 afternoon made Bertha quicken her steps till 
 she reached her own door, and then receive 
 without surprise Jemima's intimation that 
 Mr. Eldon was waiting in the studio ? 
 
 As Bertha ran into the room without 
 a moment's delay, her face aglow with 
 pleasure, her hands stretched out in greeting, 
 a slight bent figure rose from the depths of 
 an armchair. 
 
 *' It is I, Miss Millings, ''said a voice that 
 was as mellow as the tones of a violoncello ; 
 '' I hope this pleasant welcome is really 
 meant for me. Did you know that I took 
 your hospitality for granted ? " 
 
 ''Oh Mr. Eldon!" exclaimed Bertha; "I 
 am so glad to see you ! Why, it is a perfect 
 aee since we have met ! " 
 
 " Yes, it is an age," replied the visitor,
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 1 69 
 
 who, having resumed his comfortable chair, 
 sat thoughtfully stroking his grey beard. '' I 
 don't know that it is altogether my fault. I 
 am not good at making calls. You know 
 that, my dear child. In the old days, it was 
 you who used to come and look me up from 
 time to time." 
 
 " I have been very busy," said Bertha 
 apologetically. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know, of course. Do you 
 think I am such a crabbed old Dloo^enes as 
 not to understand ? Only I want you to 
 know that I have been busy too ; perhaps 
 not quite so pleasantly," added the old man 
 with a smile. 
 
 '' Oh, Mr. Eldon ! " 
 
 " Well, to-night I have taken you by storm, 
 haven't I ? Jemima told me that you were 
 gone out in one direction, and Julia in 
 another. But she said encouragingly : 'If 
 you like to go and make yourself comfortable
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 in the studio, sir, and wait a bit, why, maybe 
 as maybe Miss Bertha won't be long.' She 
 even went so far as to offer me some refresh- 
 ment. ' Painting's hard work, ain't it, sir ? ' 
 she said. She knows I am an artist, you 
 see " 
 
 ''Why, of course she knows it," said 
 Bertha, smihng. 
 
 '' I shall be quite proud of my fame, 
 henceforth," said Eldon. 
 
 "It was quite right of Jemima to offer 
 you tea. I was very remiss." 
 
 " No, no — I don't want any. It is I who 
 am remiss in not wishing you joy. My 
 dear child " — here the painter rose and took 
 both Bertha's hands gently in his — "■ look 
 me straight in the face and tell me : are you 
 really happy ? I am more than old enough 
 to be your father, you see, and I have known 
 you since you were so high. Why, it was 
 owing to my advice that you took your first
 
 BERTHA-' S EARL, 171 
 
 Steps on the steep hillside of Parnassus ; 
 wasn't it ? " 
 
 " I am a backslider on that slippery 
 incline," interposed Bertha, laughing con- 
 fusedly. 
 
 " Never mind about art," quoth the artist. 
 "What I want to know is^ if you are 
 happy. I do most truly hope it ; I want 
 you to be happier than anybody ever was 
 before." 
 
 Bertha felt slightly uncomfortable beneath 
 those clear questioning eyes. 
 
 " Oh, Lord Delachaine is so kind," she 
 answered at last. '' I am sure I have done 
 right." 
 
 *' That is what I wanted to be certain of," 
 said the other, releasing her hands, and re- 
 turning to his chair, whilst an expression of 
 satisfaction passed across his fine face. " You 
 know I have never been married myself, and 
 it has always seemed to me that there must
 
 172 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 come a moment, even in the midst of content 
 like yours, when the fortunate human being 
 must needs sit down face to face with all its 
 old doubts and fears, to ask itself tremblingly : 
 What have I done ? What have I done ? 
 Is this for the best, or is it not ? " 
 
 '' It doesn't do," said Bertha stoutly, '' it 
 doesn't do, really, to analyze things too 
 closely, Mr. Eldon." 
 
 '* No, perhaps not," replied her friend 
 musingly ; '' only to some natures it is 
 almost impossible not to doubt when standing 
 on the brink " 
 
 "Don't, Mr. Eldon!" said Bertha with 
 a little laugh. '' Would you have me believe 
 that marriacje is the brink of a horrible 
 precipice ? We women, you know, are 
 always taught from our earliest infancy that 
 a wedding is the highest goal we can look 
 forward to." 
 
 •* True," answered her companion, *' and
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 I did not mean anything so dreadful as my 
 words seem to have implied. Nay, my dear 
 girl, without arguing on woman's rights or 
 wrongs, nor on man's either for that matter, 
 a really happy marriage must be the perfec- 
 tion of everything here on earth. If only it 
 were not almost too difficult of attainment 
 to us mortals, too bright a thing, like the 
 sun, for our weak vision to contemplate. 
 ' Glissez mortels, n'appuyez pas,' is an axiom 
 perhaps specially intended for married 
 couples." 
 
 '' It is a question of give and take," said 
 Bertha sedately. 
 
 Eldon turned to look at her. Was she 
 really happy '^ He wondered again, but he 
 did not ask. 
 
 The light was shining full on his head. 
 What a fine face it was, with its rugged 
 brow, seamed with lines which told of many 
 a hard fight fought out in solitude between
 
 174 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 high aims and unexpected shortcomings of 
 achievement — a soldier's scars won in dark 
 hours of difficulty and depression. 
 
 '' Nay, I hope that you are at the gate of 
 an earthly paradise ; that is what I meant to 
 say," said the artist at last, speaking with an 
 unexplained change of voice. " Why, I have 
 known you. Bertha, since you were five years 
 old ! So I may wish you good luck now and 
 always ; and may you be happy ! " 
 
 Eldon left his seat as he spoke, and walked 
 quickly across to one of the easels on which 
 stood an unfinished picture. 
 
 *' And so all this is to be done away with," 
 he said with a sudden laugh that sounded 
 almost harsh. '' Art is to be like an old 
 neglected sultana, poked in a bag with a big 
 stone, and dropped away into the sea in the 
 middle of the night of forgetfulness. Is it 
 not so •. 
 
 ''Oh, I hope not!" said Bertha eagerly.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. I 75 
 
 '' Lord Delachaine has promised me a 
 charming studio. He says there Is a tower 
 at Delachaine Court, which I can make Into 
 a regular painting-room." 
 
 ''Yes, yes, I know," returned Mr. Eldon 
 morosely. " You will go Into the room once 
 every three weeks and find It cold and 
 cheerless, and your colours quite dry, and 
 you will heave a little sigh of regret and 
 go downstairs, and put on a fine frock, and 
 drive out In a coach and four." 
 
 " I hope not necessarily a coach and four ! " 
 said Bertha, laughing. 
 
 '' Why not ? " asked Eldon gruffly. " Ah, 
 my dear, plenty of fine things have been said 
 by wiser folks than I to prove that Art is 
 a jealous mistress — in a lady's case perhaps 
 I should say a jealous tyrant — who will brook 
 no rival, no equal." 
 
 Bertha remained silent. Then her friend, 
 bending to take up a small picture which he
 
 176 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 had previously placed out of sight, offered It 
 to her as he said : 
 
 " I have brought you a present, to make 
 my tardy good wishes the more acceptable. 
 Win you take It? It Is the little head I 
 was once allowed to paint from yourself 
 Possibly, the rival I was mentioning just now 
 mlo^ht care for It." 
 
 Bertha was effusive In her thanks, though 
 the tone of the giver was still somewhat 
 jarring. 
 
 " Ah ! " she went on to say, holding the 
 canvas up to the light, '' ah, If I only looked 
 like that, how delightful It would be ! You 
 don't flatter in your w^ords, Mr. Eldon, but 
 you do with your brush, I fear." 
 
 ''No, no ! " cried the artist aggrieved ; 
 '' is it possible to flatter nature } Come, 
 child, you are enough of an artist yourself 
 to know that, whatever we may do, we 
 cannot s^lve life and animation, the changing
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. T77 
 
 carnations of the cheek, and the liquid 
 brightness of the eyes, as we would wish. 
 Even If you were not what you are — but 
 what Is the use of talking ? You understand 
 me well enouo^h." 
 
 '' I think I know what you mean," rejoined 
 Bertha hurriedly ; *' but I know also that we 
 see the worst of our own selves, and think 
 the very worst too." 
 
 Eldon began to pace up and down the 
 room. 
 
 ''It is a curious thing," he said, "that 
 we all wish ourselves physically different. 
 Possibly, I should like to be a big burly 
 fellow, whilst you surely desire to have ink- 
 black hair and almond-shaped eyes. Chi lo 
 sa ? Whereas, regarding Inward grace, we 
 are generally pretty well satisfied In the 
 main. If we have a fault or two, we are 
 very lenient on the subject. If we are extra 
 proud, we say : that is a good kind of fault 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 after all. If we are spendthrifts, we call 
 ourselves generous ; stingy, we consider our- 
 selves thrifty. We seldom, If ever, consider 
 our bad qualities to be really bad. Now, Is 
 not this a strong proof that we care less 
 about our real natures than about our out- 
 side looks ? What do you think ? " 
 
 But, before Bertha had time to give her 
 opinion on this knotty point, the door opened, 
 and Lord Delachalne appeared. 
 
 He was delighted to make acquaintance 
 with the celebrated Mr. Eldon, who, on his 
 part, was much taken by the earl's stately 
 courtesy, his evident Interest In serious 
 things, and his affection for Bertha — which 
 latter sentiment must Indeed have been 
 patent to a far less keen observer than the 
 painter. 
 
 The two men were a great contrast : Lord 
 Delachalne, tall, erect, especially English- 
 looking, and high-born but unpoetic in
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 179 
 
 appearance. Eldon, with something In his 
 rugged picturesque countenance that recalled 
 Albert Dtirer's knight, as well as a southern 
 ease and suppleness of figure, and warmth 
 and excitability of expression — for his grand- 
 mother had been an Italian. Meanwhile, 
 between them was Bertha, sunny-haired and 
 smiling, sitting, as It were, betwixt the spirit 
 of her artist's craft and the promise of her 
 woman's happiness. 
 
 For Eldon was there to-day like a spirit 
 indeed of something that Is dying — fleeting, 
 If not yet quite dead. When, presently, he 
 took his leave, Bertha heaved a long sigh. 
 He had brought a vibration almost of pain 
 Into this new and brilliant life of hers. 
 
 And, whilst Lord Delachalne, In his 
 meditative way, was saying : 
 
 ^'Capital fellow, that! I like him, Bertha. 
 Those great men, when you do come to 
 know them, certainly have a charm "
 
 l8o BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 his betrothed was hastily hiding away with 
 its face to the wall the sketch that was, as 
 she thought (and despite Lord Delachaine's 
 opinion) an image far prettier than the real 
 Bertha Millings, who had been oh! so light- 
 hearted, and yet so curiously serious-minded, 
 in those bygone working days. 
 
 There is a familiar French saying : " Ah, le 
 bon vieux temps quand j'etals si malheureux!" 
 We are all of us prone to ponder and sigh in 
 this vein sometimes. But Bertha was not 
 mourning over the past now. Far from it. 
 She turned to Lord Delachalne with a face 
 as placid as a summer sea. If a vestige of 
 doubt had arisen in her mind, it had been 
 speedily and successfully banished from 
 thence.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Aggie's friend Mrs. Weagles, who lived 
 next door, had for the last two years been 
 deeply interested in the doings of her young 
 neighbours. Indeed, it may be said that 
 Mrs. Weagles was interested in all her 
 neighbours, the apparent object of her life 
 being to gratify her inveterate love of gossip, 
 which was based on a most untirine and 
 irrepressible curiosity. This was a fault, 
 doubtless, but a kindly one, as the old lady 
 bubbled over with sympathy for the whole 
 human race, and most especially for that 
 portion of it vv^hich dwelt in her own street. 
 She was never ill-natured, so that, after all, 
 what could it matter that she benevolently
 
 152 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 discussed everybody's past, present, and 
 future, and wanted to know a great deal 
 more about them than they knew themselves ? 
 
 Her house, though exceedingly small, 
 offered unusual advantages to a person of 
 her enquiring nature. A bay-window in the 
 little front sitting-room where she usually sat 
 commanded the street, whilst her bedroom 
 at the back judiciously overlooked, not only 
 her own narrow strip of garden, but the 
 similar strips on either side. Bertha's some- 
 what larger territory included. 
 
 Mrs. Weagles had from the first formed 
 an attachment to Aggie, which was strange, 
 considering that the child was unusually 
 reticent, and owned but few tastes in common 
 with her new friend. However, people are 
 not always as consistent as we expect them 
 to be, and certain it is that the yellow old 
 fingers would eagerly tap at the window, and 
 beckon to the little next-door neighbour
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 whenever there was the least opportunity or 
 encouragement for so doing. 
 
 Mrs. Weagles was small of figure, bent, 
 and partly paralyzed, and clad habitually in 
 black garments of no particular shape or 
 fashion. On Sundays and holy days, how- 
 ever, or when she was specially arrayed for 
 visitors, she wore a cap trimmed with copious 
 loops of mauve ribbon, and a comfortable 
 white Shetland shawl that enveloped her 
 almost entirely, and from which her hands, 
 emerging with pleasant idleness to lie folded 
 on her lap, in themselves suggested gentle 
 gossip and friendly enquiry. 
 
