"A mere trifle," said my neighbor "on the right," with his most suave

air and a twinkle in his eye as he finished the claret. "Just a shot

or two in the left arm--a mere nothing, when one considers the dangers

the whole line were incurring."

"You were shot in the arm, Sir Antony?" I exclaimed, suddenly, feeling

a great dislike to Mr. Dodd. "Oh, but people should not shoot if they

are so careless, surely!"

"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said Mr. Dodd, huffily. "I am not

careless. I have been shooting now for a matter of five years and only

twice before have hit any one."

"You have had the devil's own luck!" said Antony, beginning the

Burgundy.

"You may call it luck, sir," said Mr. Dodd, "but I think a man wants a

bit of judgment, too, to shoot, and I always try to remember where my

neighbors stand. But, I must admit, with pheasant shooting in a wood

it is more difficult. It was getting a little excited with a rabbit

which caused the last accident I had."

Antony finished the Burgundy.

"Are you going to walk with us afterwards, Comtesse?" he asked me,

presently, in a low voice, his eyes still twinkling; "because, if so,

I advise you to fortify your nerve with a little orange brandy I see

they are handing now," and he began the champagne.

"Oh, I am so sorry about the whole thing. I think it is perfectly

dreadful," I said, "and--and I do hope you are not really hurt."

He showed me his wrist. His silk shirt-sleeve was wet with blood, and

his arm also had streaks on it, and just under the skin were two or

three small, black lumps.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am," I said, and my voice trembled. I

felt I wanted to take his arm and wash the blood off, and caress it,

and tell him how it grieved me that he should be wounded--and by these

people, too. I would like to have shot them all.

"Don't look so distressed, Comtesse," he said. "It does not hurt a

bit, and the whole thing amuses me. A very original character, Mr.

Dodd," and he finished the champagne.

Augustus walked with me after lunch for a little when we started. He

was in a furious temper at the non-slaughter of the partridges.

"By Jove! next year," he said, "I'll clear out the whole boiling,

whether the mater likes it or no, and have some of the people we met

at Harley. Thornhirst is the only man who has killed anything great,

though Wakely and Bush did a fair share."

I told him how dreadful I thought the accident had been.

"Good thing it was not me he shot," said Augustus. "I'd have fired

back. But the part I mind the most is the miserable bag. Wilks is mad.

We both wanted the record to go to the field; and what can we do? Only

thirty-two brace up to luncheon!"

I soothed him as well as I could.

Mrs. Dodd was puffing behind us. She had insisted upon following with

the guns, although Lady Wakely and the two other elderly women had

driven back to Ledstone.

The yellow paradise plume and bright-blue dress made a glowing spot of

color on the brown, ploughed field.

Miss Springle tripped gayly along in front with Mr. Dodd, coquettishly

tapping him on the arm and looking up in his face.

Giggles of laughter were wafted back to us. Miss Springle is a rather

pretty girl, with thick black hair.

Antony strode forward and joined us. Augustus dropped behind to speak

to Wilks.

"You must stand with me," Antony said, "I will protect you as well as

I can, and the chances are against the shot coming my way twice in one

day."

He was so gay. Never have I had so delightful a walk. I cannot write

down what he said. If I try to remember his words, I cannot. It is the

general impression they leave behind, rather than any actual sentence

I can recall, which makes me feel his wit is like grandmamma's, and it

reveals all the time his great knowledge of books, and people, and the

world. And there is a lightness which makes one feel how strong and

deep must be the under-current.

My spirits always rise when I am with him.

Soon we arrived at the hedge we were to stand behind.

It was all new to me, the whole scene. Out of nowhere Antony's servant

seemed to spring with two guns and a stick-seat, which he arranged for

me.

Mrs. Dodd had panted after her husband and Miss Springle, who were

in the most open place; but Wilks was unable to contain himself with

annoyance at this.

"Not a bird will face the line if the lady's dress is seen," he said,

in despair, as he passed us, and we saw him unceremoniously insist

upon Mrs. Dodd joining Sir Samuel Wakely, who was at the thickest

corner, next us.

"The air must be black with the language Wakely is using, I will bet,"

said Antony.

And then the partridges began to come.

"There's a burrd! There's a burrd!" shouted Mr. Dodd, excitedly,

pointing with his gun straight at Sir Samuel's head.

"Damn you, sir!" yelled Sir Samuel back to him. "It is pure murder

the way you hold your gun."

"I'll trouble you not to swear at my husband!" roared Mrs. Dodd.

A huge covey came over at the moment, but the voices and the

bright-blue dress attracted their attention, and they all wheeled off

to the right, so that, but for two stray birds killed by Antony, this

end of the line found the drive a blank.

Augustus's rage knew no bounds.

He came up to me as if it was my fault.

"Take that old woman home this moment, Ambrosine," he said, furiously.

"Do you hear?--this minute!" and I was obliged to go up to Mrs. Dodd

and suggest our returning. I was tired, I said.

"I'll not leave Wullie with that minx," she replied, firmly. "You can

go without me, Mrs. Gussie. I'll not take it rude of you at all." I

tried to explain that I thought we were all a little in the way and

had better return to the house; but Miss Springle, who joined us,

would not hear of such a thing.

"Mr. Dodd says he can't get on without me," she said, coyly, whereupon

Mrs. Dodd gurgled with rage.

"I am afraid you will all be shot if you delay here," said Antony,

coming to my rescue. "We are going to take the next beat at right

angles, and you are all in the full line."

"Goodness, gracious me!" screamed Mrs. Dodd. "Oh, gentlemen, save me!"

And she rushed wildly towards Augustus, who was coming up, her dress

held high, showing a pair of opulent ankles and wide, flat feet

covered in thin, kid boots, while a white cotton stocking appeared

upon the stove-pipe calf that was visible above.

The yellow paradise plume floated in the wind, the hat having become

a little deranged by her rapid flight.

"Gussie Gurrage!" she yelled. "Oh, do you hear that? The gentleman

says I'll be shot!"

And she precipitated herself into the unwilling arms of Augustus.

He has not manners enough to stand such an assault. His face flushed

with annoyance, and the savage look grew round his mouth. I waited

for the explosion.

"Confound it, Mrs. Dodd!" he said. "Women have no business out

shooting, and you had better clear out and go home."

"I've never been so insulted in my life!" she snorted, as we walked

back to the farm, after a confused scene, in which Mr. Dodd and Sir

Samuel and Augustus, Miss Springle, and Mrs. Dodd herself had all

talked at once.

"Never so insulted in my life! Sent away as if I wasn't wanted. If I

hadn't known Gussie Gurrage since he was a baby I'd have boxed his

ears, that I would!"

I remained in haughty silence. I feared I should burst into screams of

laughter if I attempted speech.

Miss Springle had evaded us at the last minute, and could be seen once

more by Mr. Dodd's side as we drove past the shooters again on the

road.

A meek woman, sister of Mr. McCormack, a Mrs. Broun by name, who had

quietly stood by her husband and had not been in any one's way, now

caught Mrs. Dodd's wrath.

"You've had a good deal to do with Jessie Springle's bringing up, I've

heard, Mrs. Broun, since her mother died, and a disgrace she is to

you, I can testify."

"Oh, dear Mrs. Dodd, how can you say such a thing?" said Mrs. Broun,

almost crying. "Jessie is a dear girl, so full of fun."

"Fun, you call it, Mrs. Broun! Looking after other women's husbands!

How would you like her to be flirting with your Tom?"

(This is the spirit my mother-in-law would approve of.)

"Oh, it is quite immodest, talking so, Mrs. Dodd!" replied the

meek lady, flushing scarlet. "Why, no one would ever think of such

things--a girl to flirt with a married man!"

"That's all you know about it, Mrs. Broun. I tell you that girl will

upset your home yet! Mark my words; but I'll not have her running

after Wullie, anyway."

The situation was becoming very strained. I felt bound to interfere by

some _banal_ remarks about the scenery, and finally we arrived back at

Ledstone and I got rid of them by conducting them to their rooms.

IX

It poured rain again before the sportsmen returned, and they were more

or less wet and cross. Antony went straight to his room to change, and

so did the two other decent men. But the commercial friends stayed

as they were, muddy boots and all, and were grouped round the fire,

smelling of wet, hot tweed, when Mrs. Dodd sailed into the room.

"Wullie," she said, sternly, "you've no more sense than a child, and

if it was not for me you'd have been in your coffin these five years.

Go up-stairs this minute and change your boots." And off she sent him,

but not without a parting shot from Miss Springle.

"Mind you put on a blue velvet smoking-suit, Mr. Dodd, dear. I do

love gentlemen in smoking-suits," she said, giggling.

Tea was a terrible function. Oh, the difference to the merry tea at

Harley!

Lady Wakely, sleepily knitting and addressing an occasional

observation to her neighbor; the rest of the women silent as the

grave, except Miss Springle and Mrs. Dodd, who sparred together like

two cats.

The men could talk of nothing but the war news which had come by the

afternoon post.

There was a gloom over the whole party. How on earth was I to escape

from the oppression? They were not people of the world, who would be

accustomed to each person doing what they pleased. They expected to be

entertained all the time. To get away from them for a moment I would

be obliged to invent some elaborate excuse.

Antony had not appeared upon the scene, or Augustus, either.

At last--at last Lady Wakely put her knitting in a bag and made a move

towards the door.

"I shall rest now," she said, in her fat, kind voice, and I

accompanied her from the room, leaving the rest of my guests to take

care of themselves. I felt I should throw the cups at their heads if

I stayed any longer.

There, in the hall, was Antony, quietly reading the papers. His

dark-blue and black silk smoking-suit was extraordinarily becoming. He

looked like a person from another planet after the people I had left

in the drawing-room.

He rose as we passed him.

"Some very interesting South African news," he said, addressing me,

and while I stopped to answer him Lady Wakely went up the stairs

alone.

"The draughts are dreadful here again, Comtesse," he said,

plaintively.

"Why did you not go into the library, then," I said, "or the

billiard-room, or one of the drawing-rooms?"

"I thought perhaps you might pass this way and would give me your

advice as to which room to choose."

I laughed. "The library, then, I suggest," and I started as if to go

up the stairs.

"Comtesse! You would not leave me all alone, would you? You have not

told me half enough about our ancestors yet."

"Oh, I am tired of the ancestors!" and I mounted one step and looked

back.

"I thought perhaps you would help me to tie up my wrist."

I came down instantly. If he were pretending, I would punish him

later.

"Come," I said, and led the way to the library, where we found the

fire had gone out.

How ashamed I felt of the servants! This must never happen again.

"Not here; it is cold and horrid." And he followed me on into my

mother-in-law's boudoir. There were no lights and no fire.

My wrath rose.

"It must be your mustard sitting-room, after all," said Antony. So up

the stairs we went. Here, at all events, the fire blazed, and the room

glowed with brilliancy.

Roy was lying on the rug and seemed enchanted to see us.

"Is it really hurting you?" I said, hurriedly.

"No, not hurting--only a stupid little scratch." And he undid his

shirt-cuff and turned up his sleeve.

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "Oh, I am so sorry!"

One of the shots had grazed the skin and made a nasty cut, which

was plastered up with sticking-plaster and clumsily tied with a

handkerchief.

"My servant is not a genius at this sort of thing. Will you do it

better, Comtesse?"

I bound the handkerchief as neatly as I could, and, for some

unexplained reason, as once before at Harley, my heart beat in my

throat. I could feel his eyes watching me, although my head was bent.

I did not look up until the arm was finished. His shirt was of the

finest fine. There was some subtle scent about his coat that pleased

me. A faint perfume, as of very good cigars--nothing sweet and

effeminate, like a woman. It intensely appealed to me. I felt--I

felt--oh, I do not know at all what my feelings meant. I tried to

think of grandmamma, and how she would have told me to behave when I

was nervous. I had never been so nervous in my life before.

