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 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE 
 
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 HENRY W. SAGE 
 
 1891 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 1455.D63 1893 
 
 Doctor Claudius,a true 5tory:by F. Mario 
 
 3 1924 021 987 825 
 
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/cu31924021987825 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS 
 
*» 
 
 _^><im. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS 
 
 a ^rue Stor^ 
 
 By F. MARION CRAWFORD 
 
 ADTHOB OP "MR. ISAACS," " ZOKOASTBE," 
 " SABACINBSCA," ETC. 
 
 m\33 forfe 
 
 MACMJLLAN AND CO. 
 
 AND LONDON 
 All rights reserved 
 
A.s-i'j 
 
 55 
 
 COPYRIGHT 
 1883 
 
 BT 
 
 F. MARION CRAWFORD 
 
 First published 1883. New Uniform Edition set up and electrotyped 
 January, 1892. Reprinted October, 1892; May, 1893. 
 
 JSrorfaoo* 3?K8B : 
 
 J, S. Cashing & Co. — Berwick 8c Smith. 
 
 Boston, Mass., U.S.A. 
 
TO 
 MY DEAR FRIENDS 
 
 THE COUNTESS MARGARET AND 
 CLAUDIUS, PH.D. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "I BELIEVE I am old," said the Doctor, pushing 
 his straight-backed wooden chair from the table, and 
 turning from his books to look out of his small 
 window. "Yes, I am certainly very old," he said 
 again, rapping absently on the arm of the chair with 
 the pen he held. But the fingers that held the 
 instrument were neither thin nor withered, and there 
 was no trembling in the careless motion of the hand. 
 The flaxen hair, long and tangled, was thick on the 
 massive head, and the broad shoulders were flat and 
 square across. Whatever Dr. Claudius might say of 
 himself, he certainly did not look old. 
 
 And yet he said to himself that he was, and he 
 probably knew. He said to himself, as he had said 
 every day for many long months, that this was the 
 secret of the difference he felt between his life and 
 the life of his companions — such companions as 
 he had, between his thoughts and their thoughts, 
 between his ways and their ways. Of late the fancy 
 had gained a stronger hold on his imagination, excited 
 by solitude and an undue consumption of the mid- 
 night oil, and as he turned his face to the evening 
 light, an observer, had there been one, might have 
 
2 DOCTOR CLAlTDItrs. 
 
 felt half inclined to agree with him. His face was 
 pale, and the high aquiline nose looked drawn. 
 Moreover, the tangled hair and beard contrasted 
 strangely with his broad, spotless collar, and his 
 dressing-gown of sober black. The long habit of 
 neatness in dress survived any small vanity of per- 
 sonal looks. 
 
 He rose, and throwing the pen impatiently on the 
 table, went to the little window and looked out. His 
 shoulders overlapped the opening on both sides as he 
 thrust his yellow head out into the evening sunshine, 
 and Master Simpelmayer, the shoemaker down in the 
 street, glanced up, and seeing that the Herr Doctor 
 was taking his evening sniff of the Neekar breeze, 
 laid down his awl and went to "vespers," — a "maas" 
 of cool beer and a " pretzel." For the Herr Doctor 
 was a regular man, and always appeared at his win- 
 dow at the same hour, rain or shine. And when 
 Simpelmayer mended the well-worn shoes that came 
 to him periodically from across the way, he was sure 
 that the flaxen-haired student would not call over to 
 know if they were finished until the sun was well 
 down and the day far spent. On this particular 
 evening, however, there was no mending in hand for 
 the Herr Doctor, and so the crooked little shoemaker 
 filled himself a pipe, and twisted his apron round his 
 waist, and stumped leisurely down the street to the 
 beer-shop at the corner, where he and his fellows took 
 their pots and their pipes, undisturbed by the playful 
 pranks of the students. 
 
 But the Doctor remained at his window, and neither 
 vouchsafed look nor greeting to Master Simpelmayer. 
 He was not thinking of shoes or shoemakers just 
 then, though, to judge by his face, he was thinking 
 
DOCTOR CLAUMTTS. 3 
 
 very intently of something. And well he might, for 
 he had been reading serious stuff. The walls of his 
 little chamber were lined with books, and there was 
 a small sliding-rack on the table, presumably for 
 those volumes he immediately required for his work. 
 A rare copy of Sextus Empiricus, with the Greek 
 and Latin side by side, lay open on an inclined desk 
 at one end, and the table was strewn with papers, on 
 which were roughly drawn a variety of mathematical 
 figures, margined all around with odd-looking equa- 
 tions and algebraically-expressed formulae. Well- 
 thumbed volumes of mathematical works in English, 
 German, and French, lay about, opened in various 
 places, and there was a cracked old plate, half full of 
 tobacco ashes and the ends of cigarettes. The remain- 
 ing furniture of the room was simple and poor: a 
 neat camp bedstead, a boot-jack, and a round mirror, 
 not more than four inches in diameter ; a tin tub and 
 an iron washing-stand ; a much battered old " schla- 
 ger," with the colours at the hilt all in rags, hung over 
 the iron stove; and that was all the room contained 
 besides books and the working-table and chair. It 
 would be impossible to live more simply, and yet 
 everything was neat and clean, and stamped, too, 
 with a certain cachet of individuality. There were 
 probably hundreds of student-rooms in the town of 
 Heidelberg which boasted no more adornment or lux- 
 ury than this, and yet there was not one that looked 
 like it. A student's room, as he grows up, is a reflec- 
 tion of himself; it is a kind of dissolving view, in 
 which the one set of objects and books fades grad- 
 ually away as his opinions form themselves, and as 
 he collects about him the works that are really of 
 interest to him, as distinguished from those with 
 
4 DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 
 
 which he has been obliged to occupy himself prior to 
 taking his academic steps. Then, as in the human 
 frame every particle of bone and sinew is said to 
 change in seven years, the student one day looks 
 about him and recognises that hardly a book or a paper 
 is there of all the store over which he was busied in 
 those months before he took his degree, or sustained 
 his disputation. When a man has entered on his 
 career, if he enters on it with a will, he soon finds 
 that all books and objects not essential as tools for 
 his work creep stealthily into the dusty corner, or to 
 the inaccessible top shelf of the bookcase, — or if he 
 is very poor, to the second-hand bookshop. He can- 
 not afford to be hampered by any dead weight. 
 
