CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY _ Cornell University Library PR 5802.W5 1900 The white rose. 3 1924 013 570 514 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tlie Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013570514 The White Rose "Gra\c n\L-n looked at him \vistfull\- " (I'age 344) Thi- Wluic Ron.] IFiviiiispU^ The White Rose By G. J. Whyte-Melville Author of " Market Harborough," " The Gladiators," " Katerfelto," &c., &c. Illustrated by S. E. Waller London Ward, Lock & Co., Limited New York and Melbourne CONTENTS OHAF. I. The Man in the Street • FAQE 9 n. The Young Idea 17 ni. Norah 24 IV. Mr. Vandeleur 31 V. The Maid of the Mill 39 VI. Grinding 46 vn. A Cat's Paw . 54 vm. Hot Chestnuts 63 iz. A Passage of Arms . 70 X. An Appointment 77 XI. A Disappointment . 86 xii. Reaction . 95 xiii. Goose-Step . . 100 XIV. Wearing the Green . . 110 XV. " The White Witch " . 116 XVI. Pious Mneas . 124 rvn. The Girls we leave behind us . 133 xvni. For Better . . 139 XK. For Worse . . 148 CONTENTS OHAP. XX. The Honeymoon XXI. Eetribution . XXII. French Lessons xxin. " Suivre la Gagnante " XXIT. The Woman he Loved XXV. " The Woman he Married ' XXVI. The Billing Passion . XXVII. Disagreeable xxvin. Despotic XXIX. Dangerous XXX. A Woman's Work . XXXI, " After Long Years " XXXII. Mr. Barrington-Belgrave XXXIII. Original Composition XXXIV. The Cup Day XXXV. Tight Shoes . XXXVI. Non Cuivis . xxxvn. Shining Eiver xxxvm. A Eef usal . XXXIX. A Rebuff XL. The Eeason Why Xll. Without XLII. Within XUII. " Lost, Stolen, or Strayed ' XLIV. " Old Grits " XLV. "The Little EedEover" XliVI. " Immortelles " XLVII. " Surgit Amari " xiivm. " He Cometh Not " . XLIX. Double Acrostics L. The Star of the Wes PASB 156 162 170 179 187 195 201 208 217 225 233 239 218 254 262 270 277 286 295 302 807 313 320 329 334 341 350 357 864 371 379 CHAP. FAaE LI. " Fais oe que dois " . , . . . 387 UI. " Advienne ce que pourra " . 394 Lni. Hunting her down . . . , . 402 MV. Falliatiyes ..... . 409 LY. Anodynes ..... . 416 LVI. Told out ..... . 424 uni. " For Auld Lang Syne " . . 431 LVIU. The Manager's Box . 439 LIZ. Exit . 447 LX. After Long Years .... . 452 THE WHITE ROSE CHAPTER I THE MAN IN THE STEEBT It was dawn — dawn here in London, almost as cool and clear as in the pleasant country, where the bird was waking in the garden and the tall poplar stirred and quivered in the morning breeze. It was dawn on the bold outline of the inland hills, dawn on the dreary level of the deep, dark sea. Night after night daylight returns to nature, as sorrow after sorrow hope comes back to man. Even in the hospital — say St. George's Hospital, for that was nearest to where I stood — ^the bright-eyed morning stole in to greet a score of sufferers, who had longed for her coming through weary hours of pain, to welcome her arrival as nurse, physician, feiend ; and although on one dead, upturned face the grey light shed a greyer, ghastlier gleam — what then ? — a spirit had but broken loose from last night's darkness, and departed in the tremble of twilight for the land beyond the grave, the place of everlasting day. It was dawn, too, in the long perspective of the silent streets — silent none the less for the booted tramp of an occasional policeman, for the rumbling of a belated cab, for shifting figures flitting like ghosts round distant corners — squalid, restless, degraded, and covered far too scantily with aught but shame. And it was dawn in the principal rooms of one of the best houses in London, filled with the gi'eat ones of the earth, or as they term themselves, somewhat presumptuously, with 10 tEE WHITE BOSE " none but the best people " — a dawn less welcome here than in deep copse or breezy upland, than on the wide, lone sea, in the hushed ward of the hospital, or among the narrow streets— greeted, indeed, as a deliverer only by a few outwearied chaperones, and perhaps by the light- fingered musicians, who had still an endless cotillon to work through before they could cover up their iastruments and go to bed. I had been down to supper — that is to say, I had stretched my arm over a white shoulder for half-a-tumbler of champagne and seltzer- water (the latter good of its kind), and had absorbed most of it in my glove, whilst I ministered at the same time to the wants of a stately dame whom I remember — ah ! so long ago — the slimmest and the lightest mover that ever turned a partner's head in a waltz (we did not call them round dances then), and whom I now con- template, when we meet, with mingled feelings of respect, astonishment, and gratitude for deliverance from possible calamity. She was not satisfied with champagne and seltzer-water, far from it — though she drank that mixture with gratification too : but wisely restored vitality after the fatigues of the evening by a substantial supper, and I am not sure but that she had earned her provender fairly enough. "You must take me back now, please," she said, " or the girls won't know where to find me ! " I wonder whether she thought of the tmae when her mamma didn't know where to find us, and the scolding she got in the carriage going home. I was sure she must have had it by the black looks and stiff bow I myself encountered in the Park next day. Dear ! dear ! was there ever any state of society in which youthful affections, fancies, attachments, call them what you will, were of a material to withstand the wear of a little time, a little absence, a good deal of amusement bordering on dissipation? Would such an Arcadia be pleasant or wearisome, or is it simply impossible ? Alas ! I know not ; but as far as my own observation goes, you may talk of your first love as poetically as you please — it's your last love that comes in and makes a clean sweep of everything on the board. THE MAN IN TEE STREET 11 I need scarcely observe, this is not the remark I made as we labom-ed heavily up Lady Billesdon's staircase, and parted at a doorway crowded to suffocation half-an-hour ago, but affording fair ingress and egress now, for the company were departing ; hoarse voices announced that carriages " stopped the way," or their owners were "coming out;" while the linkman, with a benevolence beyond all praise, hoped " her Grace had not forgotten him," and that " the young ladies enjoyed their ball ! " It was time for the young ladies to go, unless perhaps they were very young indeed, quite in their first season. Through the open squares of the ball-room windows a grey gap in the sky, already tinged with blue, was every moment widening into day. Lamps, and bright eyes too, began to wear a faded lustre, while the pale morning light, creeping along the passages and staircase, seemed to invade the company, dancers and all, like some merciless epidemic firom which there was no escape. Perhaps this might account for much of the hooding, vn:apping-up, and general hurry of departure. To a majority of the performers, besides those who have been fulfilling a duty and are glad it is over, I am not sure but that this same going away constitutes the pleasantest part of a ball. In a gathering of which amusement is the ostensible object, it is strange how many of the stronger and more painful feelings of our nature can be aroused by causes apparently trivial in themselves, but often leading to unlooked-for results. How many a formal greeting masks a heart that thrills, and a pulse that leaps, to the tone of some- body's voice, or the rustle of somebody's dress. How many a careless inquiry, being interpreted, signifies a volume of protestation or a torrent of reproach. With what electric speed can eager eyes, fi:om distant comers, flash the expected telegram along the wires of mutual intelligence, through a hundred unconscious bystanders, and make two people happy who have not exchanged one syllable in speech. There is no end to " the hopes and fears that shake a single ball ; " but it is when the ball is nearly over, and the cloaking for departure begins, that the hopes assume a tangible form and the fears are satisfactorily dis- pelled. It is so easy to explain in low, pleading whispers 12 THE WHITE BOSS why such a dance was refused, or such a cavalier preferred under the frown of authority, or in fear of the convenances ,- so pleasant to lean on a strong arm, in a nook not only sheltered from doorway draughts, but a little apart from the stream of company, while a kind hand adjusts the folds of the burnous with tender care, to be rewarded by a hasty touch, a gentle pressure, perhaps a flower, none the less prized that it has outlived its bloom. How precious are such moments, and how fleeting ! Happy indeed if pro- tracted ever so little by the fortunate coincidence of a foot- man from the country, a coachman fast asleep on his box, and a carriage that never comes till long after it has been called ! I stood at the top of Lady Billesdon's staircase and watched the usual " business " with an attention partly flagging from weariness, partly diverted in the contempla- tion of my hostess herself, whose pluck and endurance, while they would have done honour to the youngest Guardsmen present, were no less extraordinary than admirable in an infirm old lady of threescore. Without counting a dinner-party (to meet Royalty), she had been " under arms," so to speak, for more than five hours, erect at the doorway of her own ball-room, greeting her guests, one by one, as they arrived, with unflagging cordiality, never missing the bow, the hand-shake, nor the "right thing " said to each. On her had devolved the ordering, the arrangements, the whole responsibility of the entertain- ment, the invitations accorded — above all, the invitations denied ! And now she stood before me, that great and good woman, without a quiver of fatigue in her eye-lids, an additional line of care on her quiet matronly brow. It was wonderful ! It must have been something more than enthusiasm that kept her up, something of that stern sense of duty which fixed the Eoman soldier at his post when the boiling deluge swept a whole population before it, and engulfed pleasant, wicked Pompeii in a sea of fire. But it was her own kind heart that prompted the hope I had been amused, and the pleasant " Good-night " with which she replied to my farewell bow and sincere con- gi-atulations (for she was an old friend) on the success of her ball. THE MAN IN THE STREET 13 Lady Billesdon, and those like her who give large enter- tainments, at endless trouble and expense, for the amuse- ment of their friends, deserve more gratitude from the charming young people of both sexes who constitute the rising generation of society in London than these are inclined to admit. It is not to be supposed that an elderly lady of orderly habits, even with daughters to marry, can derive much enjoyment from a fonction which turns her nice house out of vnndows, and keeps her weary self afoot and waking till six o'clock in the morning ; but if people whose day for dancing has gone by did not thus sacrifice their comfort and convenience to the pleasures of their juniors, I will only ask the latter to picture to themselves what a dreary waste would be the London season, what a desolate round of recurring penance would seem parks, shoppings, operas, and those eternal dinners, unrelieved by a single ball ! Some such reflections as these so engrossed my attention as I went down-stairs, mechanically fingering the latch-key in my waistcoat-pocket, that I am ashamed to say I inad- vertently trod on the dress of a lady in front of me, and was only made aware of my awkwardness when she turned her head, and with a half-shy, half-formal bow accosted me by name. " It is a long time since we have met," she said, detach- ing herself for a moment from the arm of a good-looking man who was taking her to her carriage, while she put her hand out, and added, " but I hope you have not quite for- gotten me." Forgotten her ! a likely thing, indeed, that any man between sixteen and sixty, who had ever known Leonora Welby, should forget her while he retained his senses ! I had not presence of mind to exclaim, as a good-for-nothing friend of mine always does on such occasions, " I wish I could ! " but, reflecting that I had been three hours in the same house without recognising her, I bowed over the bracelet on her white arm, stupefied, and when I recovered my senses, she had reached the cloak-room, and dis- appeared. " 'Gad, how well she looks to night ! " said a hoarse voice behind me ; " none of the young ones can touch her 14 THE WHITE BOSS even now. It's not the same foi-m, you see — not the same form." " She ? who ? " I exclaimed ; for my wits were still wool- gathering. " Who ? why Mrs. Tandeleur ! " was the reply. " You needn't swagger as if you didn't know her, when she turned round on purpose to shake hands with you, — a thing I haven't seen her do for half-a-dozen men this season. I am a good bit over fifty, my boy ; and till I've bred a horse that can win the Derby, I don't mean to turn my attention to anything else ; but I can tell you, if she did as much for me twice in a week, I shouldn't know whether I was standing on my grey head or my gouty heels. She's a witch — that's what she is : and you and I are old enough to keep out of harm's way. Good-night ! " Old Cother stone was right. She was a witch ; but how different from, and oh ! how infinitely more dangerous than, the witches our forefathers used to gag, and drown, and bum, without remorse. She was coming out of the cloak-room again, still haunted by that good-looking young gentleman, who was probably over head and ears in love with her, and I could stare at her without rudeness now, from my post of observation on the landing. Yes, it was no wonder I had not recognised her ; though the dark pencilled eyebrows and the deep-fringed eyes were Norah Welby's, it was hardly possible to believe that this high- bred, queenly, beautiful woman, could be the laughing, light-hearted girl I remembered in her father's parsonage some ten or fifteen years ago. She was no witch then. She was a splendid enchantress now. There was a magic in the gleam that tinged her dark chestnut hair with gold ; magic in the turn of her small head, her delicate temples, her chiselled features, her scornful, self-reliant mouth, and the depth of her large, dark, loving eyes. Every movement of the graceful neck, of the tall, lithe figure, of the shapely limbs, denoted pride, indeed, but it was a pride to withstand injury, oppression, misfortune, insult, all the foes that could attack it from without, and to yield only at the softening touch of love. As she walked listlessly to her carriage, taking, it seemed to me, but little heed of her companion, I imagined I could THE MAN IN TEE ST BEET 15 detect, in a certain weariness of step and gesture, the tokens of a life unsatisfied, a destiny incomplete. I wonder what made me think of Sir Walter Ealeigh flinging down his gold-emhroidered cloak, the only precious thing he possessed, at the feet of the maiden queen ? The young adventurer doubtless acted on a wise calculation and a thorough knowledge of human, or at least of feminine, nature ; but there is here and there a woman in the world for whom a man flings his very heart down, recklessly and unhesitatingly, to crush and trample if she will. Some- times she treads it into the mire, but oftener, I think, she picks it up, and takes it to her own breast, a cherished prize, purer, better, and holier for the ordeal through which it has passed. I had no carriage to take me home, and wanted none. No gentle voice when I arrived there, kind or querulous, as the case might be, to reproach me with the lateness of the hour. Shall I say of Ijhis luxury also, that I wanted none ? No ; buttoning my coat, and reliant on my latch-key, I passed into the grey morning and the bleak street, as Mrs. Vandeleur's carriage drove off, and the gentleman who had attended her walked back with a satisfied air into the house for his overcoat, and possibly his cigar-case. As he hurried in, he was fastening a white rose in his button-hole. A sister flower, drooping and fading, perhaps from nearer contact with its late owner, lay unnoticed on the pavement. I have seen so many of these vegetables exchanged, particularly towards the close of an entertainment, that I took little notice either of the keepsake, precious and perishable, or its discarded companion; but I remember now to have heard in clubs and other places of resort, how pale beautifiil Mrs. Vandeleur went by the name of the White Rose; a title none the less appropriate, that she was supposed to be plentifully girt with thorns, and that many well-known fingers were said to have been pricked to the bone in their efforts to detach her from her stem. There is a philosophy in most men towards five in the morning, supposing them to have been up all night, which tends to an idle contemplation of human nature, and indulgent forbearance towards its weaknesses. I generally encourage this frame of mind by the thoughtful consumption 16 THE WHITE BOSE of a cigar. Turning round to light one, a few paces from Lady Billesdon's door, I was startled to observe a shabbily- dressed figure advance stealthily from the comer of the street, where it seemed to have been on the watch, and pounce at the withered rose, crushed and yellowing on the pavement. As it passed swiftly by me, I noticed the figure was that of a man in the prime of life, but in bad health, and apparently in narrow circumstances. His hair was matted, his face pale, and his worn-out clothes hung loosely from the angles of his frame. He took no heed of my presence, was probably unconscious of it ; for I perceived his eyes fill with tears as he pressed the crushed flower passionately to his lips and heart, muttering in broken sentences the while. I only caught the words, "I have seen you once more, my darling ! I swore I would, and it is worth it all ! " Then his strength gave way, for he stopped and leaned his head against the area railings of the street. I could see, by the heaving of his shoulders, the man was sobbing like a child. Uncertain how to act, ere I could approach nearer he had recovered himself and was gone. Could this be her doing ? Was Norah Vandeleur indeed a witch, and was nobody to be exempt from her spells? Was she to send home the sleek child of fortune, pleased with the superfluity of a flower and a flirtation too much, while she could not even spare the poor emaciated wretch who had darted on the withered rose she dropped with the avidity of a famished hawk on its prey ? What could he be, this man ? and what connection could possibly exist between him and handsome, high-bred Mrs. Vandeleur? All these things I learned afterwards, partly from my own observation, partly fi'om the confessions of those con- cerned. Adding to my early recollections of Norah Welby the circumstances that came to my knowledge both before and after she changed her name to Vandelem-, I am enabled to tell my tale, such as it is ; and I can think of no more appropriate title for the story of a fair and suffering woman than " The White Rose." CHAPTEE n THE YOUNG IDEA On a fine sunshiny morning, not Tery many years ago, two boys — ^I beg their pardon, two young gentlemen — were sitting, in the comfortless pupil-room of a "retired officer and graduate of Cambridge," undergoing the process of being " crammed." The retired officer and gi-aduate of Cambridge had disappeared for luncheon, and the two young gentlemen immediately laid aside their books to engage in an animated discussion totally unconnected with their previous studies. It seemed such a relief to unbend the miad after an hour's continuous attention to any subject whatever, that they availed themselves of the welcome relaxation without delay. I am bound to admit theii" conversation was instructive in the least possible degree. "I say, Gerard," began the elder of the two, " what's become of Dandy? He was off directly after breakfast, and to-day's his day for ' General Information.' I wonder ' Nobs ' stood it, but he lets Dandy do as he likes." " Nobs," be it observed, was the term of respect by which Mr. Archer was known among his pupils. "Nobs is an old muflf, and Dandy's a swell," answered Gerard, who had tilted his chair on its hind-legs against the waU for the greater convenience of shooting paper-spUls at the clock. "I shall be off, too, as soon as I have finished these equations; and I'm afraid, Dolly, you'll have to spend another afternoon by yourself." He spoke nervously, and stooped so low to pick one of the spills, that it seemed to bring all the blood in his body 18 THM WHITE BOSE to his face ; but his Wushes were lost on Dolly, who looked out of window, and answered tranquilly — " Like all great men, Gerard, I am never so little alone as when alone — ' My mind to me a thingamy is ! ' You two fellows have no resources within yourselves. Now I shall slope easily down to the mill, lift the trimmers, smoke a weed with old ' Grits,' and wile away the pleasant after- noon with a pot of mild porter ; — peradventure, if Grits is thirsty — of which I make small doubt — ^we shall accomplish two. And where may you be going. Master Jerry, this piping afternoon? Not across the marshes again, my boy. You've been there twice already this week." Once more Gerard blushed like a girl, and this time without escaping the observation of his companion ; nor was his confusion lessened by the good-humoured malice with which the latter began to sing in a fall mellow voice — "She hath an eye so soft and brown — 'Ware, hare ! She gives a side glance, and looks down — 'Ware, hare ! Master Jenj, she's fooling thee ! " Dolly, whose real name nobody ever called him by, enjoyed a great talent for misquotation, and a tendency to regard life in general from its ludicrous poiut of view. Otherwise, he was chiefly remarkable for a fat, jovial face ; a person to correspond; strong absorbing and digestive faculties ; a good humour that nothing could ruffle ; and an extraordinary facility in dismissing useful information from his mind. He was heir to a sufficient fortune, and, if he could pass his examination, his Mends intended he should become a Hussar. Mr. Archer was at this period employed in the prepara- tion of three young gentlemen for the service of her Majesty. Military examinations were then in an early stage of development, but created, nevertheless, strong misgivings in the minds of parents and guardians, not to mention the extreme disgust with which they were viewed by future heroes indisposed to book-learning. It was a great object to find an instructor who could put the required amount of THE YOUNO IDEA 19 information into a pupil's head in the shortest possible space of time, without reference to its stay there after an examination had been passed, and Mr. Archer was notorious for his success in this branch of tuition. Clever or stupid, idle or industrious, with him it was simply a question of weeks. " I will put your young gentleman through the mill," he would observe to an anxious father or an over-sanguine mamma ; " but whether it takes him three months or six, or a whole year, depends very much upon himself. Natural abilities ! there's no such thing ! If he will learn, he shall ; if he won't, he must ! " So Mr. Archer's three small bed-rooms, with their white furniture and scanty carpets, never wanted occupants ; the bare, comfortless pupil-room, with its dirty walls and dingy ceiling, never remained empty; and Mr. Archer himself, who was really a clever man, found his banker's account increasing in proportion to his own disgust for history, classics, geometry, engineering — all that had once afforded him a true scholar's delight. It speaks well for learning, and the spells she casts over her lovers, that they can never quite free themselves from her fascinations. Even the over- worked usher of a grammer-school needs but a few weeks' rest to return to his allegiance, and to glory once more in the stern mistress he adores. Mr. Archer, after a few months' vacation, could perhaps take pride and pleasure in the cultivation of his intellect : but at the end of his half- year, jaded, disgusted, and over-worked, he could have found it in his heart to envy the vei-y day-labourer mowing his lawn. That this military Mentor had enough on his hands may be gathered from the following summary of his pupils : — First. Granville Burton, a young gentleman of prepos- sessing appearance, and a florid taste in dress. Ante- cedents : Eton, two ponies, a servant of his own at sixteen, and a mother who had spoilt him from the day he was born. Handsome, fatherless, and heir to a good property, ever since he could remember he had been nicknamed "Dandy," and was intended for the Life- Guards. 