"You--you will not shoot to-morrow?" I faltered.

"Of course I shall. You must not trouble about this at all, Comtesse.

It is the merest scratch, and was a pure accident. He is an excellent

fellow, Mr.--er--Dodd is his name, is it not? Only pity is he did not

shoot his wife, poor fellow!"

Again, as on a former occasion, the admirable _sang-froid_ of my

kinsman carried things smoothly along. I felt quite calmed when I

looked up at him.

"We won't try sitting on that sofa to-night," I laughed. "This is a

fairly comfortable arm-chair. You are an invalid. You must sit in

it. See, I shall sit here," and I drew a low seat of a dreadfully

distorted Louis XV. and early Victorian mixed style that the

upholsterer, when bringing the things, had described to me as a

"sweet, pretty lady's-chair."

Antony sat down. The light from the lily electric branches made the

gray in his hair shine silver. He looked tired and not so mocking as

usual.

"I have settled with your husband when you are to come to Dane Mount.

He says the 4th of November will suit him."

"We shall drive over, I suppose?"

"Yes."

After that we neither of us spoke for a few moments.

"Did you read La Rochefoucauld last night?" I asked, presently.

"No."

"Well, why did you ask for it, then?"

"I had a very good reason."

One could never describe the expression of Antony's face. If one goes

on saying "mocking," or "cynical," or "ironical," or "quizzical," it

gives no impression of what it is. It is a mixture of all four, and

yet laughing, and--and--tender, and _insouciant_, and gay. He is

himself, and there could never be any one like him. One feels as if

all common things must vanish and shrivel up before his style of wit.

One could think of him as finishing his game of chess calmly while the

officers of the Terror waited to conduct him to the guillotine. He is

exactly--oh, but exactly!--grandmamma's idea of a gentleman. I wish

she had seen more of him.

There is nothing _poseur_ or dramatic about him. He is quite simple,

although he laughs at things all the time. I seem to have learned more

of the world, and the tone of everything, just talking to him, than

from all the books I have read lately. What would it be like if he

were interested in anything intensely, if something moved him deeply,

if he really cared?

As I sat there I thought of many things. An atmosphere of home had

suddenly come into the room. I could almost believe I could hear

grandmamma's voice.

"What are you thinking of so seriously, Comtesse?" he asked, lazily.

"I was wondering--"

"Well?"

"I was wondering if anything really mattered in life; if one could

grow old and remain numb all the time; if things are real; if--oh,

does anything matter? Tell me, you who know."

"Not many things. Later, you will regret some things you have not

done--very few you have."

"I have been reading metaphysics lately, and, it seems, one could

reason one's self into believing nothing is real. One of my books said

the ancient Cynic philosophers doubted for the sake of investigation

and the moderns investigate for the sake of doubting. What does it all

mean?"

He began stroking Roy's ears. He had put his dear black-and-tan head

on Antony's knee.

"It means a great many words. Do not trouble your wise head about it.

The world is a pleasant enough place if you can pay your bills and

have a fair digestion--eh, Roy? Bones are good things, aren't they,

old fellow?"

"You, at all events, are never serious," and I laughed.

"I will tell you about that when you come to Dane Mount."

"I wish you could have got Lady Tilchester to go, then. I do like her

so much. She has been very kind to me. It would give me pleasure to

see her."

"She is a delightful woman."

"She told me how long she had known you--since her wedding-day, I

think she said--and, oh, lots of things about you. She seemed--"

He moved his arm suddenly.

"I don't think you tied this handkerchief tight enough, Comtesse," he

said, again turning up his cuff.

I rose and looked at the bandage.

"Why, yes. It is just the same as it was. But I will do it again if

you wish."

This time it did not take me so long, but that ridiculous beating

began again in my heart.

"It must have a double knot to keep it right," said Antony.

My fingers seemed clumsy. We were standing so close together there was

a something--an electricity--which made my hands tremble. Oh, this was

folly! I _must_ not let myself feel so. I finished the knot at last,

and then said, stupidly:

"I have an idea I should return to my worthy guests down-stairs,'"

Antony smiled.

"They are quite happy without you," he said, "Vain little Comtesse,

to think your presence is necessary to every one!"

"I dare say. But--I must go to them."

"No, you must not. Sit down in your low chair and forget all about

them. No good hostess fusses after her guests. People like to be left

to themselves."

I sat down meekly.

"I never can understand," said Antony, presently, "why your

grandmother did not let me know when first you came to the cottage.

She was fully aware of the relationship between us, even if I was

not."

"Grandmamma was a very proud woman. We were so very poor. And then,

there was grandpapa's _bêtise_, which, I fancy, had quite separated

them from his family."

"What made her come to Ledstone at all, I wonder?"

I felt my cheeks getting pink, and bent down to look into the fire.

"She wanted to live in England, so that I might become English by

growing up there, and--and it was cheap. We had been in London before

that, and back in Paris, and down at Brighton, and a lot of dull

places. I remember she saw the advertisement in the paper one morning

and took the cottage immediately."

"You had heard that we were relations?" he asked.

"Yes, vaguely. But I did not know how many of you there were, only

that the present holder of the title was a Sir Antony."

"It was a strange coincidence neither of us should have caught the

other's name at the ball that night."

"Yes."

"Afterwards, when we talked you over at Harley, every one had got

information about you, it seemed. They were all so awfully interested

in you. You looked such an extraordinary contrast to the rest of the

company."

"Well, I am glad of that."

He smiled.

"It was when I heard that your grandmother was a Frenchwoman I grasped

everything. I remembered there was some story in the family about a

younger son marrying a beautiful Parisienne. But it seemed to me it

must be too far back to be possible. And then Lady Tilchester told me

she was a very old woman. So we came over next day."

"I wish you had seen more of grandmamma," I said. "You would have got

on together. She used to say wonderful things sometimes."

"I thought her the most lovely old lady I had ever seen."

"Her maxims would fill a book as big as La Rochefoucauld."

"What a pity you did not write them down!"

"The Marquis and she had the _religion du beau_. They worshipped

everything that was beautiful and suitable and refined. They never did

anything for effect, only because the action was due to themselves and

was a good action." I paused.

"Go on, Comtesse," said Antony. "I like to hear it all."

"They really believed in _noblesse oblige_. Neither of them would have

stooped from their position--oh, not a little inch."

"It is a thing we have quite forgotten in England. It was

inconvenient, and most of us are not rich enough to indulge in it."

"But must one be rich to behave as of one's race?" I asked,

astonished.

"Yes--or remain in the background, a good deal bored. To obtain

the wherewithal to enjoy this rather expensive world, people stoop

considerably nowadays."

"And you don't think it dreadful?"

"I am not a Crusader. Times have changed. One can keep one's own ideas

and let others do as they please."

"Grandmamma had a maxim like that. She said it was _bourgeois_ to be

shocked and astonished at things. She believed in the difference of

classes. No one could have persuaded her that the common people are

made of the same flesh and blood as we are."

"Tell me some more."

"This was her idea of things generally: first of all, to have the

greatest self-respect; to stoop to no meanness; to desecrate the body

or mind in no way; to conquer and overcome all foolish emotions;

to be unselfish, to be gay, to be courageous; to bear physical and

moral pain without any outward show; to forever have in front of one

that a straight and beautiful carriage must be the reflection of a

straight and beautiful mind; to take pleasure in simple things, and

to be contented with what one has got if it is impossible to obtain

better--in short, never to run one's head against a stone wall or

a feather-bed, but if a good thing is to be gained by patience, or

perseverance, or concentration, to obtain it."

"I am learning. Continue," said Antony, but there was no mock in his

eyes. Only he smiled a little.

"They both had a fine contempt of death and a manner of _grand

seigneur_ and a perfect philosophy. They had the refinement of

sentiment of the _ancien régime_, only they were much less coarse. And

in the _ancien régime_ one worshipped the King and the constitution of

France, whereas grandmamma and the Marquis worshipped only _le beau_

in everything, which is higher than an individual."

"How well you tell it! I shall have to reorganize my religion."

"You are laughing at me!"

"No, I am not. I am deeply interested. Go on," and he leaned back in

the straight-backed arm-chair.

"'Never stay in the mud,' was another of grandmamma's maxims. 'It

happens that the best of us may fall there in life, but no one need

stay there,' she used to say. Even the common people could rise out

of it if they a fine enough spirit. But we were the examples, and one

must never give a bad example. For instance, the common people might

cry when they were hurt. They were only lower creatures and under the

protection of the others. They could roar, if it pleased them, as they

were the model of no one. But we could not cry, to encourage this

foolishness."

"And so you lived and learned all that, dear little Comtesse! No

wonder your eyes are so wise."

"I remember once I became impatient with some new stitches in my

embroidery that would not go right, and I flung the piece down

and stamped on it and tore it. Grandmamma said nothing, but she

deliberately undid a ball of silk and tangled it dreadfully, and

then gave it to me to straighten out. It was not to irritate me, she

said. But patience and discipline were necessary to enable one to get

through life with decency and pleasure, and while I untangled the silk

I should have time to reflect upon how comically ridiculous I had

been to throw down and trample upon an inanimate thing that only my

personal stupidity had caused to annoy me."

Antony looked at me a long time. He sighed a short, quick sigh, and

then said, gayly:

"You must certainly write a book for the training of the young. But

what did your grandmother say of such things as strong passions--the

mad love of one person for another, for instance? Could they be ruled

by maxims?"

"She did not discuss those things with me. But she did say that in

life, now and then, there came a _coup de foudre_, which sometimes was

its glory and sometimes not; that this was nature, and there was no

use going absolutely contrary to nature; but that a disciplined person

was less likely to commit a _bêtise_, or to mistake a passing light

for the _coup de foudre_, than one who was accustomed to give way to

every emotion, as a trained soldier is better able to stand fire than

the raw recruit from the fields."

"And yet the trained soldier goes under sometimes."

"In that case, she said, there were only two courses--either to finish

the matter and go out altogether, or to get up again and fight better

next time."

Antony looked down at me. He shaded his eyes with his hand, and it

seemed as if he were observing something in my very soul. Then he

said, with a whimsical smile, "Comtesse, tell me. And did she consider

there were any great sins?"

"Oh yes. To break one's word, or in any way degrade one's race. But

she said sins were not so much sins in themselves as in their _façon

de faire_. One must remain a gentlewoman--or man--always, even in

moments of the greatest _tourbillons_. 'We are all of flesh and

blood,' she said, 'but in the same situation the _fille de chambre_

conducts herself differently to the _femme de qualité_.' What a

serious impression I am giving you of grandmamma, though! She was

a gay person, full of pleasant thoughts."

"She permitted pleasures, then?"

"But, of course, all pleasures that did not really injure other

people. She said priests and custom and convention had robbed the

world of much joy."

"She was quite right."

"She liked people to have fine perceptions. To be able to 'see with

the eye-lashes' was one of her expressions, and, I assure you, nothing

escaped her. It was very fatiguing to be long in the company of people

who passed their lives morally eating suet-pudding, she said. Avoid

stodge, she told me, and, above all, I was to avoid that sentimental,

mawkish, dismal point of view that dramatically wrote up, over

everything, 'Duty,' with a huge D. It happened that there were duties

to be done in life, but they must be accomplished quietly, or gayly,

as the case might be. 'Do not shut the mouth with a snap, and, having

done so, turn the corners down,' she said. 'These habits will not

procure friends for you.' And so I learned to take things gayly."

We were both silent for some time after this. Then Antony exerted

himself to amuse me. We talked as lightly as the skimming of swallows,

flying from one subject to another. We were as happy as laughing

children. The time passed. It seemed but a few minutes when the clock

struck eight.

"You will make me late for dinner!" I exclaimed. "But you reminded me

of grandmamma and the Marquis and made me talk."