 Now Dr. Claudius had gone through many changes 
 of thought and habit since he came to Heidelberg ten 
 years ago. But he had never changed his quarters ; 
 for he loved the garret window and the isolation from 
 visits and companions that he gained by his three 
 flights of stairs. The camp-bed in the corner was the 
 same whereon he had lain after his first duel, with a 
 bag of ice on his head and his bosom friend by his 
 side, with a long pipe. At that very table he had 
 drawn his first caricature of Herr Professor Winkel- 
 nase, which had been framed and hung up in the 
 " Kneipe " — the drinking-hall of his corps ; at the 
 same board he had written his thesis for his doctor- 
 ate, and here again he had penned the notes for his 
 first lecture. Professor Winkelnase was dead ; not 
 one of his old corps-brothers remained in Heidelberg, 
 but still he clung to the old room. The learned doc- 
 tors with whom he drank his wine or his beer of an 
 evening, when he saPi'^d forth from his solitude, won- 
 dered at his way of L ing ; for Dr. Claudius was not 
 
DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 5 
 
 poor, as incomes go in South Germany. He had a 
 modest competence of his own to begin with, and his 
 lectures brought him in something*, so that he might 
 have had a couple of rooms '"'' parterre " — as the Ger- 
 mans call the rez-de-chaussSe — and could have been 
 as comfortable as he pleased. But no one ever 
 attempted to account for Dr. Claudius at all. He 
 was a credit to the University, where, first-rate men 
 are scarce, — for Heidelberg is not a seat of very 
 great learning; and no one troubled to inquire why 
 he did not return to his native country when he had 
 obtained his "Phil.D." Only, if he meant to spend 
 the rest of his life in Heidelberg, it was high time 
 he married and settled down to genuine " Philisterle- 
 ben" — at least so Dr. Wiener had said to Dr. Wurst 
 over the second "schoppen" every night for a year 
 past. 
 
 But Claudius did not marry, nor did he even 
 allow his blue eyes to rest contemplatively on black- 
 eyed Fraulein Wiener, or red-cheeked Fraulein 
 Wurst. He would indeed occasionally accept an 
 invitation to drink coffee at his colleagues' houses, 
 but his talk was little and his manner a placid blank. 
 He had been wild enough ten years before, when his 
 yellow hair and tall straight presence were the admi- 
 ration of every burgher's daughter in the Hirschgasse 
 or the Langestrasse ; but years and study had brought 
 out the broad traits of his character, his uniformly 
 quiet manner, his habits of regularity, and a certain 
 deliberateness of gait and gesture which well became 
 his towering figure and massive strength. He was 
 utterly independent in all his ways, without the least 
 trace of the arrogance that haijgs about people whose 
 independence is put on, and ^/ionstantly asserted, in 
 
b DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 
 
 order to be beforehand with the expected opposition 
 of their fellow-men. 
 
 Dr. Claudius was a Swede by birth and early edu- 
 cation, and finding himself at twenty free to go where 
 he would, he had wandered to Heidelberg in pursuit 
 of the ideal student-life he had read so much of in 
 his Northern home. Full of talent, independent and 
 young, he cared little for the national enmities of 
 Scandinavians and Germans, and, like all foreigners 
 who behave sensibly, he was received with open arms 
 by the enthusiastic students, who looked upon him 
 as a sort of typical Goth, the prototype of the Teu- 
 tonic races. And when they found how readily he 
 learned to handle schlager and sabre, and that, like a 
 true son of Odin, he could drain the great horn of 
 brown ale at a draught, and laugh through the foam 
 on his yellow beard, he became to them the embodi- 
 ment of the student as he should be. But there was 
 little of all that left now, and though the stalwart 
 frame was stronger and tougher in its manly propor- 
 tions, and the yellow beard grown long and curly, 
 and the hair as thick as ever, the flush of youth was 
 gone ; and Dr. Claudius leaned out of his high win- 
 dow and smelled the river breeze, and said to himself 
 it was not so sweet as it used to be, and that, for 
 all he only had thirty summers behind him, he was 
 growing old — very old ; and that was why he did 
 not care to spend more than half-an-hour of an even- 
 ing with Dr. Wiener and Dr. Wurst. 
 
 In truth it was an unnatural life for a man just 
 reaching his prime, and full of imagination and talent 
 and love for the beautiful. But he had fallen into 
 the philosophical groove of study which sooner or 
 later seems to absorb so many gifted minds, only to 
 
DOCTOE CLATTDIUS. 7 
 
 lay them waste in nine cases out of ten. A brilliant 
 mathematician, he had taken his doctorate without 
 difficulty, and his thesis had even attracted some 
 attention. From the higher speculations of modern 
 mathematics to the study of philosophy is but a step, 
 and Claudius had plunged into the vast sea of Kant, 
 Spinoza, and Hegel, without, perhaps, having any 
 very definite idea of what he was doing, until he 
 found himself forced to go forward or to acknowledge 
 himself baffled and beaten. This he was not willing 
 to do, and so he had gone on and on, until one day, 
 some six months ago, he had asked himself what it 
 all led to ? why he had laboured so hard for years over 
 such things ? whether the old free life and readj"- en- 
 joyment were not better than this midnight prowling 
 among other people's thoughts, which, whatever they 
 might have been when spoken, never seemed quite 
 clear on paper ? Or would it not be better to leave 
 the whole thing and go back to his Northern home ? 
 He might find plenty of adventure there, and breathe 
 in fresh youth and vitality in the cold bright life of 
 the Norwegian fisheries or of some outlying Swedish 
 farm. And yet he could not make up his mind to 
 move, or to acknowledge that he had laboured in 
 vain. It was in vain, though, he said, as he looked 
 out at the flowing river. Had he gained a single 
 advantage either for his thoughts or his deeds by all 
 his study of philosophy? In his weariness he said 
 to himself that he had not ; that he had been far bet- 
 ter able to deal with questions of life, so long as he 
 had only handled the exact sciences, than he was 
 now, through all this uncertain saturation of foggy 
 visions and contradictory speculations. Questions 
 of life but did questions of life ever arise for 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 him? He had reduced it all to its simplest expres- 
 sion. His little store of money was safely invested, 
 and he drew the income four times a year. He pos- 
 sessed no goods or chattels not stowed away in his 
 garret chamber. He owed no man anything; he was 
 not even a regular professor, tied to his University 
 by a fixed engagement. In a word, he was perfectly 
 free and untrammelled. To what end? He worked 
 on from force of habit; but work had long ceased to 
 amuse him. When had he laughed last? Probably 
 not since his trip on foot to the Bavarian Highlands, 
 where he had met a witty journalist from Berlin, 
 with whom he had walked for a couple of days. 
 
 This evening he was more weary than usual. He 
 almost thought he would go away if he could think 
 of any place to go to where life might be more inter- 
 esting. He had no relations excepting an uncle, 
 who had emigrated to America when Claudius was a 
 baby, and who wrote twice a year, with that regular 
 determination to keep up his family ties which charac- 
 terises the true Northman. To this uncle he also 
 wrote regularly at stated intervals, telling of his 
 quiet student-life. He knew that this solitary rela- 
 tion was in business in New York, and he inferred 
 from the regular offers of assistance which came in, 
 every letter that he was in good circumstances, — 
 but that was all. This evening he fell to thinking 
 about him. The firm was " Barker and Lindstrand, " 
 he remembered. He wondered what Mr. Barker was 
 like. By the by it would soon be midsummer, and 
 he might expect the half-yearly letter at any time. 
 Not that it would interest him in the least when it 
 came, but yet he liked to feel that he was not utterly 
 alone in the world. There was the postman coming 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 9 
 
 down the street in his leisurely, old-fashioned way, 
 chatting with the host at the corner and with the tin- 
 man two doors off, and then — yes, he was stopping 
 at Dr. Claudius's door. 
 
 The messenger looked up, and, seeing the Doctor 
 at his window, held out a large envelope. 
 