20 THU WHITE BOSE Secondly. Charles Egremont, commonly called Dolly, already described. Lastly. Gerard Ainslie, one of those young gentlemen of whom it is so difficult to predict the fdture — a lad in years, a man in energy, but almost a woman in feelings. Gifted, indeed, with a woman's quick perceptions and instinctiTe sense of right, but cursed with her keen affec- tions, her vivid fancy, and painful tendencies to self-torture and self-immolation. Such a character is pretty sure to be popular both with men and boys ; also perhaps, with the other sex. Young Ainslie, having his own way to make in the world, often boasted that he always "lit on his legs." An orphan, and dependent on a great-uncle whom he seldom saw, the army was indeed to be his profession ; and to him, far more than either of the others, it was important that he should go up for his examinations with certainty of success. It is needless to observe that he was the idlest of the three. By fits and starts he would take it into his head to work hard for a week at a time — " Going in for a grind," as he called it — ^with a vigour and determination that astonished Mr, Archer himself. " Ainslie," observed that gentleman after one of these efforts, in which his pupil had done twice the usual tasks in half the usual time, " there are two sorts of fools — the fool positive, who can't help himself, and the fool superlative, who won't ! You make me thinli you belong to the latter class. If you would only exert yourself, you might pass in a month from this time." " I can work, sir, well enough," replied the pupil, " when I have an object." " An object ! " retorted the tutor, lifting his eyebrows in that stage of astonishment which is but one degree removed from disgust; "gracious heavens, sir, if your whole success in life, your character, your position, the very bread you eat, is not an object, I should Uke to know what is ! " Gerard knew, but he wasn't going to tell Mr. Archer ; and I think that in this instance the latter showed less than his usual tact and discrimination in the characters of the young. It was in pursuit of this object no doubt that Gerard THE YOUNG IDEA 21 finished his equations so rapidly, and put his books on the shelf with a nervous eagerness that denoted more than common excitement, to which Dolly's imperturbable de- meanour afforded a wholesome contrast. " Off again, Jerry," observed the latter, still intent on a mathematical figure requiring the construction of a square and a circle, on which he lavished much unnecessary accuracy and neatness, to the utter disregard of the demon- stration it involved; "I envy you, my boy — and yet I would not change places ^dth you after all. You'll have a pleasant journey, like the cove in the poem- All in the blue unclouded weather Thiok-jewelled shone the saddle-leather, The helmet and the helmet feather Burnt like one burning flame together, As he rode down to Camelot. ' Tirra-lirra ! It's deuced hot,' Sang Sir Launcelot. — That's what I call real poetry, Jerry. I say, I met Tennyson once at my old governor's. He didn't jaw much. I thought him rather a good chap. You've got three miles of it across those blazing marshes. I'll take odds you don't do it in thirty-five minutes-^walking, of course, heel and toe." "Bother!" replied Jeny, and, snatching his hat from its peg, laid his hand on the open window-sill, vaulted through, and was gone. DoUy returned to his problem, shaking his head with considerable gravity. "Now, that young chap will come to grief," he solilo- quised. " He wants looking after, and who's to look after him ? If it was Dandy Burton I shouldn't so much mind. The Dandy can take precious good care of himself. What he likes is to ' get up ' awful, and be admired. Wouldn't he just — Stand at his diamond-door, With his rainbow-friU unfurled, And swear if he was uncurled ? Now Jerry's different. Jerry's a good sort, and I don't 22 THE WHITE BOSE want to see the young beggar go a mucker for want of a little attention. Grits is a sensible chap enough — I never knew a miller that wasn't. I'll just drop easily down the lane and talk it over with Grits." In pursuance of which discreet resolution, Dolly — who, although actually the junior, believed himself in wisdom and general experience many years older than his friend — sauntered out into the sunshine with such deliberation that ere he had gone a hundred yards, the other, speeding along as if he trod on air, was already more than half through his journey. And he was treading on air. The long, level marshes through which he passed, with theii- straight banks, their glistening ditches, their wet, luxuriant herbage and hideous pollard willows, would have seemed to you or me but a flat iminteresting landscape, to be tolerated only for the stock it could carry, and the remunerative interest it paid on the capital sunk in drainage per acre ; but to Gerard AinsHe it was simply fairy-land — the fairy-land through which most of us pass, if only for a few paces, at some period of our lives. Few enter it more than once, lor we remember when we emerged how cold it was outside ; we shudder when we think of the bleak wind that buffeted our bodies and chilled our quivering hearts : we have not forgotten how long it took to harden us for our bleak native atmosphere, and we dare not risk so sad a change again ? The marshes, whether faii-y-land or pasture, soon dis- appeared beneath Gerard's light and active footfall. What is a mere league of distance to a well-made lad of nineteen — a runner, a leaper, a cricketer — tolerably in condition, and, above all, very much in love ; he was soon in a wooded district, amongst deep lanes, winding footpaths, thick hedges, frequent stiles, and a profusion of wild flowers. He threaded his way as if he knew it well. Presently the colour faded from his cheek and his heart began to beat, for he had reached a wicket-gate in a high mouldering, ivy-grown wall, and beyond it he knew was a smooth-shaven lawn, a spreading cypress, a wealth of roses, and the prettiest parsonage within four counties. He had learnt the trick of the gate, and had opened it often enough, yet THE YOtJNG IDEA 23 he paused for a moment outside. Although he had walked his three miles pretty fast, he had been perfectly cool hitherto, but now he drew his handkerchief across his face, while with white parched lips and trembling fingers, he turned the handle of the wicket and passed through. CHAPTEE in NOEAH The lawn, the cedar, the roses, there they were exactly as he had pictured them to himself last night in his dreams, that morning when he awoke, the whole forenoon in the dreary study, through those eternal equations. Nothing was wanting, not even the low chair, the slender work- table, nor the presence that made a paradise of it all. She was sitting in a white dress beneath the drooping lime-tree that gleamed and quivered in the sunbeams, alive with its hum of insects, heavy in its wealth of summer fragrance, and raining its shower of blossoms with every breath that whispered through its leaves. For many a year after, perhaps his whole life long, he never forgot her as she sat before him then ; never forgot the gold on her rich chestnut hair, the light in her deep fond eyes, nor the tremble of happiness in her voice, while she exclaimed, " Gerard ! And again to-day ! How did you manage to come over? It is so late, I had almost given you up ! " She had half-risen, as if her impulse was to rush towards him, but sat down again, and resumed her work with tolerable composure, though parted lips and flushing cheek betrayed only too clearly how welcome was this intrusion on her solitude. He was little more than nineteen, and he loved her very dearly. He could find nothing better to say than this : " I only wanted to bring you some music. The others are engaged, and I had really nothing else to do. How is Mr. Welby?" "Papa was quite well," she answered demurely enough, 21 NOBAH 25 " and very busy as usual at this hour, in his own den. Should she let him know," — and there was a gleam of mirth in her eye, a suspicion of malice in her tone, — " should she run and tell him Mr. Ainslie was here ? " "By no means," answered Gerard, needlessly alarmed at such a suggestion; "I would not disturb him on any consideration. And, Norah ! — you said I might call you Norah at the Archery Meeting." " Did I? " replied the young lady, looking exceedingly pretty and provoking ; " I can't have meant it if I did." " Oh, Norah ! " he interposed, reproachfully, "you don't mean to say you've forgotten ! " " I haven't forgotten that you were extremely cross, and ate no luncheon, and behaved very badly," she answered, laughing. "Never mind, Gerard, we made friends coming home, didn't we ? And if I said you might, I suppose you must. Now you look all right again, so don't be a rude boy, but tell me honestly if you walked all this way in the sun only because you had nothing better to do ? " His eyes glistened. " You know why I come here," he said. " You know why I would walk a thousand miles barefoot to see you for five minutes. Now I shall be contented all to-day and to-morrow, and then next morning I shall begin to get restless and anxious, and if I can, I shall come here again." " You dear fidget ! " she answered with a bright smile. " I know I can believe you, and it makes me very happy. Now hold these silks while I wind them ; and after that, if you do it well, I'll give you some tea ; and then you shall see papa, who is really very fond of you, before you go back." So the two sat down — in fairy-land — under the lime-tree, to wind silks — a process requiring little physical exertion, and no great effort of mind. It seemed to engi'oss their whole energies nevertheless, and to involve a good deal of conversation, carried on in a very low tone. I can guess almost all they said, but should not repeat such arrant nonsense, even had I overheard every syllable. It was only that old story, I suppose, the oldest of all, but to which people never get tired of listening ; and the sameness of which in every language, and under all circumstances, is 26 THE WHITS B08E as remarkable as its utter want of argument, continuity, or common sense. Gerard Ainslie and Miss Welby had now known each other for about six months, a sufficiently long period to allow of very destructive campaigns both in love and war. They had fallen in love, as people call it, very soon after theii' first introduction ; that is to say, they had thought about each other a good deal, met often enough to keep up a vivid recollection of mutual sayings and doings, yet with sufficient uncertainty to create constant excitement, none the less keen for fi-equent disappointments ; and, in short, had gone through the usual probation by which that accident of an accident, an unwise attachment between two individuals, becomes strengthened in exact proportion to its hopelessness, its inconvenience, and the undoubted absurdity that it should exist at all. People said Mr. Welby encouraged it; whereas poor Mr. Welby, who would have esteemed the prince in a fairy tale not half good enough for his daughter, was simply pleased to think that she should have companions of her own age, male or female, who could bring a brighter lustre to her eye, a softer bloom to her cheek. It never occurred to him for a moment that his Norah, his own peculiar pride and pet and constant companion since he lost her mother at four years old, should dream of caring for anybody but himself, at least for many a long day to come. If he did contemplate such a possibility, it was with a vague, misty idea that in some ten years or so, when he was ready to drop into his grave, some great nobleman would lay a heart, and a coronet to match, at his chUd's feet, and under the circumstances such an arrangement would be exceedingly suitable for all concerned. But that Norah, his Norah, should allow her affections to be entangled by young Gerard Ainslie, though a prime favomite of his own, why I do not believe such a contingency could have been placed before him in any light that could have caused him to admit the remotest chance of its existence. Nevertheless, whUe Mr. Welby was making bad English of excellent Greek, under the impression that he was rendering the exact meaning of Euripides for the benefit of unlearned men, his daughter and her young adorer were NOBAH 27 enacting the old comedy, tragedy, farce, or pantomime — for it partakes of the natm-e of all these entertainments — on their own little stage, with scenery, dresses, and decora- tions to correspond. Ah ! we talk of eloquence, expression, fine writing forsooth ! and the trick of word-painting, as very a trick as any other turn of the handicraftsman's trade : but who ever read in a whole page of print one-half the poetry condensed into two lines of a woman's manuscript ? — ungrammatical, if you please, iU expressed, and with long tails to the letters, yet breathing in every syllable that sentiment of ideality which has made the whole ornamental literature of the world. After all, the head only reproduces what the heart creates ; and so we give the mocking-bird credit when he imitates the loving murmurs of the dove. If oratory should be judged by its effect, then must Norah Welby and Gerard Ainslie have been speakers of the highest calibre. To be sure, they had already practised in a good many rehearsals, and ought to have been pretty well up in their parts. The simultaneous start with which they increased their distance by at least a fathom, on hearing the door-bell jingling all over the house, would have ensured a round of applause from any audience in Europe. "How provoking ! " exclaimed the girl ; " and people so seldom come here on a Tuesday. Perhaps, after all, it's only somebody for papa." Gerard said nothing, but his colour deepened, and a frown of very obvious annoyance lowered on his brow. It did not clear the more to observe an open carriage, with a pair of good-looking horses, driven round to the stables. As paint and varnish glistened in the sunshine through the laurels, Miss Welby drew a long sigh of relief. " It might have been worse," she said ; "it might have been the Warings, all of them, with their aunt, or that dreadful Lady Baker, or Mrs. Brown ; but it's only Mr. Vandeleur, and he won't stay long. Besides, he's always pleasant and good-natured, and never says the wrong thing. We won't have tea though till he's gone." " It seems to me, Norah," answered her visitor, "that you rather like Mr. Vandeleur." " Like him ! I should think I did ! " protested the young 28 THE WHITE ROSE lady ; " but you needn't look so fierce about it, Master Jerry. I like him because papa does ; he's always in better spirits after a visit from Mr. Vandeleur. Besides, he's immensely clever you know, and well-read, and aU that. Papa says he might be in the Government if he chose to go into Parliament. Not that I care-about clever people myself ; I think it's much nicer to be like you, Jerry, you stupid boy ! I don't think you'll ever pass your examination — and so much the better, for then you won't have to go away, and leave us all, and — and forget us." " Forget you ! " replied Gerard, decreasing by one half the distance he had taken up from his companion. What more he might have said was cut short by the appearance of a gentleman whose step had been unheard on the thick velvet turf, and who now came forward to greet his hostess, with an admirable mixtm-e of the deference due to a young lady, and the cordiahty permitted from an old Mend. " I came through the garden on purpose to say how d'ye do," he observed, with marked poUteness, " but my visit is really to your father. I hope he is not too busy to see me for half an hour. In fact, I believe he expected me either to-day or to-morrow." Then, turning to Gerard, he shook him warmly by the hand, and congratulated him on the score he had made a few days before in a cricket match. Norah was right. Mr. Vandeleur was not a man to say the wrong thing, even under the most unfavourable circum- stances. Those who knew him best afSrmed that he was not to be hurried, nor taken aback, nor found at a loss. He would have been exceediagly popular, but that never for more than a few seconds could he look anybody iu the face. His eyes shifted uneasily from Gerard's even now. The latter did not like him, and though he answered civilly, was too young to conceal his aversion ; but Vandeleur, with all the advantage of position, manner, and experience, stUl more of the man over the boy, and, above all, of the careless admirer over the devoted slave, felt too safe not to be in good humour, and put in even for Gerard's approval by the tact with which he veiled his consciousness of intrusion, while he announced his intention to withdraw. NOBAB 29 "I see you have both more work to do," he observed, gaily pointing to a skein of silk that still hung over the back of Norah's chair, for in truth the operation had been going on very slowly, " and I have, as usual, a thousand things to attend to between this and dinner. Miss Welby, do you think I might ventm-e to invade your father at once in his study ? If you are not gone in half an hour, Ainslie, I can give you a lift most of the way back. I should like you to get your hand on those chestnuts of mine. The white-legged one is the only perfect phaeton-horse I ever had in my life. I will come and make my bow to Miss Welby before I start." "Isn't he nice?" exclaimed Norah, as the visitor dis- appeared under the low ivy-grown porch of the Parsonage. " He always seems to do exactly what you want without finding you out. And if you're tired or stupid, or don't like to talk, he'll neither bore you himself or let other people worry you. Isn't he nice, I say ? Master Jerry, why can't you answer 7 Don't you know that I will insist on your liking everybody I like ? " " I cannot like Mr. Vandeleur," answered Gerard doggedly, for not even the compliment implied in asking his opinion of the phaeton-horses — a compliment generally so acceptable at nineteen — ^had overcome his distaste to this gentleman. " I never did like him, and I never shall like him. And I think I hate him all the more, Norah, because — because ' ' "Because what?" asked Miss Norah, pettishly; "be- cause I like him ! " " Because I think he likes you," answered Gerard, with a very red face ; adding somewhat injudiciously, " It's absurd, it's ridiculous ! An old man like that! " " He's not so very old," observed the young lady, mali- ciously ; " and he's tolerably good-looking still." " He's a widower, at any rate," urged Gerard ; " and they say he regularly killed his first wife." " So did Bluebeard," replied wicked Miss Norah ; " and look how people made up to him afterwards ! Do you know, I don't see why Mr. Vandeleur shouldn't settle down into a very good husband for anybody." Gerard had been red before : he turned pale now. 30 THE WHITE ROSE " Do you really mean that ? " he asked in tones rather lower and more distinct than common. "For anybody of his own age, of com-se," answered the provoking girl, " Not for a young lady, you know. Why, he must be very nearly as old as papa. I wish he'd come to say ' Good-bye ' all the same, though he must take you with him. Poor boy ! you'll never get back in time, and you'll be so hot if you have to run all the way." Even while she spoke, a servant came out of the Parson- age with a message. It was to give " Mr. Vandeleur's