"May I come again to-night--to return La Rochefoucauld?" he asked,

with his droll smile.

"I do not know. We shall see." And I ran into my room, leaving him

standing beside the fire.

X

When I got into my bedroom the door was open into Augustus's room

beyond. He had not come up to dress. Indeed, when I was quite ready

to go down to dinner he had not yet appeared.

Half-past eight sounded.

I descended the stairs quickly and went along the passage towards his

"den." There I met his valet.

"Mr. Gurrage is asleep, ma'am," he said, "and does not seem inclined

to wake, ma'am," and he held the door open for me to pass into the

room.

Augustus was lying in his big chair, before the fire, his face

crimson, his mouth wide open, and snoring and breathing very heavily.

He was still in his shooting-things.

An indescribable smell of scorching tweed and spirit pervaded the

room.

By his side was an almost finished glass of whiskey. The bottle stood

on the tray and another bottle lay, broken, on the floor.

Atkinson began clearing up this _débris_.

"Augustus!" I called, but he did not awake. "Augustus, it is time for

dinner!"

"If you please, ma'am," said the valet, coughing respectfully, "if I

might say so, you had better let Mr. Gurrage sleep, ma'am. I'll see

after him. He is--very angry when he is like this and woke suddenly,

ma'am."

I looked at the whiskey bottles and the flushed face. A sickening

disgust overwhelmed me. And there would be no Lady Tilchester to save

me to-night!

"Open the window," I said to Atkinson, "and persuade Mr. Gurrage to go

to bed when he wakes." And I left the room.

All my guests were assembled when I got into the first drawing-room.

Indeed, it was twenty minutes to nine.

Mrs. Dodd had the air of an aggrieved turkey-gobbler. I felt she would

fly at some one.

"We thought we should not get any dinner, Mrs. Gussie," she said,

huffily. "Folks are generally down in their own houses!"

I took no notice of this remark.

"I am so sorry to be late, Lady Wakely," I said, addressing her and

the other women, "but my husband is not well, and, I fear, will not be

able to come in to dinner. He must have caught a chill out shooting."

"Have you sent for the doctor? Because, if not, I know all about

chills with Wullie, who never changes his socks," interrupted Mrs.

Dodd. "Let me go to him, Mrs. Gussie."

"No, thank you. Do not trouble," I said. "His servant and I have

done all that is necessary, and he wishes to sleep. Let us go in

to dinner."

I told them each whom they were to take in, and put my own hand on

Antony's arm. It seemed as if he held it closely to his side, but he

said nothing, and we walked into the dining-room.

I do not know at all what we talked about. Certainly for three

courses everything was a blank to me. But I heard myself laughing,

and Mr. Dodd, who sat on my other hand, seemed mightily amused at

my conversation.

"Why, the open air and a little walking has done you all the good in

the world, Mrs. Gussie!" I was conscious, at last, that he was saying.

"Your cheeks are quite rosy and your eyes as bright as stars."

"Yes, it was a delightful day," I said.

"Talk about chills, Mr. McCormack"--Mrs. Dodd's voice carried across

the table-"I know Gussie Gurrage, and I don't believe he ever had a

chill in his life!"

Antony now began to talk to me quietly. He said very little. His voice

was particularly cool and collected. He never once looked at me. I

was grateful for that. I felt as if I could not bear to see sympathy

in his eyes. He also talked to Lady Wakely, on his other hand, and

chaffed beyond to Miss Springle.

And so the dinner passed, and the ladies rose to leave the

dining-room, Mr. McCormack holding the door for us.

As it was wide open, and all could see into the hall, an apparition

appeared upon the scene, coming from the passage that leads to the

"den"--Augustus, being supported by Atkinson and one of the footmen,

and singing snatches of some low music-hall song.

In an instant Antony had sprung forward and closed the door, Mr.

McCormack and the others standing open-mouthed and inert.

"There, I knew it was no chill!" exclaimed Mrs. Dodd.

"Hush, madam!" said Antony, sternly, his eyes flashing green-blue

fire. "We were very comfortable at the table. Shall we not all sit

down again?"

Lady Wakely at once returned to her chair. The meek Mrs. Broun put

her hand on my arm in sympathy, but I annihilated her with a look as

I swept back to my seat, and soon my guests were once more in their

places.

Then it was that Antony exerted himself to amuse this company. With

the most admirable tact and self-composure, he kept the whole party

entertained for half an hour. And when we again left the room it was

_en bande_, without ceremony, the men accompanying us.

Lady Wakely kindly said good-night in quite a few minutes, and the

other women followed her example. I spoke no word of thanks to Antony.

I did not even look into his face.

When I got to my boudoir I could hear Augustus's drunken snores from

the room beyond. He had mercifully fallen asleep.

I did not ring for McGreggor. I would stay in my sitting-room all

night. Roy came up to me and licked my hand. Then suddenly something

seemed to give way in my will, and I dropped on the rug beside my dog

and cried as I have never cried in my life, my head buried in his

soft, black coat.

Oh, grandmamma, forgive me for such weakness! But surely, if we had

known of this horror, even the Calincourts need not have kept their

word to a drunken man!

I did not hear the door open, but suddenly was conscious of Antony's

voice.

"Ambrosine, for God's sake don't cry so!" he whispered, hoarsely.

I did not look up.

"Oh, I want to thank you for your kindness," I sobbed, "but if you

would continue it you will leave me now."

He knelt on the rug beside me, but he did not even touch my hair.

"I cannot leave you--miserable like this," he said, brokenly, as

if the words were dragged from him. "Ambrosine, my dearest! Little

Comtesse, please, please do not cry!"

Joy ran through me at his words. My sobs ceased.

The drunken voice of Augustus began the song again from the next room.

I started up in terror. Oh, if he should burst into this room!

"Antony," I implored, "if you want to serve me, go!" And I opened the

passage door.

He drew me into the corridor with him.

"I tell you, you shall not stay here alone with that brute!" he said,

fiercely. "Promise me you will go to your maid's room and not come

into this part of the house to-night. I will see his valet and arrange

things safely for him."

"Very well," I said, and then I ran. If I had stayed another

moment--ah, well!

* * * * *

Augustus was too ill to get up next morning. It was raining again,

and, by common consent, our guests left by mid-day trains.

Sir Samuel Wakely said, with gruff kind-heartedness, when I appeared

at breakfast:

"I have seen Wilks, and he says there is very little chance of its

clearing for us to shoot to-day, so I think Lady Wakely and I will be

starting home before luncheon-time. With your husband ill, I am sure

you would be glad to be relieved of visitors."

Lady Wakely also expressed her regret at leaving, and said a number

of kind things with perfect tact.

The good taste of some of the rest of the party was not so apparent.

Mrs. Broun gushed open sympathy and had to be snubbed; Miss Springle

giggled, while Mrs. Dodd muttered a number of disagreeable things, and

the other women remained in shocked silence.

The men were awkward and uncomfortable, too. Altogether it was a

morning that is unpleasant to remember. Antony was the only person

unmoved and exactly the same as usual. It steadied my nerves to look

at him.

I had not seen Augustus, as I had come straight from a room near

McGreggor's, where I had spent the night. As I was leaving the

dining-room I went towards the staircase, but Antony stopped me.

"Do not go up," he said. "Leave him to himself. The doctor is with

him, and when he has completely recovered he will probably be

penitent. He has only just escaped delirium tremens, and will most

likely be in bed for a day or two. Promise me that you will not go

near his room or I will stay and look after you myself."

Oh, the kindness in his voice!

"Yes, I promise," I said, meekly.

"Then I will say good-bye, Comtesse, until we meet at Dane Mount on

the 4th of November."

"Good-bye," I faltered, and we shook hands calmly before the rest of

the company standing about the hall.

But when the tuff-tuff-tuff of his automobile subsided in the

distance, I felt as if all things were dead.

The evening post brought an invitation from the Duke of Myrlshire,

asking us to go and stay with him for a small shoot on the 30th of

October.

Augustus sent for me.

As I had promised, I had not been near him until this moment.

He was still in bed, and looked ill and unshaven. He was reading his

letters, and glanced up at me with heavy, bloodshot eyes.

"Just got a line from Myrlshire," he said, pompously, without a trace

of shame or regret in his voice.

"He says he has written to you, too; he wants me to shoot on the

30th."

I remained silent. I did not mean to irritate him, but the whole scene

made me numb with disgust.

"Why the devil don't you answer?" Augustus raged, his face flushing

darkly. "Write at once and say we shall be delighted to accept."

"You are engaged to shoot with Mr. Dodd for that date," I informed

him.

Mr. Dodd was sent to perdition, and Mrs. Dodd, too, and then he said,

more quietly:

"Sit down now and write to the Duke. I would not miss this for

anything."

I did not stir from where I stood.

"Listen, Augustus," I said. "I will not visit with you anywhere, and I

will let every one know the reason, unless you swear, by whatever you

hold sacred, that you will never utterly disgrace yourself again as

you did last night. When you have decided to make this oath you can

let me know." And I left the room, leaving the air behind me thick

with curses.

I had one of the most distant spare rooms prepared for myself, and

when I was going to bed a note came to me.

"I swear," it ran. "Only come back to me. I want to kiss you

good-night."

"Tell Mr. Gurrage I will see him in the morning," I said to Atkinson,

and I locked my door.

XI

Augustus was not able to leave his room for four or five days after

this. I left him almost entirely to himself, only going to see him

once a day, to hear if he required anything.

At the end of the time his penitence was complete, and he promised me

to change his ways for the future. He was horribly affectionate to me,

but peace was restored.

I cannot say that I felt any happier, but it seemed a lull and calm

after a storm. I tried to be more gentle and sympathetic to him and

to take more interest in the house.

And so, at last, the 30th arrived, and our visit to Myrlton Castle.

We had to pass through London on our way there, and Augustus left me

for an hour or two, while he went to his tailor's, he said.

I had no money to shop with. I had spent all my first quarter's

allowance on books and a late wedding-present to Hephzibah, and I

foolishly could not bring myself to ask Augustus for more.

So I sat in the hotel hall after lunch and watched the people passing

by.

What had seemed a great sum of money to me in my days of poverty

now appeared a very meagre allowance, as I had begun to realize what

things cost. In making the settlement I had not been consulted.

Grandmamma and the Marquis had arranged matters with my future

husband, and I remember her words: "We have only been able to secure

for your personal use a very mediocre sum, but your jointure in case

of widowhood is quite magnificent."

Augustus had promised her I should have everything I wanted in the

world--"as much money as she likes to ask for, once she is my wife."

It was the "asking for" that kept me penniless. I would not be so

foolish as to spend it all at once the next time it came in. Meanwhile

the knowledge that a sovereign or two is all one possesses in one's

pocket has a depressing effect upon the spirits.

"Run up what bills you like for your clothes," Augustus has often said

to me. "I don't care, as long as they show the money that has been put

into them and you make a good dash."

So I sat on the sofa in the hotel hall musing all by myself.

Suddenly a desire came over me to take Augustus at his word. I, too,

would go to my tailor's.

I do not know London very well; but Lady Tilchester had given me the

address of the latest and most fashionable dressmaker, and I got into

a hansom and drove there.

The garments were pretty, and I ordered several tea-gowns and things

they had ready, and, as I was leaving, gave Augustus's name and

address for the account to be sent to. He should receive the bill,

as he wished.

I spoke distinctly, and perhaps more loudly than usual, as I find

shop-people so stupid with names. A young _vendeuse_, who heard me

as she entered the room, now came up.

"Oh, this is Madam Henriette's order, Madam Green," she said to the

elder woman who had been attending upon me. "Madam Henriette is

engaged just now"--and she turned to me--"but she asked me to tell

your ladyship if you should call again to-day that the things will be

sent off to-night to join you at Myrlton Castle as you wished. Mr.

