^b-- ».rt'r: m ,.%j^:s n LADY VALEEIA, |l ^ovcl. BY A. MOBERLY. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON, ^ttblishcrs in ©rbinurs to ^cr ^ajfst^ the (^nnn. 1886. [All Rights Reserved.] Digitized by the Internet Arcinive in 2009 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/ladyvalerianovel01mobe i? i nii:i^ ! 1 1 ^ ^^ 1 s ^gf^b 1 P ^^jK^Tx^Vw s m ttw4t^y)L CONTENTS OF VOL. I, CHAPTER PAGE 1. A BIRD OF ILL OMEN - - - 1 II. HOW EDRIC'S FORTUNE WAS TOLD IN KEN- SINGTON GARDENS - - - 23 III. WHAT EDRIC FOUND IN THE CITY - - 41 IV. TEN GOLDEN MINUTES - - - 60 V. wizard's gold - - - - 81 VL ST. FRIDOLIN THE HERMIT (RETROSPECTIVE) 102 VII. A BLACK SEVEN (RETROSPECTIVE) - - 116 VIIL TOLD IN THE VESTRY (RETROSPECTIVE) - 133 IX. UNDER THE STARS - - - - 162 X. "THE FAIR queen" - - - 185 XL THE GIFT OF THE RED FLOWER - - 208 CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XII. THE tiger's claw - - - - 223 XIII. A CRY IN THE DARKNESS - - - 245 XIV. MRS. MARGETTS BRINGS HER MONEY's WORTH 263 XV. WATCHING FOR LADY VALERIA - - 283 XVI. A COUNTERFEIT PRESENTMENT - - 307 LADY VALERIA, CHAPTER I. A BIKD OF ILL OMEN. HE month was May, the day Whit- Monday, and the hour by St. Olave's clock half-past two, when the mid- day express from Dover steamed slowly into London Bridge Station, between the densely crowded platforms. " We shall not be more than half-an-hour late at Charing,'^ observed a passenger in one of the first-class compartments, with an air of cheerful surprise. " Not bad that for a Bank Holiday.'^ ''Bank Holiday?" echoed his fellow- VOL. I. 1 LADY VALERIA. raveller ; ''why, so it is! Whit-Monday, of course." If he had had any doubts of the fact, the many- coloured posters that met his gaze as he turned impatiently to the window might have convinced him. He got up and looked out, up and down the platform, at them and at the crowd that surged once or twice up to the carriage he was in, but passed on, being mostly composed of second and third class travellers. He drew back again, seeing a woman, as he thought, about to enter; and dropped into his seat with a look of intense annoyance, which melted into a slightly puzzled expression. He was puzzled, in fact, at his own annoy- ance. He had made sure that one ]\Ionday was as good as another for liis errand in town, and now in some remote corner of his brain there upstarted a suggestion that the date was against him somehow, and for all he should get by coming he might as well have stayed at Shomcliffe. An exasperating, undefined A BIRD OF ILL OMEN, little suggestion, that refused to let him catch it and examine it closely. " I declare I had forgotten all about it," he answered the old gentleman who had addressed him, and who was looking at him with some interest. He was a pleasant young fellow to look at. Tall and well set-up, with honest blue eyes : young eyes, that looked straight at you, and didn't care how much you read in them ; a sunburnt, fair face, and curly, light moustache; manifestly military, apart from the evidence of the hat-case in the rack above him, lettered " E. Poynter, Esq., the Eoyal Denbigh Eegt." His companion looked as unmistakably civilian ; stout, and bald, and grey ; clad in garments of a City cat, with the Money Market Beview sticking out of his pocket, and the City Press between his knees. He eyed the young fellow amicably for a moment longer before speaking. ''Ah, I expect you army men are too well accustomed to holidays to make much account 1—2 LADY VALERIA. of an extra one or two. Six weeks' leave once a month, eh ?" Poynter hiughed good-humouredly. "I suppose that is the British taxpayers^ view of us. I can only say for myself that I work hard enough for every day's leave I get. Why, I've been trying to get off by this very train every Monday for the last two month s^ and never succeeded till to-day.'' He made an impatient movement as again the aggravating little imp of a doubt frolicked across his brain and was gone before it could be identified. " Ay, ay ! Well now, wdiat have you been doing that you couldn't get away before ?"^ asked the old gentleman, facing him squarely, with a look of genuine interest. " Mustering and marching, pipe-claying and starching, eh ?" " Something of the kind," Poynter admitted, " or w^orse — musketry. I'm an Instructor, you see." He spoke in the year of grace '82. " Any other fellow might have managed it easily. The first Monday after she asked me A BIRD OF ILL OMEN. — I mean, you know, after I came back from leave at Easter," and he coloured up to his hat-brim — '^ it was pouring : sleet, hail, cats and dogs ; and it would have looked odd — I mean, it would have been no good coming up to town then. Though it turned out a glorious evening," he ended injuredly, to him- self. "That's only one Monday. "What about the other five ?" "Next Monday the Duke came down. Xext, I got the men paraded early, and just as we reached the ranges up came a sea-fog like a blanket, keeping us dodging about for half-an-hour waiting to see if it would blow ofi^; and when it did the targets were wet, and — well, I lost that morning. Then, a court-martial — they had no business to put me on — but they did. Last Monday a shower in the middle of the shooting. There it is, you see." And he ended the bead-roll of his aggravations with an exasperated sigh. " And no other train would suit?" LADY VALERIA. " Not one. N'ot for me to get to South Kensington soon after four.'^ The old gentleman had been fumbling in his pocket-book for the last few minutes. He here extracted a card, and handed it to him, saying : " Next holiday you get I hope you will find time to come and see me, as you will most likely be in the neighbourhood." Poynter read, " General Sir John Archdale, K.C.M.G.," and coloured again under his sunburn. " Too bad of you to draw me out about your own shop, Sir John. I'm " searching for his card- case. " Poynter, of my old regiment. I read it up there," interrupted Sir John, pointing with a Gampish umbrella to the hat-case ; " and, if I am not very much mistaken, son of Welbore Poynter, that I knew in 'b2 in the Black Sea?" " That's my uncle. His son is in the Pifle Brigade : Edric Poynter, same name as mine." A BIRD OF ILL OMEN. " Confounded nuisance that sometimes. I used to find it so, I know. Will you dine with us to-day? Lady Archdale will excuse your dress." " Thanks. I hardly know — I may be kept late — at a friend's," Edric hesitated. "Next time, then," said the shabby old General, whose eyes had twinkled amusedly once or twice; and collecting his papers he got out at Cannon Street, leaving Edric alone with his meditations. "Bank Holiday! What was it she said about Bank Holiday? The idea of my for- getting a single word of hers! She said nothing when she gave me her card, I know ; except, ' Then I shall expect to see you.' " " Six Mondays ago!" he went on. " What must she think of me? Nothing at all, most likely. Why should she? I've let all this time go without ever reminding her of my existence. I dare say she has forgotten all about me. I wish I had written, but I don't see quite what I could have said. LADY VALERIA. "She did mean that she really hoped to see me. That's what everybody says, though. A social fib, like ' Not at Home.' No ! It isn't in her to look at one with those clear eyes of hers and smile — as she did — if it w^ere only a way of dismissing me civilly when she had done with me.' Here the poor youth, who, it may be ob- served, w\is in a very bad way, took to gazing for comfort and reassurance on a bit of liuip pasteboard. " Mrs. Noel Damien, 25, St. Maur Road, South Kensington," it bore, with " At Home every Monday, 4 to 6," scrawled beneath in faint, rather sea-sick characters. It had lived in some inner recess of his waistcoat ever since Mrs. Damien put it into his hand on the Folkestone steamer as their memorable journey together drew to its close. He had run over to Paris on a few days' leave at Easter, as dozens of other young fellows had done before. He had met with the most everyday party of travelling companions on his homeward way ; an invalid lady with a A BIRD OF ILL OMEN, friend, a maid, an unconscionable amount of luggage, and a Maltese dog. He had only done as anybody else might have done in coming forward to ah' his chivalry and his French when the maid, the invalid, the luggage, and the Maltese all fell into distinct and separate difficulties on the w^ay. He had plunged in fact into a perfect sea of common- place, and brought out a pearl — a priceless gem. He had obeyed the summons of an imperious, iidgety, ungrateful old woman, and lo, his reward in the smiles of a goddess ! A nineteenth-century goddess, with her divinity shining from under a costly fur cloak and be-plumed hat, w^ho had thanked him for his aid with such eyes and voice as had never before greeted mortal senses ; had smitten him speechless and stupid with the beatitude of her presence all the way to Boulogne, and carried oif half his life with her when she bade him adieu at Folkestone pier ; leaving him to watch the retreating train with an utterly new and forlorn sense of loss and deprivation, only lo LADY VALERIA. endurable by the thoughts of the next blissful Monday. Next Monday ; and that was two months ago. Charing Cross at last. He secured the talismanic card with very different treatment from that accorded to Sir John Archdale's, and jumped out on to the platform into a good-tempered hustling mob of holiday- makers. He hurried off to the cloak-room with his hat-box and overcoat, and back again in time to secure the last hansom on the rank. A woman who had been following him hurried forward and intercepted him. "I hailed you first!" she addressed the cabman indignantly. "You must take me, not him." " Come now! I never saw you. Move off, and let the gentleman get in." She turned sharply round on Edric. " I beg of you, sir, to give up to me. It is an errand of life or death. I pray you to help me!" A BIRD OF ILL OMEN. She clasped her hands beseechingly with a sudden un-Enghsh gesture that made Edric look at her curiously, despite his vexation at the hindrance. His first glance showed a plainly dressed, dark woman, neither old nor young ; one of the dozens who pass by in the streets every day ; dressed in a long cloak with a red lining and a plain straw bonnet with an eager face beneath it. His second glance took in the marked points of the face, the waxy -pale hue with the dusky bloom on the cheeks, the rippling blue-black hair, and the long, half- closed eyes of that blank blackness that repels inquiry like a shuttered window. Her hands were short and plump ; not working-woman's hands ; the fingers sharply pointed at their dusky tips ; the skin velvety. "Life or death!" she rejDeated, clasping them again, and reading his face with that intent expressionless gaze of hers. Her voice only was urgent and distressful. "But I have a pressing engagement too, LADY VALERIA.. my good woman. Xot exactly life or death, but important in its way," Edric expostulated. Cabby disposed of the case promptly. " Hi! Four-wheeler! There you are, Missis. Now, sir, if you please. ' 25, St. Maur Road?' Is that near the Cromwell Eoad, sir ? all right!" and they were off and bowling west- wards before the stranue woman had stirred from her post on the platform. Edric felt her eyes on him to the last, with a queer fancy that it would have been well for him to have seen her depart first. The meet- ing left on him much the same sensation as that with which, in a lower walk of life, he would have been brought up to regard the croak of a raven, the flight of a lone magpie, or the crossing of his path by a black cat. Of course he might have averted the omen by crossing himself, throwing his left thumb over his right shoulder, or making two little horns with his fore and little fingers, Neapolitan fashion, if he had kno^m how, but he didn't. So merely including the incident in the A BIRD OF ILL OMEN. general contrariness of things that clay, he went on his way with the evil omen — if omen it were — unaverted. It seemed a long half-hour to St. Maur Road, lengthened by a mistake of the driver, whom in his impatience Edric paid and dis- missed, and then wasted another quarter try- ing to find his way on foot to the house. He felt as if he ouo^ht to have made straio;ht for it by instinct, instead of blandering across to the wrono; side of the street as he did. Ee- crossing, he studied the aspect of Xo. 25 anxiously. He fancied he could recognise the tokens of Mrs. Damien's presence everywhere ; in the rich gold and bronze and cream tints of lace and brocade seen through the half-open window ; in the gay display of flowers ; surest of all in the great silver bowl heaped high with roses that seemed to smile a welcome to him. The roses — ah ! the roses ! Had he not safely cherished amongst his most precious possessions one of their fellows, which she 14 LADY VALERIA. had herself bestowed on him ; and had he not enriched the Folkestone florist by a reckless daily expenditure on rosebud buttonholes every day of his life since? — the cognizance of his fair Queen Eose. Still his heart seemed to sink as he noted a sort of neglected, abandoned air about the place. His knock was unregarded, and fell holloAV as on an empty house. A forbidding- looking, elderly female, watering some plants in the area, looked up at him with some as- tonishment as the bell sounded ; and a younger and more attractive one, who had been louno:ino; in the window beside the roses, disappeared ; and after an interval reappeared in answer to his summons, breathlessly adjust- ing her cap. " Not at home. Missis is down in the country," she announced before he had time to make the enquiry, smiling and shaking her head. "It's Bank 'Oliday," she added by way of explanation. If the proper official had been there to A BIRD OF ILL OMEN. 15 receive his card with the regulation neutral aspect and formula, there the matter would have ended and the street door shut ; but this girl was so evidently a deputy and new to the work, that Edric ventured to relieve his feel- ings by fruitless expostulation. " I thought Mrs. Damien was always . at home on Mondays." " Never as I'm aware, sh\ "We're all out to-day. The upper housemaid and Mr. Jenifer and Miss Cadogan's maid — only me and cook left to keep house; and we aren't on terms and don't speak.'' And the young woman bestowed a coquettish fflance on Edric with such evident delio'ht in the occasion of employing her conversational powers that he had no scruple in enquiring : " AVhen do you expect Mrs. Damien back ? To-day r "I beg your pardon — Mrs. lolio did you say, SU-?" " Your mistress— Mrs. Damien." The girl's eyes opened then- widest. "Never LADY VALERIA. heard of any such person here, sir. This is Miss Cadogan's house, and has been as long as I've been in her service — though we spend most of our time at our pLice in the country." " But surely," and Edric searched for the card and looked at it in bewilderment, " this is 25, St. Maur Eoad ? Is there another St. Maur Road, or another 25 in this one ?" The girl shook her head. " Did any lady of the name of Damien ever live here, or near here? Is it any use en- quiring at any of the other houses ?" " I don't think so, sir. But I can't say for certain. I only came up from the country last week myself. This has been Miss Cadoofan's town address for the last two vears, I know. Cook has been here before, but you'll excuse me from asking her anything, she being every bit as much of a newcomer as myself." This last in a raised voice, evi- dently intended for the area. Edric looked at the card again, and at the house, and at the girl. She, interested and A BIRD OF ILL OMEN. 17 sympathetic, raised herself on tip-toe to make out the address for herself over his shoulder. " It's odd, sir, isn't it, to be looking at one's own house on another person's card ? There's been some mistake in the printing, / should say. You might ask at the shops — if you can find any open; or a policeman, or the post-office." He thanked her, and to her manifest regret departed, leaving her in the chartered freedom of " Bank 'Oliday/' standing on the doorstep, gazing down the street, her arms rolled in her apron. The shops, as she suggested, were closed, but he found a post-office that was also a chemist's open, and a civil and unoccupied 23toprietor ready to assist him. Pie had won- dered, at first impatiently, how the mistake could possibly have arisen ; but when all the assistance that could be rendered by the civil chemist and the post-office directory ^^I'oved of no avail; when no other possible ^'No. 25, St. Maur" anything could be found in the VOL. I. 2 i8 LADY VALERIA. district, and no Mrs. N"oel Damien anywliere, his wonderment grevr to blank despair. A private ^N'ovember fog of Lis own seemed to close around liim, putting out the sunshine and making earth hideous. He ran over the circumstances in his mind as he sat turninof the leaves of the overgrown red volume in fruitless search, from " Court " to " Streets " and from " D's " to possible " Xoels " in fruit- less search. " I can't set the police after her. I can't start on a house-to-house visitation all round South Kensington," he growled, in risinof wrath. " I'll do one or the other before I'll o:ive in, thouo^h." The situation felt so impossible — so absurd — as he was dimly con- scious in the midst of his exasperation. If she had seemed for a moment to belong .to the class to whom a fancy name or address may now and then be a temporary necessity — the thought was profanation ! Even if he could have entertained it for a moment, was there not her travelling companion and relative, a Countess — most unmistakably a A BIRD OF ILL OMEN. 19 Countess — and mother of an Earl, well known to Edric and everybody else, by reputation at least. The Countess of Monchalsea. A disagree- able, viperous-tongued, thankless old woman, who had ordered him up to her aid as if he had been a courier, and would have dismissed him as coolly when she no longer needed him, if Mrs. Damien would have permitted it. An old lady on whose help he felt he could not count for a minute, but who rose in his recol- lection as an angel of light at this juncture. Back to the directory with feverish haste : M — Mar — Mon — Monchalsea. Only the Earl's residence was to be found, and that, as the postmaster happened to know, was let for the season to the Siamese Embassy. Augusta Charlotte, dowager Countess of Monchalsea, evidently possessed no town house of her own. There the trail ended for the present. Edric made some random purchases from the stock of the obliging official, and stepped 2—2 LADY VALERIA. forth into the street slowly and heavily. What had happened? What had bewitched her, thus suddenly, out of his reach ? Some unforeseen change of plans ? Had she re- turned to America ? He knew how little Americans make of the crossing of the ferry, and some sudden call or some sudden distaste for England might have sent her back to her mother's people. Or she might not have gone even so far. There were plenty of places which she might fancy to visit in England — What did that old woman say about Mon- chalsea ? Monchalsea ! The word made him start and stop. Her son's place in Lincolnshire, she called it. Of course, he saw it all now ! Match-making, manoeuvring old harpy. He had detested that old woman from the first, and now he knew why. She was already assuming the airs of a mother-in-law, he seemed to remember, and Mrs. Damien laughed and tolerated her. He had actually let her be carried off before his eyes ; why A BIRD OF ILL OMEN. 21 hadn't lie stuck to the party, followed her, besieged her, msisted on telling her all that he — that everybody knew about Lord Mon- chalsea ? Or no, he didn't fancy himself doing that \ nor could he exactly, on so short an acquaintance, call attention to the superior quality of the devotion he was prepared to offer. But there ! never mind what he ought to have done ; the fact remained that he had done nothing, and he stopped with a short angry laugh, and then strode on faster than ever, as if to out-walk his vexation. His luck ! his detestable luck ! If he could but have cursed himself for any neglect of a chance or want of energy in seizing it, it would have been a relief, but that was denied him. It had been fate ; blind impassive fate ; hopeless to assail or circumvent, that had stood between him and his chnnce of happi- ness, and he ground his teeth at the sense of his impotence. He brought himself to a stop at last ; he LADY VALERIA. had got somehow to Kensmgton Gardens in his aimless course ; holiday-makers were there as everywhere, and many turned to look curiously after the tall young gentleman, striding along so furiously and scowling so blackly, and he brought himself to with a laugh, as he recognised his own melodramatic aspect. Mrs. Damien's card was still in his hand, and with a burst of somewhat childish 23etulance he tore it across and flung it away, and then wished he could, with any dignity, turn and stop to collect the scattered pieces. As it was, he made for the long, shad}^, horse- chestnut avenue, and walked slowly on, seek- ing for a vacant seat where he could rest, and consider quietly whether there was anything left for him to do but to go back to Camp by the next train. CHAPTER II. HOW EDPtIC S FORTUNE WAS TOLD IN KENSINGTON GARDENS. •^DRIC found himself, on reflection, in the position described in the lano:uao'e of the mills as "at a loose end." He had no friends in town just then : the remnant of the afternoon left him was too scanty to expend in going farther afield. The observances of the day were against his seekino; even the last two resources of the un- occupied — getting his hair cut or interviewing liis tailor. He remembered Sir John Archdale's invitation. Affectionate traditions of the good old colonel's deeds and oddities still lingered 24 LADY VALERIA. in the Koyal Denbigh, and, even in Edric's mood of direst chagrin, he felt that life had room for one vexation the more when he found that card and address had gone fi^om him for ever. He searched card-case and pockets in vain ; unconscious that while he was doing so a dark figure slowly passed between him and the sunshine, and paused. It had been but a faint wavering shaft of light that had flickered down on him from between the green boughs above, but the loss of it seemed to send a strange thrill through him, and he shivered involuntarily in the shadow. " Someone walking over my grave," he thought, jesting with himself, '* or kissing my sweetheart," and the north-country version sent a second shiver through him. Then replacing in his pocket-book the cards and letters he had been fruitlessly turning over, he for the first time raised his eyes, as the edge of a red-lined cloak swept across the field of his down -bent vision. Standing face HOW EDRIC'S FORTUNE WAS TOLD. 25 to flice with him was the woman he had j^arted from an hour before at Charing Cross. He was a kindly, courteous young fellow in the main, but just then he regarded this bird of ill-omen with sentiments much akin to those of Nebuchadnezzar when he ordered his Chal- deans to be cut in pieces as a last satisfaction. She kept her pleading gaze fixed on him, despite his stare of wrathful astonishment, and approached him humbly, extending her hands with a deprecating gesture. " I ask your pardon, sir," she began, with a gentle, insinuating intonation that gave to the last curt monosyllable the deferential grace that an Oriental can throw into " Sahib " or an Italian into " Eccellenza." " I am truly ashamed that I came to annoy you. I was then so miserable that I did not think what I was doing. Will you not pardon me?" Edric uttered a gruff " Oh, it's all right. It didn't matter;" looking away from her as he spoke. She dropped her hands submissively and 26 LADY VALERIA. stood silent ; so still and silent that lie could not refrain from looking again. " Thank 3'ou!" she said, softly, bovring her head and turning to go. Edric felt himself to be a brute. " I hope you got on all right with your errand," he constrained himself to say, not too graciously. She turned back with a look of surprise at his condescension. " How good of you to ask ! Yes, I did mv work in time. But I am very, very weary," and she sank on the far end of the bench. Edric replaced liis card- case, and rose with a cool nod and " Good-day," but as lie did so she sprang up too, looking abashed. "Ah! What was I doing? I should have known you would not like it. I am going away — quite away, instantly." " Xo, no ! Don't bother," Edric answered her, impatiently. " Why should you go, or I object? I'm going away myself, don't you see? Going home as fast as I can.'* '' Yes, going back as you came. The pity of HOW EDRICS FORTUNE WAS TOLD. 27 it!" Edric heard her murmur, in a clear, low tone, intended for him if addressed to herself, with, he indignantly imagined, a sting of mockery in it. He looked at her sharply. Her hands had dropped on her lap, her eyelids were still humbly lowered, but the corners of her lips were quivering with some unspoken gibe. At another moment he might have seen that it was his best and most dignified course to pass on unheeding, but he was exasperated out of all reasonableness jast then — consumed with a wild impatience to " take it out of" some- body. ''What have you to do with my affairs?" he demanded, roughly. *' I suppose you have been followins; me?" She remained exasperatingly silent, her head drooping lower ; but her eyes and lips flashed one derisive smile at him and were instantly composed into submissive gravity. '' What do you mean by it? What do you expect to get by it ?" he asked, though con- 28 LADY VALERIA. scious that lie was making a false move in doing so. "IN'othing," she replied, while again that curious, secret smile played over her lips ; " if you intend to go away at once without listening to me." " Why should I listen to you ?" was the not unnatural question. " Because it's worth your while," she an- swered him, promptly. " Because I can serve you as no one else in the world can. Be- cause — " and she drew in her lips and gave an odd, meaning, backward shake of her forefinger before her face as she spoke — " it is decreed that you shall hear me. Your star is my star. Your fortune is my fortune. They are linked together, try to part them as you may. What ! you are angry and unbelieving ? You will go your own way and take nothing at my hands — neither good nor evil ? Go, then. Defy, if you will, the power that has brought us face to face here — and bide the end." HOW EDRIC'S FORTUNE WAS TOLD. 29 Her dark glance was levelled fall at Edric's jDerturbed face now. Her extended forefinger pointed to his breast as if it were a magnet ; her voice was low, solemn and passionless. " Mad," thought Edric, a little nervously, impressed in spite of himself. "It's a swindle of some sort," was his next conclusion. " Per- haps she's a fortune-teller or a spirit-medium," was his final reflection, combining the two foregoing ones. " Thank you, I think I will take my chance," he said, with somewhat forced lightness. " If it's all settled before- hand, I don't see what good I can do you, or you me." " Go !" repeated the woman in the same deep, calm voice, that sounded, nevertheless, charged with warning or menace. " Go ; pass on with a jest. Pass on to a life of bitter fruitless grieving for the fortunate moment that has passed you by for ever. Farewell !" Her hand dropped suddenly, she shrouded herself in her mantle, and bent her dark eyes gloomily on the ground. LADY VALERIA. He lingered irresolute. " You profess to know a good deal about me. Are you a professional prophetess?" ^' I don't advertise and offer to tell your character and the colour of your future wife's hair and eyes in return for two shillings' worth of stamps, initials sixpence extra, if that is what you miderstand by a profes- sional," she answered, with a sudden change of tone to good-humoured contempt. " I have done a little business in my time with the magic crystal and the divining rod, but that was in my good days in Paris, at fifty francs the consultation. It was only by way of experiment ; and when I found the truth wasn't considered sufficient value for the money, I gave up — being honest," and she laughed frankly at Edric's puzzled face. " Fifty francs ! that sounds a good deal. Do you really think you could tell me, for instance, anything that it would be worth two sovereigns for me to know?" " You know that best yourself," she an- HOW EDRIC'S FORTUNE WAS TOLD. 31 swered, rela23sing into her first tone of grave earnestness. "I have offered you my help freely without bargain, and it must be accepted as freely. I have never tried to read your past, nor your future fate, except as it is written on your brow, and as your life-path is crossed by mine." Edric frowned, punched holes in the gravel Avith his stick, looked up, looked down, and gave his moustache a savage screw ; all of which the woman noted from her corner into which she had withdrawn again, like a know- ing old spider, who sees the fly is saving her the trouble of entangling it in the web, and can afford to wait and watch the event with grim neutrality. " I don't understand what you want me to do," he said at last, weakly parleying. " Just to listen to you, you said. Well, I have been listening to you. Have you anything more to say to me ? or what else do you want ?" *' Belief" And again the dark eyes flashed up into his. " Oh, I know it is a great thing 32 LADY VALERIA. I am asking, and you are a cautious people. You do right to question and mistrust. How can I, a poor stranger crossing your path afc what you call hazard, hope to prove to you all you have to gain from me, and all I have to gain from you, too ?" " Ah, that's the point," said Edric, unac- countably relieved by the lower level on which the last few ^vords placed the case. It is not in human nature to distrust the frank avowal of a low motive. Benevolence, Self-sacrifice, Sense of Duty must all produce their credentials before they can be accepted as 2)0ssible sources of action : but Self-interest, Hatred, Greed have only to give their names boldly to be welcomed without further ques- tion. So slie was the person to be ultimately benefited ! Edric laughed to himself, reassured and good-humouredly contemptuous, and re- sumed his seat, feeling that now he had some- thing tangible to go upon. " That's the point. You offer me your help, and expect mine in return. Xow that's HOW EDI^IC'S FORTUNE WAS TOLD. 33 a rather vague arrangement. You must first convince me that your help is worth something to me, and then make it pL^in what you want as its price." She looked even colder and more impassive as she listened, though a gleam of satisfaction shone in her veiled eyes, and a suppressed sigh of relief, as if some dangerous crisis was safely passed, struggled through her closed lips. "You shall yourself fi^ the worth of my knowledge, when you have made your profit of it. I drive no bargain. Believe in me ; that is all I ask. Give me your hand," she commanded abruptly, and he extended it obe- diently. " Look at the lines here. See how the main lines run, and how the lesser ones meet and cross and interlace. Now look at mine. The same pattern, is it not ? Just so far as the line of life. No, you need not look there," for Edric had outspread his right palm, and was endeavouring to compare it with the other. " That is changed and refashioned every day by your work, by your will, of VOL. I. 3 34 LADY VALERIA. whicli it is but the agent. The left hand alone carries your life's secrets. It is a good hand," she mused, " and a fortunate. I read happy chances, honours and rewards, and prosperous love ; but there are dangers " " I've heard all that before from a gipsy," interrupted Edric, who was fast regaining his usual composure. " I'd forgotten it, though. I'm to live till eighty, and die a general." " And she told you to watch for the coming of a dark woman, and that your luck was to come with the number Twenty-nine — if she Avas w^orth her money," concluded the strange woman, calmly. " By Jove ! She did. jSTo ; you're out in one thing," triumphantly. " She never said Twenty-nine at all. I remember that dis- tinctly. She said Five." '^ Because she only knew the month, and not the day. She was right so far, you see. Edric sat in disconcerted silence. There was no disputing the calendar. It was the HOW EDRIC'S FORTUNE WAS TOLD. 35 very day once commanded by Act of Parlia- ment to be kept " boly for ever," in comme- moration of " the unspeakable mercies " vouch- safed to this kingdom by the restoration of his then " most Gracious Majesty," as Edric's mother's old prayer-book put it. The 29th of May, beyond all question. ''It is but a poor and uncertain message that Fate marks for our reading here," she ■went on, dropping her hands in her lap. ^' The best that men had before my ancestors taught them the reading of the great signs above. You cannot ask me to make that secret plain to you in a few minutes, nor yet in a day, a year, a lifetime, unless you are born with the gift. You must trust me when I tell you that for to-day your star is as my star ; 3^00 r way as my way ; your thoughts as my thoughts. We may in our wilfulness and ignorance cross the great leading of the stars, but then follow gloom, disaster, annihilation. A shattered life, or a sudden death." If she were speaking in all sincerity, why so 3—2 LADY VALERIA. much the worse. He wasn't ofoino; to be con- vinced just yet, though. "That's strong," he observed. " * My thoughts as your thoughts ?' Suppose you begin by proving that." "Why, it is the commonest of gipsy tricks," she said, scornfully; "but if it is needful for your satisfaction you shall see it. You must cross mv hand with silver, thouo'h. The smallest coin will do. Close your fingers ou it. The left hand. So. Now I close mine on it, and speak your thoughts aloud." He felt the fingers that closed on his thrill and quiver in sympathy with his quivering pulses. His thoughts seemed to come with a maddening, confused rush, while her eyes seemed to grow blanker as they rested on his face. Her lips parted suddenly, and her white teeth showed once in a flash of mirth for a second before she spoke again, quite gravely and respectfully. " What sliall you think of to drive her from your mind ? Her whom it would be profana- HOW EDRIC'S FORTUNE WAS TOLD. 37 tion to have named by me. And yet — and yet — if my promises were worth anything ; if Faith, which we are told can work miracles, can remove mountains, and recall the last year's snow, could but for one brief minute bring back to you one of life's sweetest by- gone Roses " He sprang from his seat in hot indignation, not unmixed with alarm. Had the witch really been reading his thoughts, or making him think her own ? In either case he had carried the joke far enough. He dropped the half-crown he held as if it were red-hot, and looked at her wrathfully, seeking for words in which to bid her begone from his j^resence for ever. She rose too, and regarded him with a gentle, uncomprehending look. ^' Was I right ? What did I say ? I lose my hold of your mind when we part so. What is this for? And she touched the money mth her foot. " You do wrong to throw it away. There are many Avho would thank you for it." 38 LADY VALERIA. " Give it to them, then, and- " And go !" was what he would have said, but she had stooped obediently and picked up the coin and was rapidly crossing the path to a little group of holiday-makers who were passing slowly. A man and his wife, in decent Sunday clothing, looking pleased and important, discoursing volubly both at once to a youns: over-ofrown £n.v\ who trudo^ed wearily along, dragging by the hand a smaller child, fat, stumbling, and with a face of invincible misery. " Come along, dearie !" the woman was saying. ^' Ah, Avait till she sees the Albert 'All !" The fortune-teller stopped her. " Those children are tired out." " Yes, miss," the woman answered civilly. " It's a pity, but you see they must go back to the country to-night, and London takes a deal of seeing, it do. Her uncle, here, have carried the little one most of the day. AVe've got the 'Ouses of Parliament and the Waxworks yet." HOW EDRIC'S FORTUNE WAS TOLD. 39 The fortune-teller stooped smiling to the child. '^ Tell auntie to take an omnibus everywhere," she said, pressing Edric s half- crown into the little hot fingers. '' Please let me give it her," and she turned away before they had thanked her. The outpouring of Edric's first savage wrath had been checked, as she doubtless calculated, by this little scene. He bit his lip, thankful that his first ill-considered words remained unspoken, but more and more per- plexed in mind how to bring the interview to a becoming end. It seemed simple enough just to say '' Good-afternoon" and turn on his heel, but this he felt had become an impossi- bility. He and this woman, whoever she might be, seemed to have got outside the safe shelter of conventional intercourse. He must either satisfy her claims or prove her an im- postor, as he had some lingering hope still to do. Before he had time to fairly collect his thoughts she was back in a few swift steps, facing him boldly. 