compliments, and one of his horses had lost a shoe. He feared to make Mr. Ainslie too late, if he waited till it was put on." " And you've never had your tea after all ! " exclaimed Norah, about to recall the servant and order that beverage forthwith. But Ainslie did not want any tea, and could not stay for it if he had wanted some. Even his light foot could hardly be expected to do the three miles much under twenty-five minutes, and he must be off at once. He hated going, and she hated parting with him. Probably they told each other so, for the servant was already out of hearing, and his back was turned. We may follow the servant's example. We have no wish to be spies on the leave-taking of two young lovers at nineteen. CHAPTER IV ME. VANDBLEUR I HAVE not the slightest doubt the chestnut horse's shoe was off when he arrived, and that his owner was perfectly aware of the loss while so politely offering Gerard Ainslie a lift back in his carriage, but Mr. Vandeleur was a gentleman untroubled by scruples, either in small things or great. His principle, if he had any, was never to practice in- sincerity unless it was necessary, or at least extremely convenient, except where women were concerned ; in such cases he considered deceit not only essential but praise- worthy. As a young man, Vandeleur had been a profligate, when open profligacy was more the fashion than at present ; while good looks, a good constitution, and a good fortune, helped him to play his part successfully enough on the stage of life, in London or Paris, as the pleasant, popular good-for-nothing, who in spite of his extravagance was never out-at-elbows, in spite of his excesses was never out of spirits or out of humour. With a comely exterior, a healthy digestion, and a balance at his bankers, a man requires but few sterling qualities to make his way in a society that troubles itself very little about his neighbours so long as they render themselves agreeable, in a world that while not entirely adverse to being shocked, is chiefly intolerant of being bored. Some of those who ministered to his pleasm-es might indeed have told strange stories about Vandeleur, and one violent scene in Paris was only hushed up by the tact of an exalted foreign friend and the complicity of a sergent de ville ; but such trifling matters were below the surface, and 31 32 THE WHITE ROSE in no way affected his popularity, particularly amongst the ladies, with whom a little mystery goes a long way, and into whose good graces the best initiative step is to awaken a curi- osity, that seldom fails to chafe itself into interest if left for a time ungratified. It can only have been some morbid desire to learn more of him at all risks, that tempted the daughter of a ducal house to trust her life's happiness in so frail a bark as that of Vandeleur. " Lady Margaret must be a bold girl ! " was the general opinion expressed at White's, Boodle's, and Arthur's, in the boudoirs of Belgravia, and the dining-rooms of Mayfair, when her marriage was announced, and it was observed that the bridegroom's inti- mate friends were those who showed most disapprobation of the alliance, and who chiefly commiserated the bride. Nevertheless, bold or blushing. Lady Margaret married him decorously, attended the wedding-breakfast afterwards, and eventually drove off in a very becoming lilac travelling- dress to spend the honeymoon at Oakover, her husband's old family place. But she never came back to London. For two years husband and wife disappeared entirely from the set in which they had hitherto lived, regretted loudly, missed but little, as is the way of the world. They travelled a good deal, they vegetated at their countiy place, but at home or abroad never seemed to be an hour apart. Some people said she was jealous, frightfully jealous, and would not let him out of her sight ; some that they were a most attached couple ; some that Lady Margaret's health had grown very precarious, and she required constant attention. Her own family shook their heads and agreed, "Margaret was much altered since her mamage, and seemed so wrapped up in her husband that she had quite forgotten her own relations. As for him — ^Well, they didn't know what she had done to him, but he certainly used to be much pleasanter as a bachelor ! " Lady Margaret had no children, yet she lost her looks day by day. At the end of two years the blinds were down at Oakover, and its mistress was lying dead in the bedroom that had been decorated so beautifully to receive her as a bride. The sun rose and set more than once before Vandeleur could be persuaded to leave her body. A belated housemaid, creeping upstairs to bed, frightened out of her MB. VAND^ILEUM 33 wits at any rate by the bare idea of liaving a death in the house, heard his laughter ringing wild and shrill in that desolate chamber at the end of the corridor. Long after- wards, in her next place, the poor girl would wake up in the night, terrified by the memory of that fearful mirth, which haunted even her dreams. On the day of Lady Margaret's funeral, however, the mourners were sm-prised to see how bravely her husband bore his loss. In a few weeks the same people declared themselves shocked to hear that Mr. Vandeleur went about much as usual; in a few months, were surprised to learn he had retired from the world and gone into a monastery. The monastery turned out to be simply a yacht of considerable tonnage. For two years Vandeleur absented himself from England, and of that two years he either would not,. or could not give any account. When he returned, the ladies would have made him a second Lara, had he shown the least tendency to the mysterious and romantic ; but he turned up one morning in Hyde Park as if nothing had happened, paid his penny for a chair, lit his cigar, took his hat ofif to the smartest ladies with his old manner, went to the Opera, and in twenty-four hours was as thoroughly re- established in London as if he had never manied, and never left it. He was still rather good-looking, but affected a style of di'ess and deportment belonging to a more advanced period of life than he had attained. His hair and whiskers were grizzled, indeed, and there were undoubted VTiinkles about his keen restless eyes, as on his healthy, weather-browned cheek ; yet none of the ladies voted him too old to maiTy ; they even protested that he was not too old to dance ; and I believe that at no period of his life would Vandeleur have had a better chance of winning a nice wife than in the first season after his retmn from his mysterious disappearance. He did not seem the least inclined to take advantage of his luck. While at Oakover, indeed, he busied himself to a certain extent vrith a country gentleman's duties and amusements — attending magistrates' meetings at rare intervals, asked a houseful of neighbours to shoot, dine, and sleep, two or three times during the winter ; was present at one archeiy meeting in October, and expressed an in- 3 34 THE WHITE ROSE tention he did not fulfil, of going to the County Ball ; but in London he appeared to relapse insensibly into his bachelor ways and bachelor life, so that the Vandeleur of forty was, I fear, little more useful or respectable a member of society than the Vandeleur of twenty-five. A few years of such a life, and the proprietor of Oakover seemed to have settled down into a regular groove of refined self-indulgence. The tongue of scandal wags so freely when it has once been set going, that no wonder it soon tires itself out, and a man who pays lavishly for his pleasm-es finds it a long time before they rise up in judgment against him. Even in a country neighbourhood it is possible to establish a prescriptive right for doing wrong ; and while the domestic arrangements at Oakover itself were conducted with the utmost decorum and propriety, people soon ceased to trouble themselves about its master's doings when out of his own house. For an idle man Vandeleur was no mean scholar. The sixth form at Eton, and a good degi-ee at Oxford, had not cured him of a taste for classic literature, and he certainly did derive a pleasure from his visits to Mr. Welby's Parsonage, which had nothing to do with the bright eyes of the clergyman's daughter. Host and guest had much in common. Welby himself, before he entered the Church — of which it is but fair to say he was a conscientious minister — had been familiar, so to speak, with the ranks of the Opposition. Even now he looked back to the brilliancy of that pleasant, wicked world, as the crew of Ulysses may have recalled the wild delights of their enchanted island. False they were, no doubt — lawless, injurious, debasing ; yet tinged, they felt too keenly, with an unearthly gleam of joy from heaven or hell. They are thankful to have escaped, yet would they not forego the strange ex- perience if they could. Miss Welby was right when she said her father always seemed in better spirits after a visit from Mr. Vandeleur; perhaps that was why she received the latter so graciously when, emerging from the study, he crossed the lawn to take leave of her some twenty minutes after Gerard Ainslie's departure. He ought to have been no bad judge, and he thought he MB. VANDELEUB 36 had never seen a woman look so well. Happiness is a rare cosmetic ; and though, as many a man had reason to admit, sorrow in after years refined, idealised, and gave a more elevated character to her beauty, I doubt if Norah was ever more captivating to Vandeleur than on that bright summer's afternoon under the lime-trees. She was thinking of Gerard, as a woman thinks of her idol for the time. That period may be a lifetime, or it may last only for a year or two, or for a few months. I have even heard three weeks specified as its most convenient duration ; but long or short, no doubt the worship is sincere and engrossing while it exists. The little flutter, the subdued agitation created by the presence of her lover, had vanishedjbut the feeling of intense happiness, the sense of complete dependence and repose, steeped her in an atmo- sphere of security and contentment that seemed to glorify her whole being, and to enhance even the physical superiority of her charms. She felt so thankful, so joyful, so capable of everything that was noble or good, so completely in charity with all the world ! No wonder she greeted her father's friend with a cordial manner and a bright smile. "Your carriage has not come round yet, Mr. Vande- leur," she said, " and they will bring tea in five minutes. Papa generally comes out and has a cup with us here. You at least are not obliged to hurry away," she added rather wistfully, glancing at the chair which Gerard had lately occupied. His eye followed hers. " I am glad I am too old for a private tutor," he answered with a meaning smile. "That's a veiy nice boy. Miss Welby, that young Mr. Ainslie ; and how sorry he seemed to go away." She blushed. It was embarrassing to talk about Gerard, but still it was not unpleasant. "We all like him very much," she said, guardedly, meaning probably by "all," herself, her papa, and her bullfinch, which comprised the family. "A nice gentleman-like boy," continued Mr. Vandeleur; "well-disposed, too, I can see. When I was his age. Miss Welby, I don't think I should have been so amenable to discipline under the same temptation. I fancy my tutor might have whistled for me, if I wanted to be late for 36 THE WHtTB BOSE dinner. All ! we were wilder in my time, and most of us have tui-ned out badly in consequence ; but I like this lad, I assure you, very much. None the less that he seems so devoted to you. Have you known him long ? " Luckily the tea had just arrived, and Norah could bend her blushing face over the cups. Had she known Gerard long ? Well, it seemed so ; and yet the time had passed only too quickly. She had known him scarcely six months. Was that a long or a short acquaintance in which to have become so fond of him ? With faltering voice she replied, " Yes — ^no — not very long — ever since last winter, when he came to Mr. Ajcher's ? " "Who is he? and what is he? " continued Vandeleur, sipping his tea calmly, "Do they mean him for a soldier? Will my friend Archer make anything of him ? Don't you pity poor Archer, Miss Welby ? A scholar, a gentleman, a fellow who has seen some service, and might have dis- tinguished himself if he had stuck to the anny. And now he is condemned to spend seven hours a day in licking cubs into shape for inspection by the Horse Guards." " There are no cuhs there this year," she answered with some spirit. " Mr. Burton and Mr. Egremont, and the rest, are very gentleman-like, pleasant young men, and just as clever as anybody else ! " " That is not saying much," he replied, with perfect good humour; " but when I talk of 'cubs ' I declare to you I don't mean your friend and mine, Mr. Ainslie. I tell you I have taken a great fancy to the boy, and would do him a turn if I could. I suppose he would like to get his com- mission at once? " Even at nineteen she was yet woman enough to have studied his future welfare ; and his " getting his commis- sion " was the point to which she had so often looked for- ward with dismay as the termination of their happiness — it might be, something whispered to her ominously, even of their friendship. Nevertheless, she knew it would be for his advantage to enter the army at once. She knew he was wasting his time here, in nothing perhaps more than in his oft-repeated visits to herself. Her heart sank when she thought of the lawn, and the cedar, and the lime-trees, MB. VANDELBUB 87 without those visits to look back on, and look forward to, but she answered bravely, though her face turned very pale — " Certainly ! It would be of great importance to Mr. Ainslie, I believe ; and I am sure he woidd be grateful to anybody who could help him to it." She would have added, " And so should I," but a sensa- tion as if she were choking stopped her short. " If you are interested about him, that is enough," replied Vandeleur. " I will try what can be done, and small as is my interest, it ought to be sufficient to carry out so very common-place a job as this. In the meantime what a hot walk the poor boy will have ! I wish he could have waited. I would have driven him to Archer's door. It's a good thing to be young. Miss Welby, but no doubt there are certain disadvantages connected with a prosperity that is stiU to come. In ten years that young gentleman will be a rising man, I venture to predict. In twenty a successful one, with a position and a name in the world. Twenty years ! It's a long time, isn't it ? I shall be in my grave, and you — why even you will have left off being a young lady then." She was thinking the same herself. Would it really be twenty years before poor Grerard could reach the lowest round of that ladder on which she longed to see him ? Mr. Vandeleur had great experience, he must know best, he was a thorough man of the world. What an unfair world it was. Poor Gerard ! She sighed, and raising her eyes to her companion's face, who instantly Tooked away, was conscious he had read her thoughts : this added to her discomposure, and for the moment she felt as if she could cry. Vandeleur knew every turn of the game he was playing, and saw that for the present he had better enact any part than that of con- fidant. Later, perhaps, when Gerard was gone, and the blank required filling up, it might be judicious to assume that, or any other character, which would give him access to her society ; but at the present stage, disinterested friendship was obviously the card to play, and he produced it without hesitation. " Then that is settled ? " he said gaily. " I'll do what 88 THE WHITE ROSE I can, and if I don't succeed you may be sui-e it's not for want of goodwill to you and yours. I'm an old friend, you know. Miss Welby — if not of your own, at least of your father's ; and believe me, it would be a great pleasure to serve you in anything. Anything ! — a caprice, a fancy, what you will. Black or white, right or wrong, easy or difficult — or impossible. That's plain speaking isn't it ? I don't do things by halves ! And now I must really be off ; those horses of mine have pawed a regular pit in your gravel-walk, and half-a-dozen country neighbours are waiting dinner for me at this moment, I do believe. Good- bye, Miss Welby ; keep your spirits up, and let me come and see you again when I've some good news to tell." Still talking, he hurried away, and drove off at a gallop, waving his whip cheerfully above the laurels as he passed within sight of the lawn. Norah thought she had never liked him so much as when the grating of his wheels died out in the stillness of the summer evening, and she was left alone with her own thoughts. CHAPTEE V THE MAIB OF THE MILL Mk, Vandbleur always drove fast. He liked to know that . the poor countryman breaking stones on the road, or laying the fence by its side, looked after him as he flashed by, with stolid admiration on his dull face, and muttered, " Ah ! there goes Squire Vandeleur, surelie ! " On the present occasion his pace was even better than common, and the chestnuts laid themselves down to their work in a form that showed the two hundred guineas a-piece he had paid for them was not a shilling too much. He pulled them back on their haunches, however, at a turn in the road, with a sudden energy that jerked his groom's chin against the rail of the driving-seat, and stopped his carriage within three feet of a showUy-dressed young woman, who was gathering -nild-flowers off the hedge with a transparent affectation of unconsciousness that she was observed. "Why, Fanny," said he, leaning out of the carriage to look under her bonnet, " Fanny Draper, I thought you were in London, or Paris, at least ; — or gone to the devil before your time," he added, in an undertone, between his teeth. The lady thus accosted put her hand to her side with a faint catching of the breath, as of one in weak health, whose nerves are unequal to a shock. She glanced up at him from under her eyelashes roguishly enough, however, while she replied — " My ! If it isn't Squire Vandeleur ! I'm sure I never thought as you'd be the first person to meet me at my home-coming, and that's the truth," Here she dropped a 39 40 THE WHITE BOSE saucy little curtsey. "I hope you've kept your health, sir, since I see you last ! " " Much you care for that, you little devil ; " replied Vandeleur, with a familiar laugh. " My health is pretty good for an old one, and you look as handsome and as wicked as you ever did. So we needn't pay each other any more unmeaning compliments. Here ! I've got something to say to you. Jump up, and I'll give you a lift home to the mUl." The girl's eyes sparkled, but she looked meaningly towards the groom at the horses' heads, and back in his master's face. " Oh, never mind him ! " exclaimed the latter, under- standing the glance. " If my servants don't attend to their own business, at least they never trouble themselves about mine. Jump up, I tell you, and don't keep that off- horse fretting all night." She still demurred, though with an obvious intention of yielding at last. " Suppose we should meet any of the neighbours, Mr. Vandeleur, or some of the gentlefolks coming home from the archeiy. Why, whatever would they think of you and me?" " Please yourself," he answered, carelessly. " Only it's a long two miles to the mill, and I suppose you don't want to wear those pretty little boots out faster than you can help. Come! that's a good girl. I thought you would. Sit tight now. Never mind yom* dress. I'll tuck it in under the apron. Let 'em alone, Tom ! And off she goes again ! " While he spoke, he stretched out his hand and helped her into the front seat by his side, taking especial care of the gaudy muslin skirt she wore. One word of encourage- ment was enough to make his horses dash freely at their collars, the groom jumped into his place like a harlequin, and the phaeton was again bowling through the still summer evening at the rate of twelve miles an hom'. When a tolerably popular person has earned a reputation for eccentricity, there is no end to the strange things he may do without provoking the censure, or even the com- ments, of his neighbours. Even had it not been the hoqr THB MAID OF THE MILL 41 at which most of them were dressing for dinner, there was little likelihood that Vandeleur would meet any of his Mends in the lonely road that skirted his property, ere it brought him to the confines of his park ; but it is probable that even the most censorious, observing him driving a smartly-dressed person of the other sex in a lower grade of society than his own, would have made no more disparaging remark than that " Vandelem- was such a queer fellow, you never knew exactly what he was at ! " He drove on, there- fore, in perfect confidence, conversing very earnestly with his companion, though in such low tones that Tom's sharp ears in the back seat could scarcely make out a syllable he said. She listened attentively enough ; more so, perhaps, than he had any right to expect, considering that her thoughts were distracted by the enviable situation in which she found herself, — driving in a real phaeton, by the side of a real gentleman, with a real servant in livery behind. Fanny Draper had occupied from her youth a position little calculated to improve either her good conduct or her good sense. She had been a village beauty almost as long as she could remember — ever since the time when she first began to do up her back-hair with a comb. The boys who sung in the choir made love to her when she went to the Sunday-school ; the young farmers paid her devoted atten- tion and quan-elled about her among themselves, the first day she ever attended a merry-making. She might have married a master-bricklayer at eighteen ; and by the time she went out to service, was as finished a coquette in her own way as if she had been a French Marquise at the Court of Louis Quatorze. Of course, to use the master-bricklayer's expression, such a " choice piece of goods " as the miller's daughter was above doing rough