 On many an afternoon she sat thus, robed 
 in her best, and ensconced in her large arm- 
 chair by the bay-window. To facilitate her 
 investigations, a couple of small looking- 
 glasses had been cunningly arranged in 
 order to reflect the passers-by, as well as 
 those who mounted the steps of her own
 
 184 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 door, and these mirrors (it must be owned), 
 despite Aggie's lack of general curiosity, 
 were always a source of much amusement to 
 that young person. One of them was convex, 
 and therein the moving picture was delight- 
 fully diminutive ; cabs, carts, and people 
 grew or dwindled, but never appeared much 
 larger than tiny toys, whilst even the dull 
 street and grimy houses seemed attractive by 
 reason of the liliputian scale of reproduction. 
 If, by happy chance, the sky was blue, or 
 flecked with fleecy clouds, the picture was all 
 the prettier, thought Aggie. 
 
 On one agreeable afternoon, Mrs. Weagles 
 was too excited to sit as placidly as usual. 
 With the forefinger of her right hand gently 
 tapping the outstretched palm of her left, she 
 was carefully counting and enumerating. 
 
 *' I think I have ofot them rieht ! " she 
 exclaimed triumphantly. *' First, the brown 
 morning dress, then the rich velvet for
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 1 85 
 
 luncheon wear, the dark blue satin robe for 
 afternoon visiting — also, yes, I musn't forget 
 the striped black and white afternoon. Isn't 
 it striped, dear ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Aggie, nodding her head. 
 
 "Now," continued Mrs. Weagles, cautiously 
 treading amongst the perils of word-painting, 
 " now, I think, my love, I am not wrong — 
 there is a pink and white tea-gown, 
 embroidered with white silk, as well as the 
 pale blue one." 
 
 Aggie acquiesced again. She was busy 
 with a chaotic mass of knitting wherein she 
 was trying to discover and pick up Mrs. 
 Weagles' dropped stitches. 
 
 *' Of course," continued that lady loftily, 
 " I can't count in the wedding-dress. That 
 goes song deei^, as people say ; but I don't 
 feel quite certain about the evening gowns. 
 Did you tell me there was a brown satin ? I 
 think it sounds a trifle old for your dear sister."
 
 1 86 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 "Yes," said Aggie ; " a brown satin trimmed 
 with Venetian point." 
 
 '' Ah ! " said Mrs. Weagles, drawing a long 
 breath and metaphorically smacking her lips. 
 '' Venetian point, I think you said, dear, that 
 the Duchess of Baynham has given as a 
 present '^. And a white china crepe, and a 
 cool heliotrope silk besides ? Dear, dear!" 
 
 But, in the very midst of this splendid 
 catalogue, the enumerator's attention was 
 suddenly diverted. 
 
 ** Goodness gracious ! " she exclaimed, 
 peering earnestly into one of the looking- 
 glasses. " If that Isn't Lena Walters strutting 
 up and down the street \vith Richard 
 Vaughan ! I do wonder if there's anything 
 up, I do really. And there, on old Miss 
 Wedmore's doorstep, I see her maid Drusllla. 
 Julia, my love, quick, go and call my Susan ! 
 Tell her to step over and speak to Drusllla 
 — no, tell her to come here and speak to me
 
 ' BERTHA'S EARL. 1 87 
 
 instead ; I really must know all about it. 
 Why! How those two are going on, to be 
 sure, prancing and talking, and bowing and 
 smilinof ! And Drusllla looklnor after them 
 as sharp as sharp ; I'll be bound she knows 
 more than we any of us do, for all she 
 looks so prim ! And they say that Miss 
 Wedmore doesn't like her to be gossip- 
 ing about with the other servants — but 
 my Susan's so different ! Besides, she can 
 just step across and ask how Miss Wed- 
 more's wrist Is getting on. I hear she 
 sprained it quite badly last week opening 
 the window ; those new-fangled windows 
 are so heavy, what with fancy panes and 
 lead lines ! My love, do call Susan ; quick, 
 there's a dear ! " 
 
 *' Won't it do another time, dear Mrs. 
 Weagles?" asked Aggie imploringly ; "please 
 let me tell you some more about Bertha's 
 gowns now."
 
 1 88 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 "Well, dear," replied Mrs. Weagles good- 
 naturedly; '*so you shall If you like. Of 
 course I was anxious to know about those 
 two young things, for people say Mr. 
 Vaughan's a most excellent young man, and 
 his father is really well off — everything so 
 comfortable, you know! Still, your sister's 
 beautiful dresses interest me very much. 
 You haven't told me about the ^ going away ' 
 costume.'^ 
 
 " No," said Aggie, a little sadly. She 
 was not fond of reallzlnof that Bertha must 
 go away, even though she were to be 
 robed in the most elegant and perfect of 
 costumes. 
 
 '' It's grey," she said gently. 
 
 ''Grey!" repeated Mrs. Weagles; ''well 
 now, that is exciting ! For there's grey and 
 grey, you know, my love — all sorts of grey. 
 Is it French grey, or pearl grey, or silver 
 grey, or lavender grey .^ "
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. I 89 
 
 '' A very pretty shade," replied Aggie 
 carelessly ; then, somewhat contrite, she 
 added : 
 
 '' The beautifullest softest gown you can 
 imagine, trimmed with silver fox — that's not 
 really hot, you know — with a fluffy sort of 
 bonnet to match. Oh, you can't think how 
 well it suits Bertha's hair." 
 
 " I can quite believe it, dear," said Mrs. 
 Weagles with earnest conviction. " She'll 
 make a handsome bride, she will, and she 
 has one great advantage, Julia, my dear — 
 one very great advantage which she ought to 
 be really thankful for — her nose never gets 
 red. Ah well, my love, if I wasn't so much 
 of an invalid, I'd be looking in and seeing all 
 the pretty things. Never mind, I've a deal 
 to amuse me, and this is a nice cheerful 
 house to live in." 
 
 As she spoke, the old lady, drawing her 
 Shetland shawl about her shoulders, leaned
 
 1 90 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 forward and gazed again into the looking- 
 glass. 
 
 *' They're out of sight," she said a little 
 regretfully ; '' I suppose they are gone for 
 a walk, poor dears. Well, it's a nice day, 
 thouo^h cold." 
 
 Like the Lady of Shalott, (though unlike 
 that heroine of romance in many material 
 points) Mrs. Weagles saw 
 
 "... moving thro' a mirror clear 
 That hangs before her all the year, 
 Shadows of the world appear." 
 
 And even as for the Lady of Shalott, a 
 crisis was impending for her. She clasped 
 her hands eagerly as she exclaimed : 
 
 "My love, here's Dr. Jackson coming! 
 I've not seen him for centuries ! " 
 
 " Dr. Jackson ! " exclaimed Aggie in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 '' Yes, he's positively flying along. Why, 
 what can the dear man be after ? Just as if
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 191 
 
 he were tramping through the city on 
 business ! Oh, it s perhaps your sister s 
 house he's coming to ! Well, no wonder, for 
 it is a long, long time since he called. Has 
 he an appointment, my love ? " 
 
 '' No, that is, I— I think not," said Aggie. 
 
 ** He ought to be ashamed of himself," 
 continued Mrs. Weagles with rapidity. *' Do 
 you know I used at one time to think — well, 
 never mind — why, he's passed your door — 
 he'll be passing mine ! Quick, quick, child ! 
 Open the window, and call him in ; it's quite 
 an easy catch — -such a light pane, dear, pull 
 it ! Quick, quick ! " 
 
 Meanwhile, the object of Mrs. Weagles' 
 interest was in truth speeding along, swinging 
 his cane, his hat pulled down over his brows, 
 and his eyes fixed on the pavement, looking 
 neither to the right nor to the left. It 
 seemed as though, necessity forcing him to 
 pass a certain fateful house, he was deter-
 
 192 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 mined to do so as quickly, as defiantly, and 
 with as little appearance of friendliness as 
 possible. Aggie, struggling with the window 
 latch, which despite Mrs. Weagles' commen- 
 dation proved at first refractory, could get 
 no glimpse of Dr. Jackson's face, but came 
 to the conclusion that his figure was as 
 thick-set as ever, and his shoulders a little 
 more hunched up than usual. Meanwhile, 
 the slight noise proceeding from the window 
 niade the young man look up suddenly. 
 A thunderbolt would not have induced him 
 to raise his eyelids towards Bertha's abode, 
 but he had almost thought his daneer over- 
 past. As he glanced up quickly now, his 
 eyes met Aggie's in full. There was but a 
 narrow space between Mrs. Weagles' bay- 
 window and the pavement — so narrow a 
 space that the child's bright head seemed 
 close indeed, with some locks of fair hair 
 blowing out tov/ards him from the open pane.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 193 
 
 and a flash of sky-blue — his favourite colour 
 — about the neck and shoulders. 
 
 With a nod that was almost discourteous 
 the young man was about to pass on, (nay, 
 he had already passed in a shorter space of 
 time than it has taken his chronicler to 
 indite the fact,) when Aggie called to him to 
 stop. She had been very unwilling to do so, 
 but Mrs. Weagles, who foresaw the possibility 
 of an interesting scrap of conversation, 
 repeated energetically : 
 
 " Call him, my love, call him, call him !" 
 
 The young man paused, irresolute. Then, 
 somewhat to Aggie's surprise he retraced his 
 steps. He even raised his hat with some 
 politeness, as he came close under the 
 window, 
 
 " Did you need anything, IMiss Julia .^ " he 
 asked gravely. 
 
 " Mrs. Weagles wants you," replied Aggie ; 
 '' come in, please." 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 Her face was burning with blushes, and 
 she was glad to draw in her head precipi- 
 tately and retreat to the other end of the 
 room, where her zeal with reo^ard to Mrs. 
 Weagles' knitting afforded her a comfortable 
 shelter — physical and mental also. 
 
 Dr. Jackson stood yet doubtful, his hand 
 on the open gate — then apparently making 
 up his mind he ran quickly up the stone 
 steps, and knocked at the door. Susan, 
 who shared some of her mistress' proclivities, 
 and was seldom out of the way of any gossip, 
 opened the door immediately and ushered 
 the visitor in. 
 
 *' Dear ! dear ! Dr. Jackson ! " exclaimed 
 Mrs. Weagles. ** Why, you coiddnt have 
 passed my door without coming in, surely ! 
 It's not a minute since I was telling my 
 little friend Julia how much I wanted to see 
 you, all along of a grandchild of a sister of 
 mine — and Julia, here, she was looking out
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 195 
 
 of the window as girls will, with nothing 
 whatever to do, and so she said to me all of 
 a sudden : ' Why, Mrs. Weagles, here's our 
 dear Dr. Jackson coming down the road.'" 
 
 Aggie, who was well used to her old 
 friend's exaes^erations, and knew that, 
 throuofh haste of laneuaee and overflowing 
 kindly curiosity, the dear old dame was 
 scarcely cognizant that she sometimes 
 wandered from the strict path of truth — 
 Aggie did not even look up from her knit- 
 ting. Dr. Jackson remained standing, hat 
 in hand, poking at the floor with the end of 
 his cane. 
 
 " Well, here I am, my dear madam," he 
 said at last ; '' what do you want of me ? " 
 
 *' My dear doctor ! What do I want ! Why, 
 ever so much ! " 
 
 " I — I'm in a hurry to-day," said the young 
 man, taking out his watch. " I have a most 
 important engagement."
 
 196 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 '' Then tell me all about It ! " cried Mrs. 
 Weagles, clasping her hands comfortably. 
 " Sit down. This Is a most comfortable 
 armchair. Now, Dr. Jackson, I call this 
 really friendly of you — it is positively delight- 
 ful. Have you something very, veiy dread- 
 ful ? Oh, I do hope not," continued the 
 interrogator with increased sympathy ; '' is it 
 a serious case ? Oh, if you look like that, I 
 am sure it must be something awful ! " 
 
 The young man, though he had mechani- 
 cally taken the proffered seat, felt himself 
 suddenly recalled to the absurdity of his 
 position. 
 
 '' ]\Iy dear Mrs. Weagles," he said with 
 a short laugh, ^' I am sure you must know 
 that I never talk about my patients — no 
 medical man worth a brass farthing ever 
 does." 
 
 " No, no, of course not, and medical gentle- 
 men are worth a great many farthings some-
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, 1 97 
 
 times, aren't they ? " asked the old lady in a 
 wheedling tone. 
 
 '' Yes, I suppose so," replied the young 
 man without the expected smile. His eyes 
 strayed in the direction of Aggie, whose 
 face was only partly turned away from him. 
 
 " How like Bertha she grows," he thought, 
 viewing her all the more tenderly for the 
 thought. And, despite a pang of bitter 
 regret, he seemed mentally to slip into a 
 sudden sense of ease and well-being — that 
 sense which we experience when we meet 
 something (long missed) that was a familiar 
 happiness, and we walk again in old cus- 
 tomary paths of pleasantness. If Aggie 
 were not Bertha, she was certainly the very 
 nearest thino^ to Bertha in the whole world : 
 "Si ce n'est pas la rose, elle a vdcu pres d'elle." 
 
 Edward Jackson became gradually con- 
 scious of the soothing influence stealing over 
 him. Perhaps after all it was like that
 
 198 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 delightful absence from pain which follows 
 pain, and is happiness in itself just because 
 it is not pain. 
 
 He sat on, hearing the old lady's voice 
 as we hear a running rivulet ; consciously, 
 yet without disconnecting any one note of 
 sound from another. In plain English, he 
 did not object to her talk, but he was not 
 listening. 
 