40 LADY VALERIA. '' You have had your proof. Do you want more that your way lies Avith mine? Are you still afraid? What do you think I can do to you? You are young and strong, and able to defend yourself if need be. You can leave me at any moment you choose. I ask no pro- mise in return. I drive no bargain. I trust to your honour to reward or not as you shall see fit. I only say Come!" Her head w^as thrown back, her narrowed eyes were glittering, and her w^hole figure seemed to quiver with intensity of purpose as she waited his reply. It came at last, dragged from his lips reluctantly as it were : " Whether I believe in you or not, I will come." CHAPTER III. WHAT EDRIC FOUND IN THE CITY. DRIC followed his strange companion in silence across the gardens as far as the Knightsbridge Road. " We are late !" she exclaimed suddenly. " We have lost time; we must drive." He assented, and stopped a passing hansom. " Where to?" he asked, handing her in. She thought for a moment. " First to St. Paul's. As fast as he can go." *' Why to St. Paul's ?" was his natural enquiry when they had started, but he got no answer. He tried in vain to frame some light desultory remarks that should break the odd 42 LADY VALERIA. embarrassment of the position. She sat in silence, leaving him to his own reflections, which every instant became graver. Under his companion's impassiveness he fancied he discovered a strange agitation. Her dusky cheeks and lips had changed colour. Her black eyes w^ere never at rest for a second. They sought and studied his face furtively, glanced anxiously at the sun, still high above the house-tops, then at the streets they were passing through. Once her lips moved slightly, and but for the incongruity of the supposition he could have fancied she was silently praying. The infection of her disquiet seized him at last, and his misgivings grew stronger and darker; especially when, as they approached St. Paul's, she suddenly leaned out of the cab and gave some direction that he could not catch to the driver. He asked himself over and over again w^hat had possessed him to pay any attention to her for a minute, and laughed uneasily as he recognised the ugly resem- WHAT EDRIC FOUND IN THE CITY. 43 blance of the whole proceeclmg to a " con- fidence trick" played on some country bumpkin, resulting in a paragraph in the police reports to-morrow, with some cutting- remarks from the sitting magistrate on the extreme folly and credulity of the prosecutor. Still, he had a not unwarranted confidence in his ability to take care of himself, and that and ver}^ shame kept him from stopping the cab and leaving it there and then. He was in a region entirely strange to him. The streets he did know had looked curiously unfamiliar without the usual stream of traffic, and with closed shutters or iron bars before the shop-fronts ; but now he had lost his bearings entirely. They were traversing a labyrinth of huge buildings shut up and de- serted, with the same Sabbath stillness per- vading them all. They stopped at last, and his conductress dismissed the cab, with a suspiciously liberal payment, Edric fancied ; and then led the way up a crooked little alley, that ran between 44 LADY VALERIA. two towerin}, tain. I couldn't be sure whether you ever really intended to come and see me. Let me tell you how it happened," she continued, setting aside negligently his outburst of vehe- ment protest. "The simplest thing in the world. M}^ whimsical friend. Miss Cadogan, whom I met abroad, begged me to take her town house off her hands when I came to settle in London. I was delighted to do so. I had tried joint housekeephig with my cousin, Lady Monchalsea, and found it not a success." Edric nodded and laughed in comprehension. '• I established myself in St. Maur Road in March, and received notice to quit in May, as Miss Cadogan had suddenly resolved on coming up to town for the season. So I had to seek shelter elsewhere, close by, not a hundred yards away. How easy it is to be lost in London! Why, we might never have met again but for the chance that brought us together here 1" He shuddered slightly and hurried away from the subject. 64 LADY VALERIA. " You haven't told me what brought you here yet, Mrs. Damien, nor what St. Fridolin is to you, or you to St. Fridolin, that you come to have more authority over the church beli than the Vicar ; nor who are all these devoted followers of yours." " Friends of mine, that is all. Better friends to me than if I had ever done any real good to one of them. I came here in search of amusement, occupation, just to see if I could not make my life of some worth in my generation. I thought that Mr. Stannard needed help, even the little I could give." Her voice dropped tremulously with a sug- gestion of disappointment. " You know Mr. Stannard, of course — the Mr. Stannard of St. Ermyntrude's ?" " Never heard of him," answered Edric, in an unenthusiastic, not to say disparaging, tone. She flashed a look of pitying astonishment on him. '' You can't be much in the way of church- TEN GOLDEN MINUTES, 65 going, then," was her comment. "Why, when I came over here, he was the most celebrated man in town — in the Chmxh, I mean," qualify- ing that somewhat sweeping assertion. "And he gave up everything — popularity, friends, the chance of advancement — all to come here. To the horridest, stupidest, everyday sort of drudgery ; wasting his talents on the odds and ends of a congregation which he can manage to collect." " I suppose he had his reasons," Edric observed sulkily, as she stopped short. Was this his fortunate chance? he demanded angrily, as he prodded viciously in the earth between two flagstones at his feet. To come here just to listen to the catalogue of Mr. Stannard's merits — and worse! For he had noticed the sudden delicate flush that rose to his com- panion's cheek, the dilation of her lovely eyes that seemed to deepen and soften as the sen- tence died unfinished on her lips ; and turning quickly round, following the direction of her look, fancied he caught sight of a dark figure VOL. I. 5 66 LADY VALERIA. disappearing round the church in the direction of the vestry door. He impatiently rammed a stray straw down the hole, digging it in and burying it deep as if it were the Yicar, while he waited her next words. "So as I said," she went on, with heightened colour and lips compressed as if with annoy- ance, turning her head sharply from the church as she spoke, " I came here to seek for work, and somehow I find that the best thing I can do for my fellow- creatures is to play. Humiliating, is it not? Did you ever hear of a woman's mission consisting of look- ing her pretties!:, dressing her finest, and talk- ing as amusingly as she knows how ? That's all I'm good for, I find." She spoke in a little tone of exasperation, that was evidently the outcome of some past vexation. "You heard the Vicar's little moral about garden roses and their place in creation. I believe he was doing his best to justify my existence " She stopped, as if afraid to trust her words. " I didn't hear him, and I shouldn't have TEN GOLDEN MINUTES, 67 listened if I had thought he meant anything so uncivil. A rose wants no justification — to any that have eyes to see." Queen Rose smiled on her champion. " But you haven't told me how you came here yet." " Well, you see I — I came up to call on the Archdales, you know," Edric went on rather desperately. "Sir John is our old colonel, and he asked me to call, and — it seems too absurd, but it's true — I'd gone and lost his address ; and so I " Another moment and Edric might have hazarded the wild statement that he had come to look for Sir John in the City, and so brought himself into everlasting confusion and disgrace, when the cherub aloft that keeps w^atch o'er the luck of impostors intervened on his behalf " The Archdales ? Why, they are friends of mine. Very great friends indeed." She laid her pretty finger-tips meditatively on her lip and looked at him consideringly. " Don't interrupt me. I'm thinking." 5—2 68 LADY VALERIA. Edric willingly obeyed, and a solemn silence ensued. ^' Can yon play the clarinet?" was the start- ling query that broke it. " The clarinet ? No. I wish I did. I believe I know one when I see it, but that's all." " The piano, violin, any instrument? Xo! Perhaps you sing ? Recite ? ^No !" half- impatiently at Edric's dolorous repeated ne- gatives. "I can't do anything," he dejectedly avowed, feeling ready to dash his head against the nearest tombstone with rage at his own inca- pacity, and envy of that young donkey, Doudney, the comic man of the regiment, on whose topical songs and banjo he had been wont to look with his^h disdain. Doudnev would have undertaken to get up anything she wanted, from the three-card trick to ground-and-lofty tumbling, at a day's notice. " I don't know that I'm good for anything — except dancing." TEX GOLDEN MINUTES. 69 '* Then you're the very person I want," was the prompt and unexpected rejoinder. " I was just thinkmg whether it was safe to ask you to dine with me on Monday next, the oth, to meet the Archdales. Don't laugh. It was a very serious question. I have a musical party in the evening, and have as many per- formers on my hands as I can manage. One more would be fatal. Unless by some happy chance you liad played the clarinet." She sighed resignedly. "Now you must go and set old Totter dale ringing again. It must be nearly service-time. You shall have your invitation in due form, if you care to come up from ShornclifFe for so little." Edric sped churchwards, treading on air. To see her again ! To be welcomed to her home ! To have caught as it were this golden ten minutes by the wings and held it in his hand, even though he must let it go again. He found the old bell-ringer perched on his stool, and set him a^-oino- with such good- will that it seemed to threaten to brini>' all 70 LADY VALERIA. the four little pine-apples, that adorned the heads of the pilasters at the corners of the tower, rattling down about his ears. '•' Xow we must come back to Aunt Mamie," said Mrs. Damien, who had risen and was slowly sauntering towards the red-brick build- ing, which Edric now discovered, from an inscription over the doorway, was the parish- room, "Builded" that year by "Eustace Stannard, Priest of the Parish of St. Fridolin the Hermit." " You mustn't begin by neg- lecting her. She is a very important person in my household. If she likes you, she'll call you * Mars' Poynter,' and brew you coffee or mint julep when you come to see me. If she doesn't, she'll speak of you as ' he ' or ' de soger gentleman,' and scold me every time I behave civilly to you." (" Every time you come to see me. Every time I behave civilly to you." The glorious possibilities set Edric's heart dancing and almost took away his powers of reply.) " I remember your speaking of her." (AVhat TEN GOLDEN MINUTES. 71 Avord of hers had he not remembered ?) " Your old nm'se." '' Yes, and my mother's. She came with her from Charlestown when she married my father. When I die, she'll go back to another branch of the Endicotts of South Carolina- Avhose mother she nursed — or says so. I don't know how old she is, and she doesn't. I only know -that she can do the work of three other women put together, if she may do it her own way, take her own time, and never be contradicted ; and would die for me as readily as tie my shoes." Edric looked as if he did not consider that last trait at all extraordinary, and they drifted on into pleasant reminiscences of their first meeting and their journey together ; while through the windows could be seen Aunt Mamie and the girls, working like elves, clear- . ing away all traces of their presence. Elsie still rested in her window- seat. Her eyes were fixed on a clear blue patch of sky above the Church Tower ; her lips moved silently 72 LADY VALERIA. HOW and then ; she seemed rapt in some ecstatic vision as she lay pressing, all un- consciously, the bare thorny rose- stem to her breast. At the sound of Mrs. Damien's voice she started, her cheeks flushed, and Edric fancied he saw a sudden look of repulsion cross her face. She rose directly and came to meet them as they entered, slowly and painfully, but with a pretty smile. "Is it too much for you, dear T' Mrs. Damien asked. "What, Church? Oh, never," was the surprised response. "It is the very crowji of this day's happiness. My great joy and rest." " You good little thing !" Mrs. Damien cried. " Come, let me help you." Elsie seemed to shrink away from the offered aid, and turning, clasped her hands round Aunt Mamie's stalwart arm, and so passing on, left the two together once more, for which Edric blessed her in his heart. TEX GOLDEN MINUTES. 73 •* Do you educate all your followers up to that frame of mind ?" he enquired, not jestingly but in curiosity. '• I don't attempt it," was the short reph'. " Birdie — as she is sometimes called — is a rare nature, a sweet devotional soul. She is self-educated, and a born lady. Her father is our Churchwarden and an aggrieved parish- ioner." They had nearly reached the church again. She stopped short and held her hand out. " I think I will say good-bye to you now. After service I have not a spare moment. I forget, though — how did you say you happened to find your way here ?" '• Oh, it's a long story," said Edric, with brazen self-possession. " I couldn't begin it now." He took her soft white fingers once more in his and held them as long as he dared. It Avas the last drop of his cup of delight, and must serve his thirsty soul for days. '' Good-bye, till Monday, the fifth I" was 74 LADY VALERIA. the only eloquence Love lent to Speech in his case, and with a last smile she vanished within the dusky porch. He had had some vague hope of sitting by her, of hearing her voice, of watching unre- proached her beautiful face in repose, but a stern verger made short work of his expecta- tions and disposed of him on the opposite side of the aisle. The church was full of broken lio'hts and shadows. Huge galleries impended aloft, and a three- storied erection in black oak loomed at the east end. JSTo one, however, used either gallery or pulpit. The service was brisk, the music excellent. Edric ima2:ined he detected some novelties in Mr. de Cressy's performance, but being of an easy-going and uncritical turn, was no whit disturbed by them. An intervening row of worshippers screened Mrs. Damien from his view. Aunt ]\Iamie, book in hand, joined in the singing right heartily, and rolled out fervent " Amens " and responses with a will ; and beside her, at about TEN GOLDEN MINUTES. 75 the level of her elbow, he could just catch sight of Elsie's little bent head, turned once in his direction, and as swiftly away again, when she caught his eyes. The service over, he hurried out as quickly as he decently could, w^ith a hope of intercept- ing Mrs. Damien, but by the time he reached the door through which she had departed, she had disappeared he knew not where. His golden moments had flown beyond all hope of recapture. He lingered undecidedly beneath the porch ; not the great w^est one where the bell rang, but the south, older and smaller, with a curious beast, that may or may not have been St. Fridolin's Bear, seated in a niche above. There he was joined in a short time by de Cressy, hurried and apologetic, pur- sued by a parishioner, and with no time to spare for the promised exploration of the curiosities of St. Fridolin's. *' You'll be coming again soon, I hope," said the sociable little Curate. '' It's worth your 76 LADY V^iLERIA. Avliile," and his eyes twinkled comically as he bade adieu. Edric readily promised, little dreaming hov\' the current of his life was henceforward to set towards that grim old tower — that valley of gravestones, amidst the red-brick heights on whose topmost chimneys alone the sinking sun now shone. He turned again into the church, where the gloom seemed to have deepened tenfold, and his steps sounded hollow in the echoing roof above. He was smiling to himself ; de Cressy's parting words still rang pleasantly in his ears. Yes, he should come again — and with her. He stopped, and the smile faded from his lips, the flow of gay anticipations arrested, frozen. The two faintly-burning candles still • glimmered in their sockets on either side the lectern, and within the dim circle of their radiance, seated low on the cushions surrounding the communion-table, her elbows resting on her knees and her chin supported on her hands, sat a woman, her TE?^ GOLDEN MINUTES. jy white face upturned to his and her black unwinking eyes gleaming out of the gloom. ''You here!" he cried, roughly. "Here," answered the echo from the darkness above. The woman only nodded, her eyes still holding his, and keeping the grim, expressive silence that he found more unendurable than any speech. '' AVell," he went on, with an effort, " I suppose you have come to ask for the reward you said you would leave to my honour. I don't deny you have done me a service — a great service — and I am quite prepared to give you anything you like to ask in reason." She rose with one^ swift light movement and advanced, her hand outstretched. " You have paid me," she spoke, in the low distinct whisper that her voice sank into at times. " You are honest and true. I did well to trust you. I have no more to ask. You have faith in me ; that is sufficient." Edric was young, but not altogether so in- 78 LADY VALERIA. experienced in the dark ^vays of the world as to suppose that such a declaration was to be taken in the literal sense of the words, and he waited for what was to follow uneasily. But the woman kept silence. " I see, you don't want money," he said at length. " Very good. If there is any other way in which I can help }'ou " "You can. But the offer must be a free one for me to accept it," she replied, promptly. ** You can do for me as much and no more than I have done for you." " I don't quite see how I am to manage that," he interposed, doubtfully. " When the time comes I will show you, unless you by that time have repented your promise." " That is not likely to be the case," he spoke rather indignantly. '' Will you give me a pledge that I may show it 3^ou ? Anything. Your glove, the smallest trifle you have worn or possessed. Give me that," and she pointed to his watch- TEN GOLDEN MINUTES. 79 chain, from which there hung a tiger's claw mounted in gold. Edric slowly unfastened it. " Is it of value ?" she asked. " N"ot much. My flither shot the brute, so I should be sorry to lose it, that's all." " You shall see it again," she replied, smiling a little grimly. " I dare say. But you must make your meaning a little clearer before I giye it you." ^' You do well to be cautious," she answered, with a touch of impatient scorn ; '' but I can- not satisfy you. Not till the day comes shall I know what need of you it may bring me. I shall not ask for gold, belieye me. Xot for gold, nor yet for love" — this with a scoff — '• nor for a word or deed that mis^ht disorrace an officer and a gentleman. Even then you may fail me." Edric silently laid the tiger's claw on his open palm and extended it towards her. In silence she laid her small dusky palm on his, and thus, hand to hand, with the tiger's claw 8o LADY VALERIA. between, they stood for one portentous moment. " I take this, then, as your pledge. When or where you next meet with it, be it far or near, be the hour what it may, let who will be the bearer, you will know it for the token that the hour of my need has come, and hold yourself bound in honour to redeem it." He bowled, more impressed than he cared to admit to himself. " How am I to find you ?" " Follow the messenger, whoever it may be." " And tell me — how shall I know you? By what name shall I remember 3'ou?" The candles had burned low in their glasses, so low that a passing breeze — or was it a waft of a dark mantle — extinguished both at once. " You may call me — Euphrosyne." " Euphrosyne," echoed the dark vault above. And with the word ringing in his ears, Edric turned about in the dusky twilight to find himself alone. CHAPTER Y. WIZARD S GOLD. XD the next morning, when he awoke and looked, behold! all the gold he had gained by his bargain was turned into dead leaves." A fragment of a long -forgotten fairy-tale of his boyish days ; long-forgotten, till Edric Poynter woke next morning with the words on his lips. It was absurd that it should rise to his recollection, word for word now, yet not more absurd than all that had befallen him through- out the long hours of the past night. All the day's experiences had been lived through again in a wild, fantastic guise. He VOL. I. 6 82 LABY VALERIA. had been standing in the dark church ot St. Fridolin's — knee-deep in golden coins, of Ts^hich he was frantically offering handfuls — for what ? He could not tell, nor would the dark -veiled figure on the altar steps answer him when he asked it. " Xot for Gold, nor Love," said Euphrosyne's voice, and the dark veil melted, leaving Mrs. Damien smiling at him. " Xot the price of a single rose amongst it all," she said, and passed on, her arms full of crimson flowers. Then Elsie Paramount's pretty pale face gazed mournfully out of the gloom, holding the thorny stem to her breast. " Withered and gone ;" and she sighed her- self away, and the air was filled with the scent of dying roses, or the faint, subtle per- fume that had exhaled from Euphrosyne's- garments, that the touch of her fingers had left on his over-night, and the dead leaves rustled down — down — down. The level sun-rays of a last May morning flooded his room as he awoke, steeping him in their wizard's gold to the chin ; the rustle WIZARDS GOLD. %^ of the leaves was the light fall of wood-ash fi'om his newly -lighted fire, and the shadowy form grew definite as that of Private Carver, his soldier servant, announcing the fact that it was " A quarter to five, sir." A hasty plunge into uniform, a sharp w^alk to the ranges, and the anxieties attendant on the shooting of a party of two score recruits, left him no time to pursue the fable to its ap- plication. And wdien, on his return after a second and more deliberate toilette, he entered the mess-room in search of breakfast and letters, the sight of a dainty little envelope in the rack wiped aw^ay from his memory even the uncomfortable thrill wdth which he had first missed the tiger's claw^ from his watch- chain. A gracious little note repeating Mrs. Damien's invitation to dinner, the " At Home " card for the same evening, and a visiting card wdth the new address deeply underscored. Three actual, tangible treasures. He was not the churl to grudge their price. G— 2 84 LADY VALERIA. He was still schoolboy enough to liave made a red mark against " Monday, the 5th," in the calendar that hung on his wall, and to have scored off right joyfully this first intervening day. Only five more, and yet, with the per- versity of human nature, he almost quarrelled with the brief interval. Had it been longer, then he might have contrived to interpose a call, in jjlace of the one of which he had been defrauded. He couldn't very well do so now, of course, but there were the Archdales. Why had he not thought of them sooner ? They were very great friends of hers, she had said. He ought to call there, at any rate, and, by some blessed chance, he might possibly meet her there, or, at least, hear of her : either of which alone, in his present frame of mind, he counted worth the trouble of the journey three times told. It was curious, and not exactly pleasant, to find himself once more speeding town wards again by the same train, and on a similar WIZARDS GOLD. errand to that of three days ago. Only three days, and what a changed outlook ! He re- membered half-incredulously his misgivings, his savage desperation born of constant thwart- ing, his hot and cold shy fits. Then he was painfully groping for the dropped end of a cobweb thread of chance acquaintanceship. Now he held on to a silken cord of friend- liness and mutual interests. His place, though possibly a humble one, in Mrs. Damien's re- gard, was secured. His welcome was certain ; his absence would be noted. A marvellous change. A gain so great that he would be a churl to grudge the price. After all — what was it ? "As much and no more than I do for you," the woman had said. Moderate, certainly ; but he wished she had made it a cash pay- ment. She was welcome to any help he could ^ give her, of course, but he didn't see quite what form his help could take. Some suj^er- stitious fancy, he supposed. Even so. She 86 LADY VALERIA. had been obeying the leading of a superstitious fanev in his case, and what had been the result ? Why should she not be as fortunate in her own ? How did she work it ? Chiromancy ? Edric opened his strong young hand with its square-tipped fingers, and gazed perplexedly at the criss-cross lines of the palm. " Line of Life, Line of the Heart, Line of the Liver. Mounts of Jupiter, Saturn, Yenus." He had made them all out by the help of a book ; but: neither date nor address could he get out of any of them I Astrology? That was more possible. But, according to the encyclopaedia, that could only be worked with a sort of celestial globe turned inside out ; an almanac, compasses, and quad- rants, and a whole cartload of " plant," which she certainly did not bear concealed about her ])erson on that occasion. " Written on your forehead." That was a decidedly uncomfort- able thing to consider, and Edric involuntarily removed his hat, and gave his sun -tanned WIZARUS GOLD. 87 brow and close-clipped fair locks a rub or two as he reflected on it. " I don't seem to see it, and the more I look at it the less I like it," was his rather obscure conclusion, as the train stopped at Charing Cross, and he gave an involuntary unquiet glance around before he left the car- riage. No fresh adventure awaited him. The station had returned to its normal aspect, and he arrived in due course in Lady Archdale's drawing-room, awaiting the appearance of his hostess. It was not a pleasant room to wait in by any means. Square and precise, doing much credit to the labours of the housemaid. Every chair seemed to stand on its own pattern of the carpet, either half of the chimney-piece and chiffonier reflected the other half with unerring exactness. Everything was one of a set or a pair; and when Edric placed him- self at one end^ of the centre ottoman he felt quite afllicted at the unsymmetrical effect, and LADY VALERIA. wished he had brought another man in a grey suit to match, with his stick and legs at corresponding angles, to balance him at the other end. Even the flowers looked prim in their tiny pyramid on one table, and neat little tufts here and there. He sat for some time with tolerable patience, amusing himself with mental fancy portraits of the "Miss Archdale" whom Mrs. Damien had mentioned. She would look as old as her mamma, he decided, and be dressed very much like her. They would occupy those two low chairs on either side of the window, and make alternate little speeches to him, like versicle and response, and he would keep his eyes on the clock, and depart in exactly fifteen minutes after their appearance. Here a door grated on its hinges, and there entered, with stately step and slow, a mag- nificent bloodhound, deep - chested, taAvny- muzzled, with careworn lines in his wise old face. He walked solemnly up to Edric, and sniffed him carefully; then, throwing his head W/ZAJ^D'S GOLD. 89 back, would have made some remark, but checked himself suddenly, and sat down with a flop. Edric made some friendly advances, which met with no resj^onse. After a minute or two the dog got up, and looked him over again exhaustively. " AVhat are you ?" he said as plainly as dog could speak. *' You smell honest. You don't belong here. You're not a visitor, for nobody's entertaining you. Why don't you go and tune the piano, or take the gas-meter, or do something to account for your pre- sence ?" " I want to see your mistress, old fellow," said Edric, answering him. " Just fetch her, will you r The hound gave a sudden wriggle and wag of his lonof- smooth tail. " Come alono^," it said ; and he stepped briskly back to the door by which he had entered, scratched it wider open, shoved aside a portiere, and looked over his shoulder with an air of invitation as he did so. 90 LADY VALERIA. Edric hesitated, then followed, and beheld a pretty little interior, with a half-blocked-up north light, an easel filling nearly all the available space, and the back of a young lady in a brown holland pinafore, Avith her right sleeve rolled up to her elbow, painting in some minute detail on a large canvas with absorbed intentness. The dog was evidently too well-trained to touch her, but he sat down as close as he dared and gave a meaning snatch of a whimper. ''Good old Cuss! What is it?" she answered him, putting her left hand back to caress him. He took it in his big red jaw as softly as any retriever and gave it a gentle tug. " Anything wrong ? Is Puss looking at the love-birds ? Well, why don't you frighten her ! Oh, I forgot the mistress's headache. I must come, must I ?" And to Edric*s un- told relief she laid aside her brush, and rose. " Miss Archdale ?" hesitated Edric, in sur- prise. WIZARDS GOLD. 91 '' Mr. Poynter ?" asked the young lady, holding her hand out frankly, as if pretty sure of the fact. Hester Archdale was not beautiful. A little nut-brown maid with straight dark eye- brows above quick-glancing wide-open eyes, a saucv nose and a determined chin, a be- witching little mouth that took fifty different expressions in as many seconds, and not an ugly curve amongst them all, with gleaming, small white teeth and a dimple at the corner. A straight, slender, alert young creature, who looked physically incapable of being sad, or bored, or fretful, whose laugh was as ex- hilarating to hear as a blackbird's song when the cherries hang ripe, and whose face was as pleasant to look on as a bunch of fresh-plucked cowslips. ^' Your card was brought to me ten minutes ago," she went on ; " but I had no idea that you were alone here. I suppose my father is out. My mother is not well enough to see anyone to-day." 92 LADY VALERIA, " Cuss has been doing the honours- " Hush ! You are not to know tliat name. Daddy gave it him because he was born on Ash Wednesday, and while we were with the regiment it didn't matter. But now he is in society mamma won't have it; so to the public he is Roswal, and only gets his own name for a treat now and then, when we are quite alone. Eh, Cuss?" The s^reat hound had been standino^ lookino: from