work, and the only situation she could think of taking was that of a lady's-maid ; equally of course, she did not keep her first place three months, but returned to her father's mill before the expiration of that period, with rings on her fingers, a large stock of new clothes, and a considerable accession of self-esteem. Also, it is needless to add, like all lady's-maids ; under a solemn engagement to be married to a butler ! Poor old Draper didn't know exactly what to make of 42 THE WHITE BOSE her. He had two sons doing well in his own business at the other end of England. He was a widower, Fanny was his only daughter, and the happiest day in the year to him was the one when she came home. Nevertheless, what with her watch, her rings, her white hands, her flowing dresses, and the number of followers she managed to collect about her even at the mill, the old man felt that she was too much for him, and that while she lived in it, the house never looked like his own. He admired her very much. He loved her very dearly. He seldom contradicted her; but he always smoked an extra pipe the night she went away, and yet he dreaded the time when she should make a sensible marriage (perhaps with the butler), and be "off his hands," as he expressed it, " for good and all." Eipley Mill was but a little way from Oakover. It is not to be supposed that so comely a young woman as the miller's daughter escaped Mr. Vandeleur's observation. She took good care to throw herself in his way on every possible occasion, and the Squire, as her father called him, treated her with that sort of good-humoured, condescend- ing, offensive familiarity, which, men seem to forget, is the worst possible compliment to any woman high or low. That Miss Draper's vanity ever led her to believe that she could captivate the Squire is more than I will take upon me to assert, but no doubt it was flattered by the trifling attentions he sometimes paid her ; and she had been heard to observe more than once amongst her intimates, that " the Squire was quite the gentleman, and let alone his appearance, which was neither here nor there, his manners would always make him a prime favom-ite with the ladies," invariably adding that, "for her part, the Squire knew his place, and she laiew hers." The pace at which Vandeleur drove soon brought them to a certain stile, over which Miss Fanny had leant many a time in prolonged interviews with different rustic lovers, and which was removed but by one narrow orchard from her father's mill. Short as was the time, however, the driver seemed to have made the most of it, for his companion's face looked flushed and agitated when she got down. A perceptible shade of disappointment, and even vexation, clouded her brow, while the voice in which she bade him THE MAID OF THE MILL 43 " Good evening," betrayed a certain amount of pique and ill-humour bravely kept under. Vandeleur's tone, on the contrary, was confident and cheerful as usual. " It's a bargain then," said he, releasing her hand, as she sprang on the foot-path from the top of the front wheel. "I can depend upon you, can't I? to do your best or worst ; and your worst with that pretty face of yours would tackle a much more difficult job than this. Honour, Miss Fanny ! If you'll keep your word, you know I'll keep mine." " Honour, Squire," replied she, with a forced smile that marred the comeliness of all the lower part of her face. " But you're in a desperate hurry ! A week isn't much time, now, is it? to finish a young gentleman right oif." " Those bright eyes of yours finished an old gentleman right off in a day," answered Vandeleur, laughing. "Good- night, my dear, and stick to your bargain." Before she was over the stile, his phaeton had turned a comer in the lane, and was out of sight. Miss Draper took her bonnet off, and dangled it by the strings while the cool evening air breathed on her forehead and lifted her jetty locks. She was a pretty girl, no doubt, of a style by no means uncommon in her class. Dark eyes, high colour, irregular features, with a good deal of play in them, a large laughing mouth, and a capital set of teeth, made up a face that people turned round to look at in market-places, or on high-roads, and her figure, as she herself boasted, required " no making up, with as little dressing as most people's, provided only her things was good of their kind." Yes, she was a handsome girl, and though her vanity had received a considerable shock, she did not doubt it even now. After a few seconds' thought, her irritation seemed to subside. Circumstances had for some years forced Miss Draper's mind to take a practical turn. Flattered vanity was a pleasing sensation, she admitted, but tangible advantage was the thing after all. " Now whatever can the Squire be driving at?" solilo- quised his late companion, as threading the apple-trees she came within hearing of the familiar mill. " There's some- thing behind all this, and I'll be at the back of it as sure as 44 THE WHITE BOSE my name's Fanny ! He's a deep 'un, is the Squire, but he's a gentleman, I will say that ! Quite the gentleman, he is ! Ten pounds down. Let me see, that will pay for the two bonnets, and as much as I ever will pay of Mrs. Markham's bill. And twenty more if it all comes off right, within a month. Twenty pounds is a good deal of money ! Yes, I always did uphold as the Squire were quite the gentleman." She arrived simultaneously with this happy conclusion at the door of her paternal home, and the welcome of her father's professionally dusty embrace. Vandeleur was not long in reaching Oakover, and commencing his toilet, which progressed rapidly, like everything else he did, without his appearing to hm-ry it. At a sufficiently advanced stage he rang for his valet. " Anybody come yet ? " asked the host, tying a white neckcloth with the utmost precision. " Sir Thomas Boulder, Colonel and Mrs. "Waring, Lady Baker, Mrs. and Miss St. Denys, Major Blades, Captain Coverley, and Mr. Green," answered the well-drilled valet without faltering. " Nobody else expected, is there ? " was the next question, while his master pulled the bows to equal length. " Dinner was ordered for ten, sir," answered his servant. "Been here long?" asked Vandeleur, buttoning the watchchain into his waistcoat. "About three-quarters of an horn*, sir," was the im- pertm'bable reply. " Very good. Then get dinner in five minutes ! " and although nine hungry guests were waiting for him, Vandeleur employed that five minutes in writing a letter to a great nobleman, with whom he was on intimate terms. While he ordered a man and horse to gallop off with it at once to the nearest post-town, in time for the night mail, he read the following lines over with a satisfied expression of countenance, and rather an evil smile. " Mt dear Loed, — You can do me a favour, and I know I have only to ask it. I want a commission for a young friend of mine, as soon as ever it can be got. I believe he is quite ready for examination, or whatever TE£l MAID OF "tHE MILL 45 you call the farce these young ones have to enact now- a-days. In our time people were not so particular about anything. Still I think you and I do pretty much as we like, and can't complain. On a slip of paper I enclose the young one's name and address. The sooner, for his own sake, we get him out of England the better, — and where he goes afterwards nobody cares a cm-se ! You understand. " Don't forget I expect you early next month, and will make sure there is a pleasant party to meet you. "Ever yours, " J. Vandblbue." " Not a bad day's work altogether," muttered the writer, as he stuck a stamp on the envelope, and went down to dinner. CHAPTEE VI GRINDING In pursuance of her bargain with Mr. Vandeleur, whatever it may have been, Fanny Draper attired herself in a very becoming dress after her one o'clock dinner on the following day, and proceeded to take an accidental stroll in the direction of Mr. Archer's house, which was but a few hundred yards distant from the village of Eipley. Disinclined either to make fresh conquests or to meet old admirers, both contingencies being equally inconvenient at present, she followed a narrow lane skirting the backs of certain cottages, which brought her opposite the gate of Mr. Archer's garden at the exact moment when Dandy Burton, having finished his studies for the day, put a cigar into his mouth, as a light and temperate substitute for luncheon, the Dandy — ^whose figure was remarkably sym- metrical — being already afraid of losing his waist. Miss Draper, as she would have expressed herself, " took more than one good look at him before she played her first card ; " for the hawk, though unhooded, so to speak, and flung aloft, had not j'et made quite sure of her quarry, and, except as a question of wholesome practice, it would be a pity to waste much blandishment upon the wrong young gentleman. So she scanned him carefully before she pounced, approving much of what she saw. Dandy Burton was tall, weU-made, and undoubtedly good-looking, with an air, extremely becoming when people are not yet twenty, of being over his real age. His face was very nearly handsome, but there was some- thing wanting in its expression, and a woman's eye would GBINDWG 47 have preferred many a plainer countenance which carried a more marked impress of the man within. Even Fanny was conscious of this defect at a second glance. It made her part, she reflected, all the easier to play. So gathering some violets from the hedge-side, she tied them coquettishly into a posy, and then, dropping a curtsey, shot a killing glance at the Dandy, while she observed, demurely enough — " One of Mr. Archer's young gentlemen, I believe ? I'm sure I ask your pardon, sir, if you're not." Dandy Burton, thus challenged, ranged up alongside. " I am staying with Mr. Archer at present," said he, removing the cigar from his mouth and making a faint snatch at his round shooting hat. " Did you want to speak to any of us ? I beg your pardon — I mean, can I be of any service to you before Mr. Archer goes out ? " With all the savoir-vivre he used to boast of in the pupil-room, Mr. Burton was a little puzzled. She was good-looking, she was well got-up, yet something in his instincts told him she was not quite a lady after all." " It's not Mr. Archer," she answered, with a becoming little blush and a laugh: "it's the young genfiileman as father bade me leave a message for — father, down at Eipley Mill, you know, sii-." " Bad English. Talks of ' father ' and calls me ' sir,' " thought the Dandy, his confidence returning at once. " All right, my dear," he answered, replacing the cigar in his mouth, and crossing the road to her side ; " I know Ripley Mill well enough, and I know ' father,' as you call him, meaning, I suppose, my friend Mr. Draper ; but I did not know he'd got such a little duck of a daughter. I wish I'd found it out, though, six months ago — I do, upon my honour ! " " Well, I'm sm-e ! " replied Miss Fanny, in no way taken aback by the familiar tone of admiration, to which she was well-accustomed. " You gentlemen are so given to compliments, there's no believing a word you say. I should like to hear, now, what good it would have done you if you had known as I was down at the Mill six months ago." " I should have walked over there every day, on the 48 THE WHITE BOSE chance of seeing yotir pretty face ! " answered the Dandy, rising, as he flattered himself, to the occasion. "You wouldn't have found me," she laughed; "I've heen in London since then. I only came home for good yesterday evening." " Then I shall spend all my spare time at the Mill now, till I go away," retorted Burton, rolling the wet end of his cigar with his hest air. "Are you going away so soon?" she said, looking rather anxiously into his face. " Decidedly," thought the Dandy, " this is a case of love at first sight. It's deuced odd, too. I am not much used to their ways, and it's just possible she may be gammoning a fellow all the time. Never mind ! two can play at that game, so here goes ? " " Not unless you'll come with me," he exclaimed affectionately. " Since I've seen you, Miss Draper, for I suppose you are Miss Draper, I couldn't bear to leave you. Now, touching this message.- Are you quite sure you have brought it all this way without spilling any of it?" " I'm not one as isn't to be trusted," answered the lady, meaningly, motioning him at the same time to walk a little farther down the lane, out of sight of Mr. Archer's top windows. " They say as women can't keep secrets — ^I wish somebody woidd try me. It's not in my nature to deceive. There, what a fool I am, to go talking on to a gentleman like you, and I never set eyes on you before." " But you'll let me come and see you down at the Mill ? " said he ; " it is but a step, you know, from here. I could easily be there eveiy day about this time." " And I should like to know what father would say ! " interposed Miss Fanny, with a sudden access of propriety. "I ought to have been back with father now, and here I am, putting off my time talking to you, and — there, I declare, I'm quite ashamed. I don't even know your name. It's Mr. Ainslie, isn't it? " Burton laughed. " Why do you think it's Ainslie ? " " Because they told me as Mr. Ainslie was the only OBINDINO 49 grown-up gentleman here," she answered, hazarding a supposition that could not fail to be favourably received, and flattering herself she was going on swimmingly. The Dandy, however, did not see the advantage of being taken for his friend, and thought it right to undeceive his new flame without delay. " My name's Burton," he said, rather conceitedly. " Ainslie's a shorter chap, with darker hair and eyes — altogether, not quite so — ^not quite so " he hesitated, for, though vain, he was not a fool. " Not quite so much of a ladies' man, I daresay ! " She finished his sentence for him with a laugh, to cover her own vexation, for she felt she had been wasting time sadly. " I don't think you're one as is ever likely to be mistook for somebody else. I must wish you good day now, sir. It's more than time I was back. I couldn't stay another minute if it was ever so." She was a little disappointed at his ready acquiescence. " And your message ? " he asked, lighting a fresh cigar. " It was only father's duty," she answered. " I was to tell the young gentlemen they're welcome to a day's fishing above Bipley Lock to-morrow, if they like to come, and there ought to be some sport for 'em, says father, if the wind keeps southerly." "We'll be there!" answered the Dandy, joyftdly. "And I say, how about luncheon? You'll bring it us, won't you, fi:om the Mill?" " For how many ? " asked Miss Fanny ; thinking, perhaps, it might not be a bad plan. "Well, there's three of us!" answered the Dandy. "Dolly, and Ainslie, and me. Better bring enough for four. Miss Draper. It's not every day in the week I do such things. Besides, you'll sit down with us, you know, or we shan't be able to eat a morsel." She tossed her head. " Indeed, you're very kind," she said. " Well, if you're all coming, I'll attend to it, and perhaps bring it you myself. No, sir ! not a step further. I couldn't think of walking through the village with you. WTiat would Mr. Archer say ? Thank you ; I can take very good care of myself? " Thus parrying the Dandy's importunities, who, having 4 50 THE WHITE BOSE nothing better to do, proposed a lounge down to the Mill in her company, Miss Draper proceeded on her homeward journey, only turning round when she had gone a few steps to comply with his entreaties that she would give him her lately-gathered posy. "You'll chuck us the violets, at least," said this young gentleman in a plaintive tone. " Yes ; I don't want the violets," she answered, not very graciously, and whisking past the turn by the baker's, was soon out of sight. Dandy Burton was so elated with this, his last conquest, that he did not even wait to finish his cigar, but throwing it away, returned hastily to the pupil-room in order to catch his companions before they went out. He was lucky enough to find them both still in their studies; Gerald Ainslie struggling hard with "unknown quantities," and Dolly puzzling over the discovery of America, an era of history inseparable, in his own mind, firom the destruction of the Spanish Armada. Burton had no scruple in disturbing them. "Look there you chaps!" said he, throwing Fanny Draper's violets on the study-table. " That's the way to do it ! A fellow can't even smoke a quiet weed in these diggings, but he's pelted in again with flowers ! Now I don't mind laying odds, neither of you can tell in three guesses where these came fi-om." " Don't bother ! " answered Ainslie, looking up im- patiently, and diving once more head-foremost into his algebra. " Some flowerets of Eden we still inherit, But the trail of the Dandy is over them all I " quoted Dolly, shutting up his English History with a sigh of relief. " Why, they were given you by ' some village maiden who with dauntless breast ' was determined on making you a greater fool, my beloved Dandy, than nature and Archer combined can accomplish — ^if such a feat were, indeed, possible. They can't let him alone, ochone ! Every institution has its show-man you know, Jerry, and the Dandy is om-s ! " QBINDING 51 Gerard did not think it worth while to answer; and Burton, on whose good-humoured self-conceit the arrows of chaff rained harmless, replied, " Wouldn't you like it yourself, DoUy ? Never mind, my boy. Every chap must paddle his own canoe. We all have different gifts, you know." "Very true," replied Dolly. "Dress and deportment are yours ; light literature, I think, is mine ; and," sink- ing his voice while he jerked his head towards Ainslie, "love and logarithms are his!" " Wake up, Jerry ! " exclaimed Burton, " and answer this slanderous accusation. Of logarithms we acquit you at once, and surely you are not soft enough to be in love!" Ainslie reddened. " Well," he said, keeping down his confusion, "I suppose a fellow may have 'a spoon ' if he likes." " A spoon ! " exclaimed D oily. " A regular soup-ladle ! He's got all the symptoms — ^premonitory, sympathetic, and confirmed. There is even a space for the ghost of her face in this narrow pupil-room, And Archer is blmd, and the Dandy's a fool, and Jerry has met with his doom." " What nonsense you talk ! " retorted Ainslie, angrily. "At all events, I don't pick a handful of violets to flash them down on the study-table, and swear they were given me by a duchess five minutes ago. Hang it ; mine should be a better swagger than that. I'd have roses or pinks, or a bunch of hot-house flowers, when I was about it." " A primrose on the river's brim, A yellow primrose is to him, And in he goes to sink or swim," observed Dolly. " One flower is as good as another, if it's offered by the right party. Now I know where Dandy got these. They were given him by the cook. She picks them for the salad, and puts them in with what she calls ' garnish- ing ' — slugs, egg-shell, and bits of gravel." " You know nothing about it, Dolly ! " exclaimed Ainslie. " This isn't a salad-day. No ; it's a keepsake from Mother 62 THE WHITE ROSE Markham, — milliner and modiste. She's repaired Dandy's stays ever so often since he came." " You're wrong, both of you," said the imperturbable Dandy. " They were given me by Miss Draper — Miss Fanny Draper, of Eipley Mill — now then ! A young lady neither of you have ever seen ; and a deuced pretty girl too. What's more, she asked if my name wasn't Ainslie ? " Again Gerard blushed, and this time without cause. " A most improbable story, ' ' remarked Dolly. ' ' Ainslie' s engaged. If she'd said Egremont, I could have believed it. This requires confirmation." " I can prove it fast enough," answered Burton, " Old ' Grits ' wants us all to go down and fish at the Upper Lock to-morrow. It won't be bad fun. I vote we go, if Nobs will stand it. He must let us out at twelve o'clock." " You'd better ask him, Dolly," said Gerard. " Here he comes ! " While the latter spoke, Mr. Archer entered the pupil-room with a listless air, and rather a weary step. Truth to tell, he was a little tired of the ever-recurring round which in the slang of to-day is not inappropriately termed a "grind." It paid him well, as he often said to himself, or it would be unbearable. Like the treadmill, or any such penal labour, it was hard work with no visihle result. One pupil after another was indeed turned out, just able to squeeze through his examination, as a chair or table is finished off to order by a carpenter ; but that result attained, the master's duty was done by his disciple, and he had no further interest in the latter's progress or subsequent career. Slow and quick, stupid and clever, all had to be brought up to exactly the same standard, — the former required more time and pains than the latter, that was the whole difference. One can scarcely conceive a more uninteresting phase of tutorship. Archer had made an improvident marriage and a very happy one ; had sold out of the Army in consequence, and had been glad to augment his slender income by fitting young men for the profession he had left. But his wife died early and with her the stimulus to exertion was gone. He had no children, and few friends. Altogether it was weary work. GSINDING 68 If the necessary amount of study could be got through in the week, a holiday was even a greater relief to tutor than pupils ; and with a stipulation to that effect, he willingly granted Dolly's request that they should all start on their fishing excursion next day at twelve o'clock. CHAPTEE Vn A OAT'S-PAW Old " Grits," as his familiars called that very respectable miller, Mr. Draper, liked to have his breakfast early — really early; meaning thereby somewhere about sunrise. This entailed getting up in the dark on such of his household as prepared that meal, and Miss Fanny entertained the greatest objection to getting up in the dark. Consequently, as they breakfasted together — for on this the miller insisted while she stayed with him — both father and daughter were put out from their usual