 "A letter for you, Herr Doctor," he cried, and his 
 red nose gleamed in the evening glow, strongly fore- 
 shortened to the Doctor's eye. 
 
 "Gleich," replied Claudius, and the yellow head 
 disappeared from the window, its owner descending 
 to open the door. 
 
 As he mounted the dingy staircase Claudius turned 
 the great sealed envelope over and over in his hand, 
 wondering what could be the contents. It was post- 
 marked "New York," but the hand was large and 
 round and flourished, not in the least like his uncle's 
 sexagenarian crabbedness of hieroglyphic. In the 
 corner was the name of a firm he did not know, and" 
 the top of the letter was covered with a long row of 
 stamps, for it was very thick and heavy. So he went 
 into his room, and sat down on the window-sill to 
 see what Messrs. Screw and Scratch of Pine Street, 
 New York, could possibly want of Claudius, Phil.D. 
 of Heidelberg. 
 
 His curiosity soon gave way to very considerable 
 surprise. The first part of the letter contained the 
 formal announcement of the sudden decease of Gus- 
 tavus Lindstrand, of the firm of Barker and Lind- 
 strand of New York. Claudius laid down the letter 
 and sighed. His one relation had not been miich to 
 him. He had no recollection even of the old gentle- 
 man's appearance, but the regular cori'espondence had 
 given him a feeling of reliance, a sensation of not 
 
10 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 being absolutely alone. He was alone now. Not a 
 relation of any description in the world. Well, he 
 would read the remainder of the letter. He turned 
 over the page. 
 
 "We enclose a copy of the will," the lawyer con- 
 tinued, "for your inspection. You will see that Mr. 
 Screw of our firm is appointed joint executor with 
 Mr. Silas B. Barker, and we await your further 
 instructions. In view of the large fortune you in- 
 herit," . . . 
 
 Claudius looked up suddenly and gazed blankly 
 out of the window ; then he went on — 
 
 ... "by the aforesaid will of your uncle, the late 
 Mr. Gustavus Lindstrand, it might be well if, at 
 your convenience, you could pay a visit to this 
 country." 
 
 Here Claudius thought it was time to look at the 
 will itself. Unfolding the document, which was 
 very short, he acquainted himself with the contents. 
 There were a few legacies to old servants, and one 
 or two to persons who were probably friends. Every- 
 thing else was devised and bequeathed "to my 
 nephew, the son of my sister, Claudius, privat-docent 
 in the University of Heidelberg, Grand Duchy of 
 Baden, Germany." And it appeared that the sur- 
 plus, after deducting all legacies and debts, amounted 
 to about one million and a half of dollars. 
 
 Claudius carefully reread the papers without be- 
 traying the smallest emotion. He then put them 
 back in the envelope, and opening a small iron cash- 
 box, which stood on a shelf of the book-case, locked 
 up will, letter, power of attorney, and all. Then 
 he shook his long limbs, with a sigh, and having 
 rolled a thick cigarette, lighted it, and sat down in 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 11 
 
 his chair to think. The shadows were deepening, 
 and the smoke of his tobacco showed white against 
 the gloom in the room. The news he had just 
 received would have driven some men crazy, and 
 certainly most people would experience some kind of 
 vivid sensation at finding themselves suddenly en- 
 dowed Avith immense wealth from a quarter where 
 they did not even suspect it existed. Moreover, old 
 Lindstrand's will was perfectly unequivocal, and 
 contained none of those ill-natured restrictions about 
 marrying or not marrying, or assuming the testator's 
 name, or anything which could put the legatee to 
 the slightest inconvenience. But Claudius experi- 
 enced no sensation of pleasure at finding himself sole 
 master of a million and a half. 
 
 It was not that he was foolish enough to despise 
 money, or even to pretend to, as some people do. 
 He would have felt keenly the loss of his own little 
 store, and would have hated to work for money 
 instead of working for work's sake. But he had 
 enough, and had always had enough, for his small 
 wants. He loved beautiful things intensely, but he 
 had no desire to possess them ; it was enough that he 
 might see them, and carry away the remembrance. 
 He loved books, but he cared not a jot for rare edi- 
 tions, so long as there were cheap ones published in 
 Leipzic. That old copy of Sextus Umpiricus, on the 
 desk there, he had bought because he could not get 
 an ordinary edition ; and now that he had read it \\q 
 did not care to keep it. Of course it contained a 
 great deal that was good, but he had extracted the 
 best of it, and meant to sell the volume to the first 
 bidder — not that he wanted the money, but because 
 it was in the way; if he allowed things to accumu- 
 
12 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 late, there would be no turning round in his little 
 den. So he leaned back in his straight-backed chair 
 and wondered what in the world he should do with 
 "all that money." He might travel. Yes, but he 
 preferred to travel with a view of seeing things, 
 rather than of reaching places. He would rather 
 walk most of the way. The only way in which he 
 could possibly live up to such an income must be by 
 changing his entire mode of life — a house, some- 
 where in a great city, horses, servants, and even a 
 wife — Claudius laughed for the first time in many 
 months, a deep Homeric laugh — they would all help 
 him to get rid of his money. But then, a life like 
 that — pshaw! impossible. He was sick of it before 
 beginning, then what would he feel after a month of 
 it? 
 
 The problem faced him in the dark, like an un- 
 solved equation, staring o^t black and white before 
 his eyes, or like an unfinished game of chess when 
 one goes to bed after five or six hours' play. Some- 
 thing he must decide, because it was his nature to 
 decide always, before he left a subject, on some 
 course of thought. Meanwhile he had been so little 
 disturbed by the whole business that, in spite of his 
 uncle's death, and a million and a half of money, he 
 was hungry and thirsty. So he struck a match and 
 lit his study-lamp, and found his coat and hat and 
 stick. Then he paused. He did not want to meet 
 Dr. Wiener and Dr. Wurst that evening; he would 
 fetch himself something to eat and drink, and be 
 quiet. So he slung a heavj'^ stone jug on his arm, 
 and, turning his lamp down to save the oil, trudged 
 down the stairs and out into the street. He made 
 for the little inn at the corner, and while the fat old 
 
DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 13 
 
 landlord filled his jug with the best Markgrafler, he 
 himself picked out a couple of smoked sausages from 
 the great pile on the counter, and wrapping them up 
 with half a dozen pretzels, transferred the package 
 to his capacious pocket. Then he took the jug from 
 the innkeeper, and having paid half a gulden for the 
 whole supply of eatables and wine, he departed to 
 consume them in solitude. It was his usual supper. 
 He had done the same thing for ten years, off and on, 
 whenever he was not inclined for company. 
 
 " But I suppose it is incongruous," he soliloquised, 
 "that, being a millionaire, I should fetch my own 
 supper. " Once more he laughed aloud in the crowded 
 street, for it was warm and the people were sitting in 
 front of their houses, Simpelmayer the shoemaker, 
 and Blech the tinman, and all the rest, each with his 
 children and his pot of beer. As the Doctor laughed, 
 the little boys laughed too, and Blech remarked to 
 Simpelmayer that the Herr Doctor must have won the 
 great prize in the Hamburg lottery, for he had not 
 heard him laugh like that in three years. 
 