one to the other with a comprehending gaze in his red eyes, and now considering the introduction made and the subject disposed of, stretched out his two huge paws in front, and yawned a mighty yawn, like the gape of an heraldic lion, then swallowed a deep bass bark hastily. '• Good boy. He knows his mistress is ill. Do you care to see his portrait ?" Hester asked, leading the way back to her studio. " If I do not interrupt your work " " Not a bit. I am only spoiling it, going on with tired eyes." WIZA7?D'S GOLD. 93 She threw open the shutters and turned her canvas to the light. It contained two ligures. Koswal dashing through a bit of tangled thicket in the act of springing on a small boy in doublet and hose, who, his tiny toy-sword raised on high, was attempt- ing to defend himself The dog was nearly finished, well and spiritedly done. The child scarcely more than an outline. "I hope you recognise the scene. The hound and the young Buccleuch?" Then, seeing Edric's doubtful look, she picked up " The Lay of the Last Minstrel," and read : " ' I -ween you then had seen with joy The bearing of that gallant boy, Well worthy of his noble sire. His wet cheek glowed 'twixt fear and ire, He held his little bat on high. And faced the bloodhound manfully.' But it's no good," she broke ofi^ suddenly; " J shall never get the expression," tossing the book down despairingly. " Cuss wo?it glare (you k7ioiu you won't, old Softy), and look at his paw I" 94 LADY VALERIA. "It's a very good paw." " But the muscles ought to distend some- how, as if he meant tearing and rending ; but nothing on earth will induce him to hiy anything but a velvet touch on Jock." " The boy, you mean? He looks like a portrait, and a good one." " My brother, the ugliest child alive, only mamma can't perceive it. As I had to paint him for her, I thought the situation might invest him with sentiment. He can look hke a small hero on occasion." Cuss here looked from one to the other, as much as to say, " Why don't you sit down?" and flopped down himself by way of example, wdth a hospitable wave of his tail. " Oh, I am so sorry !" Hester cried, when Edric demurred ; " and so will Daddy be if you can't wait to see him. There is so much that we are longing to ask you." She had swept a pile of parti- coloured drapery off the only other chair in the studio, and Edric gladly seated himself, declaring his WIZARD'S GOLD. 95 readiness to submit to any amount of cross- examination. "Tell me what sort of a CO. Colonel Borrodale makes, and what induced Major Bellasys to retire — we never could understand that." And so forth and so forth she ran on, showing a most amazingly complete acquaint- ance with the interior economy of the regi- ment, its movements and politics. They had talked themselves into thorough good fellow- ship, these two young people, before Edric again reluctantly rose to depart. " Dear old Daddy, wouldn't he be back again with you if he could!" she sighed, when her questions and his answers were alike exhausted. " Good-bye then, if you must go? There is one more point on which I should have liked to have satisfied my mind ; bat perhaps " '' And that is " " Kose — Mrs. Damien told me " He resumed his seat at once ; the reward that he had promised to himself had at last surely 96 LADY VALERIA. come. " She would have given anything to know — what business you had in St. Fridohn's last Monday." Edric very nearly jumped m^ again and fled. He could have done so quite gracefully, for Hester had only flung the question at him lightly as it were, with a laugh and a gay little glance, that left it possible for him to reply as lightly. The answer did not come readily, however. He began it, checked him- self, pulled his moustache and looked at her consideringly with his honest blue eyes. Then, almost as much to his own surprise as hers, broke out with : " I'll tell you all about it ; the whole truth from beginning to end, if you don't mind listening ; for I'm bothered, horribly bothered about it all, and more by having to keep it to myself than by anything else." Hester's qjq^ opened wide at this exordium, as well they might ; but she said nothing ; merely dropped her hand on Cuss's head and listened for more. The ice broken, Edric WIZARD'S GOLD. 97 dived in boldly. He had perforce kept silent till then on his experiences, as much on Mrs. Damien's account] as his own ; also from the little hope he had of any possible assistance from his usual associates. But now, this bright, capable little maiden, with her candid eyes and trust-inspiring manner, seemed the very fittest of confidantes. It was so easy to tell her everything, somehow. She had such a pleasant way of listening ; a wise, considering little air ; evidently not laughing at him, nor thrilled, nor absorbed ; only bent on getting all the facts clear before her, and forming a just conclusion on them. The adventure sounded much less romantic and portentous when he heard himself relate it — with certain necessary modifications and abridgments as concerned his own part therein — but just as puzzling. Now tell me what you think about it." " XT. " I think she has made a good bargain/' said downright Hester. " She found yon were looking for Eose, and happened to know where VCL. T. 7 98 LADY VALERIA. to find her, and you have given her a sort of blank cheque m repayment." *' But how did she know what I wanted?" " Followed you — asked Miss Cadogan's. housemaid — the man at the post-office. Any woman with her wits about her could have done as much." " But wliy did she follow me?" " Ah ! that's the real puzzle of the whole, and I give it up. You will know when you hear from her again. I hope you will tell me the end." " Of course. Only please don't mention it ta Mrs. Damien. I feel somehow responsible for brinofinof her and that woman top^ether, and it has troubled me more than I can tell you. How could she know Mrs. Damien existed ?" " Oh, Kose knows all sorts of queer people at St. Fridolin's. I wouldn't distress myself about that. You'll find most likely that you'll be called upon to pay two pounds twelve and sixpence, the exact sum required to prevent a sick husband and five starviiio^ children from WIZAJ^D'S GOLD. 99 being turned into the street. Or she'll want you to buy some new patent toothpick or beetle-destroyer, or cigar-holder — a reduction on taking a quantity — or four large oil-paint- ings, the last works of her defunct husband. "Why, my dear " Hester stopped in full swing, blushing furiously. ' ' I beg your pardon. I really forgot for a moment that I was not giving Daddy the benefit of my knowledge of the world's pitfills." Edric smiled pleasantly. " Thank you very much. We shall meet on Monday, shall we not ? I will tell you the end of my adventure if I ever arrive at it. Good-bye.'' " Good-bye," said Hester, with downcast eyes and a grave shake of the hand. Roswal looked up, as if to say, " IVe heard that remark three times before. Does he rm% mean going at last?" and finding Edric actually departing, saw him politely off the premises and returned to the studio. There, to liis surprise, his usually dignified little mistress dropped on the floor beside him, and giving him a passionate hug, 7—2 TOO LADY VALERIA. cried, with her eyes hidden in the thick, soft wrinkles of his neck : "Oh Cuss! dear, dear old Cuss ! Never tell anybody how foolish I looked just now. Wasn't it nice of him not to laugh too much? Cuss, I hope he'll get into no scrape. Shouldn't you like to go and take care of him ? And oh. Cuss, won't it be nice to see him again next Monday?" Edric caught his train, well satisfied with his afternoon's work. He found two other officers from ShornclifFe in his carriage. "Heard the news, Poynter?" asked one of them, his great friend, Major Carroll. "We're off at last." "Oh! When? Where?" "Next week, perhaps. To Portsmouth." "Next week? Oh, come! Who started that shave?" asked he, with a dismal attempt to look sceptical. " I didn't. And it isn't a shave. Not at all. Doudney knows all about it. He always does. Cabinet ministers invariably confide in Doudney, don't you know. Portsmouth means WIZARD'S GOLD. Egypt, and Egypt means fighting. Now don't you see?" " Doudney's friends in the Cabinet have sold him before now," was all Edric s reply, but the news sounded true to him this time. And wiien he re-entered his Imt, at the sight of his three precious treasures lying on his writing- table, the moral of his old fairy-tale rushed back into his memory, and he seemed to see the golden promise of his days to come falling into sere and dead leaves before his eyes. And, as Hester said, he had given a blank cheque in payment. CHAPTER YL ST. FRIDOLIN THE HERMIT. (RETROSPECTIVE.) HEN" Edric, greedily counting his golden moments by Mrs. Damien's side in the churchyard of St. Fridolin's, had resentfully grudged but one of them to the mention of its Yicar, little he guessed that with the coming of Eustace Stan- nard to St. Fridolin's, a long twelvemonth ago, began the w^eaving of that web into wdiich he insensibly but surely was even then being drawm. Twelve months ago. Just at the time that he, on board the Indian troopship, impatiently counted the days that lay between him and England ; just at the time when Rose Damien 57: FRIDOLIN THE HERMIT. 103 in the height of the gay London season began to weary a little of its excitement, and sigh for fresh worlds to conquer; two strands drawn all unconsciously by the finger of Fate, one from the East and one from the West, to meet and mingle at their appointed time : while a third — Euj)hrosyne — dark, watchful, grimly patient, bided her turn, awaiting the dawning of the chance that must so surely come to her. Just at that time began the story of the Vicar's coming to St. Fridolin's. It must needs be told here, and the events which followed it, in as brief a retrospect as may be. A year ago, then, Edric might have read in one of the leading journals of the day the following paragraph : — •' It is with considerable surprise and deep regret that the congregation of St. Ermen- trude's have received the news of the resigna- tion of their Vicar, the Hon. and Kev. Eustace Stannard, who has held the living for barely twelve months. Mr. Stannard has made his mark as one of the most powerful and eloquent I04 LADY VALERIA. preachers of the time. Rumours have been current that the vacant stall of St. Stephen's was about to be offered him, but these, we believe, will prove to be unfounded, as it is understood that the reverend gentleman in- tends to reside abroad for some years. It will be remembered as a curious coincidence that Mr. Stannard's father, Lord Altcar (then Mr. Redgrave Stannard), retired from public life with the same startling unexpectedness when the highest prizes of his political career lay within his reach." There were variations on the theme, of course. " Another Secession to Rome," an- nounced the Grindstone. " Overwork and affection of the brain," deplored the Acolyte, The Upper Ten hinted in horror-struck italics at "The simultaneous disappearance of a lovely peeress of Ritualistic views, a regular attendant at St. Ermentrude's ;" while F(?raciYj/ demanded, "AYho receives and checks the accounts of the offertories?" and "Whether a certain reverend gentleman's connection with the Turf had not been for many years an open secret ?" ST. FRIDOLIN THE HERMIT. 105 It was a curious testimony to the man's character that society, as a rule, took these more exciting suggestions for what they were worth, and decided that neither love nor money was the moving spring of Eustace Stannard's unexpected proceeding, and con- tented itself with marvelling greatly thereat. Had the truth been known the marvel would have been greater still. It would have been the last idea to occur to society that Eustace Stannard, its spoilt favourite, was only tired of it. But so it was. His career, from his earliest college days, had been such a brilliant series of successes — successes won at so little cost to himself — that he grew first amazed, then doubtful, then cynical and despondent. It was his nature to be keenly critical of his own work, and bitterly conscious of his own shortcomings. The praise of men — except those whose judgment he happened to respect — was pain and shame to him, and indiscriminate admiration a positive affront. Society would not be debarred from its io6 LABV VALERIA. bestowal, nevertheless, let him receive it never so ungraciously. St. Ermentrude's was thronged to suffocation by the most select of fashionable mobs on the Sundays when it was known he was to preach. He was quoted, reported, imitated, discussed in society papers till human nature could bear no more. In a fit of sudden mistrust of himself, his work, and the genuineness of his mission, he sent in his resignation to the Bishop and started off in search of some world-forgotten spot where no man should have heard of St. Ermentrude's, or care whether he was Lord Altcar's eldest son or not ; where he should be able to get at the real, not the fictitious value of his work, find peace and quiet, and write articles in the Church Quarterly. When an early Christian found the tempta- tions of the world too many for him, he was wont, we are told, to bid adieu to Rome, Byzantium, or Alexandria, as the case might be, and seek in the mountains or desert a place for meditation and self-communion. ST. FRTDOLIN THE HERMIT, 107 Eustace Stannard went into the City. In less than a month after his resignation of St. Ermentrude's, when his wondering fi'iends had talked the subject out and tired of it, he revived their flagging interest by appearing in town again, and a few weeks later was inducted into the living of St. Fridolin the Hermit, situated no man in society except the Bishop knew where. Let no man look to see St. Fridolin's church as Eustace Stannard's eyes beheld it first in. those days of mid-June. It has gone ; van- ished from the face of the earth as completely as the cell of St. Fridolin himself. It had a grey old tower that had survived the destruction of the ori^^inal buildino; in the great fire, in which swung a brazen turn -coat of a bell whose many sins might well have cracked it. A bell that had rung '' for joye " at the execution of Mary Queen of Scots, and later on had rung back King James from F aver sham, and rung in King William from Holland with equal enthusiasm. io8 LADY VALERIA. The body of the church had been restored by some unknown follower of Wren, in humble imitation of a classic temple. Bald and unin- teresting without, within it was dingily mag- nificent with dark wood- work and tarnished gilding. A great, black, undecipherable altar- piece, devoutly believed in as a Carlo Maratti, was surmounted by two smirking gilded angels, between which a dilapidated pelican pecked at her tarnished breast, under a mean window containing the arms of the Worshipful Company of Cheesemongers. Mr. Paramount, the little old Churchwarden, still speaks of St. Fridolin's as an interior unequalled in its chaste magnificence and solemn splendour since the day's of Solomon's Temple. It was, therefore, somewhat of a shock to him, after making it his duty to explain to the new Vicar that he should reso- lutely oppose any modern Ritualistic innova- tions or decorations, crosses, altar lights, or flowers, which he protested against as " un- licensed ornament and unauthorised symbol/' 57: FRIDOLIN THE HERMIT, 109 to have his attention rather sharply directed to the pelican, the window with '' Azure, three cheeses in dexter chief Or, etc.," and the three colossal Christian Graces, adorning the monument to a departed Vicar, and to be asked where he found " unlicensed orna- ment and unauthorised symbol" if not here? He retreated from the discussion silenced if not exactly convinced, and Eustace won- dered for a day and a half what he could possibly have said to affront the old gentleman. Close by the church, within the churchyard bounds, stood the Vicarage, in which no Vicar had dwelt for generations. It was a dreary abode, with faded paintings and dusty carv- ings, with shut-up rooms, ghostly with the relics of dead-and-gone occupants, and crooked passages haunted by unaccountable echoes. It suited the Vicar's work, and perhaps his mood. He furnished as much as he abso- lutely required, and installed in charge his tidy old housekeeper, Mrs. Goodliffe : to whose orderly soul he brought daily tribulation by no LADY VALERIA. never coming in for a regular meal, and encouranrinof the inroads of all sorts of un- o o desirable parishioners over her snowy door- steps and immaculate oil-cloth. Here, as the year rolled on, he lived his busy, monotonous, unjoyous life, as secluded from human inter- course beyond the parish bounds as if he had been the original Fridolin the Anker {i.e., hermit), who, as the parish records told, built the church and his cell in the marshes adjoin- ing four centuries ago. Xow according to all precedent no hermit's existence could be considered complete without the temptations of emissaries from the outer world striving by lure and guile to win back their lost companion. These were not lacking to Mr. Stannard had he found time or inclina- tion to heed them. There followed him at first a certain influx of worshippers from the West — such of his late congregation as had carriages, that is to say — filling the tall pews with marvels of art millinery, and leaving suo^orestions of Piesse and Lubin about the ST. FRIDOLIN THE HERMIT. in fusty, doomed greeii baize. He was not at all gratified by their devotion : in fact, felt a certain grim pleasure in watching the numbers diminishing as the season waned, leaving place for the congregation he wished to draw to him. September came and went, and he might have thought himself safe; for town was empty, and the wicked world disporting itself abroad over the face of the innocent country. One day is very like another in St. Fridolin's. But Eustace was country-bred, and even there felt the air charged with hints of moorland and heather, of tramps over the crackling stubble, and the sharp ring of guns amongst the yellowing copses. In town it was a day of semi-fog, and he had preached his morning sermon to an almost invisible congrega- tion. " Don't you know me, or icoiit you know me?" asked a voice of him suddenly, as he left the church by the vestry door. A fin-ure in the fog, that seemed to lift and 112 LADY VALERIA. lighten as she approached, an outstretched hand — a voice of silver — and the fairest face eyes ever looked upon. He touched the slira fingers doubtfully. " I beg your pardon, if for a moment I had forgotten you. You belong to the days that seem so far away now. AYhat has brought you to St. Fridolin's?" She looked full at him with two great lovely inscrutable eyes. Eyes at once radiant with purpose and sparkling with fun. A long, steady, regal gaze, as of one who felt her notice an honour. " You are not at all pleased to see me here," she said, with her usual directness and a flash of superb astonishment in the violet eyes at the astounding discovery. "If you mean there'' — and he indicated the church — " I know many others whom I would sooner meet. Those who have a better right there." "But will they come?" asked Mrs. Damien, like Hotspur. ST. F RID O LIN THE HERMIT. 113 " If I can bring them in. That is what I am here for." " And can no one help you ? Is there no work that anyone — that I might do?" The Yicar glanced at the velvet gown and many-buttoned gloves of his would-be helper, and smiled with ironical pity. " District-visitino'? In a brouo-ham, with a footman to hand round the tracts ? Thank you. I am afraid we are hardly prepared for that yet at St. Fridolin's. I beg your pardon," he added Hastily; "that was an unworthy speech. Forgive it. Why should I refuse help so frankly offered ? I really don't see, though, what you can do for us." Queen Kose looked so suspiciously meek that the A'icar might have known she felt sure of getting her way. '• If you really think there is not a person here who would be the better for my help and friendship, I am answered," she said softly. The Vicar looked at her consideringly. Perhaps then, for the first time, his percep- VOL. I. 8 114 LADY VALERIA. tions received any distinct impression of her individuality. She had been erstwhile one of the undistinguishable flock of brilliant crea- tures who used to madden him with their admiration and soft incense of flattery; who came to him on Sunday to be excited and thrilled, as they went on a week-day to the last new play; ready, when the time came, to desert him and his teaching at a day's notice for some newer attraction. The woman who stood before him was of a different clav. More beautiful, if that mattered ; more pur- poseful, more capable. She would either help or hinder him mightily, he felt; and some- how he suspected it would be the latter. " How do you mean to begin?" he asked at length. Mrs. Damien's eye danced under their down-dropped lashes. " Can't you give me an introduction to somebody who belongs here?" I want some new friends. I have exhausted one phase of English society pretty much, I think ; I should like to see another. Don't you think 57: FRIDOLIN THE HERMIT. 115 some people here might care to know me and let me be friends with them T " I should think they might," admitted the Vicar, slowly and much against his will. He was irate with himself for watching the play of her beautiful lips, and noticing the soft, dark sweep of her eyelashes against her cheek. The great eyes flashed up suddenly at him all alight with eagerness and bright thoughts, but dropped again under his dark scrutiny. " You had better consult Mr. de Cressy. He shall call upon you to-morrow." And then Mr. Stannard bade her a stiff adieu, feel- ing rather as if he had taken some unknown compound into his hands that might prove valuable, or might go off with sudden explosion and blow him and his to utter destruction. " A fine lady's freak," he muttered con- solingly, " and not likely to prove a lasting one." 8—2 CHAPTER YII. A BLACK SEVEN. (eETROSPECTIVE.) HERE were other and more dangerous elements fermenting under the sur- face cahn of his parish, had he but known it, and he came very nigh upon touch- ing on some of them the very next day. It was on that occasion that he discovered Lavender Row. It was no small achievement for a stranger, such as he was. From Lavender Row to the busiest thoroughfare in the City is but a stone-cast, and yet men have lived their working-days through from year's end to year's end unaware of its existence. There is a restaurant and a public-house in •1 BLACK SEVEN. 117. the neighbourhood, whose inhabitants might (hrect an explorer ; but the clerks in the offices of the Mcaraguan and Inter- Oceanic Tramcars Company, Limited, occupying the first floor of the classic pile Avhich is its next- door neighbour, though they could, if it so pleased them, drop pebbles from their plate-glass back windows down its crooked chimneys, might be puzzled to arrive at them by any other route. A little passage, one- flag wide, with a post in the middle, leads down beside the restaurant to a two-flag-wide court, one side of which is formed by a blank sooty wall, behind which an engine, hard at some unknown work, measures the minutes away with alternate stamp and clatter all day Ions:. Facinof it stands Lavender Row, one of the last bits of the London of the last Edward. Three little low tile-roofed dwellings, sunk three steps below the level of the pavement, with over-hanging upper stories, low-browed doorways, and windows that not long ago ii8 LADY VALERIA. were latticed : once, no doubt, fair country cottaires, where the lavender-bushes flowered amid green pastures, stretching away to the sparkling river's brink. No one goes to look at them, no one sketches them, no one asks how they came there. There they lie, as forgotten as a dropped pin in the crack of a pavement. Even Mr. Paramount can tell nothing about them. He pays his rent — not an exorbitant one — to a firm of solicitors in Lincoln's Inn ; but whether they represent an owner ignorant of the value of his property, or a City com- pany too wealthy to concern itself about it, he has never found out. A long slant of sunshine struggled into the little court, and illumined the very house Mr. Stannard was in search of. A great heavy door, studded with iron nails, stood wide open on to a flagged passage, dividing the width of the house. He entered and knocked at the first door on the right at a venture. He fancied he heard a reply, and opened it. The A BLACK SEVEN. 119 little interior that met his view remained for many days on his mind as singular and pretty, and possessing, he did not know how, some special interest for him. It was a small parlour, low and dark. Heavy beams supported the ceiling, and the thickness of the wall made a deep window- seat, in the corner of which, full in the one narrow beam of sunshine that entered, crouched a slight girlish figure. He recognised the lame daughter that was always at his church \^arden's side on Sundays — a spare little creature, perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old, in a childish cotton frock, with ruffled curly hair, through which the light shone. Some common scarlet-runners, trained outside the window, made a bright background for her delicately pretty face, out of which two great luminous eyes gazed in terror at his entrance. He hastened to pre- vent her from rising ; but her hand seemed only just to flutter into his, and be snatched away, and her eyes glanced wildly round in a 120 LADY VALERIA. very panic of shyness, as if seeking some way of escape. In sheer compassion he gave his message as briefly as he could, and received her anxious assurances that flither would not be home for many an hour to come. Then he would have gone had not the Avish seized him to try and inspire a little confidence in this forlorn, frightened-looking child, if child she Avere. The stray shaft of light Avas caught and reflected on so many bright points — the shining oil- cloth on the table, the brass knobs of the fire-irons, the glass in the corner cup- board, and the little glinting roAA's of brass knobs in the horsehair-covered chairs — that it had made the gloom of the rest deeper, and he had not seen at first that another Avcman Avas sitting AAdth her back to the AAindow^, over the fire in the high black armchair, huddled up, with knees and nose almost touching. She now rose, and hobbled off wdthout taking notice of him. " Who is that ?" he ventured to ask. A BLACK SEVEN. J2i "A neighbour — Mrs. Beltran — a very kind neighbour," she answered, in a flutter, but speaking more freely : as shy people often do with one hearer only. It was no very difficult task that he had set himself, after all. When the first shock of confronting this formidable stranger — and all strangers were more or less formidable to Elsie Paramount — had worn off, she began to find something curiously plea- sant in the grave attention with which her timid little remarks were received, and a dis- position growing on her to speak of herself and her interests to an extent that it was alarming to reflect on afterwards. She had actually talked to him about the old times when father was quite well ofl*, before '' the firm " failed and ruined him. How the brothers and sisters were scattered, and only herself and Sampson left. Sampson was in an office, doing pretty well this time. The Vicar seemed to understand the doubtful in- flection, and be sorry for her, and then he talked about himself and St. Fridolin's quite 122 LADY VALERIA. as if he thought her worth talking to — that was a comfort to remember. She was so frail, so pretty, so delicate, and altogether incongruous — like a daisy in a street pavement, Eustace thought. He turned I'or a last look as he left the house, and caught a shy glance from behind her scarlet flowers. The great, heavy wooden shutter of the room overhead had half swung to, and, had he looked up there, he might have caught the searching gaze of another pair of eyes fixed on him with no good meaning, from the depths of the dark crevice. Elsie was smiling to herself in a pleasant, vague musing, when the door opened softly and the " neighbour " re-entered. The little black shawl that had been huddled over her head and shoulders now hung on her arm, her step was light and springy, and her bent form erect, supple, full of lithe grace and strength. She looked at Elsie with a direct, expressionless gaze, her eyelids gradually closing till they left mere slits through which A BLACK SEVEN. 123 liur eyes seemed to gleam with intensified brilliance. Her lips curved with a suggestion of mockery, and waited patiently for Elsie to speak first. The Beltrans, Elsie's fellow -lodgers, were exceptions to every rule of life in Lavender Row. They had lived there for nearly a year now, and came and went, and eat and slept, with utter disregard of ordinary habits and precedents. Sometimes Mr. Beltran would disappear for w^eeks and months at a time, and then spend day after day at home in bed. Elsie could hear him stumbling upstairs lightly in the early grey mornings, and would hear sounds suggestive of getting up in the course of the afternoon ; and, later on, had once or twice encountered in the hall a smiling, dark-com- plexioned man, wearing very new glossy clothes, and a great deal of jewellery, Avho left a strong w^hifF of combined tobacco and mille- fleurs on the air as he passed by. Mrs. Beltran's comings and goings were as I2| LADY VALERIA. erratic as her husband's ; but, as they seemed on excellent terms, paid their rent punctually, and kept no children, pet animals, or other element of discord about the premises, their fellow-lodgers ceased to concern themselves about them. They were " foreigners," and that accounted for everything. A nod and a smile as she passed Elsie at work in her Avindow, then a word at the open door, and so it grew to be a habit for Mrs. Beltran to drop in casually, but only when Elsie was all alone. There was an odd sense of latent power about her perfectly fascinating to the gh'l. Then she would listen with pro- foundest interest to the smallest of girlish gossip, and tell in return of strange countries and adventures. Indeed, it is to be feared that sundry flashes of reckless talk, and a dare- devil laugh, with which her narrations were occasionally spiced, had a wicked attraction in themselves for the naughty little romantic child. Elsie, roused from her dream, looked at her A BLACK SEVEN. 125 half impatiently at first, then seemed to awake more fiillv, with a start. ^' AVas it him you meant ?" she asked, in an awed whisper. ^' The Dark King/' assented Mrs. Beltran. A large work-basket stood on the table. Lifting it carefully off, Mrs. Beltran proceeded to roll off the oil-cloth cover, disclosing the w^hite wood top, on which were arranged a number of small playing-cards, arranged in a peculiar pattern. It w^ould be useless to describe it in detail, except so far as that it consisted of the cards of one pack, starting from the Queen of Hearts, arranged in a pattern of diagonal lines of varying length : the spaces between which w^ere to be filled from the cards of other packs on some principle knowai only to the initiated. The scheme had been interrupted during the placing of the cards of the second pack, which had started from the King of Spades. Mrs. Beltran w^ent on dealing and placing with a 126 LADY VALERIA. swiftness and dexterity that were in themselves noteworthy, talking all the time w^ith soft, mechanical volubility for Elsie's benefit, and yet with her mind evidently set on the work- ing out of some problem for her own private satisfaction. " The Dark King, yes, there, just as I told you ; he crosses your life, my child. No ; I have misplaced a card. Your lives do not cross^ they meet. For good, did you ask ? But yes, certainly. Not for love, though. Do not set your thoughts on him, my little J) one. " Mrs. Beltran ! how could I do such a thing ?" gasped Elsie, scandalised. "He is the Vicar, and the son of a lord." *' Eh ?" Mrs. Beltran raised her eyebrows and looked attentive. " You must tell me all about him by-and-by. He is so good, you say. And his sermons so beautiful. When will you take me to hear one ?" It was Elsie's turn to look surprised. De- lightful as Mrs. Beitran's companionship had A BLACK SEVEN. 127 been, it had never suggested church-going somehow. " 1 so seldom hear him," she lamented. " Only on Sundays. I can't go alone, and father disapproves of week-day services." Mrs. Beltran nodded again. The second pack was exhausted, and the cards disposed in order. '' You say he preaches this evening. Your father will not be at home, nor, consequently, your brother, eh ?" Her white teeth gleamed maliciously, and she gave a knowing nod as she spoke, while Elsie sighed. " We will go then. It will prevent you fretting after them both. I have nothing more to tell you about him. You will owe him some trouble and some good fortune eventually, that is all." " And the next ?" asked Elsie, curiously. " The Fair Woman ?" Mrs. Beltran drew out a third pack from the pocket of her apron, w^hich seemed as plenti- fully supplied as the sleeve of the Heathen Chinee. They were not the usual-sized card, 128 LADY VALERIA. but fully a third smaller, and printed on board as light as that used for visiting-cards, with plain, white, glazed backs. Mrs. Beltran gave the pack to Elsie to cut three times, then dealt the cards in a heap face upwards till a Diamond Queen appeared, when she proceeded to fit the remaining cards into her pattern, still continuing her careless talk, so at variance with the intense scrutiny of her black eyes. " Here she is, you see, following the Dark King. And here she crosses your path — once — twice. Distrust that fair woman, even while accepting her benefits. She will turn against you at last — not till the coming of the Fair King, though. Aha ! Xo\v cut this pack. Here he is. You are getting interested in him, are you ? Little prude I I dare not hint at his good fortune. A lover for you, my Elsie. Young, handsome, and rich ! Take care of him and keep him to yourself when you get him, my little Queen of Hearts." " Oh ! don't I" 25leaded the girl, putting up A BLACK SEVEN. 