Gurrage has just been in and left a message that he was sorry to miss

your ladyship, but would be at the station." Then, struck by some look

in my face, she said, "The Viscountess Grenellen, is it not?"

The elder _vendeuse_, who probably knew Lady Grenellen by sight, was

green with apprehension that some shocking gaff had been committed.

For one second I hesitated, then:

"The things I have ordered are for Lady Grenellen," I said, calmly.

Mercifully we are about the same height. "You can send them with the

others to Myrlton Castle."

And with a few casual words of admiration about a set of lingerie that

was lying on the table, I sauntered out into the street.

I do not know exactly what I felt--a sense of insult, principally.

I did not hate Lady Grenellen, and I did not feel jealous about

Augustus. But it all seemed so terribly low.

She, a gentlewoman who must have been brought up with every

surrounding that could foster the sentiment of self-respect--she, the

Duke of Myrlshire's cousin, not a _parvenue_--beautiful, charming, and

young--to accept clothes from Augustus!

Oh! To take a lover for love, that one could understand and perhaps

pardon. The Marquis was grandmamma's lover, but--but not a common

person like Augustus--for clothes!

"Back to the Carlton, miss?" said the hansom man, breaking in upon my

thoughts. Perhaps I looked undecided as I stood in the street.

I glanced at my watch. There would be just time to catch the train.

"Euston," I said, and I swung to the doors. Then, as I sat there, I

realized that my knees were trembling.

At the station Augustus had already arrived, and, under pretence

of seeing whether the servants and luggage were all there, he was

scanning the platform anxiously for Lady Grenellen.

His face fell when he saw me. Perhaps he hoped she would have arrived

first.

I could not prevent myself from speaking in a voice of extra coldness,

although I tried hard to be natural. This was not the moment for

recriminations. Augustus noticed it, and, as usual, began to bluster.

"What's up?" he asked, irritably. "You look as white as a ghost."

"I will get into the carriage," I said, "I am cold." And Atkinson

and McGreggor arranged my cushion and rugs for me, Augustus uneasily

watching the platform meanwhile.

Two of the men who had been at Harley passed, and, seeing me, came up

and spoke. They were going to Myrlton, too, I found.

"Why don't you get in here?" I said, graciously, to the funny one they

had called "Billy," and whose other name I had never grasped. "It is

so dull to travel alone with one's husband."

He got in and sat opposite me. We talked merrily.

"Why don't you get in, Gurrage?" he said, "It is horribly cold with

the door open."

Augustus is not clever under these circumstances. He has no

_sang-froid_, and is inclined to become ill-tempered.

At the last moment, before the train started, Lady Grenellen tore down

the platform. Augustus rushed to meet her, and the guard slammed our

door.

Whether they had got in somewhere else we should not know until we

arrived at Rugby Junction, where we were to change onto a branch line.

I used the whole force of my will to put the matter out of my head. I

told myself the doings of Augustus were nothing to me, and henceforth

should not concern me in any way.

At last I succeeded in being quite able to enjoy my companion's

conversation.

At Rugby we had a quarter of an hour to wait. Nothing of the other

couple was to be seen. Apparently they must have missed the train,

after all.

A few moments before the branch train started a special dashed into

the station, and out got Lady Grenellen and Augustus. She was looking

most radiant and lovely, but Augustus had an expression of unease and

self-consciousness as he greeted us.

"Was it not too provoking, just missing the train," Lady Grenellen

said, laughing. "Mr. Gurrage insisted upon having a special. Such a

mercy he was there, as I could not possibly have afforded one."

This was the first time she had acknowledged my existence. Mr. Billy

chaffed Augustus, and we all got into a saloon carriage together. It

had been engaged by the Duke, and four or five people were already

seated in it. They appeared all to be friends of Lady Grenellen's, and

she was soon the soul of the party, laughing and telling of her mishap

about the train, her white teeth gleaming and her rouge-pink cheeks

glowing like a peach. No one could be more attractive, and I ceased

to blame Augustus, I could understand a man, if this lovely creature

looked at him with eyes of favor, giving up any one, or committing any

folly, for her sake.

Apparently, for the moment, she had finished with Augustus, for

she snubbed him sharply once or twice, and finally retired with a

beautiful young man into the compartment beyond, kissing her hand to

the rest as she went through the door.

"I am going to talk business with Luffy till we get to Myrlton," she

said.

A savage look stamped itself upon Augustus's face. Would he vent his

anger on her, presently, or should I be the recipient of it? Time

would show.

Myrlton is a glorious place, hundreds and hundreds of years old,

and full of traditions and ghosts, with a real draw-bridge and huge

baronial hall, with the raised part, where they eat above the salt in

by-gone days. Everything is rather shabby and stiffly arranged, and,

except in the Duke's own special rooms, it looks as if no woman had

been there for years.

The Duke is a perfect host. He seemed delighted to see me, and soon

let me know that his only interest in the party was on account of my

presence among them. I felt soothed and flattered.

Lady Grenellen was in tearing spirits.

"Berty, I have got her," she laughed, as she deliberately drew a

chair, and divided the Duke and me, who were sitting a little apart.

"She isn't at all bad, and I have asked her and her aunt to come here

to-morrow," she continued. "I told them I was giving the party, and

that they should be my guests. The aunt knows what for, and I expect

the girl, too. She has at least fifty thousand a year. But she is

American. There was nothing in the English market rich enough. A

paltry ten thousand would be no use to you."

"Oh, Cordelia, I told you I would not have an American," said the

Duke, reproachfully. "Think how jumpy they are, and I can't explain to

her that I simply want her to stay at home and have lots of children

and do the house up."

"Oh yes, you can. She is from the West, and a country-girl, and, I

assure you, those Americans are quite accustomed to make a bargain.

You can settle everything of that sort with the aunt."

"Mercifully, Margaret Tilchester is arriving to-morrow, too," sighed

the Duke. "She has such admirable judgment. I shall be able to rely

upon her."

"Ungrateful boy!" laughed Lady Grenellen. "After the trouble I have

taken to get her, too. Now I am going to have a sleep before dinner.

By-bye." And she sauntered off, accompanied by the beautiful young

man.

Augustus stood biting the ends of his stubbly mustache.

No one had to bother about what the other people were doing here. The

guests did not sit round waiting to be entertained; they all seemed

perfectly at home, and did what they pleased.

The party was not large, but quite delightfully composed. I felt I

should enjoy my evening. Before going down to dinner, Augustus came

into my room. He hoped, he said, that I had some jewels on.

My appearance pleased him. He came up and kissed me. I could not speak

to him, as McGreggor was in the room, and afterwards it seemed too

late. Should I leave the affair in silence? Oh, if I had some one to

advise me!--Lady Tilchester, perhaps. And yet how, so soon after my

marriage, could I say to her: "My husband pays for another woman's

clothes, and is, I suppose, her lover. But beyond the insult of the

case, the disgust and contempt it fills me with, I am not hurt a bit,

and am only thankful for anything that keeps him away from me." What

would she think? Would she understand, because of Lord Tilchester

and Babykins, or would it, being so soon, shock her? I wish I knew.

Perhaps it is as my mother-in-law said, and I am not a flesh-and-blood

woman.

Early next day--they had come by the Scotch mail--Lord and Lady

Tilchester arrived with Babykins.

Most of the men were out shooting but the Duke and the beautiful young

man (his name is Lord Luffton), who had stayed behind to take care of

us, they said.

Lady Grenellen appeared just before lunch.

"I have ordered a brougham to meet the one-thirty train, Berty," she

said, "to bring my Americans up. They will be here in a minute. Come

into the hall with me to receive them."

The Duke accompanied her reluctantly.

"It would be as well to know their name," he said, as he sauntered

after her trailing skirts.

"Cadwallader--Miss Martina B. Cadwallader--that is the aunt, and

Miss Corrisande K. Trumpet--that is the niece," said Lady Grenellen,

stalking ahead.

The windows of the long gallery where we were all sitting looked onto

the court-yard, and two flys passed the angle of the turret.

"Look at the luggage!" exclaimed Babykins, and we all went to the

window.

There was, indeed, a wonderful collection--both flys laden with

enormous, iron-bound trunks as big as hen-houses. A pair of smart

French maids seemed buried beneath them.

The entire party of us burned with curiosity to see the owners, but

long before they appeared we were conscious of their presence.

Two of the most highly pitched American voices I have ever heard

were saying civil things to our host and Lady Grenellen. More highly

pitched than Hephzibah's, and that is the highest, I thought, there

could be in the world.

"She is awfully good-looking," whispered Babykins, who caught sight

of them first as they came through the hall.

The aunt walked in front with Lady Grenellen, a tall woman with

a keen, dark face of the red Indian type, with pure white hair,

beautifully done, and a perfect dignity of carriage.

The heiress followed with the Duke. She is small and plump and

feminine-looking, with the sweetest dimpled face and great brown

eyes. Both were exquisitely dressed and carried little bags at their

waists. Their manner had complete assurance, without a trace of

self-consciousness.

Lady Grenellen had told us all their history. Not a possible drop of

blood bluer than a navvy's could circulate in their veins, and yet

their wrists were fine, their heads were small, and their general

appearance was that of gentlewomen.

I seemed to see pictures and sounds of my earliest childhood as they

spoke, I took to them at once.

Following the English custom, Lady Grenellen did not introduce them

to any one but Babykins, who happened to step forward, and we all

proceeded to lunch, which was laid at small, round tables.

The Duke wore an air of comic distress. His eyebrows were raised as

though trying to understand a foreign language.

I sat with Lady Tilchester at another table, and we could not hear

most of their conversation, only the sentences of the American ladies,

and they sounded like some one talking down the telephone in one of

the plays I saw in Paris. You only heard one side, not the answers

back.

"Why, this is a real castle!" "You don't say!" "Yes, beheaded in the

hall." "Miss Trumpet has all the statistics. She read them in the

guide-book coming along." "I calculate she knows more about your

family history, Dook, than you know yourself," etc., etc.

"What a pity they have voices like that!" exclaimed Lady Tilchester.

"I know Berty will be put off, he is so ridiculously fastidious, and

it is absolutely necessary that he should marry an heiress."

"The niece is young. Perhaps hers could be softened," I said. "She is

so pretty, too."

Lady Tilchester looked at me suddenly. She had not listened to what I

said.

"Oh, dear Mrs. Gurrage, you will help us to secure this girl? I ask

you frankly, because, of course, the Duke is in love with you, and he

naturally would not be impressed with Miss Trumpet."

I should have been angry if any one else had said this. But there is

something so adorable about Lady Tilchester she can say anything.

"You are quite mistaken. I have only seen the Duke at your house,"

I said, smiling, "and a man cannot get in love on so short an

acquaintance, can he?--besides, my being only just married."

"I suppose you have not an idea how beautiful you are, dear," she

said, kindly. "Much as I like you, I almost wish you were not staying

here now."

"I promise I will do my best to encourage the Duke to marry Miss

Trumpet, if you wish it," I said, "I think he knows it is a necessity

from what he said to me."

"Then I shall carry you up-stairs this afternoon out of harm's

way," she said, with her exquisite smile. "Berty always gives me a

dear little sitting-room next my room, and we can have a regular

school-girls' chat over the fire."

Nothing could have pleased me better. I would rather talk to this

dear lady than any Duke in the world.

After lunch some introductions were gone through.

"Now I am proud to be presented to you," said the aunt to Lady

Tilchester, with perfect composure. "We have heard a great deal of

you in our country, and my niece, Miss Trumpet, has always had the

greatest admiration for your photograph."

The niece, meanwhile, talked to me.

There is something so fresh and engaging about her that in a few

moments one almost forgot her terrible voice.