 "Freilich," returned the crooked shoemaker, "but 
 he was used to laugh loud enough ten years ago. I 
 can remember when he first moved in there, and his 
 corps-fellows locked him in his room for a jest, and 
 stood mocking in the street. And he climbed right 
 down the woodwork and stepped on the signboard of 
 the baker and jumped into the street, laughing all 
 the while, though they were holding in their breath 
 for fear he should break his neck. Ja, he was a 
 right student; but he is changed now — the much 
 reading, lieber Blech, the miich reading." And the 
 old fellow looked after Claudius as he disappeared 
 into the dark doorway. 
 
14 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 The Doctor mounted his three flights with even 
 tread, and, turning up his light, proceeded leisurely 
 to eat his twisted rolls and sausages. When he had 
 done that, he took the great stone jug in his hand, as 
 if it had been a wine-glass, and set it to his lips and 
 drank a long draught. 
 
 The result of his cogitations, assisted by the sooth- 
 ing influence of supper, was to be foreseen. In the 
 first place, he reflected that the problem was itself 
 a myth. No one could require of him that he should 
 use his money unless he liked. He might let it 
 accumulate without any trouble to himself; and 
 then, why should he tell any one of his inheritance ? 
 Surely he might go on living as he was living now 
 for an indefinite period, and nobody would be the 
 wiser. Besides, it would be a novel sensation to feel 
 that while living like a simple student he possessed 
 a great power, put away, as it were, on the shelf, 
 whereby he could, if he liked, at an}' moment aston- 
 ish the whole country. Very novel, indeed, and 
 considering the importance of the question of the 
 disposal of his income, he could well afford to give 
 it six months' consideration. And he might move 
 undisturbed about the University and eat his supper 
 with Dr. Wiener and Dr. Wurst without being the 
 object of general interest, which he would at once 
 become if it were known that he, a simple privat- 
 docent, with his decent black coat and his twice- 
 mended shoes, was the richest man in the Grand 
 Duchy of Baden. 
 
 These reflections of Dr. Claudius, strange as they 
 must seem in the eyes of men of the world, were 
 only what were to be expected from a man of his 
 education and character. He had travelled after a 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 16 
 
 fashion, it is true, and had frequented society when 
 he was younger ; for the Heidelberg student is a lover 
 of the dance, and many of the wild young burschen 
 become the brilliant officers of the crack regiments 
 of the first army in the world. He had been in Paris 
 and Vienna and Rome for a few weeks, and, being 
 of a good family in the North, had received introduc- 
 tions through the diplomatic representatives of his 
 country. His striking personality had always at- 
 tracted attention, and he might have gone every- 
 where had he chosen. But he had only cared enough 
 for society and its life to wish to see it now and then, 
 and he fancied that he understood it at a glance — 
 that it was all a sham and a glamour and vanity of 
 vanities. There was, of course, a potent reason for 
 all this. In his short peregrinations into the world 
 of decorations and blue ribbons and cosmopolitan 
 uniforms he had never come across a woman that 
 interested him. He had a holy reverence for woman 
 in the abstract, but he had not met one to whom he 
 could do homage as the type of the ideal womanhood 
 he worshipped. Perhaps he expected too much, or 
 perhaps he judged too much by small and really 
 insignificant signs. As no man living or dead has 
 ever understood any woman for five minutes at a 
 time, he was not to be blamed. Women are very 
 like religion — we must take them on faith, or go 
 without. 
 
 Moreover, Dr. Claudius had but an indifferent 
 appreciation of the value of money; partly because 
 he had never cared for what it would buy, and had 
 therefore never examined its purchasing power, and 
 partly because he had never lived intimateljr with 
 people who spent a great deal. He knew nothing of 
 
16 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 business, and had never gambled, and he did not 
 conceive that the combination of the two could be oi 
 any interest. Compared with the questions that had 
 occupied his mind of late, it seemed to make no more 
 difference whether a man were rich or poor than 
 whether he had light hair or dark. And if he had 
 seriously asked himself whether even those great 
 problems which had occupied the minds of the 
 mightiest thinkers led to any result of importance, 
 it was not likely that he would bestow a thought on 
 such a trivial matter as the question of pounds, shil- 
 lings, and pence. 
 
 So, before he went to bed, he took out a sheet of 
 paper and an envelope — he never bought but one 
 package of envelopes a year, when he sent his New 
 Years' card to the other doctors of the University 
 — and wrote a short letter to Messrs. Screw and 
 Scratch of Pine Street, New York. He acknowl- 
 edged the receipt of their communication, deplored 
 the death of his only relation, and requested that 
 they would look after his money for him, as he had 
 no use whatever for it at present. He objected, he 
 said, to signing a power of attorney as yet, for as 
 there was no hurry they might consult him by letter 
 or telegraph as often as they liked. When Messrs. 
 Screw and Scratch read this epistle they opened their 
 eyes wide, wondering what manner of man Claudius, 
 Phil.D., might be. And it took them some time to 
 find out. But Claudiiis put out his light when he 
 had signed and sealed the missive, and slept the 
 sleep of the strong and the just, undisturbed by the 
 possession of a fortune or by any more doubts as to 
 the future. 
 
 Before receiving this letter he had thought seri- 
 
DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 17 
 
 ously of going away. Now that a move was almost 
 thrust upon him, he found that he did not want to 
 make it. A professor he would live and die. What 
 could be more contemptible, he reflected, than to give 
 up the march of thought and the struggle for knowl- 
 edge, in order to sit at ease, devising means of get- 
 ting rid of so much cash? And he straightened his 
 great limbs along the narrow camp-bed and was 
 asleep in five minutes. 
 
18 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 When Claudius awoke at daybreak he had a strong 
 impression that he had been dreaming. His first 
 action was to open his iron box and read the will 
 over again. That being done, he reflected that his 
 determination to keep his fortune a secret was a 
 wise one, and that for the present he would abide by 
 it. So he went out and got a notary to attest his 
 signature to the letter, and posted it to Messrs. 
 Screw and Scratch, and returned to his books. But 
 the weather was intensely hot, and the sun beat 
 down fiercely on the roof over his head, so that after 
 two or three hours he gave it up .and saiUied forth to 
 seek coolness abroad. His steps turned naturally up- 
 wards towards the overhanging castle where he was 
 sure of a breeze and plenty of shade ; and as he passed 
 the famous old " Wirthshaus zum faulen Pelz " on the 
 ascent, he turned in and took a drink of the cool clear 
 ale and a pretzel, an operation termed in Germany the 
 " Friihschoppen, " or "early glass," and as universal 
 a practice as the early tea in the tropics before the 
 sun is up, or the "vermouth" of the Italian before 
 the evening meal. Having offered this customary 
 libation to the summer deities, the Doctor leisurely 
 climbed the hill and entered the precincts of the 
 Schloss. Sure enough, there was a breeze here 
 among the ruins, and shade in abundance wherein to 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDItJS. 19 
 
 lie and read all through the summer day, with an 
 occasional shift of position as the sun rose and sank 
 in the blazing sky. 
 