129 her hand to screen her hot cheeks, with a rino- of such pain in her voice that Mrs. Beltran stopped astonished. " A lover ? No. Tell that to anyone else — not to me r The poor, wasted little hands seemed in one eloquent gesture at once to call attention to, and plead for pity for, her crippled state, while her indignant ej'es and flaming cheeks pro- tested against such mockery. Even Mrs. Beltran was touched, or had the heart to seem so. " Who said you were always to be ill and miserable, and apart from other girls? Didn't T tell you great things were coming for you ?" And she began to pass her forefinger anew over the cards she had first laid down. "Wait for the first Black Seven " " Tell me thatP' cried the girl. " That was to be your card. Don't talk to me about fair or dark kings. Tell me at once what you are ffoinof to do for me." Mrs. Beltran waited until she had placed the last card of the pack which she had com- VOL. I. 9 I30 LADY VALERIA. menced with the King of Hearts, carefully reading it to herself; though, in compliance with Elsie's request, she communicated no more of the results to her. She took out from her pocket the last pack, handed it to Elsie to cut as before, and com- menced to deal, facing the cards. " Watch for the Seven of Spades," she said, as the cards dropped swiftly from her fingers. The heap on the table grew, and the pack she held diminished one by one, till within a few of the end. She looked surjDrised, and her brows bent in perplexity. " I must be going to have very little to do with you after all," and the last card dropped from her fingers as she spoke. '' Can we both have missed it ? That is unlucky, very un- lucky," she said seriously, and taking up the pack, shuffled it, and gave it to Elsie to cut afresh. Again she dealt the cards slowly and care- fully to the end. Long before reaching it her practised fingers had told her a card was miss- A BLACK SEVEN. 131 ing. The Seven of Spades had disappeared from the pack. She shook her apron, and turned out the pocket. Each pack had been held by a little band of coloured ribbon, so that it would have seemed impossible for a card to have escaped. Nevertheless, she looked carefully on the floor about, and at last went on her knees to search under the table. '''Has it slipped into the kilting of your skirt ?" Elsie asked. " I fancied I saw " "I remember!" interrupted Mrs. Beltran, emero;ino; from under the table. " I know now ! I was looking over them upstairs one night alone and dropped them all on the floor. It has slipped away through the cracks of the boards there. I nearly lost a letter so one day. But that it should have been that card !" And she growled a comment in Creole French between her teeth that, fortunately for Elsie's sense of propriety, was unintelligible to her. She stood for an instant almost white with 9—2 132 LADY VALERIA. anger, wrenching the pack between her hands in a vain effort to tear it. " Don t ! AYhat a pity !" cried Elsie, as she, with another fierce word, thrust them between the bars of the grate ; '' the card might have been found again." " The card might have been found, but the chance was lost. They can never again be the first cards touched by your fingers. And they were running so clearly, too. Ah !" with a sort of impatient snarl and a stamp. " Let them go !" When she turned asfain to Elsie, she had composed her features into a resolute smile. '' Don't speak to me of them again, but tell me at what time I shall come to take you with me to church this evening" CHAPTER YIIL TOLD IX THE VESTRY. (RETROSPECTIVE). HEN" Elsie and her companion reached St. Fridolin's that even- ing, they found the church akeady well filled, for Mr. Stannard's Thursday lec- tures had become well known as something worth hearing. There were as many of his own parishioners as he could reasonably ex- pect to see, and several strangers. One carriage that Elsie had noticed on the previous Sunday was driving away, and the verger was ushering into the foremost pew its occupant, a tall, dignified lady, closely veiled ; while she and Mrs. Beltran found their seats in a quiet corner of the side aisle, near another 134 LADY VALERIA. friend from Lavender Kow. Eustace found an excitement, or more justly an inspiration, in addressing the motley assemblage here that had been lacking in ordinary Sunday preach - ino^ to his brilliant cono;reo^ation at St. Ermen- trude's. " Those who are here to-night," he thought, " have come, not for my sake, but for the sake of what I can give them ;" and he gave of his best from the fulness of his heart and soul. He Avas carried beyond him- self by the vastness of his subject, so that he heard not when poor Elsie, excited, alarmed, and conscious of being a very naughty girl in being there at all, burst into an unmanageable fit of hysterical sobbing, and was led away by Mrs. Beltran and her friend Mrs. Eidge. Nor did he note the gratifying fact that having seen Elsie part of the way home, Mrs. Beltran returned and unobtrusively regained her place. The tall lady in front had started at Elsie's cry, glanced round, and then sunk on her knees, hidino^ her face in her hands. She TOLD IN THE VESTRY. 135 remained in this attitude, hidden from general view by the high-backed pew, till the dis- persion of the congregation. Almost all had gone before she slowly rose and made her way down the aisle, the old vero-er waitino^ obsequiously at the door in readiness to call up her carriage. Slowly and more slowly she stepped, till in the very doorway she stopped. ^' I must ! I must!" the verger thought he heard her say to herself, and she sank on the last of the open seats in the centre of the aisle. " Send Mr. Stannard here, if you please," she said to the old man, in a quick, imperative tone. '' Has he gone yet ?" " Nay, madam, no farther than the vestr}^, I dare say." And he trotted off, turning out unnecessary gas-lights on his way, till only one flickering standard remained. Before Eustace could reach her she came forward to meet him, quickly yet falteringly, and laid her hands on his arm, peering up into his flice. "I have something to say to 136 LADY VALERIA. you. Not here, though. Take me somewhere where I can speak to you in safety." " Let me take you to the vestry. There is no one here but ourselves." She hesitated, looking fearfully round the dark interior, which was still as a grave, but for a momentary gentle stir that might have been the flutter of a bird's wings aloft, or even the rustle of her own silken skirts. " I am afraid !" she whispered, " Afraid to speak ; afraid of dying without having spoken. I can trust you. You are strong, and brave, and honest. If there is a man in the w^orld wdio can help me it is you." "Let me try, at any rate. Your secret shall be as if it had never been told. You are sure of that?" She bowed her head, and he supported her •up the dark side aisle to the vestry, from the half-open door of wliich a stream of light shot forth. The vestry was a curiously shaped room, a TOLD IN THE VESTRY. 137 sort of three-cornered excrescence on the main building, cramped and crowded b}^ a great cupboard reaching to the ceiling, where the choir surplices hung, with massive doors that were always swinging open, and a lock that w^orked by fits and starts. There w^ere quaint old chests too, full of church records, a table many sizes too large, and two chairs. Even the bright lamp that burned there only half lighted the place, and left great nooks and angles of shadow. The Vicar gave a final and effectual slam to the swinging door, and placed his chair against it, offering the other to his visitor ;, but she stood in the doorway peering out into the darkness. *' Is no one there ? Are vou sure no one can hear us ? I thought someone passed us just now." " Only the verger, old Totterdale ; Til ask him." The Yicar sounded a small hand-bell, and the figure of the old man appeared, dark against the dim grey opening of the porch. 138 LADY VALERIA. and shuffled hurriedly towards them. The Vicar went to meet him and returned. " He has heen all over the church. It is quite empty, and he will lock it up for the night when you go. He is very deaf, and will wait for you in the porch out of hearing." They re-entered the vestry, and the lady sank into her chair, leaning her arms on the table and resting her face in her hands for a short time. "Do you know me?" she asked, looking up at him suddenly. There was a soft, plaintive inflection in her speech that reminded him of de Cressy some- how, but her face was strange to him. It was the face of a woman long past her youth, but still wonderfully handsome. Soft masses of wavy white hair were piled high above a white forehead in sharp contrast with her dark, weary, restless eyes. Her delicate aquiline features had the somewhat over-refined, fas- tidious expression that high-arched, fine eye- brows and raised nostrils give to the face they belong to. She was a woman to whom TOLD IN THE VESTRY. 139 diamonds, trailing silken robes, and the upper- most rooms at feasts ouglit to come by right of birth, Eustace thought, as he looked at her with quiet attention, waiting for her to speak again. " No, you do not know me. I am glad of it. If you did, how could you believe what I am going to tell you? That I — I, of all women " She stopped, her breath came quickly and heavily, the rings on her ungloved hands grated as she clasped them together. The next minute she was kneeling at his feet, her head thrown back, and her hands raised to him imploringly. " Oh, help me! save me! I am a miserable, guilty woman. You preached of repentance and hope — you spoke of confession and for- giveness. Tell me what pardon there is for me? What place of repentance can I find" while my sin stays by me?" '' None," spoke Eustace, solemnly and sadly. " But be thankful that there is no I40 LADY VALERIA. sin from whose burden deliverance is im- possible." " You shall tell me what to do," she moaned. ^' I shall go mad or die, with my secret untold, if you will not hear me. You shall tell me what reparation I can make. Surely the time is not past?" She rose to her feet, and stood veiling her- self in the folds of the costly lace that draped her head and shoulders, and shrinking away from him while she spoke. " How can 3^ou guess the crime that clings to me? I brought my husband to his death and renounced my child. Can years of prayer, or seas of penitential tears, blot out that?" " Tell me the whole story," said Eustace, gravely and authoritatively. *' You have no choice now." " It was so long ago, and I was so young — so young and so ignorant. A poor little neglected child, running wild about our Irish home, with nobody to care for me but blind Aunt Kitty ; no companions but my foster- TOLD IN THE VESTRY. 141 sister, Katty Magrath, and her little brothers and sisters. My father never came near the place. No one did. We had enough to eat and drink, but I wore clothes like Katty's, except when I put on my mother's old jewellery. Once, I remember, Aunt de Cressy sent me some finery : a green satin pelisse, like her own daughter's, and a bonnet with feathers, Avhite and green. I remember my reflection in the brook as I ran about in them for months and months barefoot." She sank into her chair when she began to speak, and now sat half smiling for a second at the remembrance. " De Cressy !" interrupted the Vicar. " Are you any relation?" '' I am Lionel's cousin. He is your curate, is he not? Yes, 1 " She stopped short, her eves fixed in sudden alarm on Eustace's. "Listen!" Her lips seemed to breathe inaudibly. Both sat with attention strained to the uttermost. There was no sound in all the great echoing 142 LADY VALERIA. vault of the church, nor in the narrow bounds of the vestry, and yet by some certain momentary arousing of that sixth sense to which no man has given a name, which is not hearing, seeing, or feeling, but a sort of com- bination of all three, each had felt in that instant's pause that they were not alone. He rose, carried the lamp to the. door, and threw its light around once or twice. " The echo from some noise outside, I sup- pose," he said, returning and closing the door after hira. She had risen too, and looked fearfully around the small space about her. " What does it matter," she said at last, " who hears my name ? I am Lady Valeria Meynell, and my husband was Oliver Meynell — the great, wise, wealthy, and philanthropic Oliver Meynell. Ah ! you have heard of him, and of me — of all my good deeds, and of the children I have brought up to follow in his footsteps." And she laughed a little cynical laugh. '' He was a good man too. He re- TOLD IN THE VESTRY. 143 claimed me, and made me what I am. I was afraid of him, you see, and dare not be any- thing l)ut what he bade me. We were happy too-ether ; but it is not less the truth that when I married him I had another husband and a livino^ child." She seemed to force the words from her lips as it were loudly, and with a sort of bravado ; then her voice fell, and her face grew white and scared as she went on rapidly : "Jack never was my husband, they would have told you ; and they took my little child from me at its birth, and swore to me it was dead ; but I knew better." She paused a moment. Eustace was silent and attentive. " I never knew what brought Jack to Glenara — my home," she continued. " He was the first gentleman I had ever seen, except my father, and I thought him a prince, and ran after him like a little dog. He was spending a month's leave in the mountains, sketching and fishing, and I used to go off 144 LADY VALERIA. with him, roaming the glens the summer days long, without word or thought of harm. When the time came for him to go, I just kissed Aunt Kitty, and ran over the hills to the Magraths, where a strange priest married us, and off we went to Dublin together. He to mean me harm — my Jack ! N^ever ! It was line fun at first, going about and seeing sights with him, dressed in all the beautiful o-owns he bouo;ht me ; but it didn't last. Jack was handsome and rich, and would be a baronet some day, and there were plenty to tell him how he had thrown himself away in marrying me. Then I hated the grand ladies he knew, who would laugh at me even while they spoke so sweetly to ' La Belle Sauvage,' as I heard one call me. And, in truth, no better than a savage was I when I heard her. Jack joked me about it when I told him. I think he had been drinking, or he never would have spoken as he did. I caught up a knife to give him his answer, but he twisted it out of my hand, and threw it out of the window, and TOLD IN THE VESTRY. 145 locked me in the room ' till my tantrums were over.' I saw him go past the window, and 1 knew he was going to her." " Poor child !" sighed the Yicar, seeing before him not the stately, remorse-stricken woman, but the beautiful, wild, passionate, forlorn child of the story. " I called to him. I beat my hands sore on the door. Someone came at last and let me out, and just as I was I would have rushed bare-headed through the streets in search of him, but that the person, whoever it was, held my hands and stopped me. Then I saw it was my father. " Xever mind what he said to me. I grow sick with rage and shame to this day when I think of it. He took me away that hour and put me in the Convent of the Sacred Heart, where my aunt was abbess ; and then — went back to Dublin and shot Jack dead in the Phoenix Park at sunrise next morning." "Dead !" the Vicar ejaculated, with a long- drawn breath of relief, despite his sympathy. VOL. I. 10 146 LADY VALERIA. She turned sharply on him. " Was he ?" she queried, a world of mean- ing in her dark, doubtful gaze. *' I think they lied to me. I think he let them leave him for dead to be rid of me. I think — I know " — she glanced over her shoulder suspiciously as she spoke and drew nearer the Vicar. " I saw Ids name in despatches long after. He was alive, and my saintly husband knew it, but would not give me up to him. Liars all !" she cried, with fierce sudden passion, ''and amongst them all I am Lost — Lost — Lost !" There was silence while Eustace stood gravely pondering on this new and serious feature of the case, and Lady Valeria sat with quivering lips and knit brow, afraid to trust her voice again. The flame of anger died out as rapidly as it had flamed up, however, and she went on in weary sullenness. " Do you want to hear about the convent : how they kept me there eating my heart out for months waiting for news that never came : and then sent me awav — dreadiner scandal, vou TOLD IN THE VESTRY. 147 understand ? My boy was born at Biddy Magrath's — I mean Katty's mother and my foster-mother, and died — so they told me. I was too ill to know\ My father was like a madman at the thoughts of his own folly, for Jack was in his grave — or they all thought so then, for certain, and the wrong he had done me could never be righted. I must go back to the convent again ; it was the only place for me now. I was too ill and wretched to care what became of me, and let them do as they pleased." " You went back to the convent as a postu- lant ?" he enquired. She nodded. " They w^ould have it so ; but when I got well and" strong, and felt the hatefulness of it all, I ran away, about a year after. It was the best way. They never would have let me go. I was out marketing with Sister Clare one day, when we met a nice little man, like a clergy- man, who walked alongside of us, reading bits of the Bible out loud, and preaching a little 10—2 148 LADY VALERIA. now and then. Sister Clare crossed herself, and bid me never listen to a word. He was, she said, the agent of the Irish Church Mis- sionary Society, a most pestilential evil-doer. She was an awful old gossip, and instead of shutting her eyes and hurrying home, she just dawdled about watching him gather the people around him at the street corner and give away tracts. I watched him too, and settled how he should help me. Next day, when we went out, I had a note ready written in my sleeve. Old Sister Catherine was with me, and she was just as keen to see what was going on as Sister Clare. At the first turning we came face to face with the man, followed by half the rabble of the place, and in a minute he had dropped a tract into Sister Catherine's basket, and put another in my hand, and as he did so I squeezed the note into his. I knew he wouldn't fail me. I slipped down the garden that night, scrambled over a! broken-down corner of the wall, found my friend in waiting with a bonnet and shawl, as I had bid him, left TOLD IN THE VESTRY. 149 my veil in the nearest hedge, and long before anyone missed me was safe in the train on my way to Glenara." " Why did you go there?" " To find my boy— my own Uving baby -boy. All those long, lonely nights in my cell I had heard him wailing for me. I had felt his little fingers in the dark, clutching at my neck. I knew he was living, and I went to seek for him. The little missionary talked to me all the way, and I agreed to everything he said. It made him very happy, and he put the whole story of my escape and conversion into his next report. I hope it did him some good with his employers. He knew Aunt de Cressy well. She was at Glenara, and he thought I was going to her ; but when we parted I made my way at once to Biddy Magrath's. The little cabin was roofless and empty, and while I stood wondering and terrified, a neighbour came past driving a cow. * Save us ! an' is it Biddy you're seekin' ? Sure, she and Stephen and the childther are all gone this six months I50 LADY VALERIA. since.' ' The children ?' I asked. ' How many ?' ' Four of them : no less. Katty, an' Xorah, an' the weeshy baby, Stephen; an' it's safe in America they'll be by this time.' I had lost him again. I thanked the girl, and, with my heart breaking, turned back to Glenara — and then Aunt de Cressy carried me off to Eng- land." " But your vows ?" asked the A^icar, slightly scandalised. She shruD^o^ed her shoulders with bitter contempt. " They never troubled me. My father found me out, but when Aunt de Cressy told him the rich young banker, Oliver Meynell, was in love with me, not a word would Jte hear of the Sacred Heart again either. I did try to hold out. I told Oliver the whole truth; every word. / did not want to marry him. Xever." " It was a grievous wrong " the Yicar began. '' I tell you I could not help it," she retorted passionately. " I could stand out against my TOLD IN THE VESTRY, 151 father ; I could persuade Aunt de Cressy ; but when Ohver came near me I was dumb, power- less. His cold blue eyes used to light up when they looked at me ; his hand used to hold mine with a grip of steel. I used to plead and protest, but his look would kill the words on my lips. I used to turn away from him, but I felt him drawing me nearer and nearer, resist as I would." " But did no thought of your husband — of your baby-boy come betweeen you and him T "/ could not think of them when he was there. My mind seemed a blank, which he could fill as he pleased. He used to talk to me about the errors of Rome, and the noble sphere of power and usefulness that lay before me. I tell you I cared not one whit for him or his views, or my life ; sometimes I hated him — always I feared him — but I married him. Sinful, dishonoured wretch that I was !" " Is ' Jack,' your first husband, alive now?" Eustace constrained himself to ask. " You must give me no half confidence." 152 LADY VALERIA. " I never cared to know. He may be. He is ' Sir John,' I suppose; married to some other woman, perhaps. He left me willingly, but my boy was stolen from me. It is for him I am sorrowing and repenting." " You believe he is still living?" "Believe! 1 know it. I have been hoping and seeking ever since Oliver died, and at last by a chance — I cannot tell you how — I got news that he still lives. Lives! and away from me!" " And you want me to bring him to you ; or, to find him, and bring you news of him?" Her face lighted with rapture, but his up- raised hand stayed her reply. " I will undertake nothing unless I possess your full confidence. You have gained news of him by chance — in some manner you do not care to make known. Tell me what it amounted to." *' The Magraths took my boy for their own. Their little Stephen died in the fever, so mine took his place. Afterwards in America, when TOLD IN THE VESTRY. 153 other children were born to them, they were ready enough to part with him to a rich Eng- lish lady, who has adopted him and brought him up as a gentleman — the poor boy !" The Vicar listened frowningly. " Do you know where the Magraths are to be found?" She shook her head. " I have poured out money like water to find them, here and in America, and I have failed." ^' Do you know the name of the rich English lady — your son's present name, of course V She shook her head agaim. " I never heard it. "Why do you call him 'Jack' when he must have been known as ' Stephen' ?" he asked, suddenly raising his keen piercing eyes to hers. She frowned uneasily. "I always thought of him by that name, somehow. 1 couldnt think of him as anything else. I am sure that is his name now.'' " And he is — how old? Between thirty and 154 LADY VALERIA. forty, or older?" making a random guess at her age — possibly sixty. She knitted her delicate brows once more, and pressed her thin hands over her eyes. " I — I can't think he is that. He must be young — quite young. Tall and fair like his father, with kind bright eyes — blue eyes. I should know them anywhere, and Jack's own smile." Mr. Stannard frowned. Was this delusion, or wilful mystification? He put the question aside for the present. '•' You must let me think this over before I can advise you. You may be much drawn to your son — your first-born — that I can well believe," — she gave a low, yearning cry and stretched her hands out by way of response — "but are you doing him a kindness in reveahng the sad secret of his birth ? Will he love you, or owe you any thanks for proving him base born?" "Base born!" she almost shrieked, starting to her feet again. "Never! Could I have TOLD IN THE VESTRY. 155 lived till now if I had believed that ? It was my father's hatred of Jack made him say the word. Jack never would have wronged me. Never ! The marriage was a good one. He swore it when he thought he was dying, though he couldn't rightly prove it. No; he may have lived to hate and forsake me, hut he never dared to do me any dishonour, and, now that OUver is dead, I'll move heaven and earth that justice shall be done to my boy !" " Stop!" almost shouted the Yicar, startled out of all his composure. " You must not. You shall not. Not till I have set before you what you are going to do. You are going to blacken the memories of your dead husband and father ; to bring crushing disgrace on your other children; and to proclaim yourself — what ? Ask your son if he would not rather diig believing himself peasant born but honest — than own for a mother the vile creature that you would make yourself out to be ? It is the act of a mad woman. You come to me for help and counsel. I counsel, I command 156 LADY VALERIA. silence. Now and hereafter, silence. For the sake of your living children, for the sake of your dead husband and father, in the name of your unknown son, I enjoin it. This is the burden laid on you to bear to the end. Cast it from you if you dare." He stopped abruptly, startled at his own vehemence and the effect of his words. Lady Valeria had shrunk away under his first indignant outburst, and cowered down in her chair beneath his out- stretched hand, all scared and white. Then she began to tremble violently as in an ague fit ; long - drawn shuddering sighs escaped her, sighs that became sobs and ended in a passionate weeping. The Vicar was used to weeping women, to the vociferous, unrestrained lamentations of the lower orders, but he was struck with the oddly childish character of her grief It was more like the clearing- up shower of tears after a fit of naughtiness than the scalding drops of shame and contrition, or even the sobs of hysterical TOLD IN THE VESTRY. 157 excitement. He waited for a little, and then spoke a few encouraging words softly and at intervals till the fit was over. She looked up presently, mechanically arranging her disordered head-dress and draping her shawl around her, listening with a quiet, subdued air. " Promise me," he ended, " that you will drive away the thought of self-betrayal from your mind. You can do nothing but harm. Your son has been given into good hands, you say, and has no need of you. The pain of the separation has fallen as it should, on the one who has sinned. What can you do for him but bring sorrow and shame T "I can make him rich," she said eagerly. " You do not know how wealthy I am. He shall have Glenara and all the money Mr. Meynell settled on me to keep it up. That was the bribe that tempted my poor father, money enough to free the estate — which is to go to my eldest son. Do you think I could bear to think of Oliver there ?" T58 LADY VALERIA. Eustace groaned in spirit at the task which lay before him. Here was an embarrassing family secret given into his keeping. Lady Valeria's mind was evidently failing her beneath the bm^den of it. Or did her sudden frantic craving for spiritual aid simply mean a desperate effort to secure an accomplice in some wild scheme of restitution in secret '? He must have time to think it out before committing himself further. '' I will give you help to the utmost of my power," he said deliberately, " and will keep your confidence sacred; but I must beg of you some further help. I want the date of your marriage and your son's birth. I want the year when you had the last news of him. I want his real name — his father's name.'' " No !" she almost screamed, then controlled herself by a strong effort. She kept her eyes fixed on his, Avhile a sort of dumb struo^o^le seemed to shake her frame with agony. " I can't," she gasped at length. " I will not. TOLD IN THE VESTRY. 159 When they told me that dreadful day that I had no right to it, then I vowed that it should never pass my lips again till my dying day. I should go mad if I were to see or hear it now." She sat panting and trembling, her eyes glittering wildly in the lamplight, now and then sending sharp sideway glances at Eustace. " When shall I see you again ?" he asked. " I will write to you and f^^ a time," she said, rising. " I will go now. Good- bye." Eustace opened the door and looked out. "Wait until I have seen whether your carriage is there," he said, and hastened to the porch, where he found the old verger on his favourite three-legged stool, half asleep, but resolutely maintaining his right to see everybody out of the church, and the church locked up to his satisfaction before he de- parted. i6o LADY VALERIA. Lady Valeria clung to Eustace's arm sud- denly as they went down the aisle. " We are followed !" she whispered. " There it is again! No, you needn't look; it is by no earthly tread. I know it well. Hush ! It is by the spirit of the man I have wronged — of Oliver, my husband. It w^ill follow me to my grave." She hurried out into the clear night air and cold autumn moonlight. '• Good-bye," she said again, and then, bending towards the Vicar, whispered : "I feared him once, but the days are coming when my boy will be by my side, and neither man nor spirit can harm me then." And her dark eyes sparkled through a sudden rain of tears. He hastened back more disturbed than he cared to own even to himself. He cast one rapid glance round the vestry as he turned down the lamp, and, with the latest flicker, caught sight of a small white oblong at his feet. TOLD IN THE VESTRY. i6r He looked again at it before the light flickered out, and the second glimpse was so startling as to make him in all haste rekindle the lio^ht and look ao^ain. It was a tiny playing-card. The Seven of Spades. VOL. I. 11 CHAPTER IX. UNDER THE STARS. HE Seven of Spades. Eustace picked up the card from the vestry floor. An unaccount- able thrill of uneasy alarm passed through him as he touched the harmless bit of paste- board. " Dropped by one of the choir, I suppose," he said, to reassure himself. Yet in his mind there lingered the conviction that it had not been there when he and Lady Valeria left the place. He carried it with him out into the churchyard, and, bidding the old verger good-night, set himself to think out the strange story that had been confided to him. UNDER THE STARS. 163 He wished he could disbelieve it from be- ginning to end. Why should it not be the fiction of a distempered brain prompted by some secret ill-will of Lady Valeria towards her son Oliver ? Her manner had been con- fused when he pressed for details. She had withheld every important point of the story, every fact that might aid his search ; her son's real name, age, description. Yet she spoke the truth. He felt it. Her fierce, passionate yearning for her boy was genuine — past all feigning. And he must help her. To and fro he paced under the churchyard poplars, revolving and rejecting scheme after scheme. Could de Cressy help him? The duel must have been a notorious fact in its day. An English officer, the heir to a baronetcy, could not have been done to death in the Phoenix without open scandal. And yet — if " Jack " had not been killed ? ]^o ! Eustace shrank from contemplating that grievous possibility. Jack must have been shot by Lord Kilmoyne ; 11—2 i64 LADY VALERIA. and with him and the Magraths must have disappeared the only proofs of the marriage. Let but Jack be dead, and the Yicar felt equal to disposing of the claims of his son. The Magraths. Would further search after them be of use ? Lady Valeria by her own showing had utterly failed to trace them. Given two West of Ireland emigrants unde- scribed, to find their address thirty or forty years later in the United States. A needle in a truss of hay was a hopeful quest by com- parison. This was the identification of two blades of grass in the whole hay-stack. Nothing to be done but await Lady Valeria's promised letter ; and here at last he turned up his Vicarage steps and unlocked the door. On his hall-table lay an unfamiliar cap and stick. He regarded them with scant welcome and entered his study, where he found their proprietor pacing its narrow limits impatiently. He was a spare, active, elderly man, with a cousinly likeness to the Vicar, half buried in a huge travelling-coat, with a Bradshaw in his UNDER THE STARS. 165 hand and an open Gladstone-bag on the table beside him. " Arbuthnot Corbett ? Of all people ! I thought you were at Davos !" " IVe been there and come home again, as I shall from any place you can mention on the map of Europe. As long as there is nothing to speak of but solid earth between me and this home of my heart, back I come to the dear old smoky chimney-pots as sure as a carrier-pigeon. But the sea — ah, that's another thing!" He was rummaging in the bag as he spoke, and produced a thick blue envelope, which he threw across the table to Eustace, still talking beyond possibility of interruption. " So I'm off to Liverpool by the next train, and to New York by the ' Oceanic' in a fort- night. The doctors have got their will of me at last, you see. That is the last bit of work I am to do for six months at least." " It's uncommonly good of you, I am sure," Eustace succeeded in saying. " Come and have some dinner." 