 ''Silver fox," Mrs. Weagles repeated. 
 " Or was it grey fox ? No, I am sure, quite 
 sure — Julia, my love, you did say silver fox, 
 didn't you ? " 
 
 The young doctor roused and shook him- 
 self, and gave a short cynical laugh. 
 
 ''Grey fox," he said meaningly. "Well, 
 Mrs. Weagles, " I must wish you a very 
 good morning." 
 
 " Oh, don't go ! " pleaded the old lady 
 entreatingly. 
 
 " But I must If I had only time, you
 
 • BERTHA'S EARL. 1 99 
 
 may be quite sure I should want to hear 
 a great many more details about that lordly 
 grey fox." 
 
 The old lady looked up, slightly bewildered. 
 
 " Silver fox, indeed, doctor. Well, if you 
 must, you must. Good-bye. Julia, my dear, 
 will you shut the front door gently after Dr. 
 Jackson ? I saw Susan cross the street a 
 moment ao[-o." 
 
 Aggie rose reluctantly, and followed the 
 young man out of the room. As soon as the 
 two were alone in the passage, the expression 
 of his face suddenly changed. Aggie could 
 see that he was haggard and looked ill. 
 There were drawn lines of pain about his 
 eyes. Very gently he took both her hands : 
 
 " Tell me how she is '^. " he whispered 
 eagerly. "Is she happy ? " 
 
 And Aggie heard herself saying, for her 
 own voice seemed changred : 
 
 "Yes, I think so."
 
 200 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 " Tell her," began the young man, speaking 
 very low, *' tell her " 
 
 But, quite suddenly, his eyes shone with 
 a strange brightness — surely there were tears 
 standing in them. He dropped the child's 
 hands, and turned away. He quickly opened 
 the door of the house to escape, but Aggie 
 caught his arm : 
 
 " Tell her za/ia^ f " she asked in agitation ; 
 '' yes, you must say ! Tell her " 
 
 " Nothing," said the young man shortly. 
 
 *' Oh yes, something," entreated the child. 
 
 She clung with all her might to his arm, 
 and spoke with intense earnestness. Her 
 fervour seemed to communicate itself to her 
 listener. 
 
 *' Well then, this ; tell her that I would do 
 anything in the world for her." 
 
 The child's lips parted to speak, but he 
 would not hear. He shook his head. She 
 had already asked too much.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 20I 
 
 Hurriedly he drew his arm from her 
 slackened grasp, and ran down the steps and 
 walked quickly away, without looking round. 
 Aggie, who was afraid of Mrs. Weagles' 
 scrutinizing eyes, wandered bareheaded along 
 the street in an opposite direction to that 
 which he had taken. She was not sorry to 
 meet Susan, and to help her to carry home 
 a whole armful of seed-cake and crumpets 
 for afternoon tea.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 It was the eve of the wedding-day, and 
 Bertha and her sister were to spend it alone. 
 Even Lord Delachaine had been forbidden 
 the house after five o'clock. This had been 
 Aggie's special fancy, her special prayer, the 
 one thing which in all these latter days of 
 renunciation she had clung to with a tenacity 
 of purpose from which nothing could turn 
 her. She and Bertha were to spend their 
 last evening together. The earl and his 
 sister had suggested a family dinner-party, 
 a banquet at which all the members of the 
 house of Delachaine were to meet. AofSfie 
 would of course be present, and any friends 
 or relations of the Millings' would be duly
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 invited, Including a distant cousin — so distant 
 that Bertha herself had never seen him but 
 twice In her life before, but who had under- 
 taken a long journey In order to give away 
 the bride. 
 
 But AofSfle would have none of It. Bertha 
 had unreservedly promised her the gift of 
 this last evening, and assuredly a family 
 dinner-party in Belgrave Square — with the 
 joys of which she was already acquainted — 
 was by no means to Aggie's taste. 
 
 Lord Delachaine, slightly ''huffy," had at 
 last proposed an evening at the play, but 
 no, this was not to be heard of. Even 
 Bertha herself had somewhat nervously hinted 
 that her little sister was bent upon what 
 might become almost a painful pleasure. 
 Bertha would have fain implied — yet scarcely 
 dared to do so — how that protracted leave- 
 takings are a kind of self-torture which we 
 should wisely omit in this world, where there
 
 204 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 are already many more prickles than smooth 
 places. 
 
 Jemima was perhaps the only person who 
 thoroughly entered into Aggie's plan. In 
 carrying it out the child had yielded to what 
 was not a callous selfishness. During the 
 last few weeks, her conduct had been per- 
 sistently self-denying ; for that very reason 
 she was all the more overwhelmed by a 
 desire to push away the inevitable for one 
 brief moment, before it had become the 
 irrevocable, and to forget likewise the im- 
 mediate past, so as to live the lovely old life 
 once again, if only for the space of that short 
 evening. 
 
 It was a delusion, of course ; no one knew 
 this better than Aggie herself, yet she wanted 
 to ' make believe ' as children do in lesser 
 things. Despite the womanly side of her 
 nature she was in many things very childish. 
 Nor, for the matter of that, do some people
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 205 
 
 ever outgrow the infantine wish to make 
 beHeve. 
 
 Bertha's diamond and sapphire ring flashed 
 annoyingly into Aggie's eyes as she sat on 
 a low stool at her sister's feet, leaning her 
 head (as had been her wont of old) upon 
 Bertha's soft gown, and caressing with her 
 eager little hands Bertha's indolent white 
 fingers. There was no stain of paint nor per- 
 fume of turpentine upon these now. Bertha's 
 very self seemed changed to the child's 
 jealous eyes, and yet, to a casual observer, 
 Bertha would have appeared as much as 
 ever the mistress of the studio in which 
 she sat. 
 
 The carefully-dusted easels had been 
 pulled forward and laden with pictures so 
 as to furnish the centre of the room ; the 
 afternoon sun, admitted by the garden door, 
 flickered instead of firelight on numerous 
 unfinished works and on the well-worn folds
 
 206 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 of the ragged tapestry. A comfortable tea- 
 table was placed by the fireplace which, like 
 the table, was loaded with flowers so as to 
 present as festive an aspect as possible. Yet 
 everything was disappointing ! Even the 
 sunshine and the flowers brought sadness 
 to Aggie's heavy heart. To her, the dingy 
 surroundings of former times, and the very 
 darkness of a winter's day, would have been 
 in truer harmony. Aggie would have liked 
 a brown fog, or at least pouring rain. And 
 yet perchance Bertha was happier now than 
 she had ever been. The room was strewn 
 with Lord Delachaine's gifts. (Aggie had 
 removed all other wedding-presents, but had 
 not dared to meddle with these.) And 
 the roses which the child had bouQ^ht and 
 arranged, blooming around Bertha verily 
 suited that pretty person who, in her dainty 
 gown, with the pink hues of health and peace 
 upon her cheeks, was not unlike a rose
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 207 
 
 herself. She was about to be transplanted 
 to a more congenial soil, no doubt — she 
 seemed to take very kindly to her new 
 glories. An almost savage and very unusual 
 desire to Inflict just an Infinitesimal amount 
 of pain on her calm sister, to prick her out 
 of her contentment for a moment, rose up 
 violently in the very midst of Aggie's 
 despondency, But no, it must be all sun- 
 shine and roses now ; there was not even 
 a thorn visible amongst the latter. 
 
 The wedding-day had been necessarily 
 postponed, owing to the death of old Lady 
 Delachaine's brother. He was the head of 
 his house, and therefore must be treated with 
 due respect, even after his demise. Conse- 
 quently, the marriage was put off for awhile, 
 and as Bertha objected to the ill-luck of 
 being married In May, the ceremony could 
 not take place till June. Yes, this was June, 
 the month of roses, the month when the very
 
 2o8 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 earth wears a perfumed garlanded robe, when 
 dayhght hours are long and sweet, and birds 
 sing ceaselessly. . . . 
 
 *' Do you remember," asked Aggie plain- 
 tively, " do you remember that afternoon 
 when we sat like this, you and I ? You had 
 just finished your work — it was dark and 
 chilly — we were toasting muffins — Lord Dela- 
 chaine came — do you remember, Booffles ? 
 It seems so long ago." 
 
 "Yes," replied Bertha with a smile; ''of 
 course I remember, dear." 
 
 " I wonder if you ever knew — I smeared 
 a wee atom of turpentine on his muffin," said 
 Aggie laughing in spite of herself, *' to see 
 if he cared for you — he wouldn't have eaten 
 it if he hadn't cared. How silly it was — how 
 could I be such a goose ! " 
 
 '' How could you be such a goose ? " 
 repeated Bertha vaguely, stroking the fluffy 
 hair that lay across her knee.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 209 
 
 " It seems so long, so very long ago," 
 repeated Aggie. 
 
 "Suppose we go Into the kitchen and 
 make some toast now ? " said Bertha, jump- 
 ing up. 
 
 That evening drew to a close, as all such 
 evenings must, heavily and flatly. Both 
 girls were glad when early bedtime drew 
 near. Perchance, had Aggie been older and 
 wiser she would not have risked the experi- 
 ment of those last few hours, yet In days to 
 come she often turned back to them In 
 thought lingerlngly and lovingly, for was not 
 Bertha still all her own on that weddinor eve } 
 
 o 
 
 It was summer twilight when the sisters 
 went upstairs together at last, hand In hand, 
 arm over arm. Everything had been 
 discussed and re-discussed. It was settled 
 that on the morrow Aggie was to take up 
 her residence for a couple of weeks with old 
 Mrs. Weagles, whilst Jemima took charge of 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 2IO BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 Bertha's house and Bertha's things. On 
 that eventful morrow the bridal pair were to 
 travel down to Delachaine Court, there to 
 spend some days. This had been the earl's 
 special wish, and Bertha had not contradicted 
 it. He wished her to like the place from 
 the very first, he had said, and Bertha had 
 smiled, acquiescing graciously in this ex- 
 pectation of the future. Lord Delachaine 
 had also expressed his desire to be as much 
 as possible alone with his bride ; he had not 
 mentioned Aggie, but it was tacitly under- 
 stood by every one that the child was not to 
 reside with her sister for some time, nor to 
 accompany her on the foreign trip which was 
 agreeably to prolong the honeymoon. It 
 was an equally tacit understanding that 
 Aggie should, later on, take up her abode 
 under Bertha's roof. 
 
 Meanwhile, it had been the child's own 
 choice to go next door for the present. She
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 211 
 
 had received several other Invitations. Even 
 the duchess had pleaded that Aggie might 
 come and stay with her during the first 
 separation from one who had been mother 
 as much as sister. Aggie, however, was 
 reprehensibly devoid of worldly considera- 
 tions, and preferred to avail herself of her 
 old neighbour's homely hospitality. 
 
 '* You see, Booffles," the child had said in 
 explanation, " Mrs. Weagles wants me, and 
 I can do lots of things for her. I don't 
 know how it is, but I never feel half so 
 lonely when I am doing something for 
 people. I shall be able to put her quite 
 straight with her knitting, and clear up lots 
 of things about the neighbours, and make 
 much better tea than Susan can make, and 
 help to settle the bills, and see that Susan's 
 wages are paid up to the right date. There's 
 no end to all I can do ! " 
 
 Aggie had said all this days ago. At the
 
 2 12 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 time, when she had finished her speech, tears 
 had come into her eyes with a rush, and 
 a great limip had risen in her throat, so that 
 she had only had time to throw her arms 
 round Bertha's neck and give her a violent 
 hug, and dash hastily out of the room. 
 
 Now, as she went upstairs for the last 
 time to her sister's small simply-furnished 
 bedroom, Aggie was thinking of something 
 quite different She was thinking of Dr. 
 Jackson's words. " Tell her," he had said, 
 
 '' tell her, tell her " What? "Nothing." 
 
 Yes, something — and she had told that 
 somethino^ to the best of her ability to Bertha. 
 She had not told it at once ; she had felt it 
 would be so useless. The young lover's 
 words were like the jarring notes of some 
 half-forgotten melody. Of old the accompani- 
 ment had befitted those words, harmonized 
 Vv^ith them and helped them by pleasant 
 chords and echoes of themselves ; to-day, it
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 was Struck in a strange key, and the discord 
 was a harsh one. 
 
 Aggie had hesitated to apprize Bertha of 
 her interview with Dr. Jackson, and had put it 
 off from day to day, knowing that she must 
 tell. It was only this evening that she had 
 summ_oned up courage to confide in Bertha 
 sufficiently to give her a detailed narrative 
 of the short interview. She blam.ed herself 
 much, poor child, that she had not done so 
 sooner, but that was surely unnecessary. 
 When she had come to the difficult conclu- 
 sion, Bertha had patted her hand, saying : 
 
 " Yes, darling ; and he said that ? It was 
 very kind of him, v/asn't it ? " 
 
 '' No, it was not kind," thought Aggie, but 
 she did not know how to express herself, so 
 she kept silence, but a moment later she 
 asked timidly, hiding her head as she did so 
 in the soft folds of her sister's gown : 
 
 "• Would it have made any difference
 
 2 14 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 to you, Booffles dear, if I had told you 
 sooner ? " 
 
 " No, dearie, assuredly not ; how should 
 it ? " was Bertha's placid answer. 
 
 So Aggie's uneasy conscience had been 
 comforted, yet Dr. Jackson's words remained 
 in her rhemory, however anxiously she strove 
 to be rid of them. 
 
 When she entered Bertha's room, a sudden 
 shock awaited her, for on the bed lay 
 stretched out the white satin wedding-gown, 
 wreath and veil all complete. 
 