habits. The hour was too early for her, too late for him. He was hungry and snappish, she was hurried and cross. Whatever differences of opinion they entertained were more freely discussed, and more stoutly upheld at this, than at any other hour of the twenty- four. It is a great thing to begin the day in good humom- ; and that woman is wise, be she mother, wife, or daughter, who brings a smiling face down to breakfast ere the toast becomes sodden and the tea cold; who, if she has disagreeable intelligence to communicate, grievances to detail, or complaints to make, puts them off till the things have been taken away, and an evil can be confronted in that spirit of good-will and good-humour which robs it of half its force. Put man, woman, or child, or even a dumb animal, wrong the first thing in the morning, and the equanimity thus lost is seldom restored till late in the afternoon. Grits and Fanny both knew this well by experience, yet they had their say out just the same. " Now Fan !" grunted the miller, walking heavily into A OAT'S-PAW 56 their little parlotir, witli a cloud of yesterday's flour rising from his clothes. "Look alive, girl! Come — bustle, hustle ! It's gone six o'clock." "Why father, how you keep on worriting !" replied a voice from an inner chamber, constrained and indistinct, as of one who is fastening her stays, with hair-pins in her mouth. " Worriting indeed ! " retorted Mr. Draper. " It's been broad daylight for more than an hour. I should like to know how a man is to get his work done, if his breakfast has to be put back till nigh dinner-time. These may be quality manners, lass ; but blow me if they suits us down here at Eipley ! " " Blow your tea, father — that's what you've got to blow," replied Miss Fanny, who had now emerged from her tiring- room only half-dressed, pouring him out a cup so hot that it was transferred, to be operated on as she suggested, into the saucer. "I do believe now, if it wasn't for me coming here to stop with you at odd times, you'd get your breakfast so early as it would interfere with your supper over-night ! " The miller was busy with thick bread-and-butter. A growl was his only reply. Miss Fanny looked out of the window thoughtfully, drank a little tea, shot a doubtful glance at her papa, and hazarded the following harmless question : — "It's a dull morning, father. Do you think it will hold up — ^you that knows the weather so well at Eipley ? " It pleased him to be esteemed wise on such matters, and the hot tea had put him in a better humour. "Hold up, lass?" he answered, cheerfully; "why shouldn't it hold up ? Even with a south wind, these here grey mornings doesn't often turn to rain. You may put your best bonnet on to-day. Fan, never fear ! " " Then, if that's the case, I'll get the house-work over in good time ; and I think I won't be back to dinner, father," said his daughter resolutely, as anticipating objection. But for its coating of flour the miller's face would have darkened. " Not back to dinner, Fan ! and why not ? Where may you be going, lass, if I may make so bold as ask ? " 56 THE WHITE BOSB She hesitated a moment, and then observed very demurely — " I took your message to Mr. Archer's yesterday, and the young gentlemen's coming down to fish, as you kindly invited of 'em " "I know — I know," said he. "Well, lass, and what then?" " They're to be at water-side by twelve o'clock, and I'll engage they'll keep on till sun-down. Poor little chaps ! They'll be wanting their dinners, and I thought I'd best step out and take 'em some." " Poor little chaps ! " repeated the miller. " Why, one of 'em's six feet high, and t'other 's nigh twenty years old; and Mr. Egremont — ^that's him as comes down by times for a smoke here — well, he'll pull down as heavy a weight as I can ; and I daresay, for his years, he's nigh as sensible. They're grown-up young gentlemen, Fan, evei7 man of 'em." " They'll want their dinners all the same," answered Fan. " And they'll want you to take 'em their dinners, I dare- say ; and want must be their master ! " replied the miller. "I don't like it, Fan, I tell 'ee— I don't like it. What call have you to go more nor a mile up water-side after three young sparks like them? I may be behind the times. Fan — I daresay as I am ; but it can't be right. I don't like it, I tell 'ee, lass, and I won't have it ! " " I'm not a child, father," answered the girl in perfect good-humour. " I should think I can take care of myself in uglier places than Eipley Look ; and I was going on to see the house-keeper at Oakover, whether or no. However, if you think well, I'll send Jane with the basket ; only she's wanted in the house, let alone that she's young and giddy; and if I was you, father, I'd sooner trust me nor her." "I can get serving-lasses by the score," answered old Draper very gruffly, because a tear was twinkling in the corner of his eye, " but I have only one daughter. I've been a kind father to you. Fan, ever since you and me used to watch the big wheel together when you was too little to go up the mill-steps. Don't ye come a-flyin' in A CAT'S-PAW 67 my face because you've growed up into a fine likely young woman — don't ye now ! " She was touched ; she couldn't help it. She went round the table, and put her hand on the old man's shoulder. For the moment she was willing to be a dutiful and affec- tionate child. " You have been a kind old daddy," she said, turning his dusty face up to kiss it ; " and I wouldn't vex you for that kettleftill of gold. But you won't mind my stepping across to Oakover — now, will you, father? And I'll be sure to come back and give you your tea." She knew exactly how to manage him. " You're a good lass, I do believe," said he, rising from the table, " and a sensible one, too ; maybe, more nor I think for. "Well, there'll be no harm in your taking a basket of prog, and leaving it at the Lock for them young chaps. But don't ye go a-fishin' along of 'em, there's a good lass ! Folk will talk, my dear. Why, they'll hardly let me alone when I give Widow Bolt a lift home from market in the cart. Now, hand us a light for the pipe. Fan. I've said my say, so I'm off to my work; and I'll leave you to yours." But Mr. Draper shook his head, nevertheless, while he walked round by the mill-sluice, smoking thoughtfully. " She's wilfiil," he muttered — " wilful; and so was her mother. Most on 'em 's wilful, as I see. I'm thankful the boys is doing so well. They're good sons to me, they are. And yet — and yet I'd sooner both on 'em was sold up — I'd sooner see the river run dry, and the mill stop work — I'd sooner lose the close, and the meadow, and the house, and the stock — than that anything should go wrong with little Fan ! " Little Fan in the meantime, having gained her point, was in high good-humour. She sang merrily over what trifling work she chose to do about the house, abstaining from harsh words to Jane, who whenever she had a spare moment seemed to be peeling potatoes. She packed a basket with eatables, and filled a bottle with wine, for the anglers. Then she attired herself in a very becoming dress, put on a pair of well-fitting gloves, not quite new, just like a real lady's, she told herself, and crowned the whole with 58 THE WHITE ROSE a killing little bonnet. Anybody meeting Miss Draper as she sauntered leisurely along the river-side with her basket in her hand would have taken her for the Rector's young wife, or the Squire's daughter at the least. Even the anglers were something dazzled by this briUiant apparition. Burton, proud of his acquaintance made the day before, felt yet a little abashed by so fascinating an exterior. Ainslie scanned her attentively, but this, I imagine, chiefly because her bonnet reminded him of Norah's ; while Dolly, who was getting very hungry, took off his hat with a polite bow, observing in a low voice, for the benefit of his companions — " It was the miller's daughter, And she stoppeth one of three, On the banis of Allan-water — How I wish that it was me ! " Miss Draper's deportment in presence of three strange young gentlemen was a model of propriety and good taste. She simply vouchsafed a curtsey, to be divided amongst them ; offered her father's good wishes for their sport ; and proceeded to unpack her basket without delay. "For," said she, " I have no time to spare. I am going a little farther up-stream on an errand, and will call for the basket as I come back." Nevertheless, though her eyes seemed fastened on her occupation, she had scanned each of them from top to toe in two minutes, and learned the precise nature of the ground on which she was about to manoeuvre. Burton's name she had already learnt. One glance at Dolly Egremont's jolly face satisfied her that with him she could have no concern. It must be the slim, well-made lad with the dark eyes and pleasant smile, whom she had engaged to subjugate. No disagreeable duty neither, thought Miss Fanny ; so she set about it with a will. Leaving her basket in charge of Dolly, who pledged himself with great earnestness for its safety, she walked leisurely up-stream, and was pleased to observe that the three anglers separated at once ; his two companions choosing different sides of the river below the mill, while Gerard Ainslie followed the upward bend of the stream, not having yet put his rod together, nor unwoimd the casting- A CATS-PAW 59 line &om his hat. He was thinking but little of his fishing, this infatuated young man ; certainly not the least of Miss Fanny Draper. No, the gleam on the water, the whisper of the sedges, the swallows dipping and wheeling at his feet, all the soft harmony of the landscape, aU the tender beauty of the early summer, — what were these but the embodiment of his ideal ? And his ideal, he fancied, was far away yonder, across the marshes, thinking, perhaps, at that very moment, of him ! She was not across the marshes, as we shall presently see, but within half a mile of where he stood. Nevertheless, what would love be without illusion? And is not the illusion a necessary condition of the love? Look at a soap-bubble glowing in the richest tints of all the gems of earth and sea. Pre- sently, behold, it bursts. What becomes of the tints ? and where, oh ! where is the bubble ? Gerard was roused from his dreams by the rustle of a feminine garment, and the sudden appearance of the miller's daughter lying in wait for him at the very first stile he had to cross. She knew better than to give a little half-sup- pressed start, as when she met Vandeleur, or to display any of the affectations indulged in by young women of her class ; for, wherever she picked it up. Miss Draper had acquired considerable knowledge of masculine nature, and was well aware that while timidity and innocence are efficient weapons against the old, there is nothing like cool superiority to overawe and impose upon the young. She took his rod out of his hand, as a matter of course, while he vaulted the stile, and observed quietly — " I saw you coming, Mr. Anslie, and so I waited for you. I suppose as you're not much acquainted with our river ; there's a pool, scarce twenty yards below the bridge, yonder, where you'll catch a basket of fish in ten minutes, if you've any luck." She looked very pretty in the gleams of sunlight with her heightened colour, and her black hair set off by the transparency she called a bonnet. Even to a man in love she was no despicable companion for an hour's fly- fishing; and Gerard thanked her heartily, asking her if their ways lay together, to walk on with him, and point out the place. His smile was very winning, his voice low and 60 fTHM WHITE BOSS pleasant, his manner to women soft and deferential — such a manner as comes amiss with neither high nor low : to a duchess, fascinating, to a dairy-maid, simply irresistible. Miss Draper stole a look at him from under her black eye- lashes, and liked her job more and more. "I'U come with you, and welcome," said she, frankly. " The walk's nothing to me ; I'm used to walking. I'm a country-bred girl, you know, Mr. AinsHe, though I've seen a deal of life since I left the Mill." "Then you don't live at the Mill?" said Gerard, absently, for that unlucky bonnet had taken his thoughts across the marshes again. " I do when I'm at home," she answered, " but I'm not often at home. I've got my own bread to make, Mr. Ainslie, if I don't want to be a burden to father. And I don't neither. I'm not like a real lady, you know, that can sit with her hands before her, and do nothing. But you mustn't think the worse of me for that, must you?" " Of course not ! " he answered, as what else could he answer? wondering the while why this handsome black- eyed girl should thus have selected him from his com- panions for her confidences. " I shouldn't be here now," she continued, " if it wasn't to see how father gets on. There's nothing but father to bring me back to such a dull place as Kipley. Yet, dull as it is, I can tell you, Mr. Ainslie, you must mind what you're at if you don't want to be talked about ! " " I suppose you and I would be talked about now," said he, laughing, "if we could be seen." " I don't mind, if you don't! " she answered, looking full in his eyes. "Well, our walk's over now, at any rate. There's the bridge, and here's the pool. I've seen my brothers stand on that stone, and pull 'em out a dozen in an hour ! " There was something of regret in her tone when she announced the termination of their walk that was suffi- ciently pleasant to his ear. He could not help looking gratified, and she saw it; so she added, "If you'll put your rod together, I'll sort your tackle the while. They've queer fancies, have our fish, all the way from here to Ripley 'They were fairly tied together by the ears." The While Rose ] Fuge 61 A CAT'S-PAW 61 Look ; and they won't always take the same fly you see on the water. They're feeding now — look ! " So the two sat down together on a large stone under a willow, with the stream rippling at their feet, and the hungry trout leaping like rain-drops, all across its surface — in the shadow of the opposite bank, in the pool by the water-lilies, under the middle arch of the bridge, everywhere just beyond the compass of a trout-rod and its usual length of line. Gerard's eye began to glisten, for he was a fisherman to the backbone. He had put his rod together, and was running the tackle through its top joint when his companion started and turned pale. " Is that thunder ? " said she. " Listen ! " " Thunder ! " repeated the busy sportsman, contemp- tuously. " Pooh ! nonsense ! It's only a carriage." Miss Draper was really afraid of thunder, and felt much relieved. " Haven't you a green drake ? " she asked, hunting busily over his fly-book for that killing artifice. He stooped low to help her, and one of the hooks in the casting-line round his hat caught in her pretty little bonnet. They were fairly tied together by the ears, a position that, without being at all unpleasant, was ridiculous in the extreme. She smiled sweetly in the comely face so close to her own, and both burst out laughing. At that moment a pony-carriage was driven rapidly across the bridge imme- diately over against them. Gerard's head was turned away, but its occupants must have had a full view of the situation, and an excellent opportunity of identifying the laughers. The lady who drove it immediately lashed her ponies into a gallop, bowing her head low over her hands as if in pain. Gerard sprang to his feeji. "Did you see that carriage. Miss Draper?" he ex- claimed hurriedly. "Had it a pair of cream-coloured ponies?" " Cream-coloured ponies ! " repeated Fanny, innocently. " I believe they was. I think as it were Miss Welby, fi-om Marston Eectory." His violent start had broken the casting-line, and he was free. Like a deer, he sprang off in pursuit of the 63 THE WHITE ROSE carnage, running at top-speed for nearly a quarter of a mile. But the cream-coloured ponies were in good condition and well-bred, — ^with a sore and jealous heart immediately behind them, which controlled, moreover, a serviceable driving-whip. He could never overtake them, but laid himself down panting and exhausted on the grass by the road-side, after a two-mile chase. When Gerard went back for his rod, Miss Draper was gone ; but he had no heart for any more fishing the rest of that afternoon. CHAPTER Vm HOT CHESTNUTS AsTOtJNDED at her companion's unceremonious departure, tlie miller's daughter stood for a while motionless, her bright face darkening into an expression of vexation, not to say disgust. Half-immersed, the neglected trout-rod lay at her feet, paying its line out slowly to the gentle action of the stream. Something in the click of the reel perhaps aroused the thriftier instincts of her nature. She stooped to extricate rod and tackle with no unpractised hand, laid them on the hank ready for his return, and then sat down again to think. TiU within the last few minutes Miss Draper had teen well pleased. Not averse to flirting, she would have consented, no doubt, to take in hand any of Mr. Archer's young gentlemen ; but her walk with Gerard Ainslie, though shorter, was also sweeter than she expected. The refinement of his tone, his gestures, his manner altogether, was extremely fascinating, because so unlike anything to which she was accustomed. "He's not so handsome as t'other," soliloquised Miss Draper, "for I make no count of the fat one " (thus putting Dolly igno- miniously out of the race), " but his hair is as soft as a lady's, and his eyes is like velvet. He's a nice chap, that ! but whatever made him start away like mad after Miss Welhy and her pony-carriage ? I wonder whether he'll come back again. I wonder what odds it makes to me whether he comes back or no ? Well, I've no call to be at the mill till tea-time. I'll just step on and gather a few violets at Ashbank. Perhaps the young man would like a posy to take with him when he goes home ! " 63 64 TEE WHITE BOSE She recollected, almost with shame, how willingly she had given away another posy of Tiolets to his fellow-pupil so short a time ago. Ashbank was a narrow belt of wood separating the meadow from the high-road. She had gathered many a wild flower mider its tall trees, had listened to many a rustic com- pliment, borne her fall share of many a rustic flirtation, in its sheltering depths. For the first time in her life she wished it otherwise ; she wished she had held her head a little higher, kept her clownish admirers at a more respectful distance. Such conquests, she now felt, were anything but conduciTe to self-respect. She rose from her seat impatiently, and it was with a heightened colour and quicli irregular steps, that she trod the winding foot- path leading to the wood. She had never before thought the scenery about Eipley and its neighbourhood half so pretty. To day there was a fresher verdure in the meadow, softer whispers in the wood- land, a fairer promise in the quiet sky. She could not have analysed her feelings, was scarce conscious of them, far less could she have expressed their nature ; yet she felt that for her, as for all of us, there are moments when " A livelier emerald twinkles in the grass, A purer sapphire melts into the sea ; " and this was one of them. There is a certain fire dreaded by burnt children, and often kindled by the tiniest spark, at which it is un- speakable comfort to warm the hands, but vnth the glow of which people never seem satisfied till they have burnt their fingers. Like other fires, it should be poked sparingly, is easily smothered vyith over-much fuel, and bums, I think, fiercest in the hardest weather. Also, though a good servant, it is a bad master; carefully to be watched, lest it spread to a conflagration ; scarring deep where it scorches, to leave the sufferer marked and dis- figured for a life-time. Of that fire the miller's daughter had been hitherto unconscious. She had always stood, as yet, on higher ground than those of the other sex, whatever their station, sot CHESTNUTS 65 on ■whom she had thought it worth while to exercise her fascinations. It was capital fun then. It was all mu'th, merry-making, rivalry, and gratified vanity. Was it good fun now? She had already asked herself that question, though she had scarcely spent half an hour in the society of her new acquaintance. Already she had answered. No ! It was something better than fun, this — something deeper, sweeter, and far more dangerous. The first time a swimmer trusts to his newly-acquired art, he exults, no doubt, in the excitement of his situation, the development of his power ; but want of confidence in himself is the sure symptom that proves to him he is out of his depth. So was it now with Fanny. She longed for a mirror in which to arrange her hair, dishevelled by the south wind. She condemned the bonnet she had thought so killing an hour ago ; she mistrusted her very muslin ; she thought her gloves looked soiled and her boots untidy. She wondered whether he had detected freedom in her manner, want of education in her speech. She had often before wished she was a lady, but it was only that she might roll in a carriage, wear expensive dresses, and order about a quantity of servants. Now she felt as if she had over- rated the value of aU these things, that silks, and splendour, and liveries were not the sole accessories of good breeding ; and yet she wanted to be a lady more than ever. Why? Because Mr. Ainslie was a gentle- man. Thus, wishing, and dreaming, and repining, walking fast all the while, her colour was higher and her temper less equal than usual when she reached the shadows of Ashbank, and climbed the stile she had crossed so often on similar expeditions after hazel-nuts or wild flowers in days gone by. Surmounting the obstacle less carefully than she might have done had she expected a looker-on, it cooled neither her face nor her temper to find Mr. Vandeleur strolling quietly through the copse, smoking a cigar with his usual air of careless good-humoured superiority. She bounced off the foot-board, and putting her head down, tried to pass him without speaking, but he stretched his arms