1 66 LADY VALERIA. " Xo, thanks. Your good housekeeper has offered all imaginable refreshment. I was afraid I should have to start without seeing you. I've just a quarter of an hour longer. You'll find all I have to say written down there. Full instructions how to proceed in tackling the trustees of your Parish charities. It's a hornet's nest you have thrust your head into, my man. I've taken counsel's opinion as to the vested rights of your beadle." Their talk for the next five minutes was purely legal and parochial, and then Arbuth- not Corbett jumped up and began to shut his bag. " What are you going to do in America?" asked his cousin. " I haven't a notion. What is a man to do who isn't to meddle with politics, literature, science, anything that makes life worth living? A twelvemonth's ^ change of scene and gentle amusement ' ! Twelvemonths' Death and Burial!" " Can I get you any introductions T UNDER THE STARS. 167 " ^o, don't. I've got a portmanteau full already. What's the good of them? Give me something to do, and I'll bless your name for ever." Eustace started. " If I thought you were in earnest " He stopped short. " I be- lieve I am possessed by a story I have just been hearing, and am beginning to look at everything that happens according to its bear- ing on it." " Don't disappoint me. You were going to ask me to do something. Out with it. Quick! What were you going to ask?" " To find me two Irish emigrants, address unknown ; also the date of their emigration. I was just considering it a moment ago as the most hopeless quest I could undertake." Arbuthnot Corbett's note -book was out ia an instant, and his keen face, all alert, was turned to Eustace's with an expression of eager interest. "Name ? N"umber of family? Place of abode in Ireland?" Eustace told him as much as he knew i68 LADY VALERIA. himself, promising to forward any further information he might receive later. Mr. Corbett closed his note-book content- edly. " It's the youngest you want — Stephen, eh? Do you want him alive or dead?" " I should wdsh to find him dead," said the Vicar, more honestly than ninety-nine men out of a hundred dare have spoken. '' That means if he's alive he's dangerous," and Corbett's sharp eyes twinkled. "Very good. If he's living I'll cable, if he's dead you can w^ait for the next mail. What's that ?" " That''' w^as the Seven of Spades, w^hich Eustace had unconsciously held all this time. " Oh, nothing ! A choir-boy's peccadillo. I w^as absurdly startled by it just now, though." Corbett took it and examined it curiously. " Paris made. An unusual make and one of a fresh pack. Not a choir- boy's plaything, my friend. Where did you find it ?" " In the vestry. I'd give something to know^ who dropped it." UNDER THE STARS. 169 His cousin without more ado possessed him- self of two of the pins used to fasten up notices of services and memoranda on the wall near the Vicar's writing-table, and stuck the card up prominently above the fireplace. " There, that's incongruous enough to attract notice. Leave it there and keep your eyes open w^hen any new-comer enters, and, if my brains are w^orth half the sacrifices I am making to get them back into working order, you'll hear something of that Seven of Spades before a month's out. Time's up ! Good-bye. You shall have a Magrath within six months if there's one left in the land." Many days followed, during which Eustace Stannard w^ent about his Avork pursued by a vision of Lady Valeria's great, passionate eyes filled w^ith their agony of fierce impatience. Every spare moment w^as devoted to consider- ing her story from all imaginable points of view, re-reading and annotating the cipher notes of the interview, which he had made with the utmost care and accuracy, or await- I70 LADY VALERIA. ing her promised summons which never came. He had made a few desultory and unsatis- factory inquiries on his own account mean- while, beginning as was most natural with Lionel de Cressy. It was in a singularly conscious fashion that he dropped her name into the conversation the first time that he found himself alone with his Curate. Lionel was too frankly surprised to be suspicious. " Lady Valeria !" he exclaimed in surprise. " Where in the world have you been meeting her? Not in St. Fridolin's, I'll engage." " Why not in St. Fridolin's?" " Would you have all the Meynells turn in their graves with horror at the thoughts of one of the name setting a foot in it? Oliver was a shining light of Exeter Hall, you know, and his mantle has fallen on his son's shoulders. It's the way of the firm. You know the great bankers, Meynell, Meynell, and Mott?" *' I have seen her name constantly at meet- UNDER THE STARS. \yt ings and on subscription lists. Mr. Meynell is her son?" " Yes. He's a good solemn old boy, with a solemn wife and two solemn babies. We don't see much of each other. Now the daughter, Mabel — Lady Charles Brant — and I are great allies. She's musical, clever and queer. They're all odd, more or less." " Do you happen to remember the late Lord Kilmoyne?" " Valeria's father? The maddest old scamp! The regular, typical, claret-drinking, duel- fighting old Irish nobleman : the gayest of young dogs to the day of his death. How a child of his could ever have married into the Meynell family passes all comprehension." Mr. Stannard listened to this biographical sketch in meditative silence. " Did he not fight some rather notorious duel ?" " With Fighting Fitz- Gerald you mean ! That's the only one I know. Ah, t-hat was a queer story " But here Mr. Stannard somewhat curtly 172 LADY VALERIA. suggested that his business was in arrears, and postponed the narration. Looking in the Peerage he could only find Lady Valeria's name entered as the " youngest daughter of the seventh Earl of Kilmoyne. Born 1823. Married to Oliver Meynell, Esq., 1841." That was all. In an old copy, pro- cured with some difficulty, he found '' Kil- moyne, 7th Earl," and a record of his services in the Peninsula. He found the younger brother Claude de Cressy and his wife (Aunt de Cressy, Lionel's mother), and his sister Lady Catherine de Cressy {' old, blind Aunt Kitty '). He found a string of names of Lady Valeria's generation, all but herself dying in infancy or unmarried ; but of any marriage previous to that with Olivier Meynell found he no trace. It had, if it had ever taken place, l)een kept a family secret to the last. So much the harder to prove it, if it had ever taken place. There was the blot at starting. It was a wretched business all round, and UNDER THE STARS. 173 he could do nothing further till more material was given into his hands. After all it was Arbuthnot Corbett who made the first sign. His letter was dated from Queenstown, and, preliminaries over, began : " Find 3^ou a Magrath, did you ask ? I've found you a dozen, I believe, and your man amongst them. I thought out my plans during my journey to Liverpool, and decided on delaying my start till I could see whether it was not possible to pick up the trail in Ireland. As the doctors consider the question of climate quite a secondary one, no one opposed my eccentric fancy for a winter visit to Killarney, and once there I made tracks promptly for the place you named, Glenara. Did you know it was a castle as well as a town, both belonging to Meynell, the banker ? A flourishing region, thanks to his money-bags and his Scotch agent — shot by this time, pro- bably. " I made friends with the priest, Father 174 LADY VALERIA. Fahey — a very decent fellow. He threw up his hands and exclaimed when the name of Magrath passed my lips. ' Did he know it ? As if the very life hadn't been worried out of him, and Father Dennis Moriarty before him, about that same ! First one coming and then the other after Stephen Magrath, and no help could anyone give him at all, not even Magrath's own sister, Ellen Doyne. He had gone to America, wife and children — three girls and one boy — and that was the last of him.' ' When had he gone V ' Indeed, Ellen's memory had not been strong. She used to say it was either the year of the famine or the year of the building of Diney Todd's stables {ie. '40 to '49).' I should have left Father Fahey discoursing, out of all patience, but for a comical twinkle in his eye, and an interjacu- latory ' But wait till I tell ye,' that prefaced each illustration of the hopelessness of all search, and I was rewarded. ' What would ye call that now V he ended, with a triumphant flourish, producing from his pocket-book a UNDER THE STARS. 175 letter. A genuine letter — and recent — and from old Stephen Magrath himself. It was written to his sister, the above-mentioned Ellen Doyne, enclosing money to enable her to join him, supposing her to be yet alive and unmarried. I enclose a copy. Ellen having died some months previously, the money was returned ; but there was the letter and the address — ' Petropolis, Illinois,' and from there you may expect my next letter to be dated, that is, if all that's mortal of me be not delivered to the fishes before we sight Sandy Hook." The letter enclosed was brief and to the purpose. The writer was " doing well in a large grocery and general store, and hoped his dear sister would advise with Father Dennis, or whoever was priest at Glenara now, as to the best way of joining him. Bridget — rest her soul — was gone, but Katty kept house for him. Xorah was married to a German tailor, and the boy was prospering." Prospering ! " Jack," the possible baronet, 176 LADY VALERIA. the certain heir of Glenara and of Lady Valeria's share of the Meynell wealth, pros- pering in a grocery and general store in a western town ! One of the strongest tempta- tions of the Vicar's life assailed him then : To put the letter in the fire there and then, and telegraph to Corbett to drop the search and keep silence. So powerful was the impulse that in sheer self- distrust the Vicar folded the letter, and without another moment's con- sideration set out at once to place it in Lady Valeria's hands, and take the matter out of his own disposal. Seagrave Place is a once aristocratic and still eminently respectable region, A short street of handsome, dull, old-fashioned houses, that seemed very silent and lonely when Eustace entered it about eight o'clock that evening. Number 11 had been the town house of the Meynells from father to son for three generations, and Lady Valeria still clung to it. She had, as in duty bound, indeed, offered it to her son, Oliver, on his UNDER THE STARS. 177 marriage ; but he, with filial devotion, refused to disturb her — perhaps moved by Mrs. Oliver's declaration that she, personally, would prefer second-floor lodgings in Pimlico, so oppressive was the majestic gloom that enveloped the locality. Eustace — approaching on the opposite side of the road — stopped to gaze meditatively at the lighted windows of the house. They suddenly grew dim as he watched them — rather to his surprise — till he noticed the bright streaks at the edges of the thick blinds of the lower windows, and guessed that the inmates had gone downstairs to dinner. The windows above still glowed with fire-light, and in one shone a reading-lamp, casting a queer elongated figure of the tall chair-back near it on the w^hite linen blind. Another shadow, and a moving one, became confused with it for a moment. Presently, a woman's head and shoulders were flung in grotesque distortion across the white field of the blind, and then the blind itself was slightly pushed VOL. I. 12 178 LADY VALERIA. aside. Some one gazed out on the streets below, and then disappeared, giving place to the tall chair-back again. It was but a trifle — the action of some housemaid on the look-out for her friend the policeman ; and yet it sent a rush of unac- countable curiosity and misgiving through the watcher's mind, and made him stay his steps a space. The street-door of No. 11 opened suddenly, but very softly, just as he at last crossed the road. A woman slipped out and drew it behind her with noiseless care ; but before she could descend the steps, Eustace, with rapid decision, made an impetuous rush, and, coming perilously near collision, caused her to start back. " I beg your pardon. Is this Dr. Diarmid's ?" he asked, using a name he had read on a brass plate three doors off. " Not here. I do not know him," was the sharp reply ; and the speaker hurried past him, and was off, and away doAvn the street into UNDER THE STARS. 179 the darkness before he could say another word. " Never mind, I shall know your black eyes and white face again if need be, I think, my good woman, better than you will know me," was his reflection as he turned round and rang the bell on his own account. Lady Valeria Meynell, the grave domestic assured him, was seriously unwell, too unwell to receive anyone. He was evidently a person of discrimination, accustomed to deal with Hs mistress's clerical callers. Mr. Meynell would see anyone on business for her ladyship any day by appointment. Mr. Meynell was there that evening. Eustace thanked him hastily, left his card, and departed. He would post the letter before lie slept, he resolved, with a few lines of expla- nation that could betray nothing should it fall into the wrong hands. The door closed heavily behind him. It was answered unexpectedly by the clang of an area gate close at hand, and Eustace became aware of a portly female 12—2 i8o LADY VALERIA. form wearing a black silk gown, and carrying a big basket, emerging from the lower regions of the house, and deliberately wending her way in the same direction as himself Mrs. Margetts, the cook, having got the principal features of the dinner off her mind, and leaving the minor details to be filled in bv the kitchen-maid, was takinir her eveninsf out. Cook was stout, and the basket heavy, so that she made but slow progress ; and Eus- tace, with a few steps, was able to overtake her. It would greatly have surprised the good soul if she could have known the shiver of distaste with which the handsome young clergyman forced himself to stop and address her politely. '' You are one of Lady Yaleria ]\Ieyne]rs servants, are you not ?" "I am cook at her ladyship's," with an affable smile, shifting the basket to the other arm. " And what may be your object in asking, sir?" UNDER THE STARS. i8i " I want some information about a person who was at the house to-day. I mean no harm by the inquiry. I am a clergyman, and a friend of your mistress. Here is my card. If I apply to Lady Valeria I may make mis- chief, so I ask you." Good Mrs. Margetts nodded and blinked at the card. " What sort of a person might you be meaning, sir ?" she asked primly, with pinched lips. " A youngish woman, dark, about your height, but thinner \ with a pale complexion ; in a dark cloak — lined with red." The last detail suddenly flashed across his memory. "0— h— h!" said Mrs. Margetts, with a long-drawn intei;jection of contempt, as she recognised the description. " Was it lier you was meaning?" '' I suppose so. Who was she?" ** Madame Euphrosyne. At least, that's what she calls herself" "I want to know what she is doing at your house." i82 LADY VALERIA, " Mending lace, that's her trade, or she says so. It's my belief she's one of those who iro round corn-cuttinor and enamellino'. Not that we've any complexions to make up at our house, thank goodness! An uppish young person, with a black bag ; who rings the visitors' bell, and won't wait in the hall if it was ever so." Mr. Stannard nodded comprehension. "How long has she been coming to see Lady Valeria?" " That's more than I can tell you, sir. It began after Mr. Meynell's death, I know. My lady w^ent to France for a change. It was after she came home that we first saw Madame Euphrosyne about, and she's been coming, on and off, ever since." Mrs. Margetts began to look enquiringly at the Vicar in her turn, as if expecting some explanation of his interest in the obnoxious young person ; and he began to wonder him- self w^hat he was driving at by his questions. Beyond the fact that the woman's exit from the house he was interested in had been furtive UNDER THE STARS. 183 and odd, he had absolutely no reason for bestowing more notice on her than on any other of Lady Valeria's visitors or trades- people. He had acted on an impulse, and might end in an utterly wrong position if he went too far. " Can you tell me where she comes from?" '' Nobody knows, sir. She just comes and goes. She was at our house to-day, about live o'clock. I saw her on the steps, that is to say." '' Thanks." Eustace argued fiercely with his irrational suspicions for a brief space, and then gave in to them. " I know no harm of the woman, I am bound to say, but I should like to hear more of her. Her address, and any further infor- mation you can obtain, is worth a couple of sovereigns to me at any time you like to bring It. '' You shall have it, sir," said cook, with decision. ** A nasty, bold-faced thing ! — Not that she comes in my way. I'd let her know ! [84 LADY VALERIA. It's the others can't abide her. — You trust to Martha Margetts, sir. You shall have the address as sure as ever is. Good-night, and many thanks, sir." And Martha Margett's and her basket took their way doAvn the next turning. CHAPTER X. ^•'the fair quee n." jSI'LY a fine lady's freak." So had Mr. Stannard disposed of Mrs. cC^^ct^ Damien's offer of assistance. It recurred to his mind, however, not many days later, when he paid another visit to the poor lonely little cripple in Lavender Row. Here was a case for a lady's delicate ministration, he thought. The good neighbour, Mrs. Beltran, had suddenly, and without farewell or note of warning, disappeared ; paying a quarter s rent in advance, and taking the key of her room aw^ay with her : and Elsie looked ill and doubly forlorn. He found his opportunity the next Sunday 1 86 LADY VALERIA. evening : in the church porch, after service, hastily introduced " Mr. Paramount, my churchwarden," threw in a word of explana- tion — " Mrs. Damien is desirous of knowing something of St. Fridolin's ; I can think of no one better able to assist her than you," and hurried off, his conscience relieved of an obligation. A precise, unhappy-looking, little old gentleman made her a formal little clerkly bow. A gentleman every inch, despite thread- bare clothes and patched boots. " May I ask what sort of information you require?" " All you can give me," was the compre- hensive reply. "First of all, who is this?" And she turned to the pale little daughter hanging on his arm, her great eyes open in astonishment at her father's new and splendid acquaintance. Mr. Paramount' s pinched features relaxed, and a faint frost-bitten smile played round the corners of his mouth. " This is my little girl, Elsie. She belongs to the parish ; born and ''THE FAIR QUE EN r 1S7 christened here, and brought up within the sound of St. Fridolin s bell." An electric flash of mutual interest and sympathy passed in a look from one fair face to the other before Mrs. Damien spoke again, slowly and with a radiant smile. " I think I need go no further. I came here to look for a friend, and I think I have found one. I want first of all some one to advise me and to help me. Do you think Elsie will?" Elsie's face flushed with rapture, and her eyes glowed with soft enthusiasm. " What can / do?" she breathed in shy, tremulous tones, as she put her hand in the warm, soft clasp that sought it. Mrs. Damien made her sit beside her on the old oaken bench, and still holding her hand told her her errand. How she was rich, friend- less and idle, surrounded at home by rich, many-friended, and well-occupied folk, in no need of her. How chance had brought her to St. Fridolin's, where she fancied a niche midit 1 88 LADY VALERIA. be found for her ; to all of which Elsie listened with devotional rapture, and Mr. Paramount doubtfully, as savouring of liomish doctrine of self-sacrifice and mortification. Still he would not deny that there was more to do in the parish than lie could see way to manage ; much that was not in the line of either curate or churchwarden ; and, providing there was no nonsense of Guilds or Festivals mixed up in it, he for his part would have no objection to see it done ; which concession gained him such a dazzling sunshiny smile of thanks that his miserable little features melted under it, and lie beamed in return, and, furthermore, escorted his beautiful new acquaintance to her carriage with cjuite a dash' of youthful gal- lantry. So, regardless of weather or calendar, began the summer days of Elsie's life. With Mrs. Damien came the sunshine ; new life ; new thoughts ; new work. It was tonic to the poor child's spirit. Her stunted, under-fed mind grew and expanded, perhaps over-rapidly. " THE FAIR QUEEXr 189 Her beauty developed and refined with her mental growth, but took an added touch of wistful sadness. Perhaps with the grow- ing knowledge of life and all that it held came a keener sense of her own cruel limita- tions. " Only a fine lady's freak," had repeated the Yicar ; but the days of chill October when he first met her passed and ^November Avith its fogs followed, and still he knew it lasted. He saw her, sometimes at one of the daily services, sometimes drivino: throuo-h the busy streets, sometimes escorted by de Cressy, making her way into some very dingy regions ^^ith the air of being quite at home there. " Only a fine lady's freak !" he persisted. Came December with its slush and snow. Still the graceful fur-clad figure crossed his path, gay and bright and confident of his sympathy, let his greeting be never so un- genial. A society paper found its way occasionally to the dull old Georgian mansion, and with. jgo LADY VALERIA. much self-contempt he caught himself stopping when he came to a paragraph in which lier name might chance to be mentioned. By that he discovered that she was a j^ersonage of note in her way ; one of last season's beauties who had been painted by an R.A. and been admired by a Eoyal Highness. A J3altimore beauty of good English birth, and connected by marriao;e with more than one noble family. The editor, indeed, was kind enough to speak of her late husband as " poor dear Noel Damien," in quite brotherly fashion, and allude to his love affairs and money difficulties in a style that must have been highly consoling to his widow. Stories of her sayings and doings, of her charm, her kindliness, her energy, her patience under rebuffs and disappointments, and, alas ! of her extravagance, capriciousness, love of excitement, reached him through de Cressy : who, he noticed with grim amusement, had fallen desperately in love Avith her in his own little odd way — under protest as it were — with " THE FAIR OUEENr 191 a full sense of the uselessness and absurdity of the proceeding. "A fine lady's freak!" said the Yicar to himself for the last time. The New Year had begun, and a day of ^^remature Spring sun- shine was lighting up the land. He stood in tlie churchyard watching the progress of his Parish Room. The indefinable stir and promise of spring was in the air. The chirpings of the astonished sparrows mingled with the music of the masons' tinkling trowels ; and, as the year's first streak of sunshine glanced athwart the smoky slates, Mrs. Damien, with de Cressy beside her, sauntered up to him. " How fast it grows !" Mrs. Damien was saying, looking at the red brick box before her. " We ought to grow a pear tree up the south side. Or is that too secular? Some- thing ecclesiastic. Would a vine and a fig tree be more correct?" "We!" Eustace winced with an odd, ex- asperated, amused, not altogether unpleasant feeling. Before he could analyse it she went on. 192 LADY VALERIA. " When it is finished, I wonder if you would let me have it for an evening every week : to gather my girls in ?" " Your girls : what girls have you found in St. Fridolin's.^" he asked, rather puzzled. "All there are," she answered, carelessly. " Out-door workers in the big shops, tele- phonists, bookbinders ; I don't know how I came to find them alL" She stopped with a certain chilled air of disappointment. She had detected his wandering attention ; even a slight frown of impatience. How could she tell that it was impatience with himself for thinking not of her words but of the pretty musical inflec- tions of her sweet voice, of the marvellous gifts of witchery Heaven showers on women, to be a snare and a stumbling-block in a man's pathway. He recalled his w^andering thoughts in- stantly, and gave his consent without the grace of readiness ; then she bade him fare- well and turned away. He stood meditatively a few minutes longer " THE FAIR QUEEN y 193 just where she left hiui, inclignaDtly ad- dressing some mental enquiries to a purely imaginary antagonist. Why was any honest effort for the good of others to be persistently sneered down ? Must it not bring its own blessing, however ill-directed ? Had not butterflies, idle, mischievous nuisances as he — the antagonist — might be pleased to con- sider them, their place and work in creation as well as popular preachers ? Might not beauty, grace, and winning ways prove in the end as great forces for good and evil as zeal, eloquence, or a Double First ? What riglit had anyone to carp and criticise and doubt ? Or was it himself that he doubted ? The Vicar cut his meditations short at this point, and hurried off to interview his builder. All this time the Seven of Spades held its place where Arbuthnot Corbett had posted it, with no result, hitherto, except that of afford- - ing cause for speculation to the Vicar's visitors and some diversion to Mr. de Cressy. It was well known in the parish that from VOL. I. 13 194 LABV VALERIA. nine till ten o'clock every morning the Vicar's study was free to all comers ; and Mrs. Good- lifFe, trotting briskly to and fro on household errands, was wont to shake her trim little head impatiently at the rabble of un scraped shoes that entered on this invitation. A very motley crew trod in them on one particular dirty morning some weeks later. " Leave the card up," de Cressy had pleaded. " Just this one hour longer." Then in had come a printer's boy with damaged eyesight, wanting an order for some hospital ; a slatternly woman with a baby and a claim on some local charity ; a decent woman with red eyes, to entreat the Vicar to try and get her husband to join the Blue Ribbon Army. Then a burly " Fellowship Porter " who had taken the ribbon and found it didn't ao^ree with him, to consult on the best means of getting clear of his obligations. Of each newcomer did de Cressy solemnly demand, " Have you ever seen that card before ? Or one like it ? Can you offer any " THE FAIR queen:' 195 suo-o-estion as to how it came to be found in the vestry of St. Fridolin's ?" To all of which he received equally solemn and decided nesratives. Then came a blank interval, and then — Mrs. Damien! Mr. Stannard rose ceremoniously to greet her, and de Cressy dropped into a chair, blush- ing to the tips of his ears, and immersed himself in a pile of reports as demure as a cat in a dairy. " I have come to say good-bye. I am going away," she began. " A friend of mine — the only relation I have in the world — -wants me to go abroad with her, and I don't see how I can refuse." She spoke hesitatingly, almost apologetically, de Cressy noticed, and the Vicar listened without response. " I don't know that I am doing any particular good or harm here. Some people may miss me — one or two whom I have been able to help a little." " St. Fridolin's cannot be expected to be ill ways your first consideration,'^ Mr. Stannard 13—2 196 LADY VALERIA. said, constrainedly. " We must be prepared to give way to other and more urgent claims upon you." She looked at him, her eyes kindling as if in resentment of some latent sneer. " I don't think I quite understand you, or you me, Mr. Stannard. You talk as if I were withdrawing my name from a subscription-list. Friendship — kindly sympathy — are what I have found to be most needed wherever I have gone. One can't withdraw such things at a moment's notice, nor make good the withdrawal. Not that I speak from personal experience," she said, with a forced little laugh. " I should have been grateful enough for sympathy and advice myself many a time, if you had found it possible to give it." *^ You might haA'e always counted on that 1" he answered, warmly. " I cannot imagine why you have ever doubted it." Then stiffly : " Please call upon me for any assistance in my power, whenever it is needed." De Cressy looked up at him half indignant. " THE FAIR queen:* 197 half quizzically. Mrs. Damien bowed frigid thanks. '' Can you spare a few moments to poor Elsie Paramount ? I found her distressed beyond all my powers of consolation just now, and brought her here to tell you her troubles." Mr. Stannard's answer was to prepare to accompany her to the carriage. Mrs. Damien stopped him on the way. " Be frank with me, Mr. Stannard. Tell me at once what I have done or left undone to offend you." " Offend me!" he repeated, confused by this downright attack. "Why should you sup- pose such a thing?" '' Because, though you know I leave St. Fridolin's against my will, and only from a sense of duty, you give me no ' God-speed ' at parting, no promise of welcome on my return. Because you are less than courteous and more than critical — captious and unjust in your estimate of me." LADY VALERIA. "No, no. Unjust? As heaven knows, never." His voice grew low^, and quivered as with pain. " Oh, forgive me if I have wounded or discouraged you. I have a rough, churlish nature. Will 3^ou bear with me a little longer, and believe in my good- will ?" " Indeed I w^ill, if you won't be so careful to conceal every trace of its existence for the future," she answered, brightly. " Shall we take a fresh departure, and try to be better friends when I come home again? Very good. Now come to Elsie." Elsie had been w^atching this little dialogue with painful interest from the carriage, little guessing how small a share she or her con- cerns had in it. Perceiving that it was ended,, she got out slowly and painfully and joined them. " My child, you should have sent for me,"^ exclaimed Eustace, hastening to help her and bring her in to the Vicarage, where Mrs. Damien left her, followed by de Cressy. " No. You must not come to our house,"" « THE FAIR OUEENr 199 replied Elsie, with great solemn eyes of mys- tery. •' Xever again. You are in danger, fearful danger, Mr. Stannard, and I have come to warn you." Her voice shook with the weight of the words she uttered. She fixed her eyes on the Yicar and nodded her head with portentous meanino;. He would not have lauofhed for the world, and looked as much impressed as she could wish. " I am very sorry to hear that, Miss Para- mount. You are a brave little friend to come to my aid. Who is my enemy?" Her colour came and went, and her thin fingers interlaced themselves nervously. " Oh, I am so sorry and so ashamed!" she broke forth after a strugf>;le. " It's father I" DO Mr. Stannard knitted his brows in dire perplexity. He had a certain liking and much respect for good Mr. Paramount, and was honestly surprised at his antagonism. " You must be mistaken," he said, gently. " I have never done any harm to your father, 20O LADY VALERIA. and be could do none to me, even if he wished it." " Oh, but others could," said Elsie, shaking her head with a gloomy triumph, "if he chose to make them. He says there's law, and the Bishop can help him." " My dear child," Eustace began impatiently, then checked himself. " Mr. Paramount is too good a man to do me any wilful wrong, I am sure, and I promise you solemnly I will do none to him. I am just as grateful to you as if there had been real dans^er, thouo^h." " And are you sure nothing very dreadful is going to happen T asked Elsie, wdth rather a disappointed inflection in her voice. " Nothing. N'ow cheer up, and, like a wise little girl, try and tell me if there is anything I can do to show him how much I wish to be friends." " If it W'asn't for the Galleries !" sighed she. " What Galleries \ Do you mean those in the Church ? They are unsafe, you know. " THE FAIR queen:' 2ot They ought to have been renewed or palled doAvn years ago." "He won't believe it!'* she went on more disconsolately. " He says it's all of a piece with the rest of the Innovations — ' the thin end of the wedge ;' and the — the Doles and the bread." " I imputed no dishonesty to him or any- one, you may remember ; but I should have been wanting in common honesty myself if I had not called attention to the scandalous misappropriation of the parish charities. Don't you see that ?" " It cast reflections on father all the same," deplored Elsie, aggravatingly obtuse. Then suddenly melting : " Don't think too hardly of father, please, sir. I think sometimes — " and her voice sank into an awed whisper, " his troubles must have gone to his head. He never did such a thing before — to spend his evenings in a public -house — and such a low one! The Blue Dog — Oh, Mr. Stannard!" The poor little maid's voice quavered, and her head sank. 202 LADV VALE/? /A. " What troubles V he asked, for he saw her heart was full. '' Sam's lost his place. His last chance ; and the firm won't overlook it. Indeed — indeed it was not his fault this time." " How did it happen T asked the Yicar, gravely. *' Some drunken men frightened a woman on Monday night, and she gave Sam into custody. She said it was a mistake next day, but " " If Sam had been safe at home the mistake needn't have happened. This is the third situation he has lost since I came here, is it not ?" " The fourth," admitted the poor little sister, " and all through no real fault, sir !" " Losing letters, unpunctuality, difficulties with the j)olice, and playing the fool in office hours may be a man's misfortunes, but they are at least not unavoidable ones," was the dry comment. It overthrew Elsie's last vestige of self-control. " THE FAIR queen:' 203 '' Oh, don't, don't, please, sir! It must bo my fault. I've done my best since mother died, but I can't make our home what it oucrht to be, and that's what's drivino' them both wrong. We've all gone wrong since mother died I" The sobs would be stayed no longer, and she burst into a tempest of grief. He cast about for some words of conso- lation. Before the first could pass his lips, with startling abruptness the storm ceased. Elsie struggled bolt upright in her chair, her little wet ball of a pocket-handkerchief arrested midway to her eyes, swallowing down the last half of a sob, and staring at something above him, the picture of consternation. ''What is if? Why, you can't know any- thing about that^ Miss Paramount *?" he ex- claimed, for her startled gaze was fixed full upon the Seven of Spades. " How did it come there ?" she gasped. " That is what I want to know. Did you ever see it before ?" 