 " Oh, come Into my room," said Aggie 
 hurriedly. 
 
 The wedding-gown had no part in her 
 programme for the evening. This was what 
 she had planned, and what followed : that 
 Bertha was to undress her and hear her 
 prayers just as when she was a little child, 
 and help her into her little white bed, and 
 tuck her up, and put her arms round her
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 215 
 
 with mother's and sister's love all in one, 
 and then, whilst Aggie's golden head lay on 
 the pillow and her two hands were clasped, 
 that Bertha should repeat softly the old 
 dearly-loved familiar lines : 
 
 *' Four corners to my bed, 
 Six angels round my head ; 
 Two to pray, two to wake, 
 Two to guard me till day-break. 
 Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, 
 Bless the bed that I lie on." 
 
 After this repetition of an old custom was 
 over on this memorable evening, there was 
 a long silence. The lights were out, the 
 fire was nearly out also. In the darkness 
 each sister felt the loving tender presence 
 of the other, could hear the soft breathing, 
 and the beating of each other's hearts, and 
 knew, without speaking, what each other's 
 thoughts might be. 
 
 At last Aggie spoke : 
 
 ** Booffles," she said, very softly, " you
 
 2l6 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 know that if I could have prevented — I mean 
 if I could ever prevent anything bad from 
 happening to you, I would give my life very, 
 very willingly." 
 
 " I know," answered Bertha brokenly, 
 " and you know, Aggie, you know, my dear 
 little Agamemnon, that I would do any- 
 thing " 
 
 '' Yes, I know," said Aggie sitting up in 
 bed and drawing her sister yet closer, '' you 
 would come, you said — you said you would 
 come ! 
 
 '' Of course I would come," replied Bertha, 
 trying to steady her voice ; " don't let us 
 excite ourselves — indeed, darling, there is no 
 need. It is — it is " 
 
 " Is it happiness ?" asked Aggie, wonder- 
 ingly. 
 
 " It is " began Bertha tremulously, but 
 
 she could not say the word. She broke 
 down into a perfect passion of tears. She
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 21 7 
 
 could not speak the word happiness. She 
 was not Hke Aggie ; she dared not pause to 
 think. She could not bear to be asked 
 questions, nor to ask herself questions. All 
 had seemed bright but a short time ago — 
 this was darkness and nervousness — surely 
 to-morrow would bring sunshine and security ! 
 
 So the two girls wept for a while in each 
 other's arms, and then they parted for the 
 night, with many kisses, but no more speeches, 
 no more protestations nor explanations. 
 
 As Bertha went down the chilly passage 
 to her own room the clock struck tw^elve. 
 It was midnight, then — nay, already the 
 beginning of her wedding-day. 
 
 She shuddered as she went softly into her 
 own bower. The moonlight was shininof on 
 the wedding-dress. She took it hastily from 
 the bed and placed it on a chair beside. 
 Then she lay down, thankful to seek oblivion 
 in sleep.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The Duke of Baynham could make no 
 progress In his literary work. All the 
 mornino^ he had struofaled with unaccountable 
 difficulties. Meanwhile, as was his invariable 
 custom when in perplexity, he paced rest- 
 lessly up and down his study. Indeed, he 
 had long since actually worn a perceptible 
 path in the Turkey carpet, by dint of pacing 
 to and fro. Many a day was spent thus, his 
 hands in the pockets of an old shooting-coat, 
 his head thrown back, and his eyes staring 
 up at the celling. 
 
 The duchess, though she outwardly 
 lamented the maltreatment of the carpet, 
 inwardly rejoiced at her husband's propensity.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 219 
 
 " It gives him so much exercise," she 
 would often say ; " poor dear Cas ! Why, 
 if he were always to sit doubled over Dante, 
 he would orfow hollow-chested, which would 
 make me miserable ; he might also get a 
 dreadful liver complaint, which would make 
 him miserable." 
 
 And so the duke, as blessedly ignorant of 
 the wear and tear of the carpet as of his 
 wife's comments thereon, pursued the even 
 tenour of his way. 
 
 On this particular day, however, even 
 peripatetic philosophy failed to benefit his 
 authorship. He was tired, possibly ; the 
 wind was blowing from the east, and east 
 winds, " sfood for neither man nor beast," 
 were his particular aversion. He paused 
 more than once on his monotonous march to 
 push the logs of his summer wood-fire more 
 closely together in the grate. In one of 
 these pauses he noticed, with sudden dismay,
 
 2 20 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 a tray which the butler had brought in an 
 hour previously and dexterously balanced 
 on two chairs. (The tray had been thus 
 judiciously supported because, although there 
 were several large tables in the room, there 
 was not one on which could be seen a square 
 foot of clear space, nor where any of the 
 heaped-up octavos and duodecimos might be 
 disturbed, without risk of drawinof down on 
 the disturber sundry unexpected tomes, to 
 say nothing of their owner's suppressed but 
 none the less alarming vials of wrath.) On 
 the tray were a couple of silver dishes. In 
 the centre of one reposed two cutlets, once 
 hot, now cold and cheerless-looking, and 
 surrounded by a thin and fatty film that 
 should have been gravy. Within the second 
 dish a few potatoes leaned forlornly against 
 each other. The duke stared at this unin- 
 viting repast for a moment, then went on 
 his way unconcernedly. Just then the door
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 22 1 
 
 opened softly, and a pretty brown head 
 shoved itself deprecatlngly through the 
 aperture, accompanied by a soft rustling 
 sound of satin and velvet. 
 
 '' Are you disposed to interview your 
 Beatrice ? " asked a sweet mocking voice. 
 " Here I am, Cas, home much earlier than 
 you expected, aren't I ? " 
 
 '' Come in ! " replied the duke laconically. 
 He did not smile, but the furrows passed 
 away from his forehead as his wife entered. 
 She was exceedingly smartly arrayed, from 
 the tips of her dainty boots to the aigrette 
 that swayed in her bubble of a bonnet. 
 
 '' Dear, dear ! " she exclaimed ; '' what a 
 pity it is you have no looking-glass ! I have 
 heard so much about my dress this morning 
 that I am positively pining to contemplate 
 myself again. Cas dear, do you think I 
 could manage, like Narcissus or whoever it 
 was, to see myself in the shining back of one
 
 22 2 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 of your old books ? No, I fear not ; there's 
 too much dust everywhere, and of course 
 nothing to wipe the dust off with in this 
 wretched room." 
 
 The duke sighed abstractedly. He was 
 turning over the leaves of his manuscript. 
 
 '' Are you busy, dear '^. " asked the duchess 
 gently. 
 
 '' No ; for once I am quite glad to be 
 interrupted, Mary. But if you call yourself 
 Beatrice I must say I don't think Dante's 
 lady-love wore such fine feathers as these." 
 
 " But would he not have liked her to, Cas .^ 
 That is the question. Though : 
 
 ' Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, 
 He would have written sonnets all his life ? ' " 
 
 " No, indeed," replied the duke, smiling. 
 
 " Never mind ; only think how, if Laura had 
 been Petrarch's ' haus-frau,' she could have 
 helped the poor dear by sorting and arrang- 
 ing the sonnets he addressed to other people,
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 223 
 
 imaginary people, I mean, tidying them, 
 copying them out, etc., etc. That's where 
 we come in so useful. But seriously, Cas, 
 you are too ignorant. I mean to start a 
 gazette of fashion all by myself for your sole 
 benefit." 
 
 '* The number of copies sold will scarcely 
 repay the expense of publication," said the 
 duke drily. 
 
 " Oh dear no," answered the duchess com- 
 placently. She was sitting, according to her 
 wont, at the end of the sofa, rocking herself 
 to and fro, and occasionally tapping the floor 
 with her heels. Truly, this familiar attitude 
 had been partly acquired through sheer 
 necessity — the actual seat of the wide and 
 comfortable sofa being as completely covered 
 with books as were the tables in the room. 
 
 " I can assure you," continued the speaker, 
 eyeing her lord and master with some dignity, 
 " I can assure you that by next week there
 
 2 24 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 will be paragraphs In the Court Circitlar, the 
 Ladys Arcadia, and a few other well-known 
 papers, very much to this effect : 
 
 '' ' At the wedding of the young and lovely 
 Countess of Delachalne, we noticed with 
 interest that one of the most beautiful and 
 striking costumes was worn by the charming 
 Duchess of Baynham.' Now, Cas, why don't 
 yoit pay me a compliment ? " 
 
 The duke who, with an air of fatigue, was 
 leaning against an unbook-cased place in the 
 wall, now roused himself and smiled affably 
 in answer. He clasped his hands behind 
 his head, and stood watching his wife in 
 thoughtful silence. 
 
 " You are lamentably uninterested. Can 
 you say nothing ? " she asked with just 
 severity. " Before I move from here, I 
 mean to make you tell me how I look." 
 
 " You look exceedingly tidy." 
 
 " Is that all ? "
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 '' That Is all." 
 
 But though his words were scant, It Is to 
 be presumed that the duchess read between 
 the narrow lines. She jumped down from 
 her perch, and, running to her husband, knelt 
 hastily beside him. Thereupon, possessing 
 herself of one of his hands, she rubbed her 
 own soft cheek against It, murmuring In a 
 low tone which contained but little disap- 
 proval : 
 
 ** You dear old thing ! You very dear old 
 thing ! Now I will tell you all about the 
 wedding." 
 
 ** Oh, to be sure ! " remarked the duke 
 suddenly awakened ; " It is poor Delachaine's 
 wedding-day, so It Is ! And how did he get 
 through It, eh ? Was he turned off all 
 right ? " 
 
 " My dear Cas ! Why, you forget ! You 
 were ill — it was quite impossible for you to 
 go — and I made your excuses to the whole 
 
 vol. I. 15
 
 2 26 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 family. Don't you remember what you told 
 me this morning ? " 
 
 '' Of course, of course ! I had a terrible 
 threatening of influenza this morning." 
 
 '' No, it was not influenza," quoth the 
 duchess with decision. "It was a violent 
 headache ; a very severe and sudden head- 
 ache. I hope you will stick to that, Cas, if 
 you see Aunt Mary or Dosia or any of them. 
 Because," she added aggrievedly, " you really 
 did say you had a headache, and I really did 
 believe you." 
 
 ''Yes," answered the duke in a contrite 
 tone, " I remember now. Besides, I have 
 a headache at the present moment — I have, 
 I assure you. Well, was the bride lovely 1 " 
 
 "She looked very pretty, and self-possessed. 
 Oh so self-possessed, you can't think ! With 
 hectic spots on her cheeks like the people in 
 books, and a train five yards long. But, 
 Cas, it was little Julia — that dear little Julia
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 22 7 
 
 — who took my thoughts away. I felt I 
 must jump up and kiss her all the time the 
 Bishop was telling us how to behave to our 
 husbands." 
 
 " You looked upon her as a sort of proxy, 
 I hope." 
 
 " Not at all ; it was entirely for her own 
 dear sweet dehVhtful little self. Of course 
 you know she was Bertha's only bridesmaid, 
 and she was dressed in a soft limp white 
 muslin Sir-Joshua-kind of frock with a broad 
 pale blue sash and a mob cap, and her hair — 
 you remember her hair, Cas ? — floating out 
 in all manner of directions." 
 
 '' You're an admirable hand at description, 
 Mary ! " 
 
 ''Well, I'm your only chance of gaining 
 information, so you'd better be kind to me. 
 I must tell you that little Julia wore the row 
 of pearls John sent her — you know he gave 
 her the prettiest tiny row of pearls in the
 
 2 28 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 world, and a big posy of white flowers — 
 simple sort of things." 
 
 ''Poor old John! And how did he bear 
 himself? " 
 
 ''Well," replied the duchess with a spice 
 of malice, ''all the ladies said he looked 
 very stately. That is the only remark I 
 heard. But he really was most kind and 
 obliging and took care of lots of people ; in 
 fact but for him I should have got squeezed 
 to death in the crush. You know there 
 was a sort of cold collation in the studio, not 
 a stand up nor a sitting down breakfast." 
 
 "What, not a sitting down 1101^ a stand 
 up ? " repeated the duke, bewildered. 
 
 " How silly you are, Cas ! I mean every- 
 thing on trays and in odd corners, don't you 
 know ? With bits of curtains and pots, and 
 nice polite maids in caps." 
 
 " Ah, I see ! And how did Dosia look } " 
 " As cross as ten toads."
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 229 
 
 '' Are toads cross ? That is a curious 
 statement relative to natural history. And 
 how about the jewel in their heads ? " 
 
 " Aunt Mary cried, of course, nearly all 
 the time, and dropped her handkerchief and 
 mopped her eyes with her gloves. I suppose 
 she felt it was quite good-bye to John." 
 
 " And to Belgrave Square." 
 
 " There were some nice girls who had 
 been fellow-students with Bertha at the 
 Slade School, and a good many of her 
 friends came one way or another. The 
 President was there in full force, and some 
 very picturesque people. The Delachaine 
 family naturally mustered strong — there 
 were the Boltons, and the Winchcotes and 
 the Asbreys " 
 
 " And the Piccaninnies and the Joblillies, 
 I suppose, all complete." 
 
 *' Do you think, Cas, that John himself 
 might be called the ' great Panjandrum ' ?
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 He did not look unlike it to-day, I assure 
 you. It was quite the first time in my life I 
 have ever seen him in such new clothes." 
 
 ''Did he cry?" 
 