"Why, it does seem strange," she said, "with the veneration we have in

America for really old things, to hear the Duke" (she does not quite

say Dook, like the aunt. It sounds more like Juke) "call this castle

an old 'stone-heap.' I am just longing to see the place his ancestor

was beheaded upon in May, 1485. The Duke hardly seems to know about

it, but I have been led to expect, from the guide-book, that I should

see the blood on the stones."

The beautiful young man, Lord Luffton, now engaged her in

conversation, and as Lady Tilchester and I left the hall both he and

the Duke were escorting Miss Trumpet to the dais--no doubt to turn up

the carpet and search for the traditional blood upon the steps.

"They are the most wonderful nation," Lady Tilchester said, as she

linked her arm in mine. "Here is a girl looking as well bred as any

of us--more so than most of us--probably beautifully educated, and

accomplished, too, and whose father began as a common navvy or miner

out in the West. The mother is dead--she took in washing, Cordelia

says--and yet she was the sister of Miss Martina B. Cadwallader! How

on earth do they manage to look like this?"

"It is wonderful, certainly. It must be the climate," I hazarded.

"We cannot do it in England. Think of the terrible creature a girl

with such parentage would be here. Picture her ankles and hands! And

the self-consciousness, or the swagger, this situation would display!"

I thought of Mrs. Dodd and the Gurrage commercial relations generally.

"Yes, _indeed_," I said.

"They are so adaptable," she continued. "It does not seem to matter

into what nation they marry, they seem to assimilate and fit into

their places. When this little thing is a duchess, you will see she

will fulfil the position to a tee. Berty will be very lucky if he

secures her."

"I think Lord Luffton will be a much greater stumbling-block than I

shall," I laughed. "Perhaps he likes the idea of fifty thousand a

year, too."

"Oh, Cordelia will see about that. Babykins, who knows everything,

tells me she has fallen wildly in love with Luffy. He has only arrived

back from the war about a week. And she will not let any other woman

interfere with her. I had heard another story about her in Scotland.

They told me she was having an affair with some"--she stopped

suddenly, no doubt remembering to whom she was talking--"foreigner."

She ended the sentence with perfect tact.

The little sitting-room is in a turret and is octagon-shaped, a

dainty, charming, old-world room that grandmamma might have lived in.

We drew two chairs up to the fire and sat down cosily.

How kind and gracious and altogether charming this woman can be! Again

I can only compare her to the sun's rays, so warm and comfortable she

makes one feel. There is a nobleness and a loftiness about her which

causes even ordinary things she says to sound like fine sentiments. No

wonder Mr. Budge adores her.

We spoke very little of people. She told me of her interests and all

the schemes to benefit mankind she has in hand. At last she said:

"You have not been to Dane Mount yet, have you?"

"No. We are going there on Monday, after we leave here."

"It will interest you deeply, I am sure." And she looked into the

fire. "Antony stayed with you, did he not?"

"Yes," I said, and my voice sounded strained, remembering that

terrible visit.

She was silent for a few moments.

"I want you to be friends with me, dear," she said, so gently. "You

are, perhaps, not always quite happy, and if ever I can do anything

for you I want you to know I will."

"Oh, dear Lady Tilchester," I said, "you have been so kind and good to

me already I shall never forget it. And I am a stranger, too, and yet

you have troubled about me."

"I liked you from the first moment we met, at the Tilchester ball.

And Antony is so interested in you, and we are such dear old friends

I should always be prejudiced in favor of any one he thought worth

liking."

There were numbers of things I wished to ask her, but somehow

my tongue felt tied. It was almost a relief when she turned the

conversation.

Soon the daylight faded and the servants brought lamps.

"It is almost five," she said, at last "What a happy afternoon we have

had! I know you ever so much better now, dear. Well, I suppose the

time has come to put on tea-gowns and descend to see how affairs are

progressing."

I rose.

"I am going to call you Ambrosine," she said, and she kissed me. "I

am not given to sudden friendships, but there is something about

your eyes that touches me. Oh, dear, I hope fate will not force you

to commit some mid-summer madness, as I did, to regret to the end of

your days!"

All the way to my room her words puzzled me. What could she mean?

XII

The scene was picturesque and pretty as I looked at it from the

gallery that crosses the hall.

Tea was laid out on a large, low table, with plates and jam and cakes

and muffins--a nice, comfortable, substantial meal. A fire of whole

logs burned in the colossal, open chimney. The huge, heavily shaded

lamps concentrated all the light beneath them, viewed from above.

And like a group of summer-flowers the women, in their light and

fluffy tea-gowns, added the touch of grace to the heavy darkness of

the old stone walls. I paused a while and watched them.

Lady Grenellen, gorgeous as a sultana, seemed to have collected all

the cushions to enhance her comfort as she lay back in a low, deep

sofa. Augustus sat beside her. From here one could not see his

ugliness, and the dark claret color of his smoking-suit rather set off

her gown. She had the most alluring expression upon her face, which

just caught the light. His attitude was humble. The storm, for the

present, was over between them.

Two other women, the heiress, Babykins, and Lord Tilchester, and

several young men sat round the table like children eating their

bread-and-jam.

The Duke and Miss Martina B. Cadwallader were examining the armor.

Some one was playing the piano softly. Merry laughter floated upward.

I doubt if any other country could produce such a scene. It would have

pleased grandmamma.

"Why, by the stars and stripes, there is a ghost in the gallery!"

exclaimed Miss Corrisande K. Trumpet, pointing to me. The faint

glimmer of my white velvet tea-gown must have caught her eyes as I

moved away.

"No, I am not a ghost," I called, "and I am coming down to eat hot

muffins." So I crossed and descended the turret stairs.

Lady Tilchester had not appeared yet.

I sat down at the table next "Billy." It was all so gay and friendly

no one could feel depressed.

Viewed close, Miss Trumpet was, for her age, too splendidly attired.

She looked prettier in her simple travelling-dress. But her spirits

and her repartee left nothing to be desired. She kept us all amused,

and, whether Lady Grenellen would eventually permit it or no, Lord

Luffton seemed immensely _épris_ with her now.

There was only one other girl at the table, Lady Agatha de Champion,

and her slouching, stooping figure and fuzzled hair did not show to

advantage beside the heiress's upright, rounded shape and well-brushed

waves.

"Where have you been all the afternoon?" demanded the Duke,

reproachfully, over my shoulder. "I searched everywhere down-stairs,

and finally sent to your room, but your maid knew nothing of you."

"I have been sitting with Lady Tilchester in her sitting-room," I

said, smiling.

"Here comes Margaret. She shall answer to me for kidnapping my guests

like this." And he went forward to meet her.

"Do not scold me," said Lady Tilchester, as she returned with him.

"I think Mrs. Gurrage will tell you we have spent a very pleasant

afternoon."

"Indeed, yes," I said.

"And I mean to spend a pleasant evening," he whispered, low, to me.

"As soon as you have eaten that horrid muffin I shall carry you off

to see my pictures."

I looked at Lady Tilchester. What would she wish me to do?

"Impress upon him the necessity of being charming to the heiress.

You were quite right. He has a serious rival," she whispered, and we

walked off.

The Duke can be agreeable in his unattractive, lackadaisical way.

He is so full of information, not of the statistical kind like Miss

Trumpet, but the result of immense cultivation.

"What do you think of my heiress?" he said, at last, as we paused

beneath a Tintoretto. I said everything suitable and encouraging I

could think of.

"I am quite pleased with her," he allowed, "but I fear she will not

be content with the rôle I had planned out for my Duchess. She is

too individual. I feel it is I who would subside and attend to the

nurseries and the spring cleaning. However, I mean to go through with

it, although I am in a hideous position, because, you know, I am

falling very deeply in love with you."

"How inconvenient for you!"' I said, smiling. "But please do not let

that interfere with your prospects. You must attend to the subject of

pleasing the heiress, as I see great signs of Lord Luffton cutting the

ground from under your feet."

He stared at me incredulously.

"Luffy!" he said, aghast. "Oh, but Cordelia would take care of that.

He is her friend."

"Oh, how you amuse me, all of you," I said, laughing, "with your loves

and your jealousies and your little arrangements! Every one two and

two; every one with a 'friend.'"

"Anyway, we are not wearyingly faithful."

"No; but to a stranger you ought to issue a kind of

guide-book--'Trespassers will be prosecuted' here, 'A change would

be welcomed' there, etc."

"'Pon my word new editions would have to come out every three months,

then. In the space of a year you would find a general shuffle had

taken place."

"Shall you let your Duchess have a 'friend'?" I asked.

He mused a little.

"Could I have found my cow brewer's daughter, she would have been too

virtuously middle class to have thought of such a thing. And if I take

this American--well, the Americans are so new a nation they have still

a moral sense. So I think I am pretty safe."

"Old nations are deficient in this quality, then?"

"Yes. Artificial things are more worn out, and they get back nearer

to nature."

"But you would object to a 'friend'?"

"Considerably, until the succession was firmly secured. After that,

I suppose, my Duchess might please herself. She probably would, too,

without consulting me. You don't see the whole of your neighbors

eating cake and remain content with your own monotonous

bread-and-butter."

This appeared to be very true. He continued in a meditative way:

"Because a few what we call civilized nations have set up a standard

of morality for themselves, that does not change the ways of human

nature. What we call morality has no existence in the natural world."

"Why should the respectable middle-class brewer's daughter have so

strong a sense of it, then?" I asked.

"Because propriety is their god from one generation to another. You

can almost overcome nature with a god sometimes. Babykins has a theory

that the food we eat makes a difference in the ways of our class, but

I don't believe that. It is because we hunt and shoot and live lives

of inclination, not compulsion, like the middle classes, and so we get

back nearer to nature."

"You are a sophist, I fear," I said, smiling. "See, here is Miss

Martina B. Cadwallader advancing upon us. Stern virtue is on every

line of her face, anyway!"

"Pardon me, Dook," she said, "but the guide to Myrlton I purchased at

the station gave me to understand I should find a second portrait of

Queen Elizabeth in this gallery. I cannot see it. Would you be good

enough to indicate the picture to me?"

"Oh, that was a duplicate," said the Duke, resignedly. "I sold it at

Christie's last year. It brought me in ten thousand pounds--more than

it was worth. I lived in comfort upon it for quite six months."

"You don't say!" said Martina B. Cadwallader.

Before the party said good-night, the meanest observer could have told

that things were going at sixes and sevens, no one doing exactly what

was expected of them.

Signs of disturbance showed as early as the few minutes before dinner.

Lord Luffton was openly seeking the society of the heiress, with no

regard to the blandishments of Lady Grenellen. But by half-past eleven

the clouds had spread all round.

Augustus, perhaps, looked the most upset. He had spent an evening on

thorns of jealousy. First, snubbed sharply by the fair Cordelia; then,

having to witness her ineffectual attempts to detach Lord Luffton from

Miss Trumpet.

The Duke, while devoting himself to me, could not quite conceal his

annoyance at the turn affairs were taking.

Miss Martina B. Cadwallader was plainly irritated with her niece for

not attending to the business they had come for. Babykins was exerting

her mosquito propensities and stinging every one all round. In fact,

only the few casual guests, who did not count one way or another,

seemed calm and undisturbed.

"It is really provoking," Lady Tilchester said to me. "What on earth

did they ask Luffy here for? He is noted for this sort of thing, and,

of course, posing as a war hero adds an extra lustre to his charms."

The only two people supremely unconscious of delinquencies were the

causes of all the trouble--Lord Luffton and Miss Trumpet.

They had gone off to look at the pictures in the long gallery, and

at twenty minutes to twelve were nowhere to be seen.

Lady Glenellen's eyes flashed ominously.

"Let us go to bed," she said. "Betty, why don't you have the lights

turned out?"

Fortunately the aunt did not hear this remark. As her face showed, she

was quite capable of a sharp reply to anything, and though, no doubt,

annoyed with the niece, would certainly defend her.

"We had better go and look for them," said the Duke.