204 LADY VALERIA. "Xever!" she replied, emphatically. "It was lost from the pack." " Where was it lost ? I know where it w^as found." " At om^ house," she began ; then the recol- lection of all the circumstances flashed across her mind, and she came to a stop with an imploring look in her eyes, and her cheeks hotly blushing. She turned away her head with a little deprecating gesture that pleaded so eloquently with him to spare her further questioning that he felt he could not persist. " You must not keep Mrs. Damien longer," he said, " and half the parish are waiting to see me. Good-bye, and thank you for j^our kind thought of me." " That question is answered," he observed to de Cressy, presently ; " and answered as I expected. A relic of young Sam Para- mount's presence. His sister recognised it directly. I might have guessed whose pocket it came from." " Well, I should not have thought it of THE FAIR QUEEN" the boy. He doesn't go in for that line of mischief " " Besides, he's so uncommonly useful in your Amateur Orchestral Society, eh? I ouofht to have known better than to clis- parage the one Clarinet to the conductor." And with a laugh Eustace tore the card across and dropped it in the wastepaper -basket. Then in came an archa3ologist waiting to explore ] a genteel female with a questionable petition and subscription-list ; two girls to give in their names for Confirmation; a con- verted gas-fitter with a Mission — also a new patent burner to sell; a lay-helper for instruc- tions; and a rosy errand-boy out of breath to pay a friendly call, and thank the Yicar for getting him his place. He was the last, except the postman, and when he too had departed, and the clock struck the hour, forth sallied Mrs. Goodliffe triumphantly, and ordering maid and broom to the front, saw the steps restored to their pristine fairness. The bells began to ring for the morning 2o6 LADV VALERIA. service, but they fell unheeded on Eustace's ears. He had closed his door gently on the last comer, and shut himself in with his thoughts. He had done with them now — these intruders from without, who had pressed in with their paltry needs between him and the gracious memory of her presence, just as their footsteps had trampled out the trace hers might have left. He noted the very spot on his bare deal table where her slim gloved hand had rested. From the dusky shadow of her hat, two bright eyes seemed to shine out reproachfully on him. The scent of the red rose nestling against her white throat still lingered in the air — What was that lying at his feet? The very rose, crushed and trodden out of all loveliness, where she had dropped it. He picked it up and held it — not with a lover's touch, but with a secret passionate grip like a stolen gem, his breath coming quickly, and his eyes gleaming almost fiercely. " Then he did a curious thin^*. Kneelino: before his fire, very tenderly he plucked leaf ''THE FAIR queen:' 20 by leaf away, dropping them one by one into the heart of the ^'lowing: embers, watching- tliem shrivel and vanish in faint, white filmv ashes, till nought remained but the crushed and battered calyx. He looked at it greedily as it lay on his open palm. " Xot even this, except of her own free gift." He spoke under his breath, but even as he spoke he bent and kissed it — once — twice, and then dropped it with the rest. m H ^H 1 fl ^H ■^^^^wmm^BHr^^t ^^^m tf CHAPTER XL THE GIFT OF THE RED FLOWER. N the day on which this story opened, the finger of some med- dUng Fate twining and twisting the life-threads that had till then been running so smoothly apart, caught one stray filament, hitherto floating aimlessly, and tangled it into the web. Elsie Paramount w^oke to her work-a-day world next morning with a curious sense that all life had changed somehow ; or her point of view, perhaps. She opened her eyes to the same ugly little den of a bedroom, kept spot- lessly clean and trim at a daily cost of such painful toil as many a fine lady never knows THE GIFT OF THE RED FLOWER. 209 from season's end to season's end, and limped forth from it, white and frail, to the old monotonous round of work. She found the little parlour newly swept, the kettle filled and the fire lighted. That was graceless Sammy's work. His feckless hands could be as deft as a woman's in her behalf. What remained to be done cost her many a slow journey from corner cupboard to table, and from table to fireplace ; but the breakfast was ready at last, all in the exact order of the good old days before " Mother's" strong arms and brisk feet lay at rest for ever. Then she went to the open window where her pots of mignonette stood, overhung by the scarlet-runners of Sampson's training, and leant out to see above the blank wall that bounded her horizon " whether the sky looked blue to-day." As she did so, a sound over- head made her start. The ponderous creak of the great wooden window- shutter. Mrs. Beltran must have come home. Elsie felt a sudden pang of remorse as she thought how VOL. I. 14 2IO LADY VALERIA. little she had missed her during the six months she had been away, and how little wishful she was ever to see her again. The little clock in the corner struck; a brisk step was heard outside, and old Mr. Paramount appeared, spruce and well-brushed, if somewhat threadbare at knees and elbows, with his cravat neatly tied, and his square- toed boots resplendent. " Good-morning, my dear. Have you slept well? You are looking better, I think." His invariable form.ula, from which Elsie never dissented. Then out of the big Bible and worn little book of prayers which she had laid beside his plate, he conducted a short service, of which graceless Sammy only re- ceived the benefit of the concluding half as he slunk into his seat near the door, to be greeted by a curt " Good -morning, sir," as they sat down to breakfast. This was to-day an embarrassed, uncom- fortable meal. Mr. Paramount stirred his tea viciously, snapped at his bacon, and kept THE GIFT OF THE RED FLOWER. 211 his eyes averted from the unwelcome prodigal who ate and drank in a deprecating, apologetic fashion, helped himself to butter furtively, and refused another cup of tea wdth a look that took away Elsie's last pretence of appetite. " Father," she said, driven in desperation to break the thunder- charged silence. " Have you heard I Mrs. Damien asked Sampson last night to play his clarinet at her party next Monday. She says she can find no one else to do it so well, and I'm to go and hear him!" " Delighted, I'm sure," in a sour little tone. •• It's great news for me to hear that there's an opening for Sampson anywhere.'^ "Now, father!" pleaded Elsie. '' I'm going to try Yaux and Vidler's again," humbly suggested the prodigal. " Young ]\Ir. Yidler said he'd see what he could do." " It's your last chance, I warn you. I have stretched my influence to the utmost limits ; you must go your own way if this fails," spoke his father, sternl}^ 14—2 LADY VALERIA. *' If I only might!" broke out Sammy, with a hopeful look. " See here, father ; I know it's partly my own fault " " Partly !" with a venomous sneer. *' Well, altogether then ; but a man isn't born a clerk — even a bad one ; and IVe no hope of ever making a good one ; and I hate — oh, how I hate the City ! More than I can tell. I want fresh air. I want room to use my arms and legs. I only feel a man when I'm out with my company." " Playing at soldiers," was the acrid comment. "Let me make it earnest then !" pleaded the boy. " There's fighting coming, everyone says so, in Egypt, if not with France, and I should be worth something then. I know my drill. I shouldn't be a raw recruit " Sam stopped, for his father had sunk back in his chair, his little grey eyes expanded in horror, and his whole face convulsed with the effort to gasp out indignation too mighty for speech. THE GIFT OF THE RED FLOWER. 213 "You mean enlist!" he at last exploded. " A son of mine — enlist!" " Why not 1" said Sammy, limTying up his arguments. " I should at least earn food and clothing, which I can't do now ; and besides — " out of Sam's pocket came a well- thumbed j)amphlet with " Recruiting," " By AuTHOiiixr," conspicuous on its first page — " I could get four shillings a day as a regi- mental clerk." "Be quiet, sir! Be quiet^ I say!" shouted Mr. Paramount. " Fifteen shillings eventually as a Quarter- master!" shouted Sammy, louder. " Will you be silent?" choking with wrath. " Fifty pounds a month as a deputy-com- missary in India and the rank of captain — or if I didn't go to India and can pass the exam, and get recommended by my command- ing officer — and see if I don't do one and the other — I may get a commission just the same. Here it is in print. See it for yourself. Captain! Major! Colonel! General! Why not 214 LADY VALERIA. I as well as another?" And Sammy, breath- less, and at the end of his ammunition, held out the pamphlet to his father, whose only reply was to plunge forward and strike it down, while an impious ejaculation, the first that had ever escaped those respectable lips, came crashing forth with vigour, making Elsie start and shiver, and Sammy feel that things w^ere getting serious indeed. Mr. Paramount sank back in his chair panting and glaring, as much in horror at his own profanity as anything else. ^' You're driving me mad between you !" he broke out again wrathfully. " What have I done to bring this on my old age ? I that have toiled and slaved to keep you all respectable ! My boy turns from me to herd with the scum of the earth, and my girl sides with him against her poor old father!" The poor old man's voice dropped into a shaky, miserable quaver. Elsie's tears had been quietly falling into her untasted tea for some moments, and now she sobbed aloud, THE GIFT OF THE RED FLOWER. 215 rending Sammy's affectionate heart to the core. " Don't cry, Birdie. I'll give it up. There," tossing the obnoxious pamphlet into the fender, "that's at an end. And now for Vaux and Yidler's." He gave himself a shake, half- sullen, half-desperate ; and while the old man brushed his shabby hat with trembling hands : " It's what it must come to, dear, if I'm to be good for anything in this world," he whispered as he kissed her. Day after day passed, and Mrs. Beltran made no sign. Elsie knew she was there, and wondered a little, but was content. She never felt lonely now. She had fine company of her own who used to come to visit her in the long still afternoon hours when the work of the house was done, and kind motherly Mrs. llidge, who sometimes looked in to help her, had said good-bye. In the window stood her invalid couch, Mrs. Damien's gift, the only one of any value she had ever ventured to bestow ; 2i6 LADY VALERIA, and, once laid on its elastic springs with her aching limbs supported at the easiest angle, Elsie used to feel each day as if lifted by the mighty arms of some strong angel into another world. Her great work-basket stood beside her, and endless lengths of plain sewing passed between her fingers, but the real Elsie was not there. She was off and away to her real home, in the fine air-built castle that stood in Fancy land ; that wondrous land where all the knights are brave and all the ladies fair ; where she was no longer lame, awkward, or shabby ; where she loved and feared, suffered and dared with the best of them, till some stroke of the clock or a neighbour's voice, or maybe a twinge of pain, brought her suddenly back to Lavender Row, to be poor little Elsie Paramount again. There was a new face amongst her dream heroes now, a new presence that made ail beside him show faint — colourless — unreal. " ' A true knight sworn to vows of utter hardihood, utter gentleness, and loving, utter THE GIFT OF THE RED FLOWER. 217 faithfulness to love,' " quoted Elsie to herself "He is Sir Galahad — no, Sir Geraint " (pos- sibly reflecting that amongst the Spotless Knight's merits that of being an ornament to societ}^ was not specified). " Geraint must have had blue eyes and a fair moustache and a way of moving about ' the da sky -raftered many- cob webbed hall ' that made ^ Enid at her lowly handmaid- work feel it a joy to serve so great a prince.' Geraint might have picked up Enid's flowers with ' Here are your roses, they are too pretty to lose ' — the poor common hedgerow blossoms." And Enid. Enid had her toilette difii- culties, it was some consolation to remember. Elsie pondered much over some treasured morsels of mother's finery, wondering how smart she might make herself without appear- ing presumptuous. The invitation to Mrs. Damien's, enough in itself in the ordinary course of things to cause her a delight too great to realise, had now become almost awful with suggestions of what might or might not 2i8 LADY VALERIA. befall her there. Then came a well-remem- bered, soft, imperative tap on the door, and Geraint, Enid, and their glorious company took to flight incontinently. It was Mrs. Beltran at last, somewhat thin and careworn, bat cheery of bearing as of yore, who glided in and took up her old place beside the couch. ''Are you glad to see me again, little one ?" Elsie's faltered greeting was almost un- gracious in its awkwardness; but Mrs. Bel- tran took no notice, only contemplated her through her narrowed eyelids with her dark inscrutable smile. " This is my den that I crawl home to when the cruel world has ill-treated and got the best of me. I come here to rest and lie low till better times. What have you there ? Lace? Let me see it." Elsie handed her the fichu she had been mending. Mrs. Beltran gave a visible shudder at the clumsiness of the unfinished darn. THE GIFT OF THE RED FLOWER. 219 " Old Limerick point, and good of its kind," she pronounced. " Where did you get it ?" She had already pulled out her pocket work- case, and was tenderly cutting and drawing out Elsie's unskilful stitches. Elsie watched and admired while she stretched the torn lace over a stiff piece of glazed stuff, and, mounting a quaint, battered, gold-embossed thimble on her finger, caught ravelled thread and broken mesh together with rapid dexterity. She could talk as well as work, too, and Elsie could not but respond. The injured spray grew again under the swift needle, and Elsie, led on by sympathetic ques- tion and remark, had told the story of the last few months, with but one reservation, before it was done. After all, what did it matter? It was such a beautiful story. Mrs. Damien might per- haps barely have recognised the idealised sketch of herself and her mission which she drew. Mrs. Beltran apparently did, though, which was curious. 220 LADY VALERIA. " And Mr. — what — Poynter ? — is her last lover?" " Why do you say that T asked Elsie, in a faint little voice. " Poor wretch ! How can a moth keep out of the candle ? He is bound to scorch and die, and what the better is the candle V she mused, with an air of philosophic enquiry. " Don't talk so, please," pleaded the girl, with pained earnestness. " She is so good, and so — I am sure — is he. It would be a beautiful thing for them to love one another." "Let them. N"ow, look at the gift I have brought for you;" and she placed a rough wood box in Elsie's hands. Inside, on a bed of cotton-wool, lay a hard, green, unopened bud, in shape like that of a large passion-flower. It had a slight spicy perfume, but the petals were fast bound in their green sheath. The girl looked puzzled. " Will it ever bloom ?" '' Perhaps, yes; perhaps, no; only for one THE GIFT OF THE RED FLOWER. 221 night. It is called the Flower of Good Luck in the country where they grow. The girls say it is a charm to bring your lover to you, or to gain your wish from him. Keep it and see. It may never open." Elsie lay back smiling to herself. She felt Mrs. Beltran's caressing hand on her forehead once or twice. Her eyes closed languidly, her breathing grew more measured, and at last she slept. One little hand lay palm upwards beside her ; the other had mechanically lifted itself and was lightly clasped on her breast. Mrs. Beltran lifted it cautiously, and with scant ceremony deliberately unfastened the shabby black gown. A ribbon encircled Elsie's white throat, and was tucked in among the folds of her under- clothing. She twitched it ' forth, and with it a small silken bag. A smile of utter contempt curled Mrs. Beltran's mobile lips while she examined the contents : a tiny cross made from tw^o rough morsels of briar fastened by a silver thread, and some dry shrivelled petals. She replaced it, fastened 222 LADY VALERIA, the dress, and lifted the hand into its former position, and then quietly resumed her work, contemplating the girl at intervals with her dark expressionless gaze, with much the air of a chess-player who, finger on piece, decides on his next move — pawn, queen, queen's knight ? The problem was a complicated one, and the moves many ; but she seemed to see her game at last, and with a meditative smile put aside her lace, and standing beside the couch, laid her hand on Elsie's foreliead. " The Fair Prince," she said softly, and noise- lessly stole away. So there came a night when Elsie found the dull green bud changed into a splendid scarlet bloom — rich-coloured, heavy-scented, beyond anything she had ever seen or imagined ; and straightway deciding what gift it should bring her, pinned it on her heart to give her courage for the askinof. CHAPTER XIT. THE T I G E r's CLAW. WISH I were a duke's Avife!" ob- served Mrs. Damien, so fervently and seriously that Hester Arch- dale burst into the merriest little peal of laughter in reply. ^' My dear Eose ! Perhaps you might be if you tried — but why ? Is this an outbreak of philanthropy in a new direction, or what ? And is it a duke in the abstract, or somebody I ought to know ?" And she lazily extended her hand and extracted " Dod " from the dwarf bookshelf at her elbow. It was the witching hour of confidences. The warm summer twilight was softly closing 224 LADY VALERIA. in. The day's routine was over, and the serious business of evening toilette might yet be righteously shirked a while. " I don't mean anybody in that wretched book, Hester. Of course not ! What I did mean — though I did not put it clearly — was, I should like to be a duchess." " Oh, I see. Yes. That's quite another thing, isn't it?" said Hester, in an enlightened tone. " But still, the duke seems to come even into that arrangement, somehow. As a means, if not an end." "To be one of the English ladies who are born to lesser royalties, who belong to the soil, as it were, who have a people of their own with hereditary claims on them." " Hereditary bondsmen !" interrupted Hester, scornfullv. " Am I never to find an American who doesn't yearn to be a feudal tyrant?" Mrs. Damien disdained to argue that point. " Ah," she broke off impatiently. " You English at home seem incapable of realising THE TIGERS CLAW. 225 half the poetry and beauty that have drifted down into your lives from the old-world days." " There isn't a duke available," pronounced Hester, tossing away her red book ; " but I can tell you what will do as well, if it's a good old-fashioned, healthy despotism that your soul craves. Be a country rector's wife. There's nothing autocratic going that can touch that nowadays." Mrs. Damien received the suggestion in silence. '* Who are coming to-night T asked Hester, taking a fresh departure. '' Mr. Lepell and Lady Beatrix. Lady Monchalsea refused." " Haven't you quarrelled finally with her yet, Rose ? Your patience and long-suffering is a marvel." *' She is dreadfully exacting and capricious ! ' Rose admitted, sadly ; "but she is all I have in the w^orld of kith and kin, and you know I feel I am obeying my father in trying to repay the Monchalseas all they once did for him. I VOL. I. 15 226 LADY VALERIA, used to think she really cared for me, too, at one time. It would have been so easy for her not to have found me out and made friends with me at Florence. I wonder what made her insist on my coming to England at all ?" " I know — perfectly," with a nod of dark meaning, " and so did Lord Monchalsea. Likewise his creditors. Xever mind. She was a very excellent sponsor for you on your first appearance in English society — a gay old countess with plenty of money. Xow that you have seen the folly of it all, and liamrUt married a duke — or Lord Monchalsea — you can throw her over and fall back upon me. I'm a far safer friend." " I can't give her up now. She really does depend on me, and I was glad enough to meet her once. I thought my life was over, and she seemed to offer me a fresh beginning. I longed so much to get rid of the past. Think of the years I had spent in the shadow of death — and worse " she ended in a shuddering whisper. THE TIGER'S CLA W. 227 Hester knew she was thinking, not only of her lost parents, but of the short year of her own married life ; the wretched story of a child-bride sacrificed by her father's ambition to the fancy of a cynical, worn-out man of the world, whose life and death were alike un- edifying and best forgotten. " Tell me who €lse are coming," she went on, without looking round. " Mr. de Cressy, Lord Charles and Mabel Brant " " That means the Beethoven Septett is to be done after all ! How have you managed about the clarinet — or have you come down to the Mozart in A T " I think Mabel will be content with my forlorn hope. He has practised with Mr. de Cressy's society, and as no other clarinet- player was to be had " " Do you mean to say you've got young Paramount'?" Hester exclaimed, turning on her with wide-open eyes. " Why not ? He seemed delighted to com.e 15—2 228 LADY VALERIA. in just for the Septett. You know we have to get a professional for the horn, that's beyond any of our amateurs ; so where's the harm ?" " Oh, none whatever. If everybody is con- tent, so am I. Only don't turn the boy's head altogether, as " " Go on, you hadn't finished. Turn his head as ?" " As you and the Vicar have done for his sister, I was going to say. I shall expect to meet her here next." " Perhaps you may," Mrs. Damien answered, a little confusedly, "for I have asked her to come and hear her brother's performance. What can it matter, Hester ? Can't the girl sit in a corner and listen to a little music without being any the worse ? Or why do you grudge her such a tiny scrap of pleasure ?" Hester was silent for a minute. " I believe mean jealousy is at the bottom of it all ! 1 was just thinking over all the people I have THE TIGERS CLAW. 229 been attacking and disparaging in the last half-hour. Mr. Stannard, Lady Monchalsea, Elsie Paramount — everybody you happen to honour with your special notice, Rose, my dear. Now you have the key to my character. But I think in this last case I have some reason, though I can't tell what it is. Per- haps it's only instinct, but it seems to make me mistrustful and uneasy. I wish Elsie were not coming. That girl is my evil genius; I felt it from the first." " She can t do you much harm in half an hour. Aunt Mamie is to take care of her till Sampsons performance comes off, and she will leave directly after, so I hope the danger from her society is reduced to a minimum." " I wish she would stay away," Hester repeated, obstinately ; " but let her rest now. AVho else did you say ?" " M}^ prima donna, Praulein von Kreifeldt, and Mr. Poynter." "Ah I" with a hypocritical sigh of sham 230 LADY VALERIA. apprehension, '' don't I know what that por- tends. He'll be sent in to dinner with me, of course, and my life will be one long struggle to save you all from being swamped in shop, unless you can put him and Daddy out of conversation range." " What affectation I As if you didn't revel in shop yourself, and weren't a perfect regi- mental record. Don't despair ; he mayn't think the entertainment worth the journey from Shorn cliffe, and we shall get an apolo- getic note to-morrow to say he has missed his train, or been sent on detachment duty some- where." Neither fate had, however, befallen Edric. IsTo more had been heard of the orders for Portsmouth, and he was at that moment speeding comfortably town wards, trying to calculate whether he should be too early or too late in arriving at St. Maur Eoad. He contrived to be punctual to the hour named, and followed the broad back of an THE TIGERS CLAW. 231 overcoat which he seemed dimly to recognise up the steps. The overcoat proved to contain Sir John Archdale, who greeted Edric in a most fatherly fashion, and introduced him over again to "my little girl Hester," whom they found the sole occupant of the drawing-room. Miss Hester was in a white gown with a yellow sash and knots of golden pansies about it. " What a bright little creature !" was Edric's thought, as her laughing glance met his, and her shapely little brown hand was extended as her father said, '' One of ' Ours,' Hetty." But that was all he thought, for — enter his goddess on a rosy cloud — otherwise Mrs. Damien in a Worth gown — and poor Hester passed into neutral-tinted shadow. The next arrivals were a tall, distinguished- looking man, with a picturesque beard and untidy garments, accompanied by a pretty wife with expressive eyes and the tints of a Greuze. " Connections of Mr.<. Damien's. Lady 232 LADY VALERIA. Beatrix was a Bough ton, a daughter cf the Countess of Monchalsea," Miss Archdale ex- plained to him, with open eyes of astonish- ment at his ignorance. " Not know Lepell, the artist and art-critic, who writes such exquisite vers de socike^ and is the All England tennis champion?" " Cant say I do, in any capacity. What has he painted?" Hester knitted her pretty brows consider- ino^ly. " ISTotliino^ that vou are likely to know. His theory is that art should be the outcome of all imaginable perfection in every other line. An artist should be poet, actor, athlete, orator, and ever so much more before he can paint anything." " And he hasn't worked himself up to the painting yet. I see." Then in came de Cressy, brisk and friendly ; and then an interval of waiting that Edric would gladly have seen prolonged into all Eternity; for Mrs. Damien called him to her side with a wave of her great flower-fan and THE TIGER'S CLAW. 233 introduced him to Lady Beatrix, and dropped liim 8ome golden syllables and a priceless smile or two. Then, with a rush as of a whirlwind," there entered a tall, wild-looking lady in trailing, somewhat bedraggled gar- ments of fiercest terra- cotta, who stood peer- ing up and down for a second through the nippers perched on her aquiline nose. Her bodice w^as laced crookedly, her fuzzy, light locks had evidently been arranged without the aid of maid or looking-glass, and the two hands which she extended to her hostess with an impetuous rush were cased in long gloves, three-quarters unbuttoned. '' Eose, my darling, don't frown on me ! I know I'm ever so late. Don't wait for Charlie. I ought to have told you before that he couldn't possibly come. There's a division to-night, and goodness knows when he'll get back from the House. I know you'll forgive him — when it's a question of saving the country from shipwreck ! And oh, my dear ! is it all right about the clarinet ?" 234 LADY VALERIA. " Set your mind at rest, the Septett is saved — whatever becomes of the country," Mrs. Damien replied reassuringly, and then dinner was at last announced. The dinner was "an interesting one" — or so Lady Beatrix, Edric's other neighbour, pronounced. It had a few quaint and original transatlantic touches about it, which she pointed out with an air of a connoisseur ; but it was all one to Edric — the repast of the Barmecide, or the Feast of Jewels that de- luded the Emperor Hwang-te. His happiness had got into his head like new wine. His love, you see, was not a deep, fierce, seething passion, but only a boyish gladsome- ness in the sunlight of his dear lady's pre- sence ; a great joy in serving her ; a great loss where she was not. The events of the even- ing were likewise enveloped for him in the same golden haze of unreality. There was music, he remembered ; some- thing unusually good, he believed ; but even had his attention been free, it would have been THE TIGERS CLAW. 235 wasted on him, his taste being decidedly rudi- mentary. He '' liked music " in a vague, un- critical fashion — that is, he listened if any tune caught his fancy — and if it didn't he paid no attention. He recognised '' the Se^Dtett " by there being seven performers ; Lady Charles Brant rising violin in hand preparing to lead. There was a big, blushing, broad-shouldered youth in morning dress who came in rather sheepishly, ckrinet in hand, he remarked. Then during the preliminary fluttering of music-sheets, screwing and twisting and tuning, and arrangement and disarrangement of lights, he found two ladies standing near him, chair- less, and vacated his place. He sauntered away through the other drawing-room to the conservatory beyond, cool and dim, with a fountain dropping musically on to broad water-lily leaves, and a tall red bird holding a light aloft amongst fan-palms and orange- trees. Just within the doorway a young girl rested on a long, low garden- chair. A slight, 236 LADY VALERIA. white figure, whose great starry eyes seemed to meet his with a look of expectation as he entered. She bowed hurriedly and awk- wardly, looking away before he could return the recognition. He had seen her before, he knew, some- where; but where? How pretty she was; how wonderfully pretty, even to eyes filled with the splendour of Rose's brilliant beauty ! A shadowy, transparent, delicate prettiness, owing its charm to the subtle changes of light and shade that flitted across her sensitive face. How well the dead white of her gown suited her, with its quaint old-fashioned cut, and the crimson flower nestlino; amonofst the folds of soft muslin and filmy lace! How distressed she had looked at his stupidity in not recog- nising her ! Why wouldn't she look again and give him the chance? Her shyness seemed to shroud her like a veil, he thought. Aunt Mamie was standing near her, and bestow^ed a friendly nod and a gleaming grin upon him. As she did so, the scene at St. THE TIGERS CLAW. 237 Fridolin's flashed before him. " Miss Para- mount!" he said half to himself, and the delicate little face turned to his all alight with pleasure. He drew a seat near her in silence, for the music was beginning, and they listened with- out speaking for a few moments. '• That's my brother Sampson !" she said, with shy pride ; " the one who played the clarinet solo — Mrs. Damien was kind enouo^h to ask me here to hear him" — then afraid she had been forward, Elsie shrank into herself in an agony of bashfulness. Edric made a civil remark about Sampson's performance presently. She was touching the red flower lightly with her finger-tips, and stealing a look at him at intervals, blushing as red as its petals. Her lips parted once as if to speak, and then closed again in a little nervous tremor. He began to be interested, and to wonder what she had to say to him. At last the music finally ceasing, he caught 238 LADY VALERIA. her eyes with a look of such open interrogation that it forced a response. " Mrs. Damien said I might ask you " — she faltered, and this preliminary was sufficient to command at once his prompt attention — " how to go into the army." '^ From Sandhurst, do you mean, or through the Militia?" he queried, slightly puzzled. "Oh, no! jSTot as a gentleman like you would go in," she hastened to explain, more fluttered than ever. " I mean people like us — to be common soldiers." '' People like you, Miss Paramount" — with a struggle for gravity — " who are bent on enlisting, have nothing to do but to find the nearest recruiting sergeant, and the matter is settled. Have you a fancy for any particular regiment % Xo. Then I should recommend my own, the Royal Denbigh, the most dis- tinguished ever known, and certain of foreign service immediately." "Does that mean fio^htino;? — abroad?" " Yes, but don't be alarmed; you'll be kept THE TIGERS CLAW. 239 at the depot for a year first, to learn your drills and to shoot " *' But he won't like that. He is a very good shot now. He's been a volunteer these two years, and knows his drill quite well." . "And he's more than twenty? That will make a difference. It will be uncommonly unpleasant — the life, I mean, and the asso- ciates." " They can't be worse than the City. He's always getting led away. Father says it's music and the choir practice does it." '• Brother, or sweetheart, which is it ?" Edric wondered. But here Lady Charles Brant struck the first notes of the accompani- ment of her song, and they were perforce silent. It was a quaint little Irish love-ditty with a sad minor refrain to the laughing line of each verse ; gladsome yet full of presage of sorrow. Elsie's long eyelashes closed as in weariness, but Edric noticed the tremor of her delicate lips. 240 LADY VALERIA. " Sweetheart, it must be. Gone wrong, I'm afraid," was his conclusion. Lady Charles's song struck him as " very pretty," very nicely sung, that was all. How should he guess how every syllable of its gladsomeness, dropping into sudden fore- boding, thrilled the poor sensitive child beside him with a passion of uncomprehended long- ing, or touched her with an exquisite anguish almost too deep for tears? The song ended. Elsie had taken the red flower from her breast, and was holding it clasped in her two hands. Her eyes shone, and she spoke in feverish, desperate