 Claudius stretched himself out near the great 
 ruined tower under a bit of wall, and, pulling out a 
 book, began to read. But the book did not interest 
 him, and before long he let it drop and fell to think- 
 ing. The light wind stirred the broad green foliage 
 over him, and the sun struck fiercely down beyond 
 the border of shade; but then, again, beyond there 
 were more trees and more shade. The nameless 
 little crickets and flies and all manner of humming 
 things panted musically in the warm air; the small 
 birds chirped lazily now and then in desultory con- 
 versation, too hot to hop or fly; and a small lizard 
 lay along the wall dazed and stupid in the noontide 
 heat. The genius loci was doubtless cooling himself 
 in the retirement of some luxurious hole among the 
 ruins, and the dwarf Perk^o, famous in song and 
 toast, had the best of it that day down in the cellar 
 by the great tun. 
 
 But Claudius was of a tough nature, and minded 
 neither heat nor cold; only when a large bluebottle 
 fly buzzed round his nose he whisked his broad hat 
 to drive the tormentor away, and said to himself that 
 summer had its drawbacks even in Germany, though 
 there were certainly more flies and mosquitoes and 
 evil beasts on the wing in Sweden during the two 
 months' heat there. On the whole, he was pretty 
 comfortable among the ruins on this June day, 
 though he ought to begin considering where his 
 summer foot tour was to take him this year. It 
 might be as well, certainly. Where could he go? 
 There was the Black Forest, but he knew that 
 
20 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 thoroughly ; Bohemia — he had been there ; Switzer- 
 laad; the Engadine — yes, he would go back to 
 Pontresina and see what it had grown into since he 
 was there six years ago. It used to be a delightful 
 place then, as different from St. Moritz as anything 
 could well be. Only students and artists and an 
 occasional sturdy English climber used to go to 
 Pontresina, while all Europe congregated at St. 
 Moritz half a dozen miles away. He would go there 
 as he went everywhere, with a knapsack and a thick 
 stick and a few guldens in his pocket, and be happy, 
 if so be that he had any capacity for enjoyment left 
 in him. 
 
 "It is absurd," said Claudius to himself, argu- 
 mentatively. "I am barely thirty years old, as 
 strong as an ox, and I have just inherited more 
 money than I know what to do with, and I feel like 
 an old cripple of ninety, who has nothing left to live 
 for. It must be morbid imagination or liver com- 
 plaint, or something." 
 
 But it was neither liver nor imagination, for it 
 was perfectly genuine. Tired of writing, tired of 
 reading, of seeing, of hearing, and speaking; and 
 yet blessed with a constitution that bid fair to carry 
 him through another sixty years of life. He tried 
 to argue about it. Was it possible that it came of 
 living in a foreign country with whose people he had 
 but a fancied sympathy? There are no folk like our 
 own folk, after all ; and there is truly a great gulf 
 between Scandinavians and every other kind of 
 people. But it seemed to Claudius that he loved 
 the Germans and their ways — and indeed he did; 
 but does not every day experience show that the 
 people we admire, and even love, the most are not 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 21 
 
 necessarily those with whom we are most in sym- 
 pathy or with whom it is best for us to live ? He 
 would have been better among his own Northern 
 people; but that did not strike him, and he deter- 
 mined he would go to the Engadine to-morrow or 
 next day. 
 
 The Doctor, having made up his mind, shifted his 
 position and sat up, pulling a pipe from his pocket, 
 which he proceeded to fill and to light. The flame 
 of the match was white and transparent in the mid-, 
 day glare, and the smoke hung lazily about as he 
 puffed at the ungainly instrument of enjoyment. 
 
 Before he had half finished his pipe he heard foot- 
 steps on the path. He looked up idly and saw a 
 lady — two ladies — coming leisurely towards him. 
 Beyond the fact that it was an unusual hour for 
 strangers to visit the Schloss — and they evidently 
 were strangers — there was nothing unusual in the 
 apparition ; and Claudius merely rose to his feet and 
 moved slowly on, not from any desire to get out of 
 the way, but merely because he was too well bred to 
 remain seated by the path while a lady passed, and 
 having risen, he could not very well stand still. So 
 he moved on till he stood by the broken tower, and 
 seeing that by climbing down he could reach a more 
 secure resting-place, with the advantage of a view, 
 he let himself drop easily on to a projecting ledge 
 of masonry and resumed his pipe with philosophic 
 indifference. Before long he heard voices above 
 him, or more properly a voice, for one of the parties 
 confined her conversation strictly to yea and nay, 
 while the other spoke enthusiastically, and almost 
 as if soliloquising, about the scene. 
 
 It was a deep-strung voice, that would have been 
 
22 DOCTOK CLAtJWtJS. 
 
 masculine if it had been the least harsh; but it 
 was not — it was only strong and large and smooth, 
 a woman's voice with the gift of resonance that lends 
 interest where there might otherwise seem to be 
 none. There is a certain kind of voice in woman 
 that seems to vibrate in a wa,j especially its owe. 
 Whether it be that under certain conditions of the 
 vocal organs harmonic sounds are produced as they 
 may be upon a stringed instrument or upon an organ 
 pipe; or whether, again, the secret lies deeper, 
 depending on the subtile folding and unfolding of 
 new-shaped waves of sound to which our ordinary 
 ears are not used — who can tell ? And yet there are 
 voices that from the first produce upon us a strange 
 impression unlike anything else in the world. Not 
 that we necessarily become interested in the posses- 
 sor of the voice, who may remain for ever utterly 
 indifferent to us, for the magic lies in the tone 
 merely, which seems to have a power of perpetuating 
 itself and rebounding among the echoes of our recol- 
 lections. Rarely, very rarely, singers possess it, and 
 even though their powers be limited there comes a 
 strange thrill into their singing which fixes it indeli- 
 bly on the memory. 
 
 Such a voice it was that Claudius heard as he lay 
 on his ledge of masonry some ten feet below, and 
 listened to the poetic flow of the strange lady's 
 thoughts on Heidelberg and the scene at her feet. 
 He did not move, for he was sure she had not seen 
 him; and he supposed she would go away in a few 
 minutes. He was destined to be seen, however. 
 She stopped talking, and was apparently lost in 
 thought ; but in a moment there was a small cry. 
 . " O mon Dieu! " and a dainty lace-covered parasol 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 23 
 
 fell over the edge, and, striking the platform where 
 Claudius was lying, went straight to the bottom of 
 the ruin, some twenty feet farther. 
 
 " What a nuisance, " said the thrilling voice from 
 above, "I can never get it back now; and there are 
 no gardeners or people about." 
 
 "Permit me, Madam," said Claudius, stepping as 
 far out as he dared, and looking up to catch a glimpse 
 of a beautiful woman in black and white staring 
 down at the unlucky parasol in a rather helpless 
 fashion. " Do not be disturbed. Madam ; I will get 
 it for you in a moment." And he began to descend. 
 