 " Only his mother wept, as I told you. 
 No one else shed a tear. As for that dear 
 darling little Julia, when Lord and Lady D. 
 had driven away, she stood watching the 
 carriage, looking like a figure of stone; really, 
 Cas, I do assure you, my heart bled for 
 her ! " 
 
 '' I can easily believe it, my dear ! Your 
 heart " 
 
 " Nonsense, nonsense, I am not such a 
 fool as you think ! Now I must leave you 
 and undress." 
 
 '' What, take off all those fine feathers ? " 
 
 "Yes. I have to attend a committee." 
 
 " Oh — a committee ! " 
 
 "Certainly, a committee. It is the work- 
 ing committee for friendless orphans."
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 The duke, who had by this time mentally 
 travelled back to his Dante, and had con- 
 sequently again commenced to pace up and 
 down the room, smiled at these words. 
 
 " My dear Mary, did you ever hear of the 
 man who murdered both his parents, and, at 
 his trial, pleaded that he was an orphan ? " 
 
 '' Really, Cas ! " 
 
 This indignant remark bore no relation to 
 the duke's time-honoured anecdote, however. 
 The duchess, with a look of horror, was 
 pointing to the luncheon tray and the two 
 chilly cutlets : 
 
 "Is that — that your lunch?" she asked, 
 authoritatively. 
 
 " My dear," faltered the duke, suddenly 
 grown timid and abashed, '' it was — that is 
 to say I — I really " 
 
 '' I shall order you some hot grilled 
 chicken at once," said his wife, stalking with 
 dignity to the door.
 
 232 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 *' Pray don't ; my dear girl — the servants 
 — they will all be so put out ! " 
 
 " But / am put out," cried the duchess 
 flying from him, and shutting his own door 
 in his face. 
 
 She had a short but pithy interview with 
 the butler, after which her quick feet carried 
 her upstairs to her bedroom, where she 
 exchanged her robes of magnificence for a 
 plain stuff gown, with a jacket to match and 
 a tieht little black straw bonnet and veil. 
 
 She was bent upon attending a charitable 
 committee of which she w^as one of the 
 most zealous members, and for the meeting 
 of which she was already belated. Yet, 
 during the whole time that she was dressing, 
 she was haunted by Aggie's set white face. 
 The kindly duchess was conscious of an 
 ardent impulse which filled her mind, and 
 intensified every moment — an impulse to seek 
 out the child on this day of desolation, when
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 233 
 
 for the first time in Aggie's young life the 
 poor Httle thing had sustained a definite 
 parting from her beloved sister. 
 
 As the duchess terminated the task of 
 buttoning her gloves (and she was very 
 particular anent those buttons) she reflected 
 that occasions might arise in life when it 
 would be a truer mercy to visit and cheer 
 one solitary orphan than to sit at a green 
 baize table with other ladies to discourse on 
 the food and clothing of some fifty orphans, 
 poorer perhaps than Aggie, yet surely not 
 more sorrowful. 
 
 The duchess was delighted when she 
 arrived at this sensible solution of her per- 
 plexities. Seldom are duty and inclination 
 permitted to go hand in hand ; whenever 
 they do so our satisfaction overflows to such 
 a degree that we are firmly convinced we 
 have never followed the path of duty thus 
 truly before. It was with a genuine throb of
 
 234 
 
 BERTH/VS EARL. 
 
 joy that the duchess pattered quickly down- 
 stairs, and out into the street, where she 
 hailed a hansom, and bade the driver hasten 
 on the way.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Mrs. Weagles' maid Susan was standing 
 at the open front-door telling the fish- 
 monger's boy a great many details concern- 
 ing the wedding. Susan, unlike the duchess, 
 had not thoucrht fit to doff her weddino 
 garments, and, as she had been one of the 
 neat handmaidens In caps flippantly alluded 
 to by a certain narrator, she presented 
 a holiday appearance which was further 
 enhanced by the elegant knot of white satin 
 and orange flower, with silver leaves, which 
 she wore just below her collar. Susan was 
 fatigued and flustered by the events of the 
 morning, though also proud of being a 
 participator in what was certainly the great
 
 236 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 event of the neighbourhood. There was 
 a sort of reflected glory from the wedding 
 cast on Mrs. Weagles' house and Mrs. 
 Weagles' servant beyond what could fall on 
 any other house or servant in that street. 
 Moreover, was it not almost a badge of 
 honour that the sweet young lady, Miss Julia 
 Millings, sister of the bride — that bride who 
 was now the Ris^ht Honourable the Countess 
 of Delachalne, and who had gone off quite 
 high and grand-like in a beautiful carriage of 
 her own with two splendid big bay horses 
 and a coachman and powdered footman (not 
 to forget the bridegroom, who w^ent off also) 
 — was at this very moment a guest residing 
 under the narrow but distinguished roof of 
 the said Mrs. Weagles .^ 
 
 Susan did not recognize in the quietly- 
 dressed lady, who leaped lightly from the 
 hansom and ran up the steps of the house, 
 the duchess whose sumptuous clothing and
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, 237 
 
 high position she had not yet grown weary 
 of euloofizlnof, but it was with a p-ratihed toss 
 of her head that she flung open the parlour 
 door and announced the distinguished visitor. 
 
 Mrs. Weagles was somewhat startled. 
 Tired by the sight of the gay folks whom she 
 had seen pass to and fro in her looking- 
 glass, and furthermore exhausted by several 
 lengthy descriptions of the festivities to 
 which she had attentively listened, she was 
 now dozing and gently nodding In her arm- 
 chair, with a large piece of wedding-cake and 
 other dainties placed in a dish close beside 
 her. The old lady awoke with alacrity, 
 however, and, like most somnolent people, 
 asserted that she had not been asleep at all, 
 but was only resting. 
 
 She found herself immediately placed at 
 ease by the gracious simplicity of the daughter 
 of the St. Phippens. It was really quite an 
 after-thought in the good lady's mind that
 
 238 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 this delightful visit was a root, so to speak, 
 from which might spring countless and most 
 gratifying hours of gossip to cheer many dull 
 future days. 
 
 ''Julia is up-stairs," said Mrs. Weagles after 
 the few first words of polite greeting ; *' shall 
 I send for her ? " 
 
 '' Oh no ; please let me run up to her," 
 said the visitor. '' I see your maid in the 
 passage ; may I ask her the way ? " 
 
 And off ran the duchess to inform herself 
 as to Ao^ofie's whereabouts ; then, Sfoinor 
 upstairs alone and very softly, she knocked 
 gently at the door of the child's bedroom. 
 
 " Come in," said Ao^Qrle. 
 
 She had heard a hansom draw up to the 
 door, and was aware of the sound of voices 
 downstairs, for the house was by no means 
 a large one. But, unlike Mrs. Weagles, 
 being singularly deficient in curiosity, Aggie 
 had not stirred to make any enquiry.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 239 
 
 Moreover, she was fairly overcome with 
 the grief of losing her sister. vShe could not 
 cry. She had not shed a tear during the 
 whole day, but her head and heart and limbs 
 ached heavily and painfully, and the chill 
 desolation that had taken possession of her 
 seemed to creep closer and closer, surround- 
 ing and enveloping her so that there seemed 
 to be no escape from it. Now that Bertha 
 was gone, there could no longer be any 
 necessity for keeping up. The poor child 
 still cluno^ to her orio^inal idea that she mieht 
 greatly benefit old Mrs. Weagles by her 
 society, but that must be some other day, and 
 the benevolent idea itself was not sufficient 
 to chase away the utter dreariness which had 
 fallen upon poor Aggie. 
 
 When the door opened, the child looked 
 round without any apparent interest, but at 
 sight of her visitor she jumped up with an 
 exclamation of joy.
 
 240 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 ** Why, what are you about, here all by 
 yourself?" asked the duchess, with as much 
 playfulness as she could muster. 
 
 She advanced towards the table at which 
 Aggie had been sitting. It was covered with 
 fanciful paper and writing materials of all 
 sorts. Ao^eie was not a brilliant scribe and 
 it is well known that the least expert work- 
 men require the best and greatest number of 
 tools. Bertha had lavished these tools on 
 her little sister. The Ink was not yet dry at 
 the bottom of a long scrawled page — a big 
 page of highly ornamented paper. 
 
 '' I am writing to Bertha," said the litde 
 girl simply. 
 
 " To Bertha ? My dear child ! " 
 
 There was a slight tinge of reproach in 
 the tone of these words which Ag^ofle was 
 quick to perceive. 
 
 *' I am not going to send the letter to-day," 
 she said quietly. '' I know It might vex
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. '2\\ 
 
 Bertha if she fancied I fretted too much. I 
 only thought I would begin. I am going to 
 write one sheet every day. It will be like 
 a diary, and then, at the end of a few days, 
 I shall have a really fat letter to send." 
 
 " You poor little thing ! " exclaimed the 
 duchess. 
 
 Aggie made a step forward, and laid her 
 pale little face against the kindly shoulder 
 that seemed pleasantly near, both literally 
 and metaphorically ; then she slid one small 
 cold hand into her friend's warm palm. 
 
 The latter had no children of her own, 
 and it is generally supposed that the women 
 who are mothers are those most surely drawn 
 towards other people's children. But this is 
 not always the case. Indeed, mothers are 
 sometimes too apt to view their neighbours' 
 offspring only in comparison or in opposi- 
 tion to their own, and, by very reason 
 of an increasing home circle, to restrict an 
 
 VOL. I. 1 6
 
 242 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 interest which might otherwise have amiably 
 widened and strengthened. The childless 
 duchess, when confronted with a baby, could 
 neither hush nor dandle it. She was apt 
 merely to stroke its blossom-like cheek gently 
 with the tip of her little finger. But for all 
 sorrows, great or small, of this pulsating, 
 suffering world, for the sorrows of the young 
 especially perhaps, she had an intuitive and 
 generous sympathy. After all, it is tender- 
 ness, not maternity, which is the crowning 
 grace of womanhood. 
 
 As she looked into Aeeie's face the duchess 
 grew very tender-hearted. She read an 
 almost cynical expression there which evoked 
 in her a desire to take the child to the nearest 
 church in order that her young sore spirit 
 might be soothed and elevated even whilst 
 it should be quieted. But she reflected that 
 Aggie had seen enough of church already 
 to-day. The garish ceremony of this very
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 morning must naturally prevent any such 
 influence as she desired. For the moment — 
 a mere moment, it was to be hoped — the 
 sacred building might suggest only thoughts 
 of unrest — smart gowns, excitement, an 
 atmosphere not of peace, but of painful 
 ceremonial. 
 
 Then an idea struck her. 
 
 *' The next best thing to going to church," 
 said the duchess to herself, " is assuredly to 
 spend an hour in the National Gallery. 
 Aggie," she continued aloud, " I want you 
 to put on your hat and come out with me 
 at once ; let us go and see some pictures." 
 
 '' Pictures ! " exclaimed Aggie with a little 
 shudder. 
 
 She hardly liked to acknowledge to herself 
 that her friend was not quite so considerate 
 as usual. Pictures ! What, when Ruth and 
 Boaz, and the Infant Samuel, and a score or 
 two more such works were filling up Bertha s
 
 244 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 deserted bedroom and her own, (because the 
 studio had to be cleared for the wedding 
 feast,) their reproachful faces turned to the 
 wall, or stacked one against the other ! 
 
 The duchess blushed slightly as she 
 guessed the poor child's train of thought. 
 
 *' There are such different kinds of pictures," 
 she stammered. '* Have you ever been to 
 the National Gallery ? " 
 
 " Never.'' 
 
 It was true that Aggie had spent all her 
 short life in the centre of art, that is to say 
 modern art. Nevertheless, poor Bertha was 
 not a first-rate artist, nor had she perhaps 
 ever violently struggled to become one. The 
 end and object of her painting was to sell ; 
 she had studied seriously but a few years, 
 and she was more of a picture manufacturer 
 (so said her critics) than a great artist in the 
 truest sense of the word. Of old masters 
 both here and abroad she knew comparatively
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 245 
 
 little, scarce more Indeed than the uncultivated 
 Aggie. The walks of high art were fenced 
 off from her mental view, and she never tried 
 to stand on tiptoe. A pretty face, a bright 
 piece of drapery, with just as much of back- 
 ground as was absolutely necessary — these 
 were to Bertha the chief requirements of a 
 picture. Even Eldon was to her an enigma ; 
 much as she liked and respected him, there 
 was something in his work as in his talk that 
 was often utterly incomprehensible to her. 
 So was it also with regard to the creations 
 of several other eminent painters. Bertha 
 knew that they were great men ; she even 
 claimed friendship with a few of them, but 
 she was comfortably satisfied herself to seek 
 a lower level than theirs. She shewed 
 therein at least the wisdom which we do not 
 all of us possess (a melancholy wisdom per- 
 chance) of gauging the height and breadth 
 of our own talent, or what we christen such.
 
 246 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 Aware as she was that she could neither 
 reach the sky nor encompass the sea, she 
 never attempted impossible results, nor did 
 she wear out her pretty eyes in crying for 
 the moon. 
 
 ''Well then, you must come, you certainly 
 must come ! " the duchess repeated, taking 
 Aororie's hands in hers. 
 