haste. " Will you help him, sir ? If he comes to you from me." Edric smiled his kindliest on her. *' I don't know that I can do much, but I'll do my best gladly for Mrs. — for your sake," he blundered, afraid of the remark as it was first slipping from his lips appearing too pointed. Hester Archdale came up just as he rose from his place. THE TIGER'S CLAW. 241 " Your brother has sent me for you, Elsie; the carria«:e is at the door. You must not ^o before you choose, though. Is there anything else you would care to stay to hear ?" Hester was determinedly gracious by way of amends for her unreasonable antagonism. " No, I should like to go now. It has all been so beautiful, so wonderful!" she said, under her breath, in a tone of soft rapture. Hester was going to offer her arm, but Edric interposed, and led the girl to the stair- case, where her brother took her into his care; and Aunt Mamie joined them with a pile of wraps. Hester and Edric lingered awhile on the landing, w^atching the little procession depart out into the night ; Elsie, in her white gown, looking like a little phantom in the June moonlight, beside Aunt Mamie's stalwart dark figure. Edric thought he would tell Hester about Elsie's appeal. It came natural to tell Hester everything that happened, somehow. They seemed to have been friends of quite old VOL. I. 16 242 LADY VALERIA. standing by this time. Aunt Mamie's return prevented him. '' Mis'r Poynter, sah ! Dis fo' you." And she extended a silver salver to him. On it lay something loosely folded in a piece of soft Japanese silk. Not made into a parcel, only wrapped in a few loose twists, as if for tempor- ary concealment. ''For me?" said Edric, looking at it with wonder and sudden unaccountable distaste. "What can it be?" He took it from the salver, and his question was answered as his fingers closed on it. Through all the soft yellow folds his fingers could distinguish the hard curve and cruel point of the Tiger s Claw ! He loosed his hold of the silk, and some- thing fell glittering down to Hester's feet. Before he could prevent her she had stooped and picked it up. " What is this?" she asked, and then as she raised her eyes to his face he saw that she knew. THE TIGER'S CLAW. 243 '' Pusson out dar gimme him, Miss Hester. Wait fo' de ansah, sah !" " Say I vdll come," spoke Edric, and Aunt Mamie departed. He almost snatched the token from Hester's hand. " The end of the story has come, you see," he said, forcing a laugh. " Now I shall look for the fulfilment of your prophecies." "Don't go!" broke from Hester's lips in spite of herself ; "or let someone go with you. I don't like it " " Nor do I," replied Edric, standing frown- ing and drawing the yellow handkerchief through and through his hands. A subtle, dead- sweet perfume exhaled from it. With an exclamation of disgust, he threw it down and shook his fingers as if to clear them of the clinging odour. Then he suddenly picked it up again. " I'll not leave that ugly trace behind me. Faugh! AVhat a hateful scent! No, I don't like it either, Miss Archdale. I'd much rather stay here for the rest of the evening. But it's IG— 2 244 LADY VALERIA. got to be done, don't you see ? I won't try to say good-bye to Mrs. Damien. Tell her — anything ; I leave it to you " He was unconsciously holding her slim brown fingers in his as he spoke. " I'm frightened," she whispered as she drew them away. "Why? It's quite respectably early in the evenmg yet, not eleven ! And don't you think I can take care of myself? I'll come and tell you all about it." And he ran lightly down the staircase, turning on the last step to smile a cheery farewell. CHAPTER XIII. A CRY IX THE DARKNESS. ^T was one thing for Edric Poynter to run down Mrs. Damien's stair- case gaily, even with a touch of "bravado, under the anxious gaze of Hester Archdale's bright eyes ; and another to feel himself shut out by the closing of a door from warmth, light, and companionship into the eerie chill of the lonely moonlit street. "Follow the messenger," Euphrosyne had enjoined him, and he was prepared to obey, though with never so bad a grace. He scanned the length of the pavement from right to left in search of the possible bearer of the sum- mons, and had not far to seek. 246 LADY VALERIA. A man was lounoinsf under the nearest eras o g^ lamp smoking a cigarette, which, on seeing Edric approach, he promptly threw away, and advanced enquiring, " Mr. Poynter, I believe?"" touching his hat as he spoke. Edric looked at him curiously. A man of middle height, with a short grey beard concealing the lower part of his face, and a hat pulled down over his eyes. His voice and action might have been those of a well- trained gentleman's servant, contradicted by a certain swagger in his air. He touched his hat again, and held out a small printed card. " Did you bring me a message just now? — What's this?" taking the card. "Did Mrs. — Miss — a lady — give you this for me T " I have been sent to give you that,"" answered the man, evading the point. The card simply bore the printed address of a private hotel in a street which Edric remembered as being not very far distant, and unquestionably respectable. A CRY IN THE DARKNESS. 247 " Am I wanted here ?" he asked, partly from a wish to make the man speak again. " If you please, sir. Shall I get you a cab, or will you allow me to show you the way?" There was a certain foreign accent, real or assumed, in his voice. It was low and smooth, and with a melodious roll in it. Not an old man's voice. It went as ill with the venerable beard as did the brisk step with which he started off when Edric somewhat curtly told him to go on and he would follow. A quarter of an hour's quick walking brought them, as he had expected, to a street of large handsome new houses, one of which, the newest and largest, bore on a glass pane over the door, " No. 17a," and below, " Privett's Family Hotel." The front door stood open, leaving fully visible the brightly lighted hall and vestibule, with their smart new High Art decorations and stands of foliage plants. Supper was going on somewhere evidently, for a clatter of knives and plates and a strong smell of 248 LADY VALERIA. fryin^i^ escaped out into the night air, and black figures of waiters, napkin in hand, flitted to and fro. Edric's o;uide waited for him to enter first. '• Straight upstairs. The first door to the right," he said, and Edric, rather wonder- ingly, followed the direction. He was annoyed to feel his heart beating a trifle faster than usual as he stopped before it, but he knocked boldly. The door was not fastened, and swung open as he touched it ; and without further thought, he entered. The man followed close on his heels. The door closed smartly behind them, shutting them in, as it at first appeared, into total darkness. The dazzle of the gas outside had blinded him at first, or else something moved away from between him and the lamp, which he now saw was burning on a table with a strong light half- shaded so as to throw the room in darkness, except where a tall young fellow in a light overcoat — hat in hand — stood gazing full at Edric with a bewildered, rather aggres- A CRY IN THE DARKNESS. 249 siv^e air. He was in evening dress, Edric noticed, and wore It Avas himself, he dis- covered, reflected in a long mirror on tlie far side of the room, and the tall black shadow at his right hand was Euphrosyne, gazing at him with gleaming eyes out of the darkness. " I knew you wouldn't fail me," was all her greeting. " Well, yes, I've come," he admitted, some- what disconcerted. " It was in the baro:ain, you know. An odd sort of summons, but I suppose you had your own reasons for pre- ferring it to a postcard or telegram." Her velvet-dark eyes studied him as he spoke, as if reading his mood. Something in this silent scrutiny irritated him, for he ended sharply : " And being here, what do you want from me?" " Justification." The word fell gravely and impressively from her lips. She stood erect, her clasped hands lightly crossed, her head thrown back. She was younger than he had thought, shapely and lithe of figure, and her 250 LADY VALERIA. face was alight with suppressed excitement. Anyone might have passed her without notice at the first glance — not one man in ten after the second. Edric looked at her frowningly, wondering at himself no less than at her. All the way there he had been divided between a devout hope that his obligation might resolve itself after all into a question of money and a misgiving concerning his balance at Cox's : now he felt with quick apprehension, that so simple a method of discharging it might not be permitted him. She was not a woman to whom he could offer money, he felt, and she hardly looked either as if she needed it. "Will you tell me m,ore plainly what you require of me ?" he said, his voice sounding hard and ungracious in his own ears. " I have called you here as my witness." Still uncomprehending, he only bowed and looked mistrustfully around him. His eyes had grown accustomed to the want of light, and he made out that they were in a small A CRY IN THE DARKNESS. 251 room ending in a window or curtained recess of some sort, before which stood a Japanese screen. He had faced it instinctively at first, and when compelled to turn and address Euphro- sjne, had kept his eyes fixed on the reflection in the glass. The man stood between them leaning on the table, his fat white hands, with their big gold rings, showing in the light, his face in shadow. He looked attentively from one to the other as they spoke. " What is it all about ? What do you want me to sav?" " To answer a few questions on the honour of an English gentleman. Where did you first meet me?" " Charing Cross Station, Monday week, three p.m., was the prompt reply. " Where did we part?'* ^'At St. Fridolin's Vicarage between half- past five and six of the same day." *' You would rather not mention our errand there?" 252 LADY VALERIA. " I distinctly refuse to discuss it." '' Do you know a Mr. Monk — Alwyn Monk?" '' I've seen him once or twice in my life — if you mean the man in our regiment." '' He was not with us?" Edric burst into a laugh. " Hardly. He's in South Africa, with the other battalion." " You are sure?" "As sure as I can be of anything in this world. That is, I heard a man at mess last night saying he had got a letter from him. That's all I. know." Euphrosyne turned haughtily to the man, who had nodded attentively once or twice. " You hear? Are you satisfied?" '^ Perfectly, Madame." He bowed twice ; respectfully to her, in a somewhat off-hand fashion to Edric, and vanished softly and sudenly Still holding Edric Avith her eyes, Euphro- syne sank into a chair, heaving a short sigh of relief, her soft duskj^ fingers interlaced on her A CRY IN THE DARKNESS. 253 knee. " I was in a sore strait," she sighed. '• It came to me as an inspiration — the thouglit of you." Edric felt obstinately resolved against any show of interest or curiosity. " Couldn't the stars have helped you?" he asked, indiffer- ently. She answered with grave patience. " They never fail, if we have faith and strength to trust and follow blindly as they lead, or wis- dom to be sure of ever reading them aright. How else could I have trusted that your pledge would find you, or that you would obey the call?" " I am glad to have been of use — though I don't in the least understand how. Can I do anything further?" He began to think the interview had lasted lono^ enouo^h. '' Tell me about Mr. Monk. Every trifle is of service. You need say nothing to com- promise yourself or him. What sort of man is he?" '• How can I tell ? I onlv saw him once at the 254 LADY VALERIA. depot, and again — at the Derby, I think it was." " Had you no note or letter in his hand- writing ?" " Xot one. Stop, though ; I believe I had! What was it about ? Oh, I know ! He sent me the address of a man who sold some uncom- monly good boot- varnish. TAa^^'.s not likely to be of much use, even if I could lay hands on it." "Try! Try — think again — Monk, Alwyn Monk. Have you not heard the name lately?'* She had risen, and was pacing the room impatiently. Xow she stopped, leaning against the Japanese screen. *' Tell me anythiug! Everything you can think of" Edric sat down at last, leaned his head on his hand, and thought hard. " I did hear something, too, the other night at niess. What icas it ? — desperately ransacking his memory. " Somebody had a letter — theatri- cals, was it? He's very good at theatricals — no, that's another man. The adjutancy ! A CRY IN THE DARKNESS. 255 That's it! He's going in for the adjutancy. I could let you know if he gets it." She did not answer for a short space, during which he beat his brains for any connection, possible or impossible, that she could have with his affairs or he with Monk's. Then she stepped forward again, her eyes eager and excited, her lips compressed. '' You Avill give me a line to him. What I shall dictate — nothing that will harm you ;" and she took up a pen and placed it in his hand with an urgent gesture. " Listen. It will do you no harm to say this to him. ' As Madame Euphrosyne Girard, of Martinique, has had the opportunity of doing me some slight service, I wish to commend her to your kind notice for such help or advice as she shall need.' " "I can't write that!" protested Edric. ^' Xobody ever wrote a letter of introduction in that fashion. Besides, it wouldn't answer. Kobody would believe I wrote it." He was making idle, impatient marks on the blotting- pad as he spoke, and now looked up, not 256 LADY VALERIA. round to where she stood behind him, but at her reflection in the looking-glass. It gave him an odd, uncanny sensation to see her dark figure leaning over him as he sat, and he moved impatiently. She seemed to divine his feeling, for she changed her position and stood beside him. " What does it matter ?" she urged. " I may never give it. It is my foolish, super- stitious fancy. It is the sum-total of what I ask from you. If you refuse, you leave the account between us still unsettled." There was a threat in those last words, and so Edric understood, but still protested : "I can't put my name to a thing like that." ''Who asked for your name? You need not sign it." " Oh, very well; in that case you shall have it word for word. Say it again, please." She repeated the formula slowly, and he wrote it down carefully, making a rapid reso- lution to send a line of explanation to Monk by the next Cape mail, in case of its ever being A CRY LY THE DARKNESS. 257 produced. He wrote slowly and deliberately so as to give himself time to think, Eaphrosyne standing patiently beside him, motionless as a statue, though once or twice he fancied he heard her move softly away, and looked up suddenly at the glass, in which, however, he could only make out the strong reflection of his own face against a background of shadowy blackness. He carefully brought the last words of his note to the bottom of the paper, ending in the right-hand corner so as to leave no space for the possible insertion of a signature. " There. I don't see what good it can do you. I'm sure I should have been glad to help you in any sensible fashion. Do you really mean you want nothing more from me?" "' Nothing. You are free to go ; to forget that you have ever met me. To pass me as a stranger from henceforth. Only remember this ; that your fortune and mine are still as one. What strikes at you, strikes at me. As your prosperity, so is mine, whether together or half a world apart." VOL. I. 17 258 LADY VALERIA. She was speaking in earnest, so Edric seemed to remember afterwards, and he listened to her with interest and without the shudder of dislike that came over him again and again, of distrust and repugnance mixed with an odd fascination. He even held out his hand in his delight at getting off so easily. " Good-bye. Then for my sake as well as yours I wish you good luck in your errand, whateA^er it may be." Euphrosyne's fingers clasped his coldly, then gave a convulsive twitch and tightened to a grasp of steel. " Stay !" cried an imperative voice, a woman's ; and with a crash the screen fell. " He must not go — not yet!" Quick as thought Euphrosyne's left hand extinguished the lamp, and Edric, blinded and stumbling, found himself at the door, which ojDened suddenly. He stepped out mechani- cally, and it shut smartly behind him, and the click of the lock as the key turned struck on his ear. A CRY IN THE DARKNESS. 259 He stood baffled and confused, wondering what he should do next, Avhile within the door he could catch a confused murmur of voices in angry reproach, sobs and broken speech, ending in one long pitiful wail of anguish followed by silence. Euphrosyne had wanted him to go. Very well then, that was just a conclusive reason for his staying, till some explanation of all these mysterious doings should be given him. So down on the landing window- seat he sat, and people came and people went, and waiters gazed with polite enquiry, and the great clock in the hall struck midnight. Then the door opened, and Euphrosyne, cloaked and veiled, stepped forth. At the sight of Edric she started ; her velvet-black eyes glinted with sparks of anger, and her lips quivered. '' You here still '?" she hissed in a wrathful whisper. " What are you waiting for T '• You know quite well. Who was that lady I saw in there just now ? What are you 17—2 26o LADY VALERIA. and she about ? Do you mean to tell me, or am I to apply to a detective and find out myself?" " I have nothing to tell you ! It is not my secret," she answered, constraining her voice to calmness. " Then I shall see for myself," and he pushed past her and into the room. She checked herself in a protest and let him go, her eyes sparkling with a malicious triumph. The room was very still, and the relighted lamp burning low. In the circle of its radiance lay a slumbering figure, half covered by a rich satin mantle. A thin white lady's hand loaded with shining gems rested on the arm of the couch, her face was half buried in the cushion, half concealed by a veil of heavy black lace. Edric advanced softlv, doubtful and wonder- ing, and stood for a silent moment by the couch- side. She was breathing regularly but heavily, and when he ventured to extend his hand and lav it on hers, she did not stir. Gently and respectfully he lifted the veil and A CRY IN THE DARKNESS. 261 looked for an instant on the worn, high-bred features it concealed, and the mass of snowy disordered hair, then retreated noiselessly to the doer. " I shall know her again," he said meaningly to Euphrosyne, provoked by the insolent smile that hovered on her lips. " I shall find out all about her, and about you too, you may depend upon it." " Best let it rest here," she answered, earnestly. " There is no harm done — as yet." " I shall act as I choose. I am not quite sure how, but I am clear that you have been making use of me for no good purpose, just as you have been using Monk's name as a blind." He spoke in exasperation, and without pausing to consider whether his remarks were altogether judicious. He was unprepared for their effect. Euphrosyne flung her head back like a serpent going to strike. Her eyes narrowed to two gleaming slits, her lips drew them- selves viciously in to one thin livid line, her 262 LADY VALERIA. whole form seemed trembling with wrath and malicious intent. "If you dare!" she hissed softly; then rising suddenly erect, she darted her head forward and breathed into his ear, " Your only chance now is silence. Take warning. Every question you ask, every word you re- peat, is another spadeful dug of your own grave !'* She turned and vanished within the room, and Edric slowly departed, pondering many things. CHAPTER XIY. MRS. MARGETTS BRINGS HER MONEY S WORTH. iN" American letter dated from Petro- polis lay on the Vicar's table. Its non-appearance had caused him much wonder at first, many weeks ago, then had almost become a relief. He decided that the trail which Arbuthnot Corbett had started to follow so confidently had disappeared on the other side of the Atlantic; that Corbett had become absorbed in some more exciting pursuit; or — what was really the case — had fallen into the doctor's hand once more. Lady Valeria had also kept silence. He had sent her the letter as he intended, but 264 LADY VALERIA. had received no acknowledgment, and had attempted to see her in vain. He conld not be expected to know that on the occasion of his first unsuccessful call, Mr. Meynell, espy- ing his card, had promptly made away with it, with a hint to the butler which that dis- creet functionary was not slow to take. On his last visit he was told that the family were out of town, gone into the country for Christ- mas, not expected back before Easter. There he had perforce to let the matter rest. After all, he had lived long enough amongst his fellow-creatures to discover that it is not given to every looker-on to see the end of all the games that are played around him, and that a beginning, middle, and end are by no means the rule in every life-drama — rather the exception. He himself had lived to see tragedy end in broad farce, comedy of intrigue fall flat with an inappropriate moral, mysteries burst like pricked balls and disappear in empty air. This might be one of these last, he thought, and was, he tried to persuade him- J7i?5. MARGETTS' MONEY'S WORTH. 265 self, well content that it should prove so. But now the letter had come. " My dear Stannard, — Later on you shall hear what has detained me on my way. Let me begin here by saying that I have just come from seeing all that Petropolis now holds of the Magrath family. In the smart new cemetery stands a smart new cross, begging you of your charity to ' Pray for the souls of— Bridget Mary, Wife of Stephen Magrath, DIED 12 JAN. 1879, aged 79, Also of Stephen Magrath, DIED OCTOBER 24tH, 1881. and his daughters, Bridget Mary Magrath and Norah Hartmann, WHO both died of fever, OCT. 27th, 1881. Squeezed in last, ' Stephen Magrath, junior,' just over the large R. I. P. at the bottom; with neither age nor date. " This last is your man, without doubt. He died some time before his father, killed in an explosion on the railroad here with a train- ful of others. - His name was put on the cross 266 LADY VALERIA. by a kindly after-thought of some of his neighbours. ^' In the town I can gather very little about the family. They were decent folks, and everybody had a good w^ord for them. Last fall there had been an outbreak of fever there, brought into the place by some tramps w^hom the Magraths had given shelter to, and all in the house were stricken down within a few days. Nor all's husband, Hartmann, and the children recovered ; also the eldest daughter, Katty, to whom I w^as referred for further details. She is a w^onderful, ma^nificentlv hideous old witch of unknown age, perhaps sixty, but thanks to drink, fever, and hard work, not looking a day less than a hundred. She goes about doing odd jobs for the neigh- bours, who speak of her as * crazed since the troubles ;' but when treated like a lady to a friendly pipe and glass, can speak, and to the purpose, I have ascertained. Dates are per- haps beyond her, but the following facts were given readily enough : 3IJ^S. MARGETrS MONEY'S WORTH. 267 '' 1st. Stephen was undoubtably Irish born. She, the eldest, * had the mindin' ' of him, the 3^oungest, on the voyage out. Kecollection a blank as to his birth or their previous life in Ireland. " 2nd. He had been for many years on the worst of terms with her as well as the rest of his family. He paid them occasional visits, but his occupation and means of existence were alike unknown. " 3rd. Was reported to be married. Wife's name or place of residence unknown. '' 4th. Age, as nearly as might be guessed, about forty. " 5th. Resembled his sister in personal ap- pearance. A hawk-featured, blue-eyed, black- haired type, I should say. ** This is the entire sum of the fragments of information extracted at considerable ex- penditure of time and baccy from Miss Magrath. There are two members of the family still unaccounted for — Terence and Bartholomew — American-born brothers, who 268 LADY VALERIA. are vaguely spoken of as having ' gone West ' some years ago ; present address unattain- able. '' The editor of the Petropolis Meteor has been kind enough to obtain for me the en- closed report of the accident to the train, with the names of the sufferers, from the papers of the day, also the obituary notice of the Mag- rath family. I enclose both. Your man is killed and buried to all certainty, and I pre- sume my mission here accomplished. Is that enough?" The A^icar answered the question by a long breath of relief. This news must go, and at once, to Lady Valeria ; but how, and where was he to find her? The question was answered, as questions sometimes are, from a totally un- expected quarter, ten minutes later, when the Curate entered. " Martha Margetts, sir, has entrusted me with her respectful dooty, and considers a per- sonal interview, if not a liberty, as preferable M/^S. MARGETTS' MOXEY'S WORTH. 269 to letter-writino', there beino' no Board Schools in her tune making the girls that uppish that not a kitchen-maid as is fit to be trusted with so much as peeling a potato," repeated de Cressy, with perfect solemnity. " Martha — who ?" queried the Yicar, amused but unenlioiitened. '' A. highly respectable elderly person whom I found rino'ino- at the Yicarac^e door last night when you were out, and in whom, T am proud to say, I inspired sufficient confidence to be entrusted with her message. The post- script seemed the most imjDortant part. ' And be sure you let him know, sir, that Martha Margetts has got his money's worth fair and honest, or not a foot would she stir if it was ever so.' " " I know now. It's all right. Thank you. Did she fix a time 1" '• Monday evening, ' the family being en- gaged out.' " '' Monday the fifth? Yery good." De Cressy looked a trifle disappointed 270 LADY VALERIA. that no further explanation was forthcoming, but Avas quick to observe that the subject was not a welcome one, and dropped it. The remembrance of the ally he had secured on the impulse of the moment was by no means a grateful one to the Vicar. How- ever, good Mrs. Margetts had fulfilled her part of the contract, and he could end the business by paying her off with thanks ; and in this belief he awaited her appearance on the evening of the appointed day. Punctual to the stroke of seven, Mrs. Mar- getts' black silk gown rustled up the Vicarage steps and into the study. She dropped hot and beaming into the chair he offered her, with " Well, sir, here I am, you see ; but it is a way, it is !" and took a good look about her. " I suppose you have brought me Madame Euphrosyne's address," he began, coming to the point at once, as he seated himself at his desk and took pen in hand. Mrs. Margetts seemed to detect a want of JI/^S. MARGETTS' MONEY'S WORTH. 271 courtesy in this abruptness, for she drew her- self up with a slightly affronted air. " Oh, yes, sir, I have the address, sir ; yes, I have the address,^^ with a disparaging inflection that plainly implied, "and much good may it do vou." " So I understood by your message. I am much obliged. It is " holding his pen suspended. " Mrs. E. Girard, 231, Copthall Street, Pim- lico," pronounced slowly and carefully, in a severely neutral tone, with eyes fixed on a point of the wall just above his head. " Thank you," with a sigh of relief " You are sure that will find her ?" "If so be that you luish to correspond with her, I should say it would," with the same uncalled-for emphasis. " Then I think you will find that correct, and I am extremely obliged to you," handing a folded paper. Mrs. Margetts brought her eyes down for a space and lifted them up again. " I have no wish to deceive you, sir, but I do 272 ZADV VALERIA. assure you, I couldn't brlnf^ myself to rob you of it," more stiffly than before. •' Why ? It's honestly earned, isn't it ?" he asked, sharply. She dropped her eyes to his face again with sphinx-like imperturbability. '' Asking your pardon, sir, in sending word as I believed I had got your money's worth, I did not refer to the address." The Yicar waited patiently for further utter- ance, but the Oracle was silent. It was evi- dent that Mrs. Margetts did not mean to be disposed of with the scant ceremony he con- templated. She had her story to tell, but it was clear that she must be allowed to tell it in her own way. " Any information you can give me without bringing in your mistress's name " " That's as much as to say I have lost my time coming here at all, sir. How to tell you without bringing in my lady's name I know no more than the dead ; but indeed, sir, it's but right that somebody should be made aware MRS. MARGETTS' MONEY'S WORTH. 273 of what's going on. If not you, then some other 'discreet and worthy minister,' as Scrip- ture says. But as to making observations unbefitting my place— /ar be it from me, sir, that you may rely!" Mr. Stannard reflected. " You decline to take this for the address. Why ?" " Because it's not worth a bad halfpenny," was the j^rompt reply. '' And with your leave I'll tell you how^ I came to find that same. Xot again did that young person cross the doorstep before we was all carried off at a day's notice to Rivington, a fine place, there's no denying — but at this time of year as dis- mal as a jail — along of my lady's coming here so persistent, as you must have been aware, Sir. " Because of — your lady ?" Mr. Stan- nard groped confusedly amongst the scattered clauses of the statement. " Yes, sir. So it was. St. Fridolin's, by your leave, is not the thing to be encouraged VOL. I. 18 74 LADY VALERIA. by a family brought up as ours lias been. Mr. Oliver he felt it, he did — and made remarks about Ritualists and Romanists in disguise, that I should not think it civil to repeat ; and never did he rest till he got her away to Surrey. She went quiet enough for such a masterful lady as she was. But Miss Harris, her lad}''- ship's maid, she said, ' If Mr. Stannard means to write or call, I do wish he'd be quick, for my lady is that wearing w4th her fretting and fretting " '* Stop! How could you know anything of the sort?" asked the Vicar, in ignorance of that mysterious law that ordains that nothing shall be concealed in the drawing-room with- out being made manifest forthwith in the servants' hall. " Easy to see, sir. Else why should a lady never leave the house, no, not for ten minutes, without giving particular orders that if you called you was on no account to be let go away before she came back ? And, says she, ' Miss Harris, the postbag must be J/J^S. MARGETTS' uVONEY'S WORTH. 275 brought to me immediate,' or she would send to meet the postman at the office. No, sir, it was you and none other that my lady wore herself out expecting and expecting, and you know best with what reason." " With none at all. There has been some i>Teat mistake." '' Then, perhaps, sir, it was 7iot you that sent a long thin letter one day?" " No. And I really must object " . ' Of course, sir. Far be it from me to open my lips again. Only when Miss Harris, she came down into my kitchen in a dreadful way: * Oh, Mrs. Margetts, like a good soul come! She's dead or dying!' When we got uj) to my lady's room, there she was in a dead faint sure enough, but not dying nor going to, and we brought her round easy. Of course, as a friend I asked Miss Harris after- wards what had been happening to put her out. Nothing that she knows of, except that ten minutes before she had taken up the letters, and had noticed particular that one 18—2 276 LADY VALERIA. envelope with the postmark E.G. — but where that had gone she couldn't say — nor what was in it. ]N'ot even the envelope could we find about after." " I really must decline to listen to this.'' "Just as you please, sir," assented Mrs. Marge tts, w^ith alacrity. " ISot another word, sir, not even to say that while still prostrate, my lady got her writing-desk and sent Harris off to catch the next post with a note. ' Mad. E. Girard,' and the rest I read all of a squinny. Then says I : If E. Girard doesn't spell Madame Euphrosyne, my name isn't Martha Margetts." " Thank you. That is quite sufficient for me." " x^sking your pardon, sir, you may have observed to yourself that Pimlico is not E.G. And for my own satisfaction I must observe that it w^as the next of tliem lonof, thin, lavender-coloured letters that had a Pimlico postmark — must have been written on the spot in answer to my lady's, and put her into MJ?S. MARGETTS' MONEY'S WORTH. 277 that state of mind, nothing but coming up to town at once would content her. Mrs. Oliver were put out, there's no denying. There was to be a Twelfth-Night party at Kivington for her children, so she couldn't leave, nor her husband ; and yet they couldn't bear to let my lady out of their sight. I scorn to repeat things as is no affair of mine, but I give you my solemn w^ord. that when the carriage was overturned in the snow, and my poor lady carried home insensible, ' Providential ' was the observation I heard on Mrs. Oliver's lips, let her deny it if she can." " Was it serious '?" " Serious, sober earnest, sir. Oh, you mean the accident. It was a bad business — shock and internal injuries the doctor said ; but it was the being stopped in having her way that was really doing my lady harm. There she lay, week after week — though she scorned to complain — yet as Miss Harris says, just dying of impatience. She'll never be the same woman asrain, sir. Poor Mr. 278 LADY VALERIA. Oliver ! It makes my heart ache for him, it does." " I don't want to hear anything about Mr. Oliver. If you have nothing more to tell " "About Madame Euphrosyne? I've just come to tliat, sir. Directly we got home a note was sent as before, and I just put on my bonnet and went to take a look at Copthall Street. ^NTo. 231 was a little shop, name of Wildmore, with gloves, and braces, and scents and fanc}^ French sweets in the window, and the most impudent young hussy as ever I see behind the counter, with a satin gown and her fringe in her eyes. Two young gentlemen were buying sweetstuff, and her carryings on were, I do assure you. My lad}', as haughty as you please, was trying to make a chocolate drop jump into her mouth when she slapped her hand. ' Is Madame Euphrosyne here?