 The fair unknown protested ■ — Monsieur must not 
 trouble himself; Monsieur would certainly break his 
 neck — enfin, it was very obliging on the part of 
 Monsieur to risk himself in such a terrible gulf, etc. 
 etc. But "Monsieur," when once he had caught 
 sight of those dark eyes, climbed steadily down to 
 the bottom, and had reached the lost parasol before 
 the string of polite protestations had ceased. The 
 ascent was quickly accomplished, and he stood at the 
 summit, hat in hand, to return the object of his 
 search to its rightful owner. There was not a trace 
 of embarrassment on his face; and he looked the 
 foreign lady boldly in the eyes as he bowed. She 
 could not express her thanks sufficiently, and would 
 probably have wished to continue expressing them 
 for some time longer to the handsome and herculean 
 young man, who had apparently started out of space 
 to her assistance; but when Claudius had taken a 
 good look he simply answered — 
 
 "II n'y a pas de quoi, Madame," and bowing low 
 walked off. Perhaps the least contraction of curi- 
 osity was in his eyes; and he would have liked to 
 
24 DOCTOR CLAUDrtJS. 
 
 know who the lady was who had the crown and the 
 large M carved in the ivory of her parasol stick. 
 But, after all, he came to the conclusion that he did 
 not care, and so went strolling down the path, won- 
 dering where he could hide himself if visitors were 
 to infest the Schloss at this time of year, and in the 
 hottest hours of the day. 
 
 "I will leave here to-morrow," he said, "and see 
 if I cannot be more comfortable in Pontresina. " He 
 reached another part of the Schloss, and sitting down 
 resumed his pipe, which seemed destined to inter- 
 ruptions. 
 
 The lady of the parasol had made an impression on 
 Dr. Claudius, for all his apparent indifference. It 
 was rarely, indeed, nowadays that he looked at a 
 woman at all; and to-day he had not only looked, 
 but he owned to himself, now it was past, that he 
 would like to look again. If he had had any princi- 
 ple in avoiding women during the last few years, he 
 would not have admitted now that he would like to 
 see her again — just for one moment. But he had 
 no principle in the matter. It was choice, and there 
 it ended; and whenever he should take it into his 
 head to associate with the fair sex again, he would 
 consider it a sign that his youth had returned, and 
 he would yield without the smallest struggle. But 
 in this case — " Pshaw ! " thought the humble privat- 
 docent, "she is some great lady, I suppose. How 
 should I make her acquaintance ? Oh ! I forgot — • 
 I am a millionaire to-day ; I have only to ask and it 
 shall be opened." He smiled to himself, and, with: 
 the returning sense of the power to do what he 
 pleased, the little undefined longing for another 
 glimpse of the fair stranger subsided for a time. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 25 
 
 Then he regretted it. He was sorry it was gone; 
 for while it had been there he had felt a something 
 telling him he was not old after all, but only very 
 young — so young that he had never been in love. 
 As a consequence of his wishing his little rag of 
 sentiment back again, it came ; but artificially this 
 time, and as if expecting to be criticised. He would 
 contemplate for a space the fair picture that had the 
 power to rouse his weary soul, even for an instant, 
 from the sea of indifference in which it was plunged. 
 
 Claudius lay back in the grass and crossed one leg 
 over the other. Then he tried to recall the features 
 of the woman who had begun to occupy his thoughts. 
 She was certainly very beautiful. He could remem- 
 ber one or two points. Her skin was olive-tinted 
 and dark about the eyes, and the eyes themselves 
 were like soft burning amber, and her hair was very 
 black. That was all he could recollect of her — sav- 
 ing her voice. Ah yes ! he had seen beautiful women 
 enough, even in his quiet life, but he had never heard 
 anything exactly like this woman's tones. There 
 are some sounds one never forgets. For instance, 
 the glorious cry of the trumpeter swans in Iceland 
 when they pass in full flight overhead in the early 
 morning ; or the sweet musical ring of the fresh black 
 ice on the river as it clangs again to sweep of the 
 steel skate. Claudius tried to compare the sound of 
 that voice to something he had heard, but with little 
 success. 
 
 Southern and Eastern born races fall in love at first 
 sight in a way that the soberer Northerner qannot 
 understand. A face in a crowd, a glance, a droop of 
 the lashes, and all . is said. The seed of passi'6n is 
 sown and will grow in a day to all destroying pro- 
 
26 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 portions. But the ISTorthern heart is a very different 
 affair. It will play with its affections as a cat plays 
 with a mouse; only the difference is, that the mouse 
 grows larger and more formidable, like the one m 
 the story of the Eastern sage, which successively 
 changed its shape until it became a tiger, and the 
 wise man was driven to take precautions for his own 
 safety. There is never the least doubt in the mind 
 of an Italian or an Oriental when he is in love ; but 
 an Englishman will associate with a woman for ten 
 years, and one day will wake up to the fact that he 
 loves her, and has loved her probably for some time 
 past. And then his whole manner changes immedi- 
 ately, and he is apt to make himself very disagree- 
 able unless indeed the lady loves him — and women 
 are rarely in doubt in their inmost hearts as to 
 whether they love or not. 
 
 The heart of the cold northern-born man is a 
 strange puzzle. It can only be compared in its first 
 awakening to a very backward spring. In the first 
 place, the previous absence of anything like love has 
 bred a rough and somewhat coarse scepticism about 
 the existence of passion at all. Young Boreas scoffs 
 at the mere mention of a serious affection, and turns 
 up his nose at a love-match. He thinks young women 
 no end of fun ; his vanity makes him fancy himself 
 the heartless hero of many an adventure, and if, as 
 frequently happens, he is but an imperfect gentle- 
 man, he will not scruple to devise, imagine, and 
 recount (to his bosom friend, of course, in strictest 
 secrecy) some hairbreadth escape from an irate hus- 
 band or an avenging father, where he has nearly lost 
 his life, he says, in the pursuit of some woman, gen- 
 erally a lady of spotless reputation whom he barely 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 27 
 
 knows. But put him in her society for an hour, 
 with every opportunity of pressing his suit, and the 
 veriest lambkin could not be more harmless. He has 
 not yet tasted blood, though he will often smack his 
 lips and talk as if he had. 
 
 It is generally chance that makes him fall in love 
 the first time. He is thrown together with his fate 
 
 — tall or short, dark or fair, it makes no difference 
 
 — in some country house or on some journey. For 
 a long time her society only amuses him and helps to 
 pass the hours, for Boreas is easily bored and finds 
 time a terrible adversary. Gradually he understands 
 that she is a necessity to his comfort, and there is 
 nothing he will not do to secure her on every pos- 
 sible opportunity for himself. Then perhaps he 
 allows to himself that he really does care a little, 
 and he loses some of his incrustation of vanity. He 
 feels less sure of himself, and his companions 
 observe that he ceases to talk of his alleged good 
 fortunes. Very, very slowly his real heart wakes 
 up, and whatever is manly and serious and gentle 
 in his nature comes unconsciously to the surface. 
 Henceforth he knows he loves, and because his love 
 has been slow to develop itself it is not necessarily 
 sluggish or deficient when once it is come. But 
 Englishmen are rarely heroic lovers except in their 
 novels. There is generally a little bypath of cau- 
 tion, a postern gate of mercantile foresight, by which 
 they can slip quietly out at the right moment and 
 forget all about the whole thing. 
 