 Mrs. Wearies' consent was not difficult to 
 obtain, and, before many moments had 
 passed, Aggie and her friend were seated in 
 the hansom on their way to Trafalgar Square. 
 Arrived at their destination, they went up 
 the broad steps of the National Gallery hand 
 in hand. To Aggie's sensitive mind, the 
 hush and calm apparent immediately on 
 entering the edifice were inexpressibly 
 attractive. The very pictures themselves 
 were different from those to which she was 
 accustomed, and the glow of colour upon 
 the walls, set in the mellow gilding of some 
 fine old frames, pleased her fancy greatly.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 247 
 
 The duchess cast a few anxious glances at 
 her young charge, but her quick eyes soon 
 discerned that all was well, and that she had 
 not been mistaken In her prescription. For, 
 although some folks require years of training 
 and careful consideration, together with the 
 earnest perusal of many stiff and learned 
 books, before they can admire and enjoy the 
 old masters, (especially what are denominated 
 the early masters,) to others such appreciation 
 comes spontaneously and is perhaps there- 
 fore all the more genuine and strong. To 
 Aeele, whose nature, as the reader will 
 already have perceived, was very different 
 from that of her sister, the pictures now 
 around her were a real and Intense delight. 
 Soon she grew positively excited, flitting 
 about, and asking m^ore technical questions 
 than her companion's limited knowledge of 
 painting could easily answer. 
 
 The duchess, on her part, was equally
 
 248 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 delighted. Nay, she felt so kindly disposed 
 to all the world because of the success of her 
 small scheme that presently she began to 
 take interest in a perfect stranger, a poor 
 artisan evidently, who stood gazing at one of 
 her favourite pictures with an unusually 
 reverent expression on his aged face, and an 
 eager light in his sad and sunken eyes. 
 
 " I really must go and speak to him ! " 
 exclaimed the duchess at last. 
 
 '' Oh ! Must you 1 " asked Aggie, slightly 
 taken aback ; then she added, somewhat 
 nervously : 
 
 ** May I sit here and wait ? " 
 
 '' Yes, dear, certainly," answered her friend 
 smiling, and tripped off on her new mission. 
 
 The little duchess approached the working- 
 man with this same confident smile. She 
 felt that here w^as one of the interesting 
 moments of her life : an experience which it 
 was her distinct duty to go through ; this
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 249 
 
 untaught but appreciative son of the soil 
 must assuredly be encouraged. Else, why 
 did the radical writers write ? Why had the 
 judicious levelling of classes and masses 
 been preached throughout the land ? An 
 artisan such as this, with a serious mind 
 athlrst for improvement and culture, was 
 Indeed a treasure not often trove. 
 
 In the warmth of her heart — and it was a 
 very warm heart — all men and women were 
 certainly equal before the presence of these 
 great works teeming with subtle beauty and 
 humanising art. Yet the little duchess was 
 conscious of a slight tremor of nervousness 
 which made speech more difficult than usual 
 to her. 
 
 In truth. It is as difficult, when we feel 
 things strongly, to urge our fellow-creatures 
 along the path of culture as it is to pull them 
 on in science, or shove them gently forward 
 in religion. Our own enthusiasm and
 
 250 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 honesty are not always sufficient to tell upon 
 others — not even though brought Into play 
 for the noblest causes. 
 
 When the lady approached, the man 
 turned, glancing quickly at her for an Instant, 
 then as quickly resuming his Inspection of 
 the picture. He seemed to be studying It 
 deeply, yet with an obstinate Independence 
 all his own. The duchess drew a step 
 nearer, so near Indeed that, had she chosen, 
 she could have put her tiny gloved hand on 
 the rough frayed sleeve in front of her. 
 Then the man turned to her once more, and 
 very quietly he asked, moving aside as he 
 spoke : 
 
 " Did you want to see the picture, marm?" 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, I know it," said 
 the duchess nodding and smiling brightly ; 
 ' I know it very well." 
 
 He looked at her, his grave face wearing 
 an expression of some surprise, and a hot
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 25 1 
 
 blush rose to hers, flooding it with crimson. 
 She began to wish that she had not obeyed 
 the philanthropic impulse which was already 
 making her so exceedingly uncomfortable. 
 
 ** It is a beautiful picture," she stammered. 
 
 ** Beautiful," answered the stranger calmly, 
 without movinof or bowing:, or olivine ex- 
 pression to any of those practical and East- 
 end observations she had somehow expected 
 from him. Whereupon, with a feebleness of 
 spirit which astonished herself afterwards, she 
 murmured ''good morning," and fled back to 
 Aggie. 
 
 The duchess was *very crestfallen after 
 this failure, for so she viewed it. But Aeeie 
 was engrossed by the contemplation of the 
 new world she had accidentally entered. 
 The two friends passed from room to room, 
 and lingered on. It was an effort to go 
 forth again into the everyday world. 
 
 As they walked slowly and meditatively
 
 252 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 down Pall Mall, they both kept silence. 
 Aggie was always wellnigh speechless when 
 she felt most deeply, and now her nature 
 was newly and strangely stirred. Pictures, 
 pictures, what were they ? Something, per- 
 chance, of which she had never dreamed. 
 Surely they were books, written in a language 
 which each beholder must interpret for him- 
 self or herself. Or were they kind wise 
 counsellors who, knowing the sore place in 
 every one's heart, could touch it with gentle 
 healing, giving meanwhile, from the stores 
 of ancient learning, some message of perfect 
 truth ? 
 
 During this time, the duchess revolved in 
 her mind many theories and counter-theories. 
 All the power and practice of which, in her 
 secret heart, she had been very proud — the 
 power of influencing her fellow-creatures — 
 had failed her to-day, she scarce knew why. 
 Was it because, at that one moment, she had
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 253 
 
 acted rather upon book theory than by 
 womanly feeHng ? Yet, as a rule, she blamed 
 herself for actins^ too little accordinor to 
 judiciously-planned theories ! Were all the 
 pamphlets and dissertations of wise folks not 
 so useful after all as they appeared, and was 
 it possible that she had been carried away by 
 a pragmatic desire to dissect a human being, 
 instead of proceeding with the tactful intuition 
 which was natural to her, and which had so 
 seldom played her false ? 
 
 She was very miserable about this little 
 episode. She longed to run back and say to 
 the working man : 
 
 " Sir, sir, I only wanted to help you. You 
 see we both like the same Titian, the same 
 Bellini ! " 
 
 At last Aggie broke silence. 
 
 *' Tell me," she asked very sofdy, '' I want 
 you to explain — there is something I don't 
 understand, and you are sure to know."
 
 2 54 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 '' No, no," pleaded the duchess. 
 
 Aggie only shook her head. Some facts 
 need little discussing. 
 
 '' Tell me just one thing," she continued 
 fervently ; '' why do all the faces that have 
 the greatest pain In them seem the most 
 beautiful ? It is a beautiful pain which they 
 seem to hold." 
 
 A curious sensation suddenly rose and 
 tio^htened the throat of the duchess. Herein, 
 then, this child understood her, felt with her, 
 and went along with her. Yet, after her 
 defeat, she felt oddly humbled, and unable 
 to answer as she might otherwise have done. 
 
 *' I — I am not sure that I can quite tell 
 you, Aggie," she answered, even more softly 
 than the child herself had spoken. They 
 were walking very closely side by side, 
 amongst the jostling pedestrians. *' Some 
 things are always mysteries — we understand 
 them so litde — and yet these very things are
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 255 
 
 the truest foundations of our beinor. Like 
 
 o 
 
 waves of sound, the vibrations of our deepest 
 thoughts spread further than we think." 
 
 Aggie's face, in its unspoken sympathy, 
 seemed to answer. 
 
 '' I understand," she murmured. 
 
 The duchess flushed and went on almost 
 feverishly : 
 
 '' You ought to ask some one who knows 
 better than I do — I am very sadly ignorant. 
 Perhaps, perhaps the gospel of love is also 
 that of pain ; perhaps, dear, the beauty you 
 mean is something divine which v/e approach 
 only occasionally — not often : the beauty of 
 renunciation. Perhaps it is just because it Is 
 divine and rare that it means so much to us ; 
 I do not know." 
 
 '' There are so many perhapses in life," put 
 In Aggie, with sad parenthesis. 
 
 ''Cas might know," said the duchess.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The Earl of Delachaine was enjoying a 
 short constitutional on the RIva dei Schlavoni. 
 He had spent but a couple of hours at Venice, 
 yet already the place seemed to him singularly 
 wanting in those opportunities for exercise 
 which he, as an Englishman, dearly appre- 
 ciated. Whither, he wondered, should he 
 presently go to stretch his legs ? 
 
 Bertha was somewhat tired after a long 
 journey, and was resting in her room, whilst 
 her lord walked like a caged lion to and fro 
 in the vicinity of the hotel, not wishing to 
 investigate any of the historic buildings too 
 closely without his wife's companionship. 
 Up as far as the Plazzetta he wandered, back
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 257 
 
 again past the hotel, and a few yards beyond, 
 making his way with leisurely dignity in the 
 midst of the noisy Venetian crowd, who, in 
 truth, were not nearly so much surprised at 
 the arrival of one tall dull-looking English- 
 man the more as he was to find himself 
 amongst such motley folk, watching their 
 movements and gestures, and listening with- 
 out comprehension to their quick and utterly 
 bewildering jargon. 
 
 In his youth, the earl had acquired a few 
 sentences of choice Italian. An admirable 
 instructor — a trusty friend of his father's 
 family, who came armed with a grammar, a 
 dictionary, and a book of childish and point- 
 less stories — had dinned into his unwilling 
 ears some polite Tuscan phrases, whilst the 
 recipient's thoughts were wandering lovingly 
 in the direction of cricket or football. Need- 
 less to say that such slight and long-vanished 
 knowledge was but little use to the earl now 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 in Italy, all the less at Venice. The only 
 words he understood were the cries of ' acqua ' 
 on the part of the brawny water-seller who 
 elbowed past him, carrying heavy jars of 
 drinking water for the benefit of fellow 
 townsmen, and the Insinuating offers of 
 '' gondola, gondola," from many gondoliers 
 who were seemingly Idling about, leaning 
 over the parapet, or slumbering In shady 
 corners, but who were none the less wide 
 awake to their own interests, and seized, 
 spider-like, the first opportunity of endeavour- 
 ing to entrap so fine a new-comer Into their 
 floating parlours. 
 
 The earl stalked on, puffing slowly at his 
 cigar, which the little Venetian arabs viewed 
 with as much wonder as envy, for Italian 
 cigars, though exceedingly lengthy, have not 
 the breadth and general well-to-do appearance 
 of those weeds habitually smoked by Lord 
 Delachaine. The Doge's Palace, with its
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, 259 
 
 open archways revealing glimpses of the 
 Giant's Stair, St. Mark's with its green 
 bronze horses, the mighty Campanile, and 
 the entrance to the Piazza, all looked alluring 
 enough, but the earl turned his back reso- 
 lutely on such glories, until he could enjoy 
 them with Bertha. 
 
 As he retraced his steps again he came in 
 view of the Brid^re of Si^hs. He could not 
 fail to know that it w^as the Bridge of Sighs, 
 for every one, from his landlord down to 
 a ragged little boy — who could stand upon 
 his head for a longer space of time than any 
 other little ragged boy — had informed the 
 earl that this was indeed the Bridore of Sio-hs ; 
 even his own courier half an hour previously 
 had chosen to emphasize the same statement. 
 
 Lord Delachaine searched in the recesses 
 of his mind for some quotation from Byron 
 or Rogers (he was not well up in more 
 modern poets) concerning Venice and her
 
 26o BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 interesting sights, but he sighed a little as he 
 recognized how terribly short a portion of 
 his life had been spent in the study of either 
 poetry or art. Yet he was truly desirous 
 of pleasing Bertha — Bertha was his, now, 
 utterly and entirely his ; she had sacrificed 
 much for him, her career, ay, and many 
 friends who were doubtless more congenial 
 to her refined and elevated spirit than he 
 could ever hope to be. 
 
 Thus pondered the earl as he passed to 
 and fro amongst the Venetian crowd. There 
 was a perfect Babel of clamour and move- 
 ment ; laughter, music, argumentative angry 
 voices, sounds of fun and ribaldry, the cackle 
 of some old women, the street cries of the 
 vendors of many wares, the chink of glasses 
 from lemonade booths — above all the shrill 
 whistle of the little Lido steamer. And 
 beyond the gaily-dressed groups of girls, 
 beyond the white paving-stones, and out
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 26 1 
 
 towards lovely yellow San Giorgio opposite, 
 glittered the rainbow-coloured dancing water, 
 across which a few black gondolas were 
 darting like swallows. It was a sight to 
 make an artist paint, to bid a poet dream. 
 To Lord Delachaine just then the beauty 
 of the whole universe was summed up in one 
 word — Bertha. He, the elderly man, seemed 
 grave and uninteresting enough to the crowd 
 about him ; people who are leading inner 
 lives are seldom interesting to others. Yet 
 this man was not dwelling in a fool's paradise. 
 The lengthy honeymoon which he had him- 
 self urged had not yet wholly gone by ; and, 
 whilst he was conscious that the love he bore 
 his wife — a love of which he was almost 
 ashamed as he considered his years — had 
 strengthened and deepened every day, and 
 was very strong within him, he was nowadays 
 strangely diffident of his own worth and 
 capability to please.
 
 262 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 " She is so young," repeated Lord Dela- 
 chaine to himself — " so fair — so young." 
 
 He said nothing more, even to himself; it 
 was not his way to analyze things much. 
 Moreover, can one analyze happiness ? Lord 
 Delachaine was well aware that he was very 
 happy. 
 