*^ I says. They were all that busy slapping their fingers and jumping their chocolates that I got no answer, so down I sat. 'Xow^ MJ^S. MARGETTS' MONEY'S WORTH. 279 my good woman, what do you want?* says the creature at last, with her mouth full. ' I want Madame Girard or Euphrosyne, and here I shall stop till I see her.' ' Oh, do, by all means. If she isn't here by Saturday,, she'll be sure to look in early next week. Don't hurry yourself;' and they all laughed as if she had made a most uncommon joke. I gave a rap with my umbrella, just so. ' Very well, my good girl; if she hasn't got a letter posted at three this afternoon, you'll laugh at the wrong side of your mouth.' She looked quite respectful all of a sudden. ' She has got all of them safe enough. She sent for it half an hour ago. She never comes herself. You'll get no good by waiting.' I was of that young person's opinion, so came avray direct." '* You are a born detective, Mrs. Margetts, I am sure you have more than earned your money already ! I shall be obliged by your accepting it." " Well, really, as you do make a point of 28o LADY VALERIA. it," and Mrs. Margetts pocketed the coins and her scruples simultaneously. ' And now, sir, you may require nothing farther, but there's a point or two " "' Not a word more about Lady V^aleria, I beg," and the Vicar rose. " Certainly not, sir; but you must have noticed on a Sunday now, how her ladyship never comes near you." " No more, I request," opening the door. '• And when it comes to having words with Mr. Oliver, and threatening to make him know his place " " Good-evening." " And saying, when Miss Harris, at her wits' end, brings your name in, ' No, she could do without you now,' laughing in her haughty way; and when a lady at my lady's time of life takes to quarrelling with her nearest, and going out unknownst to everybod}', and making appointments on the sly " Mrs. Margetts' voice was raised to indignation-pitch, and her stops were nowhere. " And spending MI^S. MARGETTS' MONEY'S WORTH. 281 her nights out of bed walking backwards and forwards, and writing letter after letter and tearing them up in tiny bits and burning them with a match, and sitting hour after hour alone with — Miss Harris will take her oath of it — a portrait, a young mans portrait on the table before her. If I may die for saying so, I'll say it!" and she caught frantically at the door handle in a last effort. " It means my lady is going to be married, and you know best, sir, whether it is worth your while to hear that." " I am sincerely rejoiced to hear it," was Mr. Stannard's emphatic response ; one so entirely unexpected by the good woman, that, after standing confounded for a second, she turned with a bounce and departed speechless. He looked at his watch. There would not be time to see Lady Valeria before evensong, at which he w^as obliged to take Mr. de Cressy's usual place this evening ; yet he thought it might not be too late afterwards, considering the worth of the tidings he had to bring. 282 LADY VALERIA. Very grievous news it would be to her, lie knew; but the certainty would be less agonising than the cruel suspense she had been enduring. It was not as if the loss left her desolate. The miserable sense of alienation from her first-born son w^ould be spared her, and the jarring relationships between her and her other children be more readily adjusted. She might learn to look more tenderly on her other son when he no longer seemed an interloper to oust his brother from his rightful place. The good of the tidings far outweighed the evil, if he might but be granted wisdom to make her see it. CHAPTER XY. WATCHING rOK LADY VALERIA. R. STAXN'ARD felt less confident- when later on he laid his hand on the knocker of the door in Sea- grave Place. Despite his utmost speed, nine had long since struck, and he felt that his visit at this hour might alarm an invalid, as Lady Valeria now was. It would also attract attention and question if any of the family should be there. But he must risk it. He dare not delay longer, even though the servant who answered his summons assured him that there was no chance of his being able to see his mistress that evening. " I will wait till you have told her I am 284 LADY VALERIA. here. You will find that she is expecting me, I think." And the perplexed domestic, after a glance at the name, gave internal thanks that " Mr. Oliver was there and might have it out with him himself," and showed the visitor into the unlighted library, where he left him with a hastily kindled pair of candles to await the result of Mr. Oliver's decision. That came at least promptly. Eustace had not waited many minutes before he was sum- moned to follow the butler up the gorgeous imitation marble staircase to the drawing-room. It was a house of exploded splendours. A typical house, showing what once upon a time money could do, money alone, unassisted by art or culture. Everything down to the very door-mat was gorgeous, and gorgeous only, or had been so once upon a tune. x\ge and use had done their kindly work in toning down over-brilliant be-gildings, mellowing startling tints and casting a beneficent mantle of wear and dust over the chilly classicalities of frieze and marble groups that had once glared WATCHING FOR LADY VALERIA. 20^ painful in their snowy whiteness against their surroundings of Axminster and veneer. Other- wise all remained very much as when it came first from the hands of the leading upholsterer of the day, when Oliver Meynell, the father, gave him carte-blanche to render the house fit for the reception of his beautiful young Irish bride, Lady Valeria de Cressy. Mr. Stannard was ushered into a room ablaze with light and dazzling w^ith crystal and gold, reflected to and fro in vast sheets of looking-glass. The furniture w^as white and gold, Louis Quatorze scrolls and twirls and wreathings of gilded foliage. The hangings were yellow satin and w^hite brocade. The candles burned in great twinkling crystal chandeliers. On every side was buhl, ormolu, alabaster, looking-glass, gilding, satin and lace. In the very core and centre of the splendour, yet not of it, sat a lady knitting. Not Lady Valeria. A tall spare lady, with smooth plaited hair, dove-like eyes, and a delicate, pinched mouth ; richly clad in dove-colour silk, 286 LADY VALERIA. of ostentatious simplicity of make. ISfear her, leaning on the great buhl table, was an elderly young man, prematurely bald, with keen grey eyes and an intelligent face, tlie last person whom Eustace could have wished to find there, Mr. Oliver Meynell in person. He came forward ceremoniously with a grave bow. " Mr. Stannard of St. Fridolin's, I pre- sume? Let me introduce you to Mrs. Mey- nell.'' He spoke with a studied accent of neutrality that committed him to nothing beyond the ordinary duties of hospitality, but a distinct spasm of horror crossed Mrs. Meynell's face at the mention of the church, and her greeting could not have been more distant had he been the Great Dragon in person. " I have called at an unusual hour," Eustace hastened to explain ; '^ but my days are much occupied just now, and my business with Lady Valeria being urgent, I trusted that she would excuse it." WATCHING FOR LADY VALERIA. 287 " You had an appointment with my mother?" " Not exactly. She had reason to expect me sooner than this. I have not seen or heard from Lady Valeria for many months," he added, and then was vexed with himself for doing so. Mr. and Mrs. Meynell ex- changed glances, but neither made any com- ment, and an awkward pause followed. Mr. Meynell gave one or two little premonitory coughs as if about to make some observation, but checked himself again, and Mrs. Meynell knitted in demure silence. Mr. Stannard had said his say, so he volunteered no contribution to the conversation. " Have I any chance of seeing your mother to-night ?" he enquired at last, when the silence grew too significant. Mr. Meynell cleared his throat desperately once more. " I — I — can't say, really. To be frank with you, Mr. Stannard, I should be much relieved if you could give me your message and be 288 LADY VALERIA. content without seeing her. Would that be quite out of the question V " Quite so. I have an account to render to Lady Valeria and to her alone." " She is very much changed of late. Her illness has shaken and aged her. I wish to* spare her any agitation." " Why do you assume that my business will agitate or distress her ?" " I really cannot say — the unusual hour — your urgency," hesitated the banker. " As I said before, I could not choose my time. If this is an unfortunate one for any reason, I will not persist. Will you only kindly let Lady Valeria know that I am here, and ask her to appoint another." Silence, almost consternated silence, fell again on \k\^ husband and wife at this sugges- tion. Mr. Meynell frowned and fidgeted with a paper-knife he held, and ended by looking appealingly at his wife. " My mother dis- tinctly refused to see anyone about an hour WATCHING FOR LADY VALERIA. 289 ago, but, perhaps, if you would try again, Constance " ^' Certainly," she assented, rising with lady- like readiness. '' Will you please give me the message exactly as I am to take it ? Shall I say Mr. Stannard is here, and ask dear mamma to appoint a time for seeing him another day, if she does not feel equal to doing so to-night? Very good." Mr. Meynell's eyes followed her retreating figure doubtfull}'. Her departure seemed nevertheless to relieve him of some constraint, and he turned to the Vicar with a decided air. '• I am going to speak plainly to you, Mr. Stannard. I don't particularly care for my mother to become one of your followers. I know she went regularly to St. Fridolin's last year, and, I suppose, your errand here to-night has somewhat of a pur2)ose to draw her there again. It is my duty to stand between her and what I believe to be pernicious, and the religious atmosphere of your church is to my mind distinctly unwholesome. I can under- VOL, I. 19 290 LADY VALERIA. stand that a convert like Lady Valeria Meynell must be an object of " '• Stop there, if you please," spoke Eustace, flushmg hotly. '• Am I here to defend my opinions or to vindicate my conduct as a gentleman ? Let us take your grounds of offence separately. " I meant no offence," answered Meynell ^ awkwardly, not to say sulkily. ''I am verv 2:lad to hear that, at least." '• But you mean that I am offensive all the same. I cannot help it, Mr. Stannard. These are not pleasant words for me to speak. I am fulfilling a duty laid upon miC, to shield a weaker vessel from too severe temptation. You shall see my mother as you desire, and I will trust to your sense of honour — poor worldly substitute for Christian principle — not to tamper " Eustace began to feel as if the Christian virtue of patience was at least strained to its utmost limits. " M}^ business is with Lady A'^aleria alone, I tell you. It is a charge of WATCHING FOR LADY VALERIA. 291 her bestowing, and from which I shall gladly see myself relieved. To-night's interview may — I devoutly hope will — prove our final one." Mrs. Meynell's return stopped his words short. She breathed quickly and looked flurried beneath her sedate composure. " You cannot see Lady Valeria to-night, Mr. Stan- nard. And I can make no appointment for you either. I have not seen her. She has gone out." " Gone out !" shouted Meynell. '' Constance ! what are you talking about?" " My dear Oliver," protested his wife. " How should I know your mother's engage- ments? She can come and go in her own house as she pleases, I suppose. She must have gone out directly after sending that message to us." And Mrs. Meynell gave a look at her husband as if to remind him of Eustace's presence. Eut Meynell's anxiety was beyond repression. " Gone out. At this time. In her state of 19—2 292 LABY VALERIA. health. Gone out secretly, without a maid to attend her?" " We don't know that Harris is not with her. Of course I could not set the servants gossiping by making a commotion and asking questions. We must Avait and see." And the dove-coloured lady smoothed her ruffled plumage, and resuming her seat, picked up the knitting. Meynell was white to the very lips. '• Where can she be?" he spoke under his breath, and his eyes wandered distressedly from the com- posed figure of his wdfe to the Vicar's fiice. *^ Can you give a guess ?" he asked, almost imploringly. Eustace shook his head. " Unless she has gone to seek me at St. Fridolin's. I tell you candidly that is most likely." Mrs. Meynell looked up with strong dis- approval. "Hush, lAcaHe ;' and the door opened to admit the butler with the great silver tea-tray. Oliver turned away impatiently, but his WATCHING FOR LADY VALERIA. 293 wife managed to maintain a discreet, unruffled demeanour. "Should you prefer coffee, Mr. Stannard ? No? Cream and suo-ar?" The cream was unsteadily poured, and the sugar-tongs rattled a little, but she managed to go through the proper formalities and to sip her own cup of tea, though Eustace set his down untasted. The hidden terror that possessed Meynell was infecting both. He walked the great glittering chamber from end to end, stopping to listen to every chance noise in the street outside, his un- quiet figure reflected and multiplied in all the mirrors around. Eustace had thought he had better go, but received a hastily whispered " No. Stay. Let her find you here." That had decided the question. Mrs. Meynell had resumed her knitting, but the needles flickered fitfully, and the silk ran with a jerk and twist now and then. A great gilt clock on the mantelpiece ticked the minutes away noisily. It was a grand allegorical composi- 294 LADY VALERIA, tion, with a Greek hero in a triumphal chariot attended by winged Loves and unclad nymphs bearing garlands. One fat Cupid seemed to catch Mr. Stannard's eye every time he con- sulted it, and to be pointing sardonically with his golden dart at the small space the minute- hand had covered since last he looked. Now and then Mrs. Meynell hazarded a small re- mark, to which Eustace replied somewhat, it must be confessed, at random. *' It is dear mamma's delicate state of health that makes it so extraordinary she should have gone out without consulting us. Oliver and I heard that the Brants — my sister-in-law and her husband, who are living here, you know — we heard that they were to be out, and so came over to spend the evening with mamma and prevent her from feeling dull. She did not expect us, and might very easily have made some other eno-ao^ement." *' I — I beg your pardon." Eustace was on the alert to catch some sounds of coming wheels. ^' The Brants T WATCHING FOR LADY VALERIA. 295 " Lord Charles Brant married Mr. Meynell's only sister. They have no town house this year, and so during the session " '' There's Brant !" Meynell exclaimed. *• AVhat shall I say ? He always is sure to ixsk questions." " Go down and send him off at once to Mrs. Damien's to join Mabel. She left word that he was to be sure to do so if he returned in anything like reasonable time," Mrs. Meynell replied promptly ; and Oliver departed to do her bidding. '* You must be astonished at Oliver's anxietv," she went on. " He is the most devoted of sons. / think it over- strained, especially with a person like Lady Valeria, who has taken her own way so com- pletely all her life. She will be only annoyed wdien she finds us waiting here for her." ^leynell returned, and the endless evening dragged on for half-an-hour longer. Even the fat Cupid could net disguise the fact that it was nearing eleven when Eustace made another attempt to depart. This time Meynell 296 LADY VALERIA. looked really and unfeigiiedly alarmed when his attention was called to the hour. '' Wait, please wait a few minutes more," he urged. The butler entered to remove the tea-tray^ advanced to Oliver, and asked a discreetly low-voiced question. " Certainly not," was the repl}-. ^* My mother is too unwell to come downstairs again. You may all go to hed without wait- ing for family prayers to-night. Mrs. Meynell and I will stay here till Lord and Lady CharlcvS- return." The butler's face expressed satisfaction with the arrangement, and he retired finally, leaving the three to their watch. " The}' don't know she is not in the house," Mr. Meynell said, with a meaning look at his wife. " If I only knew what to do " The door burst violently open, and a precise young person, fluttered out of all propriety^ rushed into the room. '•My lady! Oh, sir, my lady! Where, WATCHING FOR LADY VALERIA. 297 for pity's sake, is sbe? I just looked into the room, and it was empty — and her so ill ! Oh dear! Oh dear! Is she gone off her head and wandered away somewhere " Meynell turned sharply. '' Then you were not with her?" — but his wife took the word from him. *' Xo, Oliver, Harris was not with her mis- tress. Harris has been out on her own con- cern, she best knows where. If you had not chosen to go out, Harris, without obtaining permission, your mistress might have been spared some inconvenience." " My lady said she shouldn't want me again. She really and truly did!" protested the re- morseful Harris. " And she being ill, I didn't like to disturb her just to ask to go out to- post a letter and match a bit of ribbon, and the shops being closed " faltered the guilty one. '^ A thiug which no properly behaved maid ever does in my experience," Mrs. Meynell pursued awfully. *' Lady Valeria will speak 298 LADY VALERIA. to you in the morning. Meanwhile you may go to bed. I or Lady Charles will see that she has all she requires for the night." "Tm sure I didn't stay a quarter of an hour ; and Anne said if her ladyship's bell rang she would attend; and her ladyship's orders were so strict for us to keep away and leave her quiet." ^' That will do. You may go." And •cowering under Mrs. Meynell's severe gaze, the culprit departed. The two men looked in each other's face uneasily. This fresh evidence of the secrecy iittending Lady Valeria's errand affected both with apprehension. Only Constance, invigo- rated by the encounter with Harris, main- tained her equanimity. The house sank into deep, deep silence, as the clock ticked on till midnight and passed it. The candles burned lower and lower, and began to cast giant shadows of their sconces on the floor and wall. The night seemed to grow suddenly chill, and ]\Irs. Meynell brought WATCHING FOR LADY VALERIA. 299 her white, fur-lined wrap from an inner room, and sat knitting wdth it on, a proceeding \vhich seemed to increase the uncomfortable- iiess and dreariness of the whole indefinitely. " Are jou sure she is not upstairs after all?" asked Oliver, with sudden alarm. "Ill — fainting — somewhere. And to be left all those hours and hours !" They all started in affright at the suggestion. Meynell hastily got a light and led the way, first to the small second drawins'-room which opened out of the one in which they were sitting. It was empty, silent and chill. Lady Valeria's rooms were one turn of the stairs higher. A bedroom in order for the night, round which Mrs. Meynell searched while the two men stood ouside listening expectant. She shook her head as she emerged, and they w^ent on to the sitting-room next to it. Harris liad made up the fire lately and lighted the candles on the mantelpiece, which wavered in the forlorn fashion candles have, burning out uselessly in a deserted room. A couch stood 300 LADY VALERIA, near the iire and looked as if it had been lately occupied. On the sofa-table near it, stood a large desk and some books, and a Bible half-closed lay within reach of the couch. Oliver looked around — behind the couch and in the great chair by the window — Mrs. Meynell ran lightly up the stairs to the upper floor. It was during her absence that Meynell turned to Eustace. "Is it quite impossible for you to help me? To give me any clue to the matter that sq enojrosses her thouo^hts ?" " Quite impossible," the other had replied regretfully, touched to the heart by the de- vouring anxiety in the banker's manner. '* I wish I could make you understand how fervently I wish it were otherwise. I wish I could place the business in your hands, but I dare not." Oliver silently arranged the sofa-cushions and rugs, and carefully made up the fire anew. He touched the books on the table. Something thick in a fold of soft paper lay between the pages of the Bible as a mark. He drew it half out, but, hearing his wife's footstep, refrained, and slipped it further in. "Hush!" cried Constance, softly, ''the Brants!" and she shut the door gently. Voices and steps on the stairs outside ascended and passed. Lady Charles declaiming about somebody's " tone," or want of it ; Lord Charles sleepily acquiescing. Mr. Meynell looked out at them. '' You here still, Oliver?" exclaimed his sister. " How is mamma to-night?" '' Much better, I hope," he answered, drawing back and closing the door." He had had some faint, wild hope that she might have been with her daughter after all, or that Mabel might know of her absence. Now there was nothing to be done but to return to the dreary brightness of the drawing-room and recommence the weary waiting. Mr. Meynell impatiently lighted a taper and kindled more clusters of waxlights. " Would you not like to 302 LADY VALERIA, go home, Constance ? I can always send for Mabel when my mother returns." " Certainly not, clear," said his wife, cheer- fully, standing to her colours bravely. " It is^ comparatively early yet. You forget how often Charles has kept us all up later than this^ waiting for his return from the House. It is^ nothing extraordinary. Perhaps, though, Mr, Stannard may have early services or some such doings to think of" ^' Hush, what was that ?" Meynell inter- rupted ; wheels stopping, a sound of the door below opening, subdued voices in the hall, the reclosing of the door, and a step on the stair- — the right one at last. IN'ot with the weary tread of an invalid, but with a rapid, light, vigorous step Lady Valeria entered, and standing in the doorway, con- fronted the three. She was wrapped in a long- satin cloak, her head veiled in lace, which she tossed back impatiently, as if for air; and, her head high, her eyes bright, and her face full of" a strange preoccupation, she advanced slowly WATCHING FOR LADY VALERIA. 305. towards them. Eacli felt more embarrassed than she was. She did not seem to think an}' explanation needful, nor manifest any surprise at their presence there. *' How late you are, mamma!" said Con- stance, rising dutifully to meet her, and hold- ing' out her cheek to be kissed. " We had no idea you were out, and have been waiting ta see you all the evening. Oliver had been quite wretched at the thought that you were not equal to seeing us." Lady Valeria kissed her. and held out her hand to her son absently. '' I am sorry that you should have distressed yourself about me," she said, in an indifferent, conventional tone. ^- Why did you wait ? You are too ready to trouble yourself about my coming and going, Oliver," she frowned slightly ; "it is quite unnecessar}'." " I am ver}' glad," he began, but she seemed to resent even his tone of relief. " It is very good and dutiful of you, I know; but noAV that you are satisfied, I hope you will 304 LADY VALERIA. not let me keep you here longer. Did you want me for any special reason, Mr. Stannarcl?" " For a very special one, but as it is so late " " I wish to see you, too. You and Con- stance will excuse me, I know, Oliver. Good- night, my dear." Eustace felt unaccountably sorr}^ for ]\Ir. Meynell as he took his leave with a look of perplexity in his face, stopping at the door to gaze back at Eustace with a curious air of warning and appeal, as his wife made her serene transit, smiling and reassured. Lady Valeria watched them go, then loosened her veil, and laid down her long mantle. She was greatly changed, he saw. Her dress hung loosely on her sharp shoulders, her rings slipped about on her wasted fingers ; but her whole person was transfigured for the moment by some strong intense inward ecstasy that shone in her eyes and rang in her voice and filled her with strength and joy. Was it expectation of his news, he WATCHING FOR LADY VALERIA. 305 wondered with some dread, and beo^an his explanations hastil}^ She listened in silence, with more of courteous patience in her air than of interest. Her eyes rested on his face now and then, but for the most part were fixed on vacancy, and she smiled to herself once or twice. When he came to his news from Petropolis, she grew suddenly grave and attentive. '' Poor old Biddy !" she sighed once, under her breath. " And there the search has ended. What- ever interest you may have felt in that adopted son, Lady Valeria, may end here. I have executed your wishes, and you have at last, and at least, found a certainty." " Yes, found a certainty," she assented, with an inscrutable, furtive smile. '' And your hopes and fears may rest for ever." ^' For ever!" she echoed again, but her smile brightened, though she drooped her head to conceal it. He was silent from astonishment, then VOL. I. 20 3o6 LADY VALERIA. handed her the two letters. '* Do yoa care to read this and see for yourself?" "Why should I?" she demanded, with a face of almost insolent triumph. " What good is that to me? If it says my son is dead, it is false!" and she tossed them from her. '• Ah, formve me! I did wron^x to come to you, and you have been very good — but my heart is full, is breaking with joy ! He is alive. My son, my very son, alive! I can ^all him to me when I will !" And she turned on Eustace a face all alight with rapture. " You are certain?" was all he could say. " Certain ! and before many days are over not you alone but the world shall be as cer- tain as 1 am. Wait, only wait till 1 can take him to my heart and tell him his father s name !" CHAPTER XVII. A COUNTERFEIT PRESENTMENT. RS. BELTRAN was up and astir jDortentously early next morning. Elsie saw her red-lined cloak sweep past the window, and beckoned to her with a nod and a smile. The imperative need of sympathy, which besets most women in emotional crises, had seized her. The reaction of last night's excitement had left her restless and unhinged, full of audaciously brilliant imaginings one moment, and direst misgivings the next. But Mrs. Beltran only shook her head and passed on. The red flower's day was done. The long crimson petals hung limp and discoloured 20—2 3o8 LADY VALERIA. round a shrivelled stem. The golden starry centre had shrank to a pinch of brown dust. Elsie, sighing, laid the faded fragments tenderly in a small tortoise-shell box, one of her few treasures, to be cherished as precious relics for the rest of her life. The shadow fell across the window again while she was thus busied, and Mrs. Beltran entered without waiting to be summoned. She had been walking briskly, and that, or some secret excitement, had brought a dusky glow to her cheek, and a light to her eyes. She held her head erect, and there was an air of suppressed exultation in her whole bearing that Elsie might have noticed at any other time. She composed herself, however, in her old languid fashion in her usual seat near Elsie's couch, and taking the girl's hand caressingly in hers, waited for her confi- dences. They were but few and meagre ones after all. Elsie could not bring herself to part with her wonderful secret at once. She played A COUNTERFEIT PRESENTMENT. 309 around it as it were, cliattering rather at random about the delights of the past evenhig, the ladies' dresses, the music, the compliments paid Sampson, everybody's great kindness to her. !Mrs. Beltran listened with a benignant smile. JSTow and then a sharp, furtive glance shot through her narrowed eyelids at the girl's face. She seemed on the watch to catch a hint — a name. But Elsie kept her own counsel, and left the most interesting part untold. '' Look at that !" spoke Mrs. Beltran^ with sudden impatience. " Who is it ?" It was a cabinet photograph enclosed in an envelope, with the name of a photographer of note on the outside. Elsie looked at it respectfully and cut the string round it. "Is it your husband?" she asked, drawing forth the enclosure. Then she gave an involuntary little cry, and raised her hands as if to cover her hotly blushing cheeks. It was a large tinted portrait of a young, handsome man, and the wide-open. 3IO LADY VALERIA. honest, blue eyes that smiled up into hers were — Sir Geraint's ? — or Mr. Edric Poynter's ? " Ah, I thought that would make you speak !" Mrs. Beltran said, with a low laugh. " So you knew it," and she nodded well- pleased. '' It's a bad photograph," spoke Elsie, de- cidedly, to cover her confusion. '' Not a bit like their usual work. Oh, I know it quite well. My sister — poor Emmie who died — used to paint for them, and I've helped her often and often. I should say the negative had been damaged " " Never mind the negative. Now look at this portrait — his father. Don't 3^ou think them alike ?" She held out her hand for the photograph, but Elsie kept fast hold of it, while she took from Mrs. Beltran's hand a shabby old minia- ture-case. A blue velvet case with a cipher in gold on the back. Inside was a large, old- fashioned locket, with a loop for a ribbon, and a turquoise setting. The gold was coppery A COUNTERFEIT PRESENTMENT. 311 pink, the turquoises faded to all shades of green and yellowish-blue, and the flesh-tints of the miniature had bleached to a ghastly white- ness; but enough remained to shoAv that the portrait had been a piece of clever workman- ship in its day. A likeness of a young officer of dragoons in an old-fashioned uniform, high- stocked, small- waisted, and epauletted. '• How exactly alike they are !" she ex- claimed. The hair in the miniature fell in rippling locks, and the moustache stuck out fiercely, in odd disconnection with the light little ringleted whiskers, while the photograph was close cropped and wore a coat of the season's cut. Yet the features and expression of the two were strikingly similar. She looked from one to the other once or twice, turned the locket over and smiled at the dry, faded curl of light hair fastened in with a knot of seed-pearl, wondering who had w^orn and gazed on it and dreamed dreams over it years and years ago, before her days in this world had begun. Then she examined 312 LADY VALERIA. the case and tried to spell out the cipher, '' ' A ' and ' J ' and a Q,' and some little letters beside," she read. '• / make it ' J. A.,' " said Mrs. Beltran, with a secret smile. Elsie returned to her study of the face. '' A good face," she murmured, '^ a kind, brave face." She rubbed her eves suddenly and looked at it afresh with a flash of awakened curiosity. Some bright idea and a merry one had seized her. She picked up the photograph [lorain. '• Yes, I thous^ht 1 knew " " Knew what?" asked Mrs. Beltran, sharply. " Knew how you came by that photograph," and Elsie laughed roguishly. " You couldn't take me in, after helping poor Emmie so long. AVhy, I could do it myself." " What do you mean?" cried Mrs. Beltran, X'ecovering the photograph with a fierce snatch. Her face was not good to look at just then. The pent-up passion within blanched her face to the lips, and she drew back for a second out of range of Elsie's ^)^^^. A COUNTERFEIT PRESENTMENT. 313 **Is it a cheat — a trick?" she asked, almost directly, in her smooth, low tone. " It doesn't concern me, you know. I do not even know the people. I must have done wrong to show it to you. You will keep my secret?" Elsie nodded dubiously. " There is no harm in it, but you may tell him all you know when you see him again, if you like." *' When I see him again? You mean Mr. Poynter? I do not know whether I ever shall," and Elsie's voice trembled. " That is as you choose," and Mrs. Beltran smiled mysteriously. " What was your wish? What is he to do for your sake ?" " Not for me — for Sampson — he did say for my sake " Elsie broke off, flooded with blushes. Her mind had travelled miles away from the photograph and its secret, whatever it might have been, Mrs. Beltran saw, and was satisfied. She turned away from Elsie and took up the dead flower in its little shrine, while Elsie faltered a few words of explanation to which she hardly appeared to listen. 314 LADY VALERIA. " He lias left jou for ever, and the red flower is dead and the chance is gone," she spoke, in her soft, musical voice, in a sort of melancholy chant. " Gone, all gone for ever !" Elsie raised two eyes filled with gathering tears to her face, and her lips trembled piteously. " Gone ! But they will come again." Elsie shook her head in forlorn in- credulity. " They can come back at my call," declared Mrs. Beltran. " Past days, lost hopes, a dead flower." She rose to her full height, towering over Elsie, and looking down on her with her face of dark, mysterious power. " What do you know of the gifts I hold in my hand for those who trust me ? I would have given you great things long ago, had you chosen, but you turned from me to other friends." " They have been good friends to me," protested Elsie, horribly nervous, but loyal. *^ What could you have done for me more than they do? Can you make me different from what I am? Can you make me like other A COUNTERFEIT PRESENTMENT. 315 girls? Give me health, strength, and nights free from pain?" '' Put yom' hand in mine and have faith in me," said Mrs. Beltran, solemnly. " You have asked me a simple gift. You shall have it as a token that the others which you long for shall follow it!" END OF VOL. I. BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDiOKD. C, C.