 Claudius was not an Englishman, but a Scandina- 
 vian, and he differed from the imaginary young man 
 described above in that he had a great broad reverence 
 of woman and for woman's love. But it was all a 
 
28 DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 
 
 theory, of which the practice to him was as yet un- 
 known. He had soon wearied of the class of women 
 he had met in his student-life — chiefly the daughters 
 of respectable Heidelberg Philistines, of various de- 
 grees of south Teutonic prettiness ; and the beauti- 
 ful women of the world, of whom he had caught a 
 glimpse in his travels had never seemed real enough 
 to him to be in any way approached. He never had 
 realised that his own personality, combined with his 
 faultless manners, would have soon made him a 
 favourite in what is called society, had he chosen to 
 court it. 
 
 After all, it was very vague, this passing fancy for 
 the dark-eyed woman of the Schloss. Perhaps Dr. 
 Claudius watched his symptoms too narrowly, and 
 was overmuch pleased at finding that something 
 could still rouse a youthful thrill in him, after the 
 sensation of old age that had of late oppressed him. 
 A man, he said to himself, is not old so long as he 
 can love — and be loved — well, so long as he can 
 love, say, and let the rest take care of itself. And 
 by and by the sun went westering down the hill, and 
 he shook himself out of his dreams, and pocketed his 
 book and turned homeward. His day, he thought, 
 had not amounted to much after all, and he would 
 spend the evening in sober study, and not dream any 
 more until bedtime. But he would be sociable this 
 evening and eat his supper ■ — now he thought about 
 it, it would be dinner and supper combined — in the 
 company of his colleagues at their favourite haunt. 
 And he would go to-morrow, he would certainly go 
 to the Engadine. 
 
 But to-morrow came, and the Herr Doctor looked 
 out of his window as usual, and he did not go to 
 
DOCTOR CL,AUDIUS. 29 
 
 Pontresina or anjrwhere else, nor the next day, nor the 
 day after. Only up to the Schloss every day through 
 the hot week, with his book and his pipe, and there 
 he would lie and read and smoke, and say to him- 
 self, "To-morrow I will certainly go." There was 
 something almost pathetic in Claudius, thus day 
 after day revisiting the scene where he had experi- 
 enced a momentary sensation of youth and vitality, 
 where he had discovered, somewhat to his surprise, 
 that he was still alive and full of strength and san- 
 guine hope, when he thought himself so old. And 
 ' lying among the ruins he called up the scene again 
 and again, and the strange woman gradually got 
 possession of his mind, as a cunning enchantress 
 might, and she moulded his thoughts about her till 
 they clung to her and burned. He did not seriously 
 think to meet her again in the Schloss, if he thought 
 of it at all, for he knew of course that she must have 
 been a bird of passage, only pausing an instant on 
 that hot day to visit some scene long familiar to her 
 memory. And of course, like a true philosophical 
 student, he did not attempt to explain to himself his 
 own conduct, nor to catalogue the reasons for and 
 against a daily visit to the old castle. 
 
 So the week passed, and another after it, and one 
 day, late in the afternoon, Claudius descended the 
 hill and went up as usual to his chamber above the 
 river, to spend an hour indoors before going to sup- 
 per. It was a beautiful evening, and he left his door 
 partly open on to the landing that the breeze might 
 blow through the room as he sat by the window. A 
 book was in his hand before he had sat many 
 moments, from sheer force of habit; but he did not 
 read. The sounds of the street rose pleasantly to 
 
so DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 
 
 his ear as the little boys and girls played together 
 across each other's doorsteps. To tell the truth, it 
 all seemed very far off, much farther than three 
 flights of steps from the little crowd below to the 
 solitary nest of learning aloft where he sat; and Dr. 
 Claudius was, in his thoughts, incalculably far away 
 from the shoemaker's Hans and the tinman's Gretel 
 and their eight-year-old flirtation. Claudius was 
 flirting with his fancies, and drawing pretty pictures 
 in the smoke, with dark eyes and masses of black 
 hair ; and then he moved uneasily, and came back to 
 his threadbare proposition that he was old, and that 
 it was absurd that he should be. 
 
 " Ah ! what would I not give to enjoy it all — to 
 feel I could wish one moment to remain!" He 
 sighed and leaned back in the straight-backed chair. 
 The door creaked slightly, he thought it was the 
 evening wind. It creaked again ; he turned his head, 
 and his gaze remained riveted on the opening. A 
 beautiful pair of dark eyes were fixed on him, deep 
 and searching, and on meeting his, a great silky black 
 head was pushed forward into the room, and a mag- 
 nificent black hoiind stalked slowly across the floor 
 and laid his head on the Doctor's knee with a look 
 of evident inquiry. 
 
 Claudius was fond of animals, and caressed the 
 friendly beast, wondering to whom he might belong, 
 and speculating whether the appearance of the dog 
 heralded the approach of a visitor. But the dog was 
 not one of those that he knew by sight in the streets 
 of Heidelberg — one of those superb favourites of the 
 students who are as well known as the professors 
 themselves to every inhabitant of a university town 
 in Germany. And the Doctor stroked the beautiful 
 
DOCTOR CLAT7DIUS. 31 
 
 head and listened for steps upon the stairs. Before 
 long lie heard an ominous stumbling, as of some one 
 unfamiliar with the dark and narrow way, and in a 
 moment more a young man stood in the doorway, 
 dazzled by the flood of the evening sunshine that 
 faced him. 
 
 "Mr. Claudius live here?" interrogated the 
 stranger in a high and metallic, but gentlemanly 
 voice. 
 
 "I am Dr. Claudius," said the tenant of the old 
 chair, rising politely. "Pray be seated, sir," and 
 he offered his one seat to his visitor, who advanced 
 into the middle of the room. 
 
 He was a young man, dressed in the extreme of 
 the English fashion. He was probably excessively 
 thin, to judge by his face and neck and hands, but 
 he was made up admirably. He removed his hat and 
 showed a forehead of mediocre proportions, over 
 which his dark hair was conscientiously parted in 
 the middle. Though not in appearance robust, he 
 wore a moustache that would not have disgraced a 
 Cossack, his eyes were small, gray, and near together, 
 and his complexion was bad. His feet were minute, 
 and his hands bony. 
 
 He took the offered chair, and Claudius sat down 
 upon the bed, which was by no means so far removed 
 in the little room as to make conversation at that 
 distance difficult. 
 
 "Dr. Claudius?" the stranger repeated, and the 
 Doctor nodded gravely. " Dr. Claudius, the nephew 
 of the late Mr. Gustavus Lindstrand of New York?" 
 
 " The same, sir. May I inquire to what good for- 
 tune I am indebted " 
 
 "Oh! of course," interrupted the other, "I am 
 
32 DOCTOR CLAUDItrS. 
 
 Mr. Barker — Silas B. Barker junior of New York, 
 and my father was your uncle's partner." 
 