across the path, and stopped her with a laugh. Her eyes flashed angrily when she looked up in his face. 5 66 THE WBItB HOSE "1 do believe as you're the devil ! " exclaimed the girl, in a voice that seemed to denote she was in earnest. "I appreciate the compliment, Miss Fanny," said he, removing the cigar from his mouth. " But I assm-e you I am not, all the same. You are an angel though, my dear. I did not expect you for at least an hour, and as I hate waiting, I am gi-ateful for your early appearance." " I shouldn't have come at all only I promised," answered Miss Fanny in a disturbed voice. "And, there, I wish I hadn't come at all as it is ! I wish I hadn't met you in Ripley Lane ! I wish I'd never set eyes on you in my life ! I wish — what's the use of wishing? " " What, indeed? " replied Vandeleur. "I should have lost a very agreeable little acquaintance ; you, a tolerably useful friend. Something has gone wrong. Miss Fanny, I'm afraid. You seem put out, and it's very becoming, I give you my honour. Sit down, and tell us all about it." " I'll not sit down, Mr. Vandeleur," protested the miller's daughter, glancing anxiously towards the river she had left. " But I'll walk as far as the end of the wood with you. I suppose as you've got something particular to say, since you've kept your appointment so correct." "Quite right," he answered. "Something very par- ticular, and it won't bear delay neither. There's no time to be lost. I want to know how you're getting on?" Miss Draper controlled herself with an effort, and spoke in a hard clear voice. "I did what you told me. I went to Mr. Archer's yesterday, and made acquaintance with the young gentle- man to-day." " With Gerard Ainslie ? " he asked. She nodded and her colour rose. " What do you think of him ? " continued Vandeleur, smiling. " I don't thick about him at all," she flashed out. " Oh, Mr. Vandeleur, it's a shame; it's a shame! And it can't be done neither ! I do believe as he's one to love the very ground a girl walks on! " The smile deepened on his face. "Likely enough," SOT CHESTNUTS 67 said he quietly, " but that won't last long now he has seen you." She looked a little better pleased. " Such nonsense ! " she exclaimed. " What can I do ? " " This is what you can do," replied Vandeleur, never lifting his eyes higher than her boots, " and nobody else about here, or I should not have asked you. You can detach the boy from his foolish fancy as easily as I can break off this convolvulus. Look here. If it won't un- wind, it must be torn asunder. If you can't work with fair means, you must use foul." WhUe he spoke he tore the growing creepers savagely with his fingers, laughing more than the occasion seemed to warrant. Though she could not see how his eyes gleamed, she wondered at this exuberance of mirth. Strangely enough, it seemed to sober and subdue her. " Tell me what to do sir," she said quietly, with a paler cheek. " You've been a good friend to me, and I'm not an ungrateful girl, Mr. Vandeleur, indeed." " You must attach young Ainslie to yourself," he replied in the most matter-of-course tone. " It ought not to be a dif&cult job, and I shouldn't fancy it can be an unpleasant one. Tell the truth now, Miss Fan, wouldn't you like to have the silly boy over head and ears in love with you ? " She turned her face away, and made no answer. Looking under her bonnet he saw that she was crying. "Do you think I have no self-respect? " she asked, in a broken voice. " I know I haven't," he answered, " but that's no rule for you. Look ye here, Miss Fanny, business is business. I shouldn't have brought you here without something to say. When you've done crying, perhaps you'll be ready to hear it." " I'm ready now," she replied, with a steady look in his face that he did not endure for half a second. "I gave you a month when we met, the other evening, but I've altered my mind since then. If you'll halve the time, I'll double the money. There, you won't meet so fair an offer as that every day in the market. What say you, Miss Fan ? Are you game ? " She was walking with her hands clasped, and twined her 68 THE WHITE ROSE fingers together as if in some deep mental conflict, but showed no other sign of distress. "I don't like it," she said quietly, but in clear forcible tones ; " I don't like it. I could do it better by either of the others. At least, I mean they seem as though they wouldn't be quite so much in earnest. And it looks such a cruel job, too, if so be as the young lady likes him — and like him she must, I'm sure. Who is the young lady, Mr. Vandeleui-? You promised as you'd tell me to-day." It was true enough. Curiosity is a strong stimulant, and he had reserved this part of the scheme to ensure Miss Draper's punctuality in keeping her appointment. " The young lady," replied Vandeleur. " I thought you might have guessed. Miss Welby, of Marston." "Has Miss Welby got a sweetheart?" exclaimed the other in an accent of mingled jealousy, exultation, and pique. "Well, you do surprise me. And him! Why didn't you tell me before? " Why, indeed? He found her much more manageable now. She listened to his instructions with the utmost deference. She even added little feminine improvements of her own. She would do her very best, she said, and that as quickly as might be, to further all his schemes. And she meant it too. She was in earnest now. She understood it all. She knew why he had broken away from her so rudely, and started after the pony-carriage Kke a madman. It was Miss Welby, was it? And he was courting her, was he? Then Fanny Draper learned for the first time why the afternoon had been so diEferent from the morning. She felt now that she herself loved Gerard Ainslie recklessly, as she had never loved before. And it was to be a struggle, a match, a deadly rivalry between herself and this young lady, who had all the odds in her favour, of station, manners, dress, accomplishments, every advantage over herself except a fierce, strong will, and a reckless, undisciplined heart. When Vandeleur emerged alone from Ashbank on his way home he had no reason to be dissatisfied with the ardour of his partisan. He was not easily astonished, as he used often to declare, but on the present occasion he shook EOT CHESTNUTS 69 his head wisely more than once, and exclaimed in an audible Toice — "Well, I always thought Miss Fan wicked enough for anything, but I'd no idea even she could have so much devil in her as that ! " CHAPTER IX A PASSAGE OF ARMS Old " Grits " was seldom wrong about the weather. The wind remained southerly, and yet the rain held off. The day after the fishing party was bright and calm. Never- theless, it smiled on two very unhappy people within a circle of three miles. The least to be pitied of this unlucky pair was Ainslie, inasmuch as his was an ex- pected grievance, and in no way took him unawares. When Mr. Archer granted their release the day before, it was on the express stipulation that the succeeding afternoon as well as morning should be devoted to study by his pupils, and Gerard knew that it would be impossible for him to cross the marshes for the shortest glimpse of his ladye-love till another twenty-four hours had elapsed. He could have borne his imprisonment more patiently had he not been so disappointed in his chase after the pony- carriage, had he not also felt some faint, shadowy misgivings that its driver might have disapproved of the position in which she saw him placed. It was bad enough to miss an unexpected chance of seeing Norah ; but to think that she could believe him capable of familiarity with such an individual as Miss Draper, and not to be able to justify himself, because, forsooth, he was deficient in modem history, was simply maddening. What was the Seven Years' War, with all its alternations, to the contest raging in his own breast? How could he take the slightest interest in Frederic the Great, and Ziethen, and Seidlitz, and the rest of the A PASSAGE OF ABMS n Prussian generals, while Norah was within a league, and yet out of reach? " What must she think of him? " he wondered ; " and what was she about ? " If Miss Welby had been asked what she was about, she would have declared she was gathering flowers for the house. Anybody else would have said she was roaming here and there in an aimless, restless manner, with a pair of scissors and a basket. Anybody else might have wondered why she could settle to no occupation, remain in no one place for more than five minutes at a time — why her cheek was pale and her eyes looked sleepless ; above all, why about her lips was set that scornful smile which, like a hard frost breaking up in rain, seldom softens but with a flood of tears. Norah knew the reason — ^very bitter and very painful it was. We, who have gone through the usual training of life, and come out of it more or less hardened into the cynicism we call good sense, or the indolence we dignify as resignation, can scarcely appreciate the punishment inflicted by these imaginary distresses on the young. Jealousy is hard to bear even for us, encouraged by example, cased in selfishness, and fortified by a hundred worldly aphorisms. We shrug our shoulders, we even force a laugh ; we talk of human weakness, male vanity or female fickleness, as the case may be; we summon pride to our aid, and intrench ourselves in an assumed humility ; or we plead our philosophy, which means we do not care very much for anything but our dinners. Perhaps, after all, our feelings a/re blunted. Perhaps — shame on us ! — we experience the slightest possible relief from thraldom, the faintest ray of satisfaction in reflecting that we, too, have our right to change ; that for us, at no distant period, will open the fresh excitement of a fi-esh pursuit. But with a young girl suff'ering from disappointment in her first affections there are no such counter-irritants as these. She steps at once out of her fairy-land into a cold, bleak, hopeless world. It is not that her happiness is gone, her feelings outraged, her vanity humbled to the dust — ^but her trust is broken. Hitherto she has believed in good ; now she says bitterly there is no good on the face of the earth. She has made for herself an image, which she has 72 THE WHITE B08E draped like a god, and, behold ! the image is an illusion, after all — not even a stock or a stone, but a mist, a vapour, a phantom that has passed away and left a blank which all creation seems unable to fill up. It is hard to lose the love itself, but the cruel suffering is, that the love has wound itself round every trifle of her daily life. Yesterday the petty annoyance could not vex her ; yesterday the homely pleasure, steeped in that hidden consciousness, became a perfect joy. And to-day it is aU over ! To-day there is a mockery in the sunbeam, a wail of hopeless sorrow in the breeze. Those gaudy flowers do but dazzle her with their unmeaning glare, and the scent of the standard-roses would go near to break her heart, but that she feels she has neither hope nor heart left. Norah Welby had been at least half-an-hour in the garden, and one sprig of geranium constituted the whole spoils of her basket. It was a comfort to be told by a servant that a young woman was waiting to speak with her. In her first keen pangs she was disposed, like some wounded animal, to bound restlessly fi-om place to place, to seek relief in change of scene or attitude. They had not yet subsided into the dull, dead ache that prompts the sufferer to hide away iu a comer and lie there, unnoticed and motionless in the very exhaustion of pain. Even a London footman is not generally quick- sighted, and Mr. Welby's was a country-servant all over. Never- theless, Thomas roused himself from his reflections, what- ever they might be, and noticed that his young mistress looked " uncommon queer," as he expressed it, when he announced her visitor. She did not seem to understand till he had spoken twice, and then put her hand wearily to her forehead, while she repeated, vaguely — " A young woman waiting, Thomas? Did she give any name ? " "It's the young woman horn, the Mill," answered Thomas, who would have scorned to usher a person of Miss Draper's rank into his young mistress's presence with any of the forms he considered proper to visitors of a higher standing, and who simply nodded his head in the direction indicated for the benefit of the new arrival, observing with- out further ceremony — A PASSAGE OF ABMS 73 " Miss Welby's in the garden. Come, look sharp ! That's the road." And now indeed Norah's whole countenance and deport- ment altered strangely from what it had been a few minutes ago. Her proud little head went up like the crest of a knight who hears the trumpet pealing for the onset. There even came a colour into her fair, smooth cheek, before so pale and wan. Her deep eyes flashed and glowed through the long, dark lashes, and her sweet lips closed firm and resolute over the small, white, even teeth. Women have a strange power of subduing their emotions which has been denied to the stronger and less impression- able sex ; also, when the attack has commenced, and it is time to begin fighting ia good earnest, they get their armour on and betake them to their skill of fence with a rapidity that to our slower perceptions seems as unnatural as it is alarming. The most practised duellist that ever stood on guard might have taken a lesson from the attitude of cool, vigilant, uncompromising defiance with which Norah received her visitor. The latter, too, was prepared for battle. Hers, however, was an aggressive mode of warfare which requires far less skill, courage, or tactics, than to remain on the defensive ; and, never lacking in confidence, she had to-day braced all her energies for the encounter. Nothing could be simpler than her appearance, more respectful than her manner, more demure than her curtsey, as she accosted Miss Welby with her eyes cast down to a dazzling bed of scarlet geraniums at her feet. The two girls formed no bad specimens of their respective classes of beauty, while thus confronting each other — Norah's chiselled featm-es, graceful head, and high bearing, contrasting so fairly with the comely face and bright physical charms of the miller's daughter. "It's about the time of our Kipley children's school- feast. Miss Welby," said the latter; " I made so bold as to step up and ask whether you would arrange about the tea as usual." Norah looked very pale, but there was a ring like steel in her voice while she replied — 74 THE WHITE ROSE " I expected you, Fanny. I knew you had come home, for I saw you yesterday." Fanny assumed an admirable air of unconsciousness. " Eeally, miss," said she. " Well, now, I was up water- side in the afternoon, and I did make sure it was your carriage as passed over Ripley Bridge." It seemed not much of an opening; such as it was, how- ever. Miss Welby took advantage of it. Still very grave and pale, she continued in a low distinct voice — " I have no right to interfere, of course, but still, Fanny, I am sure you will take what I say in good part. Do you think now that your father would approve of your attend- ing Mr. Archer's young gentlemen in their fishing excursions up the river? " Fanny bowed her head, and managed with great skill to execute a blush. "Indeed, miss," she faltered, "it was only one yoimg gentleman, and him the youngest of them as goes to school with Mr. Archer." "I am quite aware it was Mr. Ainslie, for I am acquainted with him," pursued Norah bravely enough, but, do what she would, there was a quiver of pain in her voice when she uttered his name, and for a moment Miss Draper felt a sting of compunction worse than all the jealousy she had experienced during her interview with Vandeleur the previous afternoon. " I have no doubt, indeed I know, he is a perfectly gentleman-like person," continued the young lady, as if she was repeating a lesson, " still, Fanny, I put it to your own good sense whether it would not have been wiser to remain at the Mill with your father." " Perhaps you're right, miss," replied the other, acting her part of innocent simplicity with considerable success ; " and I'm sure I didn't mean no harm — nor him neither, I dare say. But he's such a nice young gentleman. So quiet and careful-like. And he begged and prayed of me so hard to show him the way up-stream, that indeed, miss, I had not the heart to deny him." " Do you mean he asked you to go? " exclaimed Norah, and the next moment wished she had bitten her tongue off before it framed a question to which she longed yet dreaded so to hear the answer. A PASSAGE OF ABMS 75 " Well, miss," replied Fanny, candidly, " I suppose a young woman ought not to believe all that's told her by a real gentleman liie Mr. Aiaslie ; and yet he seems so good and kind and affable, I can't think as he'd want to go and deceive a poor girl like me." Norah felt her heart sink, and a shadow, such as she thought must be like the shadow of death, passed over her eyes ; but not for an instant did her courage fail, nor her self-command desert her at her need. "It is no question of Mr. Ainslie," said she with an unmoved face, " nor indeed of anybody in particular. I have said my say, Fanny, and I am sure you will not be offended, so we will drop the subject, if you please. And now, what can I do for you about the school-feast ? " But Fanny cared very little for the school-feast, or indeed for anythiag in the world but the task she had on hand, and its probable results, as they affected a new wild foolish hope that had lately risen in her heart. With a persistence almost offensive, she tried again and again to lead the conversation back to Gerard Ainslie, but again and again she was baffled by the quiet resolution of her com- panion. She learned indeed that Miss Welby was some- what doubtful as to whether she should be present at the tea-making in person, but beyond this gathered nothing more definite as to that young lady's feelings and intentions than the usual directions about the prizes, the usual promise of assistance to the funds. For a quarter of an hour or so, Norah, stretched on the rack, bore her part in conversation on indifferent subjects in an indifferent tone, with a stoicism essentially feminine, and at the expiration of that period Fanny Draper departed, sufficiently well pleased with her morning's work. She had altered her opinion now, as most of us do alter our opinions in favour of what we wish, and dismissed all compunction from her heart in meddling with an attachment that on one side at least seemed to have taken no deep root. " She don't care for him, not really," soliloquised Miss Fanny, as the wicket-gate of the Parsonage clicked behind her, and she turned her steps homeward. " I needn't have gone to worrit and fret so about it after all. It's strange too — such a nice young gentleman, with them eyes and hair. But 76 TEE WHITS BOSS she don't care for him, nobody needs to tell me that — no more nor a stone ! " How little she knew ! How little we know each other ! How impossible for one of Fanny Draper's wilful, impulsive disposition to appreciate the haughty reticence, the habitual self-restraint, above all, the capability for silent suffering of that higher nature ! She thought Norah Welby did not care for Gerard Ainslie, and she judged as nine out of ten do judge of their fellows, by an outward show of indifference, bom of self-scorn, and by a specious com- posure, partly mere trick of manner, partly resulting from inherent pride of birth. Norah watched the departure of her visitor without moving a muscle. Like one in a dream, she marked the steps retiring on the gravel, the click of the wicket-gate. Like one in a dream too, she walked twice round the garden, pale, erect, and to all appearance tranquil, save that now and then, putting her hand to her throat, she gasped as if for breath. Then she went slowly into the house, and sought her own room, where she locked the door, and, sure that none could overlook her, flung herself down on her knees by the bedside, and wept the first bitter, scalding, cruel tears of her young life. Pride, scorn, pique, propriety, maidenly reserve, these were for the outer world, but here — she had lost him ! lost him ! and the agony was more than she could bear. CHAPTEE X AN APPOINTMENT The post arrived at Mr. Archer's in the middle of break- fast, and formed a welcome interruption to the stagnation which was apt to settle on that repast. It is not easy for a tutor to make conversation, day after day, for three young gentlemen over whom he is placed in authority, and who are therefore little disposed to assist him in his efforts to set them at ease. Mr. Archer could not forget that, under aU their assumed respect, he was still " Nobs " directly his back was turned; and a man's spirit must indeed be vigorous to flow unchecked by a consciousness that aU he says and does will afford material for subsequent ridicule and caricature. Also, there are but few subjects in common between three wild, hopeftd boys, not yet launched in the world, and a grave, disappointed, middle- aged man, who has borne his share of action and of suffering, has thought out half the illusions of life, and lived out all its romance. If he talks gravely he bores, if playfully he puzzles, if cynically he demoralises them. To sink the tutor is subversive of discipline ; to preserve that character, ruinous to good-fellowship ; so long and weary silences were prone to settle over Mr. Archer's breakfast- table, relieved only by crunching of dry toast, applications for more tea, and a hearty consumption of broiled bacon and household bread. Of the three pupils, DoUy Egremont suffered these pauses with the most impatience, betraying his feelings by restless contortions on his chair, hideous grimaces veiled by the tea-urn from Mr. Archer's eye, and 77 78 THE WHITE HOSE a continual looking for the postman (whose arrival could be seen from the dining-room windows), unspeakably sugges- tive of a cheerless frame of mind described by himself as suppressed bore. Glancing for the hundredth time down the laurel-walk to the green gate, he