 He turned his steps towards the hotel. 
 
 The loungers, congregated about the 
 doorway, made room for the English earl. 
 Already his name and position were well 
 known, not only to the master of the hotel, 
 but to the humblest satellite thereof. They 
 all hoped that his visit might not prove 
 a pecuniary disappointment to them. They 
 greeted his approaching figure with affec- 
 tionate eyes. Meanwhile, ''unconscious of 
 his fate," Lord Delachaine nodded with 
 suitable affability, threw away the end of his 
 cigar, and hurried in quickly and gaily, 
 mounting the stair rapidly and pushing
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 263 
 
 open the door of the large first-floor sitting- 
 room. 
 
 As he entered in this haste, a pretty picture 
 met his oraze. Bertha was sittings near the 
 open window, through which poured a flood 
 of southern sunshine. She was sitting with 
 her back to the light, and the sunbeams 
 glinted upon her hair, turning it into a golden 
 nimbus, whilst the folds of her soft brown 
 dress shone like molten gold. She was 
 scattering breadcrumbs to a small company 
 of pigeons who boldly surrounded her, three 
 or four havino^ entered the room, whilst 
 others were still hesitatingly perched on the 
 lovely white balcony between the arches of 
 which shone glimpses of blue lagoon flecked 
 with light, whilst overhead the sky glittered 
 like a sapphire. 
 
 *' Oh, isn't it delightful!" she exclaimed, 
 as Lord Delachaine entered. " These dear 
 tame birds ! I had always heard of the
 
 264 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 pigeons of St. Mark — they are sacred, you 
 know. Isn't It nice, John ?" 
 
 " Yes, very," replied the earl meditatively ; 
 *' but are you quite sure you won't catch cold, 
 my love ? " 
 
 *' Oh no, how could I ? Why, it is exceed- 
 ingly hot." 
 
 *' Treacherous, perhaps," said the earl, 
 shaking his head. 
 
 "Where have you been, John .^ What 
 did you see out ? " 
 
 "Not much ; only what you see from this 
 window, and a good many dirty little boys 
 besides. And It doesn't smell very fresh. 
 But It will be pleasant to go with you by- 
 and-bye. Bertha. Do you think you will 
 like this place ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ! " answered Bertha quickly, to 
 whom the Idea of calling the Queen of the 
 seas 'this place' seemed almost sacrilege. 
 "It has always been my dream to come to 
 Venice."
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 265 
 
 *' Oh, that's all right then," answered the 
 earl contentedly. He turned towards a table, 
 whereon stood his crocodile-skin bag, a large 
 despatch box, and a couple of ancient Galig- 
 nanis. He took up one of the latter in some 
 discontent. 
 
 '' Giusti will be here directly with the 
 letters," said Bertha, throwing a piece of 
 bread in the direction of an enterprising 
 pigeon who w^as artlessly roaming round one 
 of his lordship's feet. " I am longing for the 
 post. Surely it must be in by this time, 
 John." 
 
 " I have ascertained that it arrives almost 
 immediately, if it has not already come," said 
 Lord Delachaine. '' Giusti will brinor us a 
 
 o 
 
 good supply of newspapers at any rate, for 
 I gave the address of the Poste Restante 
 here for some days past." 
 
 '' And I have not heard from Ao^orie for 
 ever so long," said Bertha with a sigh.
 
 266 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 '' That is the worst of travelHng — poor Kttle 
 Aggie ! " 
 
 " I am not sure that she does not grudge 
 you to me," said the earl slowly, as he threw 
 away his paper and wandered to another 
 window. 
 
 " Oh no, it is not erudo^inof ! " cried Bertha 
 quickly. " My poor little Aggie !" 
 
 Even as she spoke, with an ominous 
 tremor in her voice, the door opened and 
 Giusti, the courier, entered the room, bearing 
 a huge packet of letters and newspapers. 
 
 Giusti was a large swarthy man who spoke 
 every language in a way — his way — but none 
 with correctness or accordine to the traditions 
 of orthodox grammarians. He wore rings, 
 seals, and jewelled pins in profusion, and 
 used pomatum and strong perfumes. His 
 master was truly afraid of him, but never- 
 theless often tried to stem this son of 
 Piedmont's flow of sentences by retreating
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 26 J 
 
 within the shelter of austere and dienified 
 brevity. 
 
 *' Die post," said Giusti with unnecessary 
 explanation ; then he proceeded to deal out 
 the newspapers like playing cards : 
 
 "Vone, deux, trois, fors, cinque, sei, sette ; 
 papairs, ecco ! Vone lettair for Miladi — voila 
 tout. Per Milor molto." 
 
 " Thank you, Giusti," said Lord Delachaine 
 curtly. 
 
 '' It is a most beautiful vedder. I have 
 engage for Milor and Miladi a first-class 
 gondola mit two gondolier. Vot time Miladi 
 vish for dem ? " 
 
 *' What time ? " asked Bertha vaguely, 
 scarce understanding, and looking up from 
 the solitary letter she had received, and 
 which was to her as good as ten, being a 
 voluminous packet of many sheets from 
 Ao-crie. 
 
 '' That will do, thank you, Giusti," said
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 Lord Delachalne majestically ; " we will 
 order the gondola presently." 
 
 '' Ah ! Bene, bene, parfaltement — as Mllor 
 voudra," quoth the retreating Giusti, and the 
 earl, seating himself in what was the nearest 
 approach to an easy-chair in the furniture of 
 the room — though it was a seat that was 
 excessively hard, with a straight back and 
 a square shape, and no arms at all — pro- 
 ceeded to peruse his correspondence. 
 
 Occasionally, he cast a rapid glance in the 
 direction of his wife, who had tucked herself 
 up cosily near the window, which she had 
 closed after chasing the pigeons away, and 
 where she sat earnestly reading, her lap 
 covered with thin blue sheets of letter-paper, 
 scrawled and blurred over, whilst she smiled 
 every now and then to herself with the happy 
 colour rising to her cheeks, and her eyes 
 seemingly brighter and her hair more feather- 
 light and sunshiny than ever.
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 269 
 
 The earl's correspondence was of the most 
 ordinary type. It was decidedly not amusing. 
 The usual appeals from professional beggars 
 were not wanting, nor yet circulars from 
 hospitals and benevolent societies. Here 
 was the customary annoying statement from 
 the land agent regarding rents, repairs of 
 farm buildings, etc. Next came a couple of 
 bills, which Lord Delachaine viewed leniently 
 enough, as they were ''accounts delivered" 
 of things supplied for his wedding-day, :and 
 these were supplemented by a letter from 
 the son of his country curate wanting to 
 know if his lordship would purchase a very 
 fine St. Bernard puppy. The earl viewed 
 his packet of correspondence with but 
 slender gratitude. Finally, he took up with 
 much unconcern a light and narrow letter 
 which had been, like the rest, forwarded to 
 Italy from Belgrave Square. He opened It 
 carelessly, and nearly read the two short lines
 
 270 BERTHA'S earl: 
 
 through before he realized that he had read 
 them. For, indeed, his thoughts, vague as 
 they might be, were not unpleasant ones. 
 They stood between him and what had 
 hitherto been his dull home life, just as 
 Bertha's pretty golden figure shut out a 
 great part of the monotonous blue sea and 
 sky. 
 
 Suddenly — very suddenly — he was con- 
 scious of an acute pain that, strange to say, 
 was even more physical than mental. The 
 room seemed to reel around him, the sun- 
 shine to turn to gloom. The stone tracery of 
 the white balcony behind which he sat, the 
 mellow distance, the very air of the perfumed 
 south, nay more, even Bertha's radiant 
 presence — all seemed fast fading away. He 
 clutched at his chair, but almost instantly 
 recovered his outward composure, and clasped 
 his hands quietly, impressed curiously with 
 the idea that he must be strong and silent.
 
 BERTHS' S EARL. 27 I 
 
 Yes, that was the one necessity : to be silent 
 above all things, and next, not to mind over 
 much. 
 
 This revolution of thouorht lasted but the 
 
 o 
 
 space of a moment ; yet, during that short 
 moment, the whole world changed for Lord 
 Delachaine. He lived, it is true, and 
 breathed, but It was in the dark, and through 
 a mist of pain. The next moment, however, 
 he shook himself together and smiled. A 
 mental shock is often like a sudden eclipse. 
 The absence of light is only for a short 
 while. Of course this was just one of the 
 things that happen every day, one of those 
 things which — because they cannot be 
 credited and have neither sense nor founda- 
 tion — pass, and must needs be forgotten. 
 So said Lord Delachaine to himself, and he 
 repeated internally : Surely they leave no 
 trace nor remembrance behind. 
 
 With clearness of vision and calmness of
 
 2 72 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 heart, therefore, he proceeded to read the 
 letter once more. It was short; its brevity 
 perhaps too studied. 
 
 " Beware of Dr. Jackson," thus ran the 
 w^ords, " and beHeve 
 
 " A Well-Wisher." 
 
 Dr. Jackson ! Who on earth was Dr. 
 Jackson ? And what on earth had Dr. 
 Jackson to do with him, or — ay, there lay 
 the sting — with Bertha ? For the third 
 time he conned those hateful words. 
 
 The earl sat on in silence during some 
 minutes. He had folded the letter and 
 placed it in the breast-pocket of his coat. 
 He reasoned with himself as he did so. It 
 was certainly not the first time in his life that 
 he had received an anonymous letter, though 
 fortune had happily been sparing to him in 
 such gifts, and he had always put but slight 
 value upon them. He argued now that the
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 273 
 
 well-wisher was probably his greatest enemy, 
 or Bertha's ; some one, perhaps, whom she 
 had refused for his sake — and this was a very 
 sweet thought to him. Yet it was strangely 
 bitter-sweet. Of course he was not a young 
 man any longer — he knew that well enough. 
 And he was rich. This large palatial room 
 was cold, surely, extremely cold. There is 
 nothing like Italy for sudden changes of 
 temperature, thought the earl — fever, ague, 
 etc., are daily dangerous. Possibly, he 
 had caught a chill on the journey. 
 
 At that moment, along the corridor, came 
 the hurrying steps and the loud voice of 
 a German waiter. 
 
 *' Piftek aux bommes pour teux — barfalte- 
 ment — dout de suite." 
 
 Association of Ideas Is a curious thine. In 
 after years Lord Delachalne could never 
 endure to hear a German waiter speak 
 French. On such foolish common trifles is 
 
 VOL. I. 18
 
 2 74 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 the structure of our life's happiness built, for 
 memory goes far to help to raise the building. 
 Lord Delachalne never liked Venice. The 
 climate, he said, was variable and deceptive ; 
 the hotels noisy — people always eating and 
 drinking. How seldom do other folks know 
 why we like or dislike a thing! How well 
 for us Is It that they cannot unravel the clue 
 to our innermost feelings !
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 At last Bertha looked up— she had been 
 studying her letter for a long time. Now 
 she was laughing softly. 
 
 " I do think," she began, '' I do really 
 think that Aggie is the funniest child I 
 ever knew ! " 
 
 *' Eh ? " asked the earl, rousing himself 
 violently. 
 
 '' Aggie writes such nonsense," said Bertha, 
 a little flatly. She had half expected to find 
 her husband unsympathetic, yet she was 
 already sorry that she had spoken. 
 
 " Nonsense, does she ? " he repeated 
 vaguely. *' What sort of nonsense ?" 
 
 " Oh, it wouldn't interest you ; of course it
 
 276 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 is only silly tittle-tattle, and things that 
 amuse us, Aggie and me." 
 
 " I think I like the things that amuse you," 
 said the earl gently ; '' suppose you tell me 
 part of her letter, dear ? " 
 
 Bertha picked up some of the scattered 
 pages, and sorted a few, and turned over 
 others. No portion of Aggie's long letter 
 seemed sufficiently well suited for Lord 
 Delachaine's edification. " What a pity," 
 thought the elder sister, "what a sad pity 
 that I did not have the poor dear better 
 grounded in grammar ! " Presently, however, 
 she took heart of grace, and began to read in 
 a low voice : 
 
 "■ • I am becoming quite a milliner ; you 
 have no idea, my dearest loveliest old 
 Booffles ' — that's me, you know," put in 
 Bertha shyly — " * what a transcendental kind 
 of cap this I myself has made for Mrs. 
 Weagles. It fits her like the coiffure of
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 277 
 
 Fortunatus, though I don't fancy he had 
 mauve ribbons. Susan says It's '' hex- 
 quisite ! " ' " 
 
 '' Ah ! " enunciated the earl, drawing a long 
 breath. "Is Mrs. Weagles quite — quite the 
 sort of companion fitted for your sister, do 
 you think, Bertha, my dear ? " 
 
 '' She's very good and kind," said Bertha, 
 hurriedly trying to find another tolerably 
 appropriate passage : 
 
 '' ' It rains cats and dogs, and when it 
 doesn't it's as cold as cold ! ' " 
 
 This was harmless enough, certainly, but 
 the remark was followed by others, less im- 
 personal, into which Bertha nearly floundered. 
 But she saved herself by what seemed at 
 first a really creditable extract : 
 
 ** ' Mrs. Weagles' son's boy, who's at 
 school, and quite big now, has got some 
 delightful books up in his bedroom — some 
 of them were Mrs. Weagles' own son's
 
 2 78 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 before. There's a lovely old-fashioned comic 
 latin grammar in which it says : 
 
 ^Musa, Musae, 
 
 The gods are at tea, 
 
 and, do you know, Booffles darling, when- 
 ever I see that, I think of you and your 
 earl sitting opposite to each other like nine- 
 pins, having nothing to say, and looking 
 amiably at each other across your dignified 
 table.' " 
 
 There was a dreadful pause. 
 