"Perhaps they have fallen down the oubliette," suggested Babykins.

"You don't tell me there is danger?" demanded Miss Martina B.

Cadwallader, anxiously, "On this trip I am answerable to her poppa

for Corrisande's safety."

We started, more or less in a body, towards the gallery, Lady

Tilchester, with her usual tact, stopping to point out any notable

picture or tapestry to the aunt on the way, so that the search should

not look too pointed.

In the farthest corner, perched on a high window-seat--that must

have required a knowledge of vaulting to reach--sat the guilty pair,

dangling their feet. Anything more engaging than Miss Trumpet looked

could not be imagined. The tiniest pink satin slippers peeped out

of billows of exquisite _dessous_. Her little face seemed a mass of

dimpling smiles. Not a trace of embarrassment appeared in her manner.

"I say, Duke," she called, "you have got a sweet place here. We have

been watching for the monk to pass, but he has not come yet."

The Duke stepped forward to help her down.

"Don't you trouble," she said. "Why, we had a gymnasium at the

convent. I can jump."

Lady Grenellen now appeared upon the scene. She looked like an angry

cat. I turned, with Lady Tilchester, and left the rest of the party.

What happened I do not know, but when they joined us all in the hall

again the heiress was with the Duke, Lord Luffton walked alone, while

Augustus, once more beaming, was close to Lady Grenellen's side. So it

is an ill wind that blows no one any good.

Next day, after a delightful shooting-lunch and a brisk walk back, the

heiress came to my room and talked to me.

She had apparently taken a great fancy to me, and we had had several

conversations.

"I don't know why, but you give me the impression that you are a

stranger, too, like Aunt Martina and me," she said. "You don't look at

all like the rest of the Englishwomen. Why, your back is not nearly so

long. I could almost take you for an American, you are so _chic_."

I laughed.

"Even Lady Tilchester, who is by far the nicest and grandest of them,

does not look such an aristocrat as you do."

(Miss Trumpet pronounces it _arrist_-tocrat.)

"I assure you, I am a very ordinary person," I said. "But you are

right, I am a stranger, too."

"Now I am glad to hear that," said Miss Trumpet, beginning to polish

her nails with my polisher, which was lying on the dressing-table.

"Because then I can talk to you. You know I have come here to sample

the Duke. Poppa is so set on the idea of my being a duchess. But it

seems to me, if you are going to buy a husband, you might as well buy

the one you like best. Don't you think so?"

"I entirely agree with you," I said, feelingly. "You would probably be

happier with the one you prefer, even if he were only a humble baron."

And I smiled at her slyly.

"Now that is just what I wanted to ask you about. But if I took Lord

Luffton, instead of the Duke, should I have to walk a long way behind

at the Coronation next year?"

"I am afraid you would," I said.

She looked puzzled and undecided.

"That is worrying me," she said. "As for the men themselves--well, we

don't think so much of them over in America as you do here. It is no

wonder Englishmen are so full of assurance, the way they are treated.

You would never find an American woman showing a man she was madly

jealous of him, like Lady Grenellen did last night. Why, we keep them

in their places across the Atlantic."

"So I have heard," I said.

"I have been accustomed to be run after all my life," she continued,

"so it does not amount to anything, a man making love to me. But he is

beautiful, isn't he?--Lord Luffton, I mean."

"Yes, though he has the reputation of great fickleness. The Duke would

probably make a better husband," I said.

I felt I owed it to Lady Tilchester to do something towards advancing

the cause.

"Oh, as for that, a man always makes a good enough husband if you

have the control of the dollars, and poppa would see to that," said

Miss Trumpet.

This seemed so true I had nothing to say.

"Now, I will tell you," she continued, examining her nails, which

shone as bright as glass. "I have got a kind of soft feeling for that

Baron, but I would like to be an English duchess. Now, which would you

take, if you were me?"

"Oh, I could not possibly advise you," I said. "You must weigh the

advantages, and your level head will be sure to choose for the best."

"The position of an English duchess is splendid, though, isn't it? An

Italian duke came over last fall, and poppa thought of him for about

a day. But there is the bother of a foreign language, and all their

silly ways to learn, so I told poppa I would have an English one or

marry an American. It does seem a pity I can't have both the Baron and

the Duke!" and she laughed with girlish mirth.

I thought of my conversation the night before, and wondered.

* * * * *

That evening the Duke, also, made me confidences.

He was immensely taken with Miss Trumpet, he allowed, and could almost

look upon the matter as a pleasure instead of a duty now.

"If you had shown the slightest sign that you would ever care for

me, I should not have thought of her, though," he said. "You will be

sorry, one day, that you are as cold as ice."

"Why should a person be accused of having no musical sense because one

particular tune does not cause one rhapsodies?" I asked. "The one idea

of a man seems to be, if a woman does not adore him personally, it is

because she is as cold as ice. Surely that is illogical."

He looked at me very straightly for a moment.

"I believe you do care for some one," he said. "I shall watch and

see."

"Very well," I laughed.

None of the people I have met since my marriage have seemed to think

it possible that I should care for Augustus, or that my wedding-ring

should be the slightest bar to my feelings or their advances.

"You are a dangerously attractive woman, you know--one's idea of what

a lady ought to look like. And you move with a grace one never sees

now. And your eyes--your eyes are the eyes of the Sphinx. I fancy, if

I could make you care, I would forget all the world. I am glad you are

going to-morrow."

"I understood you to say you were greatly attracted by Miss Trumpet,"

I said, demurely.

And so the evening passed.

"I think it is going all right," Lady Tilchester said to me as we

walked up-stairs together. "They are making arrangements to meet in

London, and Luffy has not been asked to join the theatre-party."

"No. He is going to lunch and to take them to skate," I said.

"Oh, the clever girl!" and she laughed. "But I expect she will decide

to be a duchess, in the end."

"If you could tell her anything especially splendid about her position

at the Coronation next year, should she accept the Duke, I am sure it

would have an effect."

"Cordelia is behaving like a fool about it. She asked them here, and

made all the arrangements, and now is absolutely uncivil to them."

"How flattered Lord Luffton ought to be!" I laughed.

"Yes, if it were any one else; but Cordelia has too many fancies.

How glad one should be that one has other interests in life! Really,

when I look round at most of my friends, I feel thankful. Perhaps,

otherwise, I should have been as they are."

Augustus had greatly profited by Lord Luffton's defection. Whether it

was to make the latter jealous, I do not know, but Lady Grenellen had

been remarkably gracious to him all the evening.

I learned, casually, that she was to be the fourth at Dane Mount.

"We shall be such a little party," she said. "Only myself and you and

your husband. I asked Antony to take me in, as it is on the road to

Headbrook, where I go the next day, I thought he was having a large

party, though."

I wished she was not going; there seemed something degrading about

the arrangement.

I had not let myself think of this visit. And now it would be the day

but one after to-morrow!

A strange restlessness and excitement took possession of me. I could

not sleep.

It was a raw, foggy morning when we all left Myrlton. The Duke

accompanied us to London, and we were a merry party in the train,

in spite of eight of us playing bridge.

Augustus told me he had business in town, and would stay the night

and over Sunday, arriving at Dane Mount by the four-o'clock train on

Monday.

"If you leave home at three, in the motor," he said, "we shall get

there exactly at the same time."

And so I returned to Ledstone alone.

XIII

The fog was white round the windows as I came down to my solitary

breakfast on the 4th. My heart sank. What if it should be too thick

for me to start? I could not bear to think of the disappointment that

would be.

I forced myself to practise for an hour after breakfast. Then I wrote

a long letter to the Marquis de Rochermont. Then I looked again at my

watch and again at the fog. I should start at half-past two, to give

plenty of time, as we should certainly have to go slowly.

At last, at last, luncheon came. I never felt less hungry, nor had the

servants ever appeared so pompous and slow. It seemed as if it could

never be half-past two.

However, it struck eventually, and the automobile came round to the

door.

For the first five miles the fog was very thick. We had to creep

along. Then it lifted a little, then fell again. But at half-past

four we turned into the lodge-gates. I could see nothing in front of

me. The trees seemed like gaunt ghosts, with the mist and the dying

daylight. The drive across the park and up the long avenue was fraught

with difficulty. Even when we arrived I could see nothing but the

bright lights from the windows. But as the door was thrown open,

I realised that Antony was standing there against the flood of

brightness.

I seem always to be saying my heart beats, but there is no other way

of describing the extraordinary and unusual physical sensation that

happens to me when I meet this man.

"Welcome!" he said, as he helped me out of the automobile. "Welcome

to Dane Mount!"

A broad corridor, full of trophies of the chase and armor and carved

oak, leads to a splendid hall, high to the top of the house, with a

great staircase and galleries running round. It is hung with tapestry

and pictures, and full of old and beautiful furniture.

Three huge, rough-coated hounds lay on the lion-skin before the fire.

They rose, haughtily, to greet me.

"Ulfus, Belfus, and Bedevere, come and be introduced to a fair lady,"

said Antony. "You can be quite civil, she is of the family."

The dogs came forward.

"What darlings!" I said, patted them all. They received the caresses

with dignity, and, without gush, made me understand they were glad to

see me.

Then we said some _banal_ things to each other--Antony and I--about

the fog and the difficulty of getting here and the length of the

drive.

I did not look at him much. I felt excited and awkward--and happy.

"I am not going to let you stay here a minute in those damp things,"

he said. "I shall give you into the hands of Mrs. Harrison, my

housekeeper, to take you to your room. When you have got into a

tea-gown, you will find me here again." And he rang the bell.

Grandmamma would have approved of Mrs. Harrison when she appeared. She

is like the housekeepers one reads of in books--stately and plump, and

clothed in black silk, with a fat, gold-and-cameo brooch fastening a

neat cambric collar.

She conducted me up the staircase and into the most exquisite bedroom

I have ever dreamed of in my life.

It is white, and panelled, and full of really old and beautiful

French furniture. Everything is in keeping, even to the locks on the

doors and the bell-ropes. How grandmamma would have appreciated this!

And the fineness of the linen, and the softness of the pillows and

sofa-cushions! And everywhere great bowls of roses--my favorite

flower. Roses in November!

"Oh, what a lovely room!" I exclaimed, as I went round and looked at

everything.

"It is pretty, ma'am. It has only just been arranged," said Mrs.

Harrison, much gratified. "Sir Antony bid me ask you to order anything

you can possibly want."

Then she indicated which bell rang into my maid's room and which for

the house-maids, and with a few more polite wishes for my comfort, and

the information that the room prepared for Augustus was some way down

the corridor, on the right, she left me in McGreggor's hands.

With great promptness the luggage had been carried up, so I was not

long getting into a tea-gown.

Augustus and Lady Grenellen would have arrived by the time I got down

to the hall again. They ought to have been here before me, but no

doubt the train was late.

The soft _crêpe de chine_ of my skirts made no _frou-frou_. Antony

did not see me as I looked over the bend of the stairs descending; he

was staring into the fire, an expression I have never seen before on

his face.

I stopped. Presently he looked up.

"How silently you came, Comtesse! I did not hear you."

"You were thinking deeply. Upon what grave matters of state?"

"None at all. Do you know Lady Grenellen and your husband have not

arrived? The brougham has with difficulty returned from the station

after waiting until the train was in, and there was no sign of them."

A joy, unbidden and instantly suppressed, pervaded me as he spoke.

"Perhaps they missed the train and will catch the next," I hazarded.

"The fog in London is quite exceptional, the guard said. I have given

orders for the coachman to return and try for the next train. It gets

in at 6:42. After that there is one at 7, and the last one is at

10:18. But they will probably telegraph."

"It makes me laugh," I said.

"Come and have tea. We shall not bother our heads about them. They

are, fortunately, well able to take care of themselves."

Antony led the way to the library, where the tea was laid out.