pushed his plate away with a prolonged yawn, nudged Gerard, who sat beside him, with an energy that sent half that young gentleman's tea into his breast- pocket and burst forth as usual in misquoted verse — ' She said the day is dreary, He Cometh not, she said ; None of us seem very cheery, And I wish I was in bed ! Do you know, sir, I think this ' weak and weary post, bare- headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,' must have got drunk already, and is not coming here at all." Mr. Archer could not help smiling. " How you remember things that are not of the slightest use, Egremont," he observed. " May I ask if you expect any letters of unusual importance this morning? " "It's not that, sir," answered Dolly. " But a Govern- ment functionary, particularly a postman, has no right to be absent fi'om his post. Mine is essentially a genius of method. I cannot bear anything like irregularity." "I am very glad to hear it," replied Mr. Archer drily. "I should not have thought it, I confess." "It's been my character from childhood," answered Dolly gravely; " though I must allow both Jerry here, and the Dandy, give me many an anxious moment on that score. Not to mention the postman — I hold that man the worst of public foes Who — look out, here he comes ! yes, there he goes ! " Everybody laughed, for Dolly was a privileged buffoon, and a servant entering at the moment with the bag, there was a general anxiety evinced while Mr. Archer unlocked it and distributed the contents. Three for him- AN APPOINTMENT 79 self, none for Dolly, two for Bui-ton, and one for Gerard Ainslie. The latter started and blushed up to his temples with surprise and pleasure. It was the first " Official" he had ever received, and its envelope, fresh from the Horse Guards, was stamped with the important words, " On Her Majesty's Service." He tore it open. It contained a sufficiently dry com- munication, informing him that he wotdd shortly be gazetted to an ensigncy in an infantry regiment, and directing him to acknowledge its receipt to an " obedient servant " whose name he was quite unable to decipher. He pushed the open letter across the table to Mr. Archer, who, having just received some information of the same nature, expressed no surprise, only observing — - " We shall be sorry to lose you, Ainslie ; it is sooner than I expected. Make yourself easy about your examinations. I think you are sm'e to pass." He rose from the table, and the others rushed off to the pupil-room, overwhelming their companion with questions, congratulations, and chaff. "When must you go, Jerry?" "Are you to join directly, or will they give you leave ? " " Don't you ftmk being spun?" "Is it a good regiment? How jolly to dine at mess every day!" "I shouldn't like to be a 'Grabby' though" (this from the Dandy); "and, after all, I'd rather be a private in the cavalry than an officer in the regiment oifeet ! " It was obvious that Granville Burton's range of ex- perience had never included stable-duty, and that he was talking of what he knew nothing about. Gerard Ainslie felt the esprit de corps already rising strong within him. " Don't yon jaw. Dandy," he replied indignantly. " You're not in the service at all yet ; and I've always heard mine is an excellent regiment." " How do you know ? " laughed Dolly. " You've scarcely been in it a quarter of an hour. Never mind, Jerry, we shall be sorry to lose you. This old pupil-room will be uncommon slow with nobody but me and Dandy to 80 tHM WEITM ttOSM keep the game alive. The Dandy has not an idea beyond tobacco — Yet it shall be — I shall lower to his level day by day. All that's fine within me growing coarse by smoking pipes of clay." "Pipes, indeed!" exclaimed Burton literally. "I don't believe any fellow in the army smokes better weeds than mine. You told me yourself, Dolly, yesterday, under the willows, that you never enjoyed a cigar so much as the one I gave you " ' ' Oh ! it was sweet, my GranviUe, to catch the landward breeze, A-swing with good tobacco, by the miU beneath the trees, While I spooned the miller's daughter, and we listened to the roar Of the wheel that broke the water — and we voted you a, bore ! " replied the incorrigible Dolly. " Yes, you have a certain glimmering of intellect as regards the Virginian plant, but I shall miss old Jerry awfully, just the same. So will you, so will ' Nobs,' so will Fanny Draper. Don't blush, old man. She looked very sweet at you the day before yesterday ; and though the Dandy here had thrown his whole mind into his collars, he never made a race of it from the time she caught sight of you till the finish. Look here ! We'll all go down together, and you shall wish her good-bye, and I'll have an improving conversation and a drop of mild ale with Grits — In yonder chair I see him sit, Three fingers round the old silver cup ; I see his grey eyes twinkle yet At his own jest. He drinks it up. A devilish bad jest, too ! I say, can't one of you fellows quote something now ? I've been making all the running, and I'm blown at last." "It's about time you were," observed Burton, who had some difficulty in keeping pace with his voluble companion. " You get these odds and ends of rhyme mixed up in your head, and when you go in for examination, the only thing you'll pass for will be a lunatic asylum ! " " Not half a bad club neither ! " responded Dolly. " I AN APPOINTMENT 81 saw a lot of mad fellows play a cricket match once — Incurable "Ward against Convalescents. The incurables had it hollow. Beat 'em in one innings. I never knew a chap so pleased as the mad doctor. Long-stop was very like ' Nobs ' ; and they all behaved better at luncheon than either of you feUows do. Jerry, my boy, you'll come and see us before you join. I say, come in uniform, if you can." The propriety of following out this original sugges- tion might have been canvassed at great length, but for the apparition of Mr. Archer's head at the pupil-room door summoning Ainslie to a private interview in his sancttim. "You will have to start at once," observed the tutor, looking keenly at his pupil, and wondering why the natural exultation of a youth who has received his first commission should be veiled by a shadow of something like regret. " I have a letter from your great-uncle, desiring you should proceed to London, to-night, if possible. It is sharp practice, Ainslie, but you are going to be a soldier, and must accustom yourself to march on short notice. I recollect in India, — well, that's nothing to do with it. Can you be ready for the evening train ? " " The evening train ! " repeated the lad ; and again a preoccupation of manner struck Mr. Archer as unusual. " Oh, yes, sir ! " he said, after a pause, and added, brightening up, "I should like to come and see you again, sir, when I've passed, and wish you good-bye." Mr. Archer was not an impressionable person, but he was touched; neither was he demonstrative, still he grasped his pupil's hand with unusual cordiality. " Tell the servants to pack your things," said he, " and come to me again at six o'clock for what money you want. In the meantime, if you have any farewells to make, you had better set about them. I have nothing further to detain you on my own account." Any farewells to make ! Of course he had. One fare- well that rather than forego he would have forfeited a thousand commissions with a field-marshal's baton attached to each. He thought his tutor spoke meaningly, but this on reflection, he argued, must have been fancy. How should anybody have discovered his love for Norah Welby ? 6 82 THE WHITE ROSE Had he not treasured it up in his own heart, making no confidants, and breathing it only to the water-lilies on the marshes ? Within ten minutes he was speeding across those well-known fiats on a fleeter foot than usual, now that he had news of such importance to communicate at Marston Kectory. The exercise, the sunshine, the balmy summer air soon raised his spirits to their accustomed pitch. Many a dream had he indulged in during those oft-repeated walks to and from the presence of his ladye- love, but the visions had never been so bright, so life-like, and so hopeful as to-day ! He was no longer the mere schoolboy running over during play-hours to worship in hopeless adoration at the feet of a superior being. He was a soldier, offering a future, worthy of her acceptance, to the woman he loved ; he was a knight, ready to carry her colours exultingly to death ; he was a man who need not be ashamed of offering a man's devotion and a man's truth to her who should hereafter become his wife. Yes ; he travelled as far as that before he had walked a quarter of a mile. To be sure there was an immense deal to be got through in the way of heroism and adventure indispensable to the working out of his plans in a becoming manner, worthy of her and of him. One scene on which he particularly dwelt, represented a night-attack and a storming party, of which, of course, he was destined to be the leader. He could see the rockets shooting up across the midnight sky; could hear the whispers of the men, in their great-coats, with their white haversacks slung, mustered ready and willing, under cover of the trenches. He was forming them with many a good-humoured jest and rough word of encouragement, ere he put himself at their head ; and now, with the thunder of field-pieces, and the rattle of small-arms, and groans and cheers, and shouts and cm-ses ringing in his ears, he was over the parapet, the place was carried, the enemy retiring, and a decorated colonel, struck down by his own sword, lay before him, prostrate and bleediag to the death ! A tablecm, bright and vivid, if not quite so natural as reality. And all this, in order that, contrary to the usages of polite warfare, he might strip the said colonel of his decorations, and bring them home to lay at Miss Welby's feet ! It was charac- AN APPOINTMENT 83 teristic, too, that he never thought of the poor slain officer, nor the woman that may have loved him. Altogether, by the time Gerard reached the wicket-gate in the Parsonage-wall, his own mind was made up, that ere a few minutes elapsed he would be solemnly affianced to Norah, and that their union was a mere question of time. Nothing to speak of ! Say half a dozen campaigns, per- haps, with general actions, wounds, Victoria Crosses, promotions, and so on, to correspond. Why did his heart fail him more than usual when he lifted the latch ? Why did it sink down to his very boots when he observed no chair, no book, no rickety table, no work-basket, and no white muslin on the deserted lawn? It leaped into his mouth again though, when he saw the di-awing-room windows shut, and the blinds down. Even its outside has a wonderful faculty of expressing that a house is untenanted. And long before his feeble summons at the door-bell produced the cook, with her gown unhooked and her apron fastened round her waist, Gerard felt that his walk had been in vain. "Is Miss Welby at home?" asked he, knowing per- fectly well she was not, and giving himself up blindly to despair. "Not at home, sir," answered the cook, proffering for the expected card a finger and thumb discreetly covered by the comer of her apron. She knew Gerard by sight, and was slightly interested in him, as " Mr. Archer's gent what come after our young lady." She was sorry to see him look so white, and thought his voice strangely husky when he demanded, as a forlorn hope, if he could see Mr. Welby ? "Not here, sir; the family be gone to London," she answered resolutely; but added, being merciful in her strength, " they'll not be away for long, sir. Miss Welby said as they was sure to be back in six weeks." Six weeks ! He literally gasped for breath. The woman was about to offer him a glass of water, but he found his voice at last, and muttered more to himself than the servant, " Surely she would write to me ! I wonder if I shall get a letter? " " It's Mr. Ainslie, isn't it ? " said the cook, who knew 84 THB WHITE BOSE perfectly well it was. " I do think, sir, as there's a letter for you in the post-bag. I'll step in and fetch it." So she " stepped in and fetched it." She was a kind- hearted woman. Long ago she had lovers of her own. Perhaps, even now, she had not quite given up the idea. She was not angry, though many women would have been, that Gerard forgot to thank her — seizing the precious despatch, and can-ying it off to devour it by himself, without a word : on the contrary, returning to her scrub- bing and her dish-scouring, she only observed, " Poor young chap ! " comparing him, though disparagingly, with a former swain of her own, who was in the pork- butchering line, had a shock head of red hair, and weighed fourteen stone. Out of sight and hearing, Gerard opened his letter with a beating heart. Its contents afforded but cold comfort to one who had been lately indulging in visions such as his. It was dated late the night before, and ran thus : — " Deae Me. Ainslib, — ^In case you should call on us to- morrow, papa desires me to say that we shall be on our way to London. We are going to pay Uncle Edward a visit, and it is veiy uncertain when we retmn. " I think I caught a glimpse of you fishing at Ripley Bridge yesterday, and hope you had good sport. " Yours sincerely, "L. Wblby." It was hard to bear. Though he had now a character to support as an of&cer and a gentleman, I shouldn't wonder if the tears came thick and fast into his eyes while he folded it up. So cold, so distant, so unfeeling ! And that last sentence seemed the cruellest stroke of all. Poor boy ! A little more experience would have shown him how that last sentence explained the whole — ^would have taught him to gather from it the brightest auguries of success. Unless offended, she would never have written in so abrupt a strain ; and why should she be offended unless she cared for him ? It was like a woman, not to resist inflicting that last home-thrust; yet to a practised adversary it would have exposed her weakness, and opened up her whole guard. AtJ APPOINTMENT 85 But Gerard was no practised adversary, and he carried a very sore heart back with him across the marshes. The only consolation he could gather was that Miss Welby had gone to London, and he would find her there. In this also he betrayed the simplicity of youth. He had yet to discover that London is a very large place for a search after the person you are most desirous to see, and that, when found, the person is likely to be less interested in you there than in any other locality on the face of the earth. CHAPTER XI A DISAPPOINTMENT Nbithee the threatened six weeks, nor even five of them, had elapsed hefore Mr. Welby and his daughter returned to theii' pretty home. She had never felt so glad to get back in her life. Ainslie's stay in London had been so short as to preclude the possibility of his seeking Norah with any chance of success, and a combination of feelings, amongst which predominated no slight apprehension that her father might open the letter, prevented him from trusting one to be forwarded to her young mistress by his friend the cook. So Miss Welby returned to Marston with a firm conviction that Gerard was still at Mr. Archer's, and Avould cross the marshes to visit her, fond and submissive as usual. She had forgiven him in her own heart long ago. It hurt it too much to bear ill-will against its lord. The first day she was in London she found a hundred excuses for his fancied disloyalty; the second, shed some bitter tears over her own cold, cruel letter ; by the end of the week had persuaded herself she was quite in the wrong, liked him better than ever, and was dying to get home again and tell him so. She never doubted the game was in her own hands ; and although when the time for return drew near — accelerated a whole week at her request — she anticipated the pleasure of punishing him just a little for rendering her so unhappy, it was with a steadfast purpose to make amends thereafter by such considerate kindness as should rivet his fetters faster than before. She had said they were to be away six weeks ; therefore, 86 A DlSAPPOINTMENi} 87 she told herself there could be no chance of his coming over for awhile, until he had learnt by accident they had returned. Nevertheless, on the very first day, she estab- lished herself, with chair, table, and work-basket, on the lawn under the lime tree ; and was very much disappointed when tea-time came and he had not arrived. Next day it rained heavily, and this she deemed fortu- nate, because, as she argued somewhat inconsequently, it would have prevented his coming at any rate, and would afford another twenty-four hom-s for the usual tide of country gossip to carry him the news of her return. The following morning she was sure of him, and her face, when she came down to breakfast, looked as bright and pure as the summer sky itself. It was Norah's custom to hold a daily interview with the cook at eleven o'clock, avowedly for the purpose of ordering dinner ; that is to say, this domestic wrote down a certain programme on a slate, of which, if she wished the repast to be well dressed, it was good policy m her young lady to approve. On these occasions the whole economy of the household came under discussion, and those arrangements were made on which depended the excellence of the pro- vender, the tidiness of the rooms, the softness of the beds, and the orderly conduct of the servants. The third morn- ing, then, after her arrival, the cook, an inveterate gossip, having exhausted such congenial subjects as soap, candles, stock, dripping, and table-linen, bethought herself of yet one more chance to prolong their interview. " The letters had all come to hand safe," she hoped, " according to the directions Miss Welby left for forwarding of them correct." Miss "Welby frankly admitted they arrived in due course. The cook had been "careful to post them herself regular, so as there could be no mistake. All but one. She'd for- gotten to mention it, and that was the very day as Miss "Welby left." Norah's heart leaped with a wild hope. Could it be possible that cruel, odious, vile production had never reached him after all? The cook proceeded gravely to excuse herself. "She had seen the address — it was the only letter in the 88 THE WHITE BOSE box; the young gentleman come over himself that very morning, while she (the cook) was cleaning up. He seemed anxious, poor young gentleman ! and looked dreadful ill, so she made bold to give it him then and there. She hoped as she done right." Norah's cheek turned pale. He looked ill — poor, poor fellow ! And he was anxious. Of course he was. No doubt he had hm-ried over to explain all, and had found her gone, leaving that cruel letter (how she hated it now !) to cut him to the heart. She had been rash, passionate, unkind, unjust ! She had lowered both herself and him. Never mind. He would be here to-day, in an hour at the latest ; and she would beg pardon humbly, fondly, promis- ing never to mistrust nor to vex him again. No; there were no more orders. The cook had done quite right about the letters, and they would dine at half-past seven as usual. It was a relief to be left alone again with her own thoughts. It was a happiness to look at the lengthening shadows creeping inch by inch across the lawn, and expect him every moment now, as luncheon came and went, and the afternoon passed away. But the shadows overspread the whole lawn, the dew began to fall, the dressing-bell rang, and still no Gerard Ainslie. Mr. Welby attributed his daughter's low spirits during dinner to reaction after the excitement of a London life. He had felt it himself many years ago, and shuddered with the remembrance even now. At dessert a bright thought struck him, and he looked up. " It's the archery meeting to-morrow at Oakover. Isn't it, Norah ? My dear, hadn't you better go ? " "I think I shall," answered Miss Welby, who folly intended it. "Perhaps Lady Baker will take me. If she can't I must fall back on the Browns." "My dear, I will take you myself," replied her father stoutly, while he filled his glass. She looked pleased. " Oh, papa, how nice ! But, dear, you'll be so dread- fully bored. There's a cold dinner, you know. And the thing lasts all day, and dancing very likely at night. However, we can come away before that." A DISAPPOINTMENT 89 " You're an unselfish girl, Norah," said her father, " as you always were. I tell you I'll go, and I'll stay and see it out if they dance till dawn. You shall drive me there with the ponies, and they can come back and bring the brougham for us at night. No, you needn't thank me, my dear. I'm not so good as you think. I want to have a few hours in Vandeleur's library, for I'm by no means satisfied with the ' Sea-breeze Chorus ' in any of my editions here. It seems clear one word at least must be wrong. The whole spirit of the 'Medea,' the 'Hecuba,' and, indeed, every play of Euripides — ^but I won't inflict a Greek particle — no, nor a particle of Greek — on you, my dear. Eing the bell, and let's have some tea." So Norah went to bed, after another day of disappoint- ment, buoyed up once more by hope, — Gerard was sure to be at the archery meeting. Mr. Archer's young gentlemen always made a point of attending these gatherings; and Dolly Egremont had, on one occasion, even taken a prize. "Yes," thought Miss Welby, "to-morrow, at last, I am sure to meet him. Perhaps he is offended. Perhaps he won't speak to me. Never mind ! He'll see I'm sorry at any rate, and he'll know that I haven't left off caring for him. Yes, I'll put on that lilac he thought so pretty. It's a little worn, but I don't mind. I hope it won't rain ! I wish to-morrow was come ! " To-morrow came, and it didn't rain. Starting after luncheon in the pony-carriage, Norah and her father agreed that this was one of the days sent expressly from Paradise for breakfasts, fetes, picnics, &c., but which so rarely reach their destination. At Oakover everything seemed in holiday dress for the occasion. The old trees towered in the full luxuriance of summer foliage. The lavm, firesh movm, smiled smooth and comely, like