 ''Mightn't I read the letter myself?" 
 asked the earl slowly. " Surely, my love, 
 now that you are my wife, everything con- 
 cerning your sister is of importance and 
 interest to me." 
 
 *' Ye — es," answered Bertha, reddening, 
 and feeling as guilty as innocent people are 
 apt to do. If it had only not been for several 
 reprehensible passages ! Besides, was it 
 not a bargain between herself and Aggie
 
 BERTHA'S EARL, 279 
 
 that their letters should be sacred ? It had 
 never occurred to Bertha that Lord Dela- 
 chaine would enquire Into her sister's childish 
 prattle, whilst It seemed the one privilege left 
 to the poor child to write whatever floated 
 through her foolish mind. 
 
 " You see," said Bertha timidly, '' you see, 
 dear John, Aggie has been used to chatter 
 in such a very silly way to me." 
 
 ^' My dearest, do you think I cannot make 
 allowances '^. " returned Lord Delachaine, 
 stretching out his hand for the letter. 
 
 Poor Bertha hastily piled the sheets 
 together In proper order. There were such 
 a lot of them — it seemed as If they never 
 would come right ! Meanwhile, a hopeful 
 thought crossed her mind that the earl, 
 having but slight knowledge of Aggie's 
 character and notions, might consider the 
 allusion to the gods a flattering one. 
 
 '' Thank you, my love," said Lord Dela-
 
 28o BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 chaine, possessing himself of the bundle. 
 At this moment Glusti re-entered the 
 room. 
 
 " I tink, Mllor," said the irrepressible 
 courier, **dat peut-etre Miladl and Mllor 
 vould vish to know here Is a festa to-night. 
 Piccola — de gondoliers dey sing and orna- 
 ment de gondolas vid lanternes chlnoises — 
 Mllor have heard, perhaps. Ven dere are 
 family Inglese In de hotel, dey try to get up 
 little festa." 
 
 *' Yes, thank you," said the earl indif- 
 ferently. 
 
 " If Miladl have not seen before, It is quite 
 necessaire to go. It vil be pretty sight — 
 tout-a-falt bellissima." 
 
 ** Thank you, Giusti," repeated the earl. 
 
 " Milor pardon dat I mention }'' continued 
 Glusti, gesticulating with his ringed hands, 
 and unwilling to depart. 
 
 '' Oh, certainly. You can think about it,
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 28 1 
 
 Bertha, and do as you like. Will you dress 
 now, dear, and let us take a little turn in the 
 Piazza ? " 
 
 Bertha went gladly. She was on thorns 
 whilst Aggie's letter lay in her husband's 
 hand. She could not but feel guilty of a 
 kind of betrayal towards the child, and this 
 feeling made her uncomfortable. Still, she 
 argued, she could not have withheld the 
 letter ; in truth, it was not easy to withstand 
 Lord Delachaine. A man of quiet con- 
 centrated mind — accustomed, moreover, to 
 command others during the better part of 
 sixty years — is likely to impress those about 
 him with a tolerable idea of justifiable supre- 
 macy. Lord Delachaine was unused to the 
 society of young women, and was perhaps 
 imbued with old-fashioned notions of wifely 
 obedience. It certainly would never have 
 occurred to him that Bertha was likely to 
 refuse any ordinary request of his, couched in
 
 282 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 the polite and dignified language that he was 
 accustomed to adopt. 
 
 Bertha occupied a long while in dressing, 
 exchanging her tea-gown for plain walking 
 attire. During this time, Lord Delachaine 
 waded successfully enough through poor 
 Aggie's lengthy scrawl. One sentence therein 
 disturbed him considerably, but it was none 
 of those on which Bertha's anxiety had 
 fixed ; for, if Lord Delachaine's serenity was 
 clouded, it was entirely owing to the follow- 
 ing words. Lightly written as they were, 
 they remained engraven in his mind, ready 
 to torment and torture him on every avail- 
 able occasion. 
 
 '' I met Dr. Jackson in the street yester- 
 day," thus wrote Aggie. '' He looked so 
 ill — quite different. I don't think he takes 
 care of himself. He asked about you, and 
 then he went off in a great hurry." 
 
 "Now I am ready," said Bertha's voice
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 283 
 
 cheerily, as she came back Into the sitting- 
 room. 
 
 Side by side the newly-wedded pair strolled 
 through Venice, visiting several places of 
 interest. Lord Delachaine conscientiously 
 carried Murray's handbook, whilst Bertha 
 studied Baedeker. Had she followed her 
 own Inclination, she would have cared for 
 neither the verification of historical facts, nor 
 the analysis of pictorial effects. Her mind 
 wanted to drink in the lovely scene before 
 her senselessly, vaguely. She longed for 
 Aggie, for her old friend Eldon, for some 
 one not so painstaking and yet so cruelly 
 unappreciative as her husband. 
 
 She was not even sure but that his chief 
 wish was to renovate the drainage of Venice, 
 to provide Its inhabitants with wholesome 
 cheap food, to take down the sacred pictures 
 from the churches, and to widen and repave 
 a goodly number of the streets !
 
 284 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 With the audacity of EngHsh travellers, 
 Lord and Lady Delachaine wandered down 
 some of the exceedingly narrow and dark 
 calli — fit localities for blood-curdling murders, 
 pathways curiously one like the other, lead- 
 ing into apparently similar open spaces or 
 fondamenti, or perpetually crossing canals 
 by means of the very same kind of narrow 
 bridges, from which other calli wind away 
 yet further into the mysterious heart of 
 the water city, away from all recognizable 
 boundaries' or landmarks. 
 
 In vain did the earl make enquiries for the 
 whereabouts of Danieli's hotel. A number 
 of little ragged urchins simultaneously ex- 
 plained. They spoke volubly, and of course 
 unintelligibly. Then a number of elderly 
 unkempt females and slatternly girls stretched 
 out their eaunt arms in what seemed to the 
 strangers to be the most bewilderino^ direc- 
 tions. It was quite dark when the hotel was
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 285 
 
 finally reached ; by that time a dozen guides 
 of different ao-es and sizes were walkino- in 
 single file in front of tired Bertha and her 
 husband. 
 
 If the earl, during the greater part of the 
 expedition, had been somewhat more silent 
 than usual, this had passed unnoticed by 
 Bertha, to whom the very novel and pic- 
 turesque sights and sounds were a keen 
 delight and satisfaction, especially since she 
 had slipped the Baedeker into her pocket. 
 Lord Delachaine was however dissatisfied, 
 and that chiefly with himself. 
 
 He was truly annoyed that he had asked 
 to read Aggie's letter. He had done so in 
 honesty and singleness of purpose ; partly 
 with a wish to know more of the child, in 
 order that he might help hereafter with her 
 education, especially to influence her in a 
 right way ; partly, also, it must be confessed, 
 because his mind was disturbed and ill at
 
 286 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 ease, and he had scarcely known what he 
 was asking. Now, he blamed himself for 
 having, as he considered, played the spy. 
 If, on glancing through Aggie's epistle, the 
 thought had lightly crossed his mind that he 
 might eain some knowledg^e which would 
 calm his doubts — if indeed he admitted 
 doubts for the future — he had not put such 
 a thought into words, even to himself, and 
 so it had not weighed with him. He had 
 certainly expected to find nothing but the 
 merest childish nonsense in Aggie's letter, 
 and yet now, as he reflected, he was justly 
 punished for what was not such allowable 
 curiosity as it had first seemed ! Moreover, 
 the sentence he had read and re-read, and 
 w^hich had stung as well as pained him, held 
 a sting none the less sharp because it in some 
 measure repeated the wound he had just 
 before received from the anonymous letter. 
 Still, he would not confess to that wound ;
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 287 
 
 no, he must not. He would assuredly never 
 confess it to Bertha. It were nothing short 
 of an insult to that young, fair, gentle wife 
 of his if he but breathed a suspicion of her, 
 even to herself. Was not mutual trust the 
 first thing, ay, the most priceless thing in 
 married life .^ Perchance, thought the earl 
 as he revolved this terrible question, per- 
 chance he might have enquired from Bertha 
 regarding Dr. Jackson had he not foolishly 
 asked to see the child's letter. Now by his 
 impetuosity he had placed himself in a 
 position in which it would be utter meanness 
 to demand explanations. He could not take 
 advantage of a child's frankness, to say 
 nothing of his wife's yielding amiability ! 
 
 When evening came, and Lord and Lady 
 Delachaine sallied forth in their gondola, the 
 earl's thoughts ran mostly in the same miser- 
 able strain as before. He sought to conceal 
 his recurring vexation ; he treated his wife
 
 2 88 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 with the attentive courtesy that characterized 
 him ; he even tried to make pleasant starts 
 of conversation for her. As the gondola 
 glided swiftly over the dark water, he came 
 to a distinct resolution that he would foro^et 
 both the evil words he had perused, and the 
 miserable thoughts that had arisen within 
 him ; he registered a mental vow that he 
 would trust Bertha "■ all in all." 
 
 The gondola, together with several other 
 gondolas, followed the lighted open boats 
 which conveyed the musicians. Some of 
 these latter played upon violins, others upon 
 harps, mandolines, or guitars. Many singers, 
 also, were closely packed side by side In 
 these boats, and from under strings of gaily- 
 coloured Chinese lanterns, they trilled out 
 (with full rich southern voices that reached 
 far beyond the grand canal) popular melodies, 
 the words of which some of their listeners 
 could perhaps not understand, but which
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 289 
 
 suggested, from the very first bars, the 
 emotion of beauty and poetry, and nature's 
 wondrous harmony. 
 
 Then the moon, Hke a goddess Invoked, 
 came forth from behind a bank of clouds, 
 irradiatinof the whole scene, and casting a 
 broad silver pathway on the water, whilst 
 the great palaces on either side stood 
 out against the shimmering sky, silent and 
 dark in their strong shadowing. The music 
 rose and fell ; the dense floating mass of 
 gondolas increased in volume with every 
 inlet of the canal. Some red and ereen 
 Bengal lights flashed out here and there, 
 with long trailing reflections, revealing the 
 architecture of great water-gates, and iron 
 trellised windows, from which came the sight 
 of merry faces, and the sound of joyous 
 voices. At last the Rialto was reached, and 
 there, under the echoing bridge, the gaily- 
 decked music-boats paused with their rock- 
 
 VUL. I. 19
 
 290 BERTHA'S EARL. 
 
 ing lanterns, and around them pressed the 
 attendant black gondolas. " Santa Lucia," 
 sang an unaccompanied quartett, beginning 
 the well-known melody that is as much loved 
 in Venice as at Naples : 
 
 *' Sill mare luccica 
 L'astro d'argento, 
 Placida e I'onda, 
 Prospero e il vento," 
 
 and, like a triumphant wave of joy, from all 
 
 sides burst a mighty chorus. 
 
 The earl had taken from the breast-pocket 
 of his coat a small thin letter ; he tore it 
 slowly and deliberately into innumerable 
 fragments, which he tossed over the side of 
 the gondola. The tiny pieces floated away 
 amongst the sombre eddies. 
 
 '' What's that ? " asked Bertha ; '* what are 
 you tearing up, John } " 
 
 *' Only a foolish note," said the earl gently. 
 '' It came to me to-day ; it is nothing of any 
 consequence — nothing that I mind in the 
 very least."
 
 BERTHA'S EARL. 29 1 
 
 *' Oh listen ! " exclaimed Bertha. Tears 
 of sweet emotion were standing In her pretty 
 eyes. They glistened in the moonlight. A 
 spasm of delicious pain contracted her throat; 
 she could not speak. The men were all 
 singing again ; this was a new song. Now 
 came a girl's lovely voice rising high in the 
 air like a nightingale's lament. Several of 
 the people in the gondolas and sandolos 
 around caught up the strain. It was a wild 
 weird melody, something between a volkslied 
 and a national hymn, and at the end, with a 
 sort of strange exultation, the manly chorus 
 shouted : 
 
 " Andiam ! Andiam ! " 
 
 "Andlam," sighed a far-away voice lower 
 down the canal, and then on different notes 
 echoed the wild jubilant refrain ; It was here, 
 there, and everywhere, sobbing, murmuring, 
 triumphing out into the night ; like a will- 
 o'-the-wisp it seemed to impel the listener 
 to set off ardentl)', he knew not whither.
 
 292 BERTHA'S EARL, 
 
 Suddenly, there was silence ; a thrill of 
 motion made the crowded gondolas shiver. 
 A few had begun to move away with a 
 slight — • a very slight — plashing of oars. 
 The charm was broken ; people whispered 
 and talked ; the gondoliers swore softly ; 
 some good-humoured strangers laughed. 
 
 **0h, it is grand, very grand!" cried 
 Bertha, with a deep-drawn sigh. She longed 
 to weep, she knew not wherefore. Turning 
 to her husband, she repeated excitedly : 
 
 ''Isn't it fine, John ?" 
 
 ''Yes, it is very beautiful," answered the 
 earl quietly. He put out his arm and placed 
 it round Bertha's waist, and, drawing her 
 towards him, he kissed her softly on the 
 forehead. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, 
 
 LONDON AND BfXCLES. /. D. ir' C