I never have sat in such a comfortable sofa or felt more cosily at

home. Everything pleased me. All is in perfect taste.

Antony talked to me gayly as he gave me some tea. It was as if he

wanted to remove the least feeling of awkwardness this unusual

situation might possibly cause me to feel.

Ulfus, Belfus, and Bedevere had followed us, and now lay, like three

grim guardians, upon the tiger-skin hearth-rug.

"How is your arm?" I asked.

"Oh, that is all right. I had the shot taken out and it has quite

healed up. Wonderful escape we had that day!" And he laughed.

"And you were so good about it! Augustus said he would have shot back

if Mr. Dodd had hit him."

"Mrs. Dodd would have made a nice target. One does not often come

across a person like that. Are all your guests at Ledstone of the

same sort as those I met?"

"No. Some of them are worse," I replied, gravely, smiling at him.

"Next time you shall come to an earlier party. You would enjoy

that." And I laughed, thinking of the first batch of relations we

had entertained.

"I will come whenever you ask me," he said, quite simply.

"No. You know I would never ask you again, if I could help it. Oh,

you were so kind, but it--" I stopped. I did not know how to say what

I meant. I had better not have said so much.

"I don't want you to have that feeling. It amuses me to come,

Comtesse, only you feed one too well. Do you remember how I drank

everything I could get hold of, to please you?"

"You were ridiculous!" And I laughed.

"I thought I was heroic." Then, in another voice: "I think you must

have that boudoir altered a little, you know, before long. I can't say

I found your sofa comfortable."

"Not like this." And I lay back luxuriously.

"I generally choose things with a reason, if I can."

"That sounds like one of grandmamma's speeches." Then I stupidly

blushed, remembering, apropos of what she had said, almost the same

thing. It was when she accepted Mrs. Gurrage's invitation to the ball,

where she calculated I should meet Antony. That was before she had the

fainting-fit. I stared into the fire. What would have happened by now,

if she could have carried out that plan--the "suitable and happy"

arrangement of my future!

"Comtesse, why do you stop suddenly and blush, and then stare into the

fire? Your grandmother was not, I am sure, in the habit of saying such

startling things as to cause you such emotions."

I looked up at him. I suppose my eyes were troubled, for he said, so

gently:

"Dear little girl, I won't tease you. Tell me, have you read any more

books on philosophy lately?"

I drank the last sip of my tea, and held out my cup. It was nice tea.

"No, I have not had time to read anything. There, you can take my

cup. You have such pretty things here. Everything is suitable, and it

gives me pleasure. I don't feel philosophical; I feel genuine human

enjoyment."

"That is good to know. Well, we won't be philosophical, then, we will

be humanly happy," and he sat down beside me.

I took up, idly, a little book that was lying on a table near, because

my silly heart had begun to beat again, like Lydia Languish or any

vaporish young lady in an early romance. I looked at the title and

Antony looked at me. I read it over without taking in the sense, and

then the name arrested my attention.

"_A Digit of the Moon_," I said, "What a queer title!"

"What long eyelashes you have, Comtesse!" said Antony, apropos of

nothing. "They make a great shadow on your cheek, and they have no

business to be so dark, with your light, mud-colored hair."

"How rude, to call my hair mud-colored!" I said, indignantly, "I

always thought it _blond cendré_."

"So it is, and it shines like burnished metal. But you are a vain

little thing, I expect, and I did not wish to encourage you."

His voice was full of a caress. I did not dare to look into his queer

cat's eyes.

"You have black eyelashes yourself, and as I am of the family, why may

I not have them too?" I said, pouting.

"Of course you can have them or anything else you wish, to oblige you.

But I should rather like to know how long your hair is when you let it

down. You look as if you had a great quantity there, but probably it

is not all your own." And he smiled provokingly.

"If I was not afraid of the servants coming in I would undo it to show

you," I replied, with great indignation and a sadden feeling that I,

too, could tease. "I never heard anything so insulting!"

"My servants are well trained. It is not six o'clock yet. They won't

come in until half-past six, unless I ring. You have plenty of time."

A spirit of _coquetterie_ came over me for the first time in my life.

I took out the two great tortoise-shell pins that held it up, and let

my hair tumble down around me. It falls in heavy waves nearly to my

knees.

"That is perfectly beautiful!" said Antony, almost reverently. "I

apologize. It is your own."

I got up and shook it out and stood before him. It hung all round

me like a cloak. Oh, I was in a wicked mood, and I do not defend my

conduct.

"Comtesse," he said, and his eyes swam, "fiendish little temptress,

put up that hair. And come, I will tell you about _A Digit of the

Moon_."

I pretended to feel greatly snubbed, and in a minute had twisted it

to my head again.

"It is a queer title," I said.

Antony talked a little faster than usual. It seemed as if he was

breathing rather quickly.

"I shall give you this book. It only came out last year. I think it is

one of the most delightful things that ever was written. You must read

it carefully." And he put it into my hand. "The description, in the

beginning, of the ingredients which God used to create woman is quite

exquisite. Listen, I will read it to you." And he took the book again.

His voice is the most refined and the tones are deep. One cannot say

what quality there is in some voices and pronunciation that makes them

so attractive. If Antony were an ugly man he still would be alluring

with such a voice as his. I listened intently until the last word.

"It is, indeed, a beautiful description," I said.

"You probably are all those things, Comtesse, except, perhaps, the

'chattering of the monkeys.' You don't speak much."

"And do you feel like 'man'?"

"That I cannot do with you, or without you? Yes, especially the latter

part of the sentence."

I got up from the sofa and looked about the room. It seemed as if we

were getting on dangerous ground.

"How comfortable men make their habitations! And I like the smell," I

said, sniffing. "The pine-logs, I suppose."

"And the cedar panelling, perhaps, scents the place a little when it

gets hot."

"You have thousands of books here." And I looked round at the high

shelves between the long windows. "And what a nice piano! How happy

you must be!"

"I should have been--and am sometimes, still," he said. "The Duke had

a good room, too, at Myrlton."

I sat down on the sofa again. Antony had risen and leaned against the

mantel-piece. He was idly pulling the ears of Bedevere, who, sitting

there, reached up into his hand. I never could have imagined dogs so

big as are these three.

"Of course you went to Myrlton. I had forgotten. The Duke made love

to you, I suppose?"

"Why should you suppose?"

"Because I saw signs of it at Harley. Don't you remember how I carried

you off to the woods while he fetched your umbrella?"

I laughed.

"Well, did he make love to you?"

"Why should you think any man would make love to me? It is ridiculous.

You seem to forget I have only been married five months. Even in a

well-bred world, where they have gone back to nature, they don't begin

as soon as that, do they?"

"You are prevaricating. He did make love to you, then?"

"Lady Grenellen had brought an heiress there for him, and he was busy

with her."

"And you made it as difficult for him as possible to do his duty. How

heartless of you, Comtesse! I would not have believed it of you."

His voice was more mocking than I had ever heard it.

"I did nothing of the kind."

"He is an agreeable fellow, Berty."

"Full of information."

"Superficial."

"Possibly."

Then our eyes met.

"Comtesse, we are not here to talk about the Duke of Myrlshire in

these our few minutes of grace. The 6.42 train will soon be in." And

he sat down again beside me.

"What shall we talk about, then?" I asked, trying to keep my head.

A maddening sensation of excitement made my voice sound strained.

"First, I want to tell you how beautiful I find my room. If you had

known my taste, and had it done to please me, you could not have found

anything I should like so much."

"I did know your taste, and I had it done to please you. It is for

you. No one else shall ever sleep there," he said, simply, and looked

deep into my eyes.

I had nothing to say.

"I like to know there is a room for you in my house. I want everything

in it to be exactly as you desire. When you have time to look, I

think you will find some agreeable books, and your old friends La

Rochefoucauld, etc. But if there is a thing you want changed, it would

give me pleasure to change it."

I was stupefied. I could not speak.

"Over the mantel-piece is the little pastel by La Tour I told you I

bought last year."

"Oh! it is good of you!" I managed to say.

"I have at least the satisfaction of knowing that I please myself

too if it gives you pleasure. I want you to feel there is one corner

in the world where you are really at home with the things that are

sympathetic to you, so that whenever you will come over like this it

will give you a feeling of repose."

"Oh! it is dear of you!"

"You said the other day," he continued, "that I, at all events, was

never serious, and I told you I would tell you that when you came here

to Dane Mount. Well, I tell you now--I am serious in this--that if

there is anything in the world I can do to make you happy I will do

it."

"It makes me happy to know you understand--that there is some one of

my kin. Oh! I have been very lonely since grandmamma died!"

He looked at me long, and we neither of us spoke.

"It was a very cruel turn of fate that we did not meet this time last

year," he said at last.

"Yes."

"Comtesse, I want to make your life happier. I want to introduce you

to several nice women I know. I shall have a big party next month.

Will you come and stay again? Then you will gradually get a pleasant

society round you, and you need not trouble about the Dodds and the

Springers--no, Springle was their name, wasn't it?"

"Yes. It is so kind of you, all this thought for me. Oh, Sir Antony, I

have nothing to say!" I faltered.

He frowned.

"Do not call me _Sir_ Antony, child. It hurts me. You must not

forget we are cousins. You are Ambrosine to me, or my dearest little

Comtesse."

The clock struck half-past six. The servants entered the room to take

the tea-things away, and while they were there a footman brought in

three telegrams, one for me and two for my host.

Mine was from Augustus, and ran:

"Hope you have arrived safely. Hear fog bad in country too.

Impossible to get to Liverpool Street yet. Awfully worried

at your being alone there. Shall come by last train."

Antony handed the two others to me. One was from Lady Grenellen, the

other from Augustus, both expressing their annoyance and regret. The

telegrams were all sent off at the same hour from Piccadilly, so

apparently they were together, my husband and his friend.

"It is comic," I said, "this situation! Augustus and Lady Grenellen

fog-bound in London, and you and I here, it is the fault of none of

us."

"I like a fog," said Antony, with his old, whimsical smile, all trace

of seriousness departed. "A good, useful thing, a fog. Hope it won't

lift in a hurry."

"Now come and show me the ancestors," I said.

He led the way to the drawing-room--a great room, all painted white,

too, and in each faded green-brocade panel hangs a picture. The

electric lights are so arranged that each was perfectly illuminated.

They were all interesting to me, especially the portraits of our

common ancestors.

"That must be your grandfather's father," said Antony, pointing to a

portly gentleman, with lightly powdered hair and a blue riding-coat,

painted at the end of the eighteenth century. "It was his eldest son,

who had no sons, and left the place to his daughter, who married Sir

Geoffrey Thornhirst."

"But where is your great-great-grandmother that you told me about,

and rather insinuated she was as nice as my Ambrosine Eustasie de

Calincourt?"

"There she is, in the place of honor. She was painted by Gainsborough,

after she married. What do you think of her?"

"Oh! she is lovely," I said, "and she has your cat's eyes."

"'She is your ancestress, too, but she is not like you. Do you see the

dog in the picture?"

"Yes. Why, it is just the portrait of one of your three knights!"

"Have you never heard the tradition, then?"

"No."

"As long as Dane Mount possesses that breed of dogs fortune is to

favor the owner; but if they die out I can't tell you what calamities

are not to overtake him. It has been going for hundreds of years."

"Then Ulfus, Belfus, and Bedevere are the descendants of that dog in

the picture?"

"Yes."

"No wonder they give themselves such airs."

"Do you hear that, boys?" said Antony, turning to the three, who had

again followed us. "My Comtesse says you give yourselves airs. Come

and die for her to show her your real sentiments."

The three great fellows advanced in their dignified way, casting

adoring glances at their master.

"Now die, all of you!"

They sneezed and curled up their lips, and made the usual grimaces of

dogs when they are moved and self-conscious, but they all three lay

flat down at my feet.