a clean-shaved face. The stone balus- trades and gravel walks glared and glittered in the sun. The garden was one blaze of flowers. Already a flapping marquee was being pitched for refreshments, and snowy bell-tents dotted the sward, for the different purposes of marking scores, assorting prizes, and carrying on flirtations. The targets, leaning backward in jovial defiance, offered their round bluff faces with an aii- that seemed to say, 90 THE WHITE ROSE " Hit me, if you can ! " and it is but justice to admit that, in one or two instances, they had paid the penalty of their daring with a flesh wound or so about the rims. When Mr. Welby and his daughter arrived on the ground, a few flights of arrows had already been shot, and the archers were walking in bands to and fro between the butts, with a solemnity that denoted the grave nature of their pastime. Well might old Froissart, on whose country- men, indeed, a flight of English arrows made no slight impression, describe our people as " taking their pleasure sadly, after the manner of their nation." If there was one social duty which Mr. Vandeleur fulfilled better than another, it was that of receiving his guests. He had the knack of putting people at ease from the outset. He made them feel they were conferring a favour on himself by visiting his home, while at the same time he preserved so much of dignity and self-respect as conveyed the idea that to confer favours on such a man was by no means waste of courtesy. For Mr. Welby he had a cordial greeting and a jest, for Norah a gracefiil compliment and a smile. " The shooters have already begun. Miss Welby," said he, turning to welcome a fresh batch of guests; "and there's tea in the large tent. If you miss your chaperone at any time, you will be sure to find him in the library." So Norah walked daintily on towards the targets, and many an eye followed her with approving glances as she passed. It is not every woman who can walk across a ball- room, a lawn, or such open space, unsupported, with dignity and ease. Miss Welby's undulating figure never looked so well as when thus seen aloof from others, moving smooth and stately, with a measured step and graceful bearing peculiarly her own. The smooth, elastic gait was doubt- less the result of physical symmetry, but the inimitable charm of manner sprang from combined modesty and self- respect within. Welby, a few paces behind, felt proud of his handsome daughter, looked it, and was not ashamed even to profess his admiration. There was a quaking heart all the time though under this attractive exterior. With one eager, restless glance Norah took in the whole company, and A DISAPPOINTMENT 91 Gerard was not there. "Worse still, Dolly Egremont had just made a "gold," and Dandy Burton was shooting aim- lessly over the target. Poor Norah began to be veiy unhappy. Luckily, how- ever, she got hold of Lady Baker, and that welcome dowager, who was rather deaf, rather blind, and rather stupid, offered the best possible refuge till a fellow-pupil should come up to make his bow, and she might ask — in a roundabout way, be sure — what had become of Gerard Ainslie. Mr. Archer's young gentlemen had hitherto taken advan- tage with considerable readiness of the very few opportunities that offered themselves to pay attention to Miss Welby. To-day, nevertheless, perverse fate decreed that both Egre- mont and Burton shoiid be so interested in their shooting as to remain out of speaking distance. The Dandy, indeed, took his hat off with an elaborate flourish, but having been captm-ed, in the body at least, by a young lady in pink, was unable, for the present, to do more than express with such mute homage his desire to lay himself at Miss Welby's feet. It was weary work that waiting, waiting for the one dear face. Weary work to see everybody round her merry- making, and to be hungering stiU for the presence that would turn this penance into a holiday for herself as it was for the rest. There was always the hope that he might come late with Mr. Archer, who had not appeared. And to so frail a strand Norah clung more and more tenaciously as the day went down, and this her last chance died out too. Even Lady Baker remarked the worn, weary look on that pale face, and proposed the usual remedy for a heart- ache in polite circles, to go and have some tea. " This standing so long would founder a troop-horse, my dear," said her ladyship. " Let's try for a cup of tea. Mr. Vandeleur told me it was ready two hours ago." Norah assented wilUngly enough. He might be in the tent after all, and for a while this spark of hope kindled into flame, and then went out like the rest. In the tent, however, were collected the smartest of the county people, including several young gentlemen professed admirers of Miss Welby. They gathered round her the 92 THE WHITE B08M instant she appeared. Partly yielding to the exigencies of society, partly to the force of habit, partly to intense weari- ness and vexation, she joined in their talk, accepting the incense offered her with a liveliness of tone and manner betrayed for the first time to-day. Lady Baker began to think her young friend was "rather giddy for a clergyman's daughter, and a confirmed flirt, like the rest of them." And so the day wore on, and the shooters unstrung their bows, making excuses for their inefficiency. Presently, the prizes were distributed, the company adjourned into the house, rumours went about of an impromptu dance, and people gathered in knots, as if somewhat at a loss tiU it should begin. Mr. Vandeleur moving from group to group, with pleasant words and smiles, at last stopped by Norah, and keeping on the deafest side of Lady Baker, observed in a low tone — " Your father is still wrestling hard with a Greek mis- print in the library. He won't want you to go away for hours yet. We think of a little dancing, Miss Welby; when would you like to begin ? " It was flattering to be thus made queen of the revels ; he meant it should be, and she felt it so. Still she was rather glad that Lady Baker did not hear. She was glad, too, that her host did not secure her for the first quadi-iUe, when she saw Dandy Burton advancing with intention in his eye, and she resolved to extract from that self-satisfied young gentleman all the information for which she pined. Vandeleur had debated in his own mind whether he should dance with her or not, but, having a certain sense of the fitness of things, decided to abstain. " No ! hang it ! " he said to himself that morning while shaving ; " after a fellow's forty it's time to shut up. I've had a queerish dance or two in my day, and I can't com- plain. How I could open their eyes here if I chose ! " and he chuckled, that unrepentant sinner, over sundry well- remembered scenes of revelry and devilry in the wild wicked times long ago. The band struck up, the dancers paired, the set was forming, and Burton, closely pursued by Dolly Egremont, secured his partner. "Too late!" exclaimed the triumphant cavalier to his A DISAPPOINTMENT 93 fellow-pupil. "Miss Welby's engaged. Besides, Dolly, she considers you too fat to dance." An indignant disclaimer from Miss Welby was lost in Dolly's good-humoured rejoinder. "You go for a waist, Dandy," said he, "and I for a chest — that's all the difference. Besides, it's a well-known fact that the stoutest men always dance the lightest. You've got a square — Miss Welby will, perhaps, give me the next round — Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud Dandy I you dress too low, you dance too loud." But Miss Welby was afraid she couldn't — didn't think she should waltz at all — ^felt a little headache, and wondered how Mr. Egremont could talk such nonsense ! Then she took her station by her partner, and began. It was more difficult to pump the Dandy than she expected. In the first place he had thrown his whole mind into his costume, which, indeed, it is but justice to admit, left nothing to be desired ; secondly, what little attention he might otherwise have spared, was distracted by the unconcealed admiration lavished on him by his vis-d-vis, the young lady in pink ; and thirdly, his own idea of conversation was a running fire of questions, without waiting for answers, alternated by profuse compliments, too personal to be quite agreeable. "Don't you waltz. Miss Welby? " said he, the instant they paused to allow of the side couples performing the dignified motions they had themselves executed. " You've got just the figure for waltzing ; I'm sure you must waltz well. Now I think of it, I fancy I've seen you waltz with Gerard Ainslie." Perhaps he had. Perhaps that was the reason she didn't waltz now. Perhaps she had made this absentee a promise that men selfishly exact, and even loving women accord rather unwillingly, never to waltz with anybody else. Per- haps a difference of opinion at a previous archery meeting of which we have heard may have arisen from a discussion on this very subject. I know not. At any rate, here was an opening, and Norah took advantage of it. "He's a good waltzer — Mr. Ainslie," said she, drearily. " Why is he not here to-night ? " 94 THE WHITE ROSE "Do you think he is quite a good waltzer? " asked her partner. "He dances smoothly enough, but don't you think he holds himself too stiff ? And then, a fellow can't dance you know, if It's your turn to go on ! " An untimely interruption, while she carried out a ridiculous pantomime with the gentleman opposite — a swing with both hands in the Dandy's — and a return to the previous question. " You were going to tell me why Mr. Ainslie didn't come with you." "I don't want to talk about Ainslie," answered the Dandy, with a killing smile. " I want to talk about your- self, Miss Welby. That's a charming dress you've got on. I had no idea lilac could The others are waiting for us to begin." And so the grand round came, and still Norah had not extorted an answer to the question next her heart. She looked paler and more dejected than ever when her partner led her through the dancing-room, proposing wine-and- water, ices, and such restoratives. She was very heart-sick and tired — ^tired of the dancing, the music, the whole thing — not a little tired of Dandy Burton himself and his plati- tudes. Succour, however, was at hand. Vandeleur had been watching her through the whole quadrille, only waiting his opportunity. He pounced on it at once. " You find the heat oppressive. Miss Welby," said he, extricating her from Burton's arm, and offering his own. " I never can keep this room cool enough. Let me take you to the conservatory, where there is plenty of air, and a fountain of water besides to souse you if you turn faint." It was a relief to hear his cheerfiil, manly tones after the Dandy's vapid sentences. She took his arm gratefully, and accompanied him, followed by meaning glances from two or three observant ladies, who would not have minded seeing their own daughters in the same situation. CHAPTER Xn EEACTION " This is delightfal ! " exclaimed Norah, drawing a full breath of the pure, cool night air, that played through the roomy conservatory, and looking round in admiration on the quaintly-twisted pillars, the inlaid pavement, the glittering fountain, and the painted lanterns hanging amongst broad- leafed tropical plants and gorgeous flowers. It seemed a different world from the ball-room, and would have been Paradise, if only Gerard had been there ! " I am glad you like it. Miss Welby," said Vandeleur, with a flattering emphasis on the pronoun. " Now sit down, while I get you some tea, and I'll give you leave to go and dance again directly I see more colour in your face. I take good care of you, don't I ? " " You do, indeed ! " she answered gratefully, for the wounded, anxious heart there was something both soothing and reassuring in the kindly manner and &ank, manly voice. A certain latent energy, a suppressed power, lurked about Vandeleur, essentially pleasing to women, and Norah felt the influence of these male qualities to their full extent while he brought her the promised tea, disposed her chair out of the draught, and seated himself by her side. Then he led the conversation gradually to the news she most desired to hear. It was Vandeleur's habit to affect a good-humoured superiority in his intercourse with young ladies, as of a man who was so much their senior that he might profess interest without consequence and admiration without impertinence. Perhaps he found it answer. Per- 95 96 THB WHITE BOSE haps, after all, it was but the result of an inherent bonhomie, and a frankness bordering on eccentricity. At any rate, he began in his usual strain — " How kind of you, Miss Welby, to come and sit quietly with an old gentleman in an ice-house when you might be dancing forty miles an hour with a young one in an oven. Dandy Burton, or whatever his name is — the man with the shirt-front — must hate me pretty cordially. That's another conquest. Miss Welby ; and so is his friend, the fat one. You spare none of us. Old and young ! No quarter. No forgiveness. Let me put your cup down ! " "Hike the fat one best," she answered, smiling, while she gave him her cup. He moved away to place it in safety, and she did not fail to notice with gratitude that he kept his back turned while he proceeded " The other's the flower of them all. Miss Welby, to my fancy, and I am very glad I was able to do him a turn. He got his commission, you know, the very day you left Mar- ston. I should think he must have joined by now. I dare say he is hard at work at the goose-step already." When he looked at her again, he could see by the way her whole face had brightened that she heard this intelligence for the first time. He observed, with inward satisfaction, that there could have been no interchange of correspondence ; and reflecting that young ladies seldom read the papers very diligently, or interest themselves in gazettes, was able to appreciate the value of the news he had just communicated. Norah preserved her self-command, as, whatever may be their weakness under physical pressure, the youngest and simplest woman can in a moral emergency. It was un- speakable relief to learn there was a reason for his past neglect and present non-appearance ; but she felt on thorns of anxiety to hear where he had gone, what he was doing, when there would be a chance of seeing him again ; and therefore she answered in a calm, cold voice that by no means deceived her companion " I never heard a word of it ! I am very glad for Mr. Ainslie's sake. I believe he was exceedingly anxious to get his commission. Oh ! Mr. Vandeleur, how kind of you to interest yourself about him ! " REACTION 97 " We are all interested in him, I think, Miss Welby," he answered with a meaning smile. "I told you long ago I thought he had the makings of a man about him. Well, he has got a fair start. We won't lose sight of him, any of us ; but you know he must follow up his profession." She knew it too well, and would not have stood in the way of his success ; no, not to have seen him every day, and all day long. And now, while she felt it might be years before they would meet again, there was yet a pleasure in talking of him, after the suspense and uncertainty of the last three days, that threw a reflected glow of interest even on the person to whom she could unbosom herself. Next to Gerard, though a long way off, and papa, of course, she felt she liked Mr. Vandeleur better than anybody. He read her like a book, and continued to play the same game. "I thought you would be pleased to know about him," said he, keeping his eyes, according to custom, averted from her face. " The others are all very well, but Ainslie is really a promising lad, and some day. Miss Welby, you and I will be proud of him. But he's only reached the foot of the ladder yet, and it takes a long time to get to the top. Come, Miss Welby, your tea has done you good. You're more like yourself again ; and do you loiow that is a very becoming dress you have got on? I wish I was young enough to dance with you, but I'm not, so I'll watch you instead. It's no compliment to you to say you're very good to look at indeed." " I am glad you think so," she answered, quitting his arm at the door of the dancing-room ; and he fancied, though it was probably only fancy, that she had leaned heavier on it while they returned. At any rate, Vandeleiu: betook him- self to the society of his other guests, by no means dissatis- fied with the progress he had made. And Norah embarked on the intricacies of the "Lancers," under the pilotage of Dolly Egremont, who contrived to make her laugh heartily more than once before the set was finished. She recovered her spirits rapidly. After all, was she not young, handsome, well-dressed, admired, and fond of dancing? She put off reflection, misgivings, sorrow, memories, and regrets, till the ball was over at last. Lady 7 98 THE WHITE ROSE Baker, dull as she might he, was yet sufficiently a woman to notice the change in her young friend's demeanour, and having seen her come from the conservatory on their host's arm, not only drew her own conclusions, hut confided them to her neighbour, Mrs. Brown. "My dear," said her ladyship, "I've found out some- thing. Mr. Vandeleur will marry again ; — ^you mark my words. And he's made his choice in this very room to- night." Mrs. Brown, a lady of mature years, with rather a false smile, and very false teeth, showed the whole of them, well- pleased, for she owned a marriageable daughter, at that moment flirting egregiously with Vandeleur, in the same room ; but her face fell when Lady Baker, whose impartial obtuseness spared neither friend nor foe, continued in the same monotonous voice — " He might do worse, and he might do better. He's done some foolish things in his life, and perhaps he thinks it's time to reform. I hope he will, I'm sm-e. She's giddy and flighty, no doubt ; but I dare say it's the best thing for him, after all ! " Mrs. Brown, assenting, began to have doubts about her daughter's chance. " Who is it ? and how d'ye know ? " she demanded rather austerely, though in a guarded whisper. "It's Norah Welby, and I heard him ask her," replied Lady Baker, recklessly, and in an audible voice. " Poor girl ! I pity her ! " said the other, touching her forehead, as she passed into the supper-room and com- menced on cold chicken and tongue. She pitied herself, poor Norah, an hour afterwards, looking blankly out from the brougham window on the dismal grey of the summer's morning. Papa was fast asleep in his corner, satisfied with his victoiy over the Greek particle, and thoroughly persuaded that his darling had enjoyed her dance. The pleasure, the excitement was over, and now the reaction had begun. It seemed so strange, so blank, so sad, to leave one of these festive gatherings, and not to have danced vnth Gerard, not even to have seen him; worse than all, to have no meeting in anticipation at which she could tell him how she had missed him, for which she BEAGTION 9fl could long and count the hours as she used to do when every minute brought it nearer yet. What was the use of counting hours now, when years would intervene before she should look on his frank young face, hear his kind, melodious voice ? Her eyes filled and ran over, but papa was fast asleep, so what did it signify ? She was so lonely, so miser- able ! In all the darkness there was but one spark of light, in all the sorrow but one grain of consolation. Strangely enough, or rather, perhaps, according to the laws of sym- pathy and the force of association, that light, that solace seemed to identify themselves with the presence and com- panionship of Mr. Vandeleur. CHAPTEE Xm GOOSE-STEP Few places could perhaps be less adapted for a private rehearsal than the staircase of a lodging-house in a pro- vincial town. A provincial town enlivened only by a theatre open for six weeks of the year, and rejoicing in the occa- sional presence of the depot from which a marching regi- ment on foreign service drew its supplies of men and officers. Nevertheless, this unpromising locality had been selected for the purpose of studying his part -by an individual whose exterior denoted he could belong to no other profession than that of an actor. As the man stood gesticulating on the landing, he appeared unconscious of everything in the world but the character it was his purpose to assume. Fanny Draper, dodging out of a small, humbly-furnished bedroom, was somewhat startled by the energy with which this enthusiast threw himself at her feet, and seiz- ing her hand in both his own, exclaimed with alarming vehemence " Adorable being, has not your heart long since apprised ye that Einaldo is yom- devoted slave ? He loves ye ; he worships ye ; he lives but in your glances ; he dies beneath your " " Lor, Mr. Bruff," exclaimed Fanny, " why, how you go on ! I declare love-making seems never to be out of your head." Mr. Bruff, thus adjured, rose, not very nimbly, to his feet, and assuming, with admirable versatility, what he believed to be the air of a man of consummate fashion, apologised for the eccentricity of his demeanour. 100 GOOSE-STEP 101 " Madam," said he, " I feel that on this, as on former occasions, your penetration will distinguish between the man and his professional avocations. I am now engrossed with the part of a lover in genteel comedy. My exterior will doubtless suggest to you that I am — eh ? what shall I say ? — not exactly disqualified for the character ! " Fanny glanced at his exterior — a square figure, a tightly- buttoned coat, a close-shaved face, marked with deep lines, and illumined by a prominent red nose. She laughed and shook her head. " Don't keep me long then, Mr. Bruff, and don't make love to me in earnest, please, more than you can help." While she spoke she looked anxiously along the passage, as though afi:aid of observation. Mr. Bruff at once became Rinaldo to the core. " Stand there, madam, I beg of you," said he. " A little farther off, if you please. Head turned somewhat away, and a softening glance. Could you manage a softening glance, do you think, when I come to the cue '