"I _am_ flattered," I said, "and I have not even a biscuit to give

you."

"We are not so sordid as that at Dane Mount. We do not die for

biscuits, but because we love the lady," said Antony.

I bent down and kissed Ulfus, who was nearest to me.

"Now I am going to show you some Thornhirst pictures and some older

Athelstans that are in the hall and the dining-room, and a portrait

of my mother that I have in my own smoking-room."

Antony made the most interesting guide. There was something amusing

and to the point about all his comments. I soon knew the different

characteristics of each member of the family. One or two, especially

of the Thornhirsts, are wonderfully like him--the same level, dark

eyebrows and firm mouths.

"This is my sanctum," he said, at last, opening a door down a

corridor, and we went into a large room with a lower ceiling than the

rest of the apartments I had been into. It is panelled with cedar-wood

also and sparely hung with old prints. A delicious smell of burning

pine-logs again greeted me. The thick, silk curtains were drawn. The

lamps were softly shaded. An old dog of the same family as the three

knights basked before the fire. It was all cosey and homelike.

"Oh! this is a nice room, too!" I exclaimed.

"I spend a good deal of time here. One grows to like one's rooms."

His mother's portrait hangs over the fireplace, a charming face, whose

beauty is not even disguised by the hideous fashions of 1870, when it

was painted.

"She died when I was in Russia," said Antony.

My eyes fell on the mantel-piece. The narrow ledge held three

photographs, one of a man, one of Lady Tilchester, and the centre

one--an amateur production, evidently--of a little girl with bare

feet, putting one fat toe into a stream, her hat hanging down her

back, and her face bent down looking at the water.

"What a dear little picture," I said. "Who is that?"

"Oh, that is the Tilchester child, Muriel Harley," he said,

carelessly. "We snap-shotted her paddling in the burn in Scotland

a year or two ago. Come, it is dressing-time. I must send you

up-stairs." And then, as we left the room, "You look so comfortable

in that tea-gown! Don't bother to change," he said.

"Why deprive me of displaying to you the splendors I brought over on

purpose?" I said, gayly, as I ran up the broad steps.

XIV

I do not think there can be a more agreeable form of entertainment

than a _tête-à-tête_ dinner, provided your companion is sympathetic.

Anyway, to me this will always be one of the golden hours in my life

to look back upon.

Never had Antony been so attractive. Every sentence was well

expressed, and only when one came to think of them afterwards, did

one discover their subtle flattery.

By the time the servants had finally left the room I felt like a

purring cat whose fur has been all stroked the right way--at peace

with the world.

The dinner had been exquisite, but I was too excited to feel hungry.

"Comtesse," said Antony, looking at the clock, "there is one good hour

before the arrivals by the last train can possibly get here. Shall we

spend it in the library or the drawing-room?" He did not suggest his

own sitting-room.

"The library. It is more cosey."

As he held the door open for me, there was an expression in his face

which again caused me the ridiculous sensation I have spoken of so

often. I suddenly realized that life at some moments is worth living.

Perhaps grandmamma and the Marquis were right after all, and these

glimpses of paradise are the compensations.

"Will you play to me, Comtesse?" Antony said when we got to the

library and he opened the piano. "I shall be selfish and sit in a

comfortable chair and listen to you."

I am not a great musician, but grandmamma always said my playing gave

her pleasure. The music makes me feel--so, perhaps, that is why it

makes others feel, too.

I played on, it seemed to me, a long time. Then, after some tender

bits of Greig, running from one to another, I suddenly stopped. The

music had been talking too much to me. It said, over and over again:

"Ambrosine, you love this man. He is beginning to absorb the whole of

your life." And, again: "Life is short. This happiness will be over in

a few moments. Live while you may."

"Why do you stop, Comtesse?" asked Antony, in a moved voice.

"I--do not know."

He rose and came and leaned on the piano, I felt--oh! I had never been

so agitated in my life. At all costs he must not say anything to me,

nothing that I should have to stop, nothing to break this beautiful

dream--

"Oh! do you not hear the sound of carriage-wheels?" I exclaimed, in a

half voice.

It broke the spell.

Antony walked to the window. He pulled the curtains aside and opened

a shutter to look upon the night.

"It is the thickest fog I ever remember," he said. "I doubt if the

brougham, which put up at the station, could get back here, even if

they have come by the last train."

"Oh! of course they have come!" I said, unsteadily.

He did not answer, but carefully closed the shutter again and drew the

curtains. I went to the fireplace and began caressing one of the dogs.

My hands were cold as ice. Antony lost a little of his _sang-froid_.

He picked up a paper-knife and put it down again.

It seemed to me my heart was thumping so loudly that he must hear it

where he stood.

We both listened intently. Neither of us spoke. Eleven o'clock struck.

The butler entered the room.

"Bilsworth has managed to get here on one of the horses, Sir Antony,

and he says the last train is in, and no one arrived by it."

"Very well," said Antony, calmly. "You can shut up for the night."

And the butler went out, softly closing the door behind him.

XV

Before I opened my eyes next morning in my beautiful room a telegram

came from Augustus--a long telegram written the night before, telling

me that it was impossible to penetrate the fog that night, and I was

to come up and join him at once in London, as he had just decided to

go to the war with his Yeomanry. He could not keep out of it longer,

as all his brother officers had volunteered, so he had felt obliged

to do so, too. They were to start in less than three weeks.

"I shall go by the ten-o'clock train," I told McGreggor, as I

scribbled my reply. "I must get up at once. Ask for my breakfast to

be brought up here."

I was dressed by nine o'clock and sipping my chocolate.

The daintiness of the old Dresden china equipage pleased me, forced

itself upon my notice in spite of the deep preoccupation of my mind.

An exquisite bunch of fresh roses lay on the tray, and a note from

Antony--only a few words--hoping I had slept well and saying the

brougham would be ready for me at half-past nine, and that he also

was going to London.

McGreggor had left the room. Oh! am I very wicked? I kissed the

writing before I threw the paper in the fire!

And so Augustus is going to the war, after all. It must have been some

very strong influence which persuaded him to volunteer, he who hated

the very thought.

I felt bitterly annoyed with myself that this news did not cause me

any grief. I have been this man's wife for five months, and his going

into danger in a far country leaves me cold. But I did, indeed, grieve

for his mother. Her many good qualities came back to me. This will be

a terrible blow to her.

I looked up at the little pastel by La Tour. The sprightly French

Marquise smiled back at me.

"Good-bye," I said. "You, pretty Marquise, would call me a fool

because to-day Antony is not my lover. But I--oh, I am glad!"

He did not even kiss my finger-tips last night. We parted sadly after

a storm of words neither he nor I had ever meant to speak.

"_Il s'en faut bien que nous commissions tout ce que nos passions nous

font faire!_"

Once more La Rochefoucauld has spoken truth.

Why the situation is as it is I cannot tell. In my bringing up, the

idea of taking a lover after marriage seemed a more or less natural

thing, and not altogether a deadly sin, provided the affair was

conducted _sans fanfaronnade_, without scandal. It was not that

grandmamma and the Marquis actually discussed such matters in my

hearing, but the general tone of their conversation gave that

impression.

Marriage, as the Marquis said to me, was not a pleasure--it is a means

to an end, a tax of society. The _agréments_ of life came afterwards.

I had always understood he had been grandmamma's lover.

Once I heard him express this sentiment when I was supposed to be

reading my book: The marriage vows, he said, were the only ones a

gentleman might break without great blemish to his honor. This was the

atmosphere I had always lived in, and since my wedding the people of

my own class that I have met do not seem to hold different views. Lord

Tilchester is Babykins's lover. The Duke has passed on from several

women, and, to come nearer home, there are my husband and Lady

Grenellen. Only Lady Tilchester seems noble and above all these

earthly things.

Why did I hesitate? I do not know. There is a something in my spirit

which cried out against the meanness of it, the degradation, the

sacrilege. I could not break my word to Augustus. Oh! I could not

stoop to desecrate myself, and to act for all the future--hours of

deceit.

And now after to-day I will never see Antony alone again. That we

shall casually meet I cannot guard against. But never again shall I

stay in his house. Never again awake in this beautiful room. Never

again--

"The brougham is at the door, ma'am," said McGreggor, interrupting my

thoughts, and I descended the stairs. The fog was still gray and raw,

but had considerably lifted.

In the uncompromising daylight Antony's face looked haggard and drawn.

"Comtesse," he said, as we drove along, "I cannot forgive myself for

causing you pain last night. Nothing was further from my thoughts than

to harass and disturb you--here, in my own house--that I wanted you

to look upon as your haven of rest. But I am not made of stone. The

situation was exceptional--and I love you."

In spite of our imminent parting, joy rushed through me at his words.

Oh! could I ever get tired of hearing Antony say "I love you"?

"You did not cause me pain," I said. "We had drifted, neither knowing

where. It was fate."

"Darling, do you remember our talk in your sitting-room, and of the

_coup de foudre_? Well, it has struck us both. Oh! I could curse

myself! Your dear little white face looks up at me pathetically

without a reproach, and I have been a selfish brute to even tell you

I love you. I meant to be your friend and comrade that you might feel

you had at least some one that would stand by you forever. I wanted to

make your life pleasanter, and now my mad folly has spoiled it all,

and you decree that we must part. Oh! my little Comtesse, my loving

you has only been to hurt you!"

"Oh no. It makes me glad to know it--only--only I cannot see you any

more."

"I would promise never to say another word that could disturb you. Oh!

Why must we say good-bye?"

"Because I could not promise not to wish you to say things. You must

surely know if we went on meeting it could only have one end."

"Well, I will do as you wish, my darling white rose. In my eyes you

are above the angels."

Antony's voice when it is moved could wile a bird from off a tree.

Then I told him of my telegram, and I know he, too, felt glad that

last night we had parted as we had.

"Ambrosine, listen to me," he said, "I will not try to see you, but if

you want anything in the world done for you, promise to let me do it."

I promised.

"There is just one thing I want to know," I said. "That day before my

wedding, when you sent me the knife and the note saying it was not too

late to cut the Gordian knot, what did you mean? Did you care for me,

then?"

"I do not know exactly what I meant. I was greatly attracted by you.

That day we came over I very nearly said to you then, 'Come along away

with me,' and then we never met again until your wedding. When I sent

the knife I half wondered what you would say. I wrote the note half

in joke, half in earnest. My principal feeling was that I could not

bear you to marry Augustus. If we had chanced to meet then, really,

I should have taken you off to Gretna Green."

"Alas!" I said.

The footman opened the door. We had arrived at the station.

We did not travel in the same carriage going to London. We had agreed

it would be better not. And I do not think any one, seeing Antony

calmly handing me into the hired brougham Augustus had sent to me,

would have guessed that we were parting forever, and that, to me at

least, all joy in the world had fled.

It is stupid to go on talking about one's feelings. Having cut off

one's hand, I am sure grandmamma would say it would be drivelling and

mawkish to meditate over each drop of blood.

I tried hard to think of other things. I counted the stupid pattern on

the braid that ornamented the inside of the brougham. I counted the

lamp-posts, with their murky lights, showing through the fog. I looked

at McGreggor sitting stolidly opposite me. Could any emotions happen

to that wooden mask? "Have you a lover that you have said good-bye to

forever, I wonder? And is that why your face is carved out of stone?"

I said to myself.

In spite of all grandmamma's stoical bringing-up, it was physical pain

I was suffering.

In Queen Victoria Street a hansom passed us and I caught a misty

glimpse of Antony. He smiled mechanically as he raised his hat.

And so this is the end.

The fog is falling thickly again. Everything is damp and cold and

black as night.

And I--Oh! I wish--

"Hallo, little woman! Glad to see you!" said Augustus, in a thick and

tipsy voice, as I got out of the carriage. And he kissed me in front

of all the people at the hotel door.