 " Indeed, " said Claudius, rising and coining for- 
 ward, "then we must shake hands again," and his 
 face wore a pleasant expression. He thought noth- 
 ing of first impressions, and was prepared to offer a 
 hearty welcome to any friend of his uncle, even of 
 the most unprepossessing type. Mr. Barker was not 
 exactly unprepossessing ; he was certainly not hand- 
 some, but there was a look of action about him that 
 was not unpleasing. Claudius felt at once, how- 
 ever, that the American belonged to a type of human- 
 ity of which he knew nothing as yet. But they 
 shook hands cordially, and the Doctor resumed his 
 seat. 
 
 " And is it long since you received the news, Pro- 
 fessor?" inquired Mr. Barker, with the ready Trans- 
 atlantic use of titles. 
 
 "I heard of my uncle's death about three weeks 
 ago — rather less. " 
 
 " Ah yes ! And the news about the will — did you 
 hear that?" 
 
 "Certainly," said the Doctor; "I received the 
 intelligence simultaneously." 
 
 "Well," said the American, "do you propose to 
 continue living here ? " 
 
 Claudius looked at his visitor. He was as yet 
 unfamiliar with New World curiosity, and thought 
 the question a rather strange one. However, he re- 
 flected that Mr. Barker's father might have some 
 moral claim to know what his old partner's heir 
 meant to do with his money; so he answered the 
 question categorically. 
 
 " I was, as perhaps you may imagine, greatly sur- 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 33 
 
 prised at the intelligence that I had inherited a great 
 fortune. But you will hardly understand, with your 
 tastes," — the Doctor glanced at Mr. Barker's fault- 
 less costume, — " that such abundant and unexpected 
 wealth may not be to me a wholly unalloyed bless- 
 ing." Claudius proceeded to explain how little he 
 cared for the things that his money might bring him, 
 and announced Ms intention of continuing his pres- 
 ent mode of life some time longer. Mr. Silas B. 
 Barker junior of New York opened his small eyes 
 wider and wider, as his host set forth his views. 
 
 " I should think you would be bored to death! " ho 
 said simply. 
 
 " Ennui, in the ordinary sense, does not exist for 
 a man whose life is devoted to study. What corre- 
 sponds to it is a very different thing. I sometimes 
 feel oppressed with a sense of profound dissatisfac- 
 tion with what I am doing " 
 
 " I should think so, " remarked Mr. Barker. Then, 
 checking himself, he added, "I beg your pardon, 
 don't misunderstand me. I can hardly conceive of 
 leading such a life as yours. I could never be a 
 professor. " 
 
 Claudius judged the statement to be strictly true. 
 Mr. Barker did not look like a professor in the least. 
 However, the Doctor wanted to be civil. 
 
 "Have you just arrived? Have you seen our 
 sights?" 
 
 " Came last night from Baden-Baden. I have been 
 here before. You had better come around to my 
 hotel, and take dinner with me. But first we will 
 drive somewhere and get cool." 
 
 Claudius put on his best coat and combed his hair, 
 apologising to Mr. Barker for the informality. Mr. 
 
34 DOCTOR CLAUDItrS. 
 
 Barker watclied him, and thought he would make a 
 sensation in New York. 
 
 "We might go up to the castle," said the Ameri- 
 can, when they were seated in the carriage. So to 
 the castle they went, and, leaving their carriage at 
 the entrance, strolled slowly through the grounds till 
 they reached the broken tower. 
 
 "If they had used dynamite," said Mr. Barker, 
 " they would have sent the whole thing flying across 
 the river." 
 
 "It would have been less picturesque afterwards," 
 said Claudius. 
 
 "It would have been more effective at the time." 
 
 Claudius was thinking of the dark woman and her 
 parasol, and how he had climbed down there a few 
 weeks before. To show to himself that he did not 
 care, he told his companion the incident as graphi- 
 cally as he could. His description of the lady was 
 so graphic that Mr. Barker screwed up his eyes and 
 put out his jaw, so that two great lines circled on 
 his sallow face from just above the nostril, under his 
 heavy moustache to his chin. 
 
 " I could almost fancy I had seen her somewhere, " 
 said he.. J 
 
 "•Where?" asked Claudius eagerly. 
 
 " I thought he would give himself away, " was the 
 American's terse inward reflection; but he answered 
 coolly — 
 
 "I don't know, I am sure. Very likely I am 
 mistaken. It was pretty romantic though. Ask me 
 to the wedding. Professor." 
 
 "What wedding?" 
 
 " Why, when you marry the fascinating creature 
 with the parasol." 
 
DOCTOR CLAtJDItTS. B5 
 
 Claudius looked at Mr. Barker witli some astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 "Do you generally manage things so quickly in 
 your country?" 
 
 "Oh, I was only joking," returned the American. 
 "But, of course, you can marry anybody you like, 
 and why not the dark lady? On the whole, though, 
 if I were you, I would like to astonish the natives 
 before I left. Now, you might buy the castle here 
 and turn it into a hotel." 
 
 "Horrible! " ejaculated Claudius. 
 
 " No worse than making a hotel of Switzerland, 
 which is an older and more interesting monument 
 than the castle of Heidelberg." 
 
 "Epigrammatic, but fallacious, Mr. Barker." 
 
 "Epigrams and proverbs are generally that." 
 
 "I think," said Claudius, "that proverbs are only 
 fallacious when they are carelessly applied." 
 
 " Very likely. Life is too short to waste time over 
 weapons that will only go off in some singular and 
 old-fashioned way. When I start out to do any 
 shooting, I want to hit." 
 
 So they went to dinner. Claudius found himself 
 becoming gayer in the society of his new acquaint- 
 ance than he had been for some time past. He could 
 not have said whether he liked him or thought him 
 interesting, but he had a strong impression that there 
 was something somewhere, he could not tell what, 
 which Mr. Barker understood thoroughly, and in 
 which he might show to great advantage. He felt 
 that however superficial and unartistic the American 
 might be, he was nevertheless no fool. There was 
 something keen and sharp-edged about him that 
 proclaimed a character capable of influencing men. 
 
S6 DOCTOR CLAUDItrS. 
 
 and accustomed to deal boldly and daringly with 
 life. 
 
 They dined as well as could be expected in a 
 country which is not gastronomic, and Mr. Barker 
 produced a rare brand of cigars, without which, he 
 informed his guest, he never travelled. They were 
 fat brown Havanas, and Claudius enjoyed them. 
 
 " Let us go to Baden-Baden," said Barker, sucking 
 at his weed, which protruded from his immense 
 moustache like a gun under the raised port-hole of 
 an old fashioned man-of-war. 
 
 "If I were seeking innocent recreation from my 
 labours, that is not exactly the spot I would choose 
 to disport myself in," replied Claudius. "The 
 scenery is good, but the people are detestable." ■ 
 
 " I agree with you ; but it is a nice place for all 
 that. You can always gamble to pass the time." 
 
 "I never play games of chance, and there is no 
 play in Baden now." 
 
 "Principle or taste. Professor?" 
 
 " I suppose I must allow that it is principle. I 
 used to play a little when I was a student; but 
 I do not believe in leaving anything to fortune. I 
 would not do it in anything else." 
 
 "Well, I suppose you are right; but you miss a 
 great deal of healthy excitement. You have never 
 known the joys of being short of a thousand N.P. or 
 Wabash on a rising market." 
 
 " I fear I do not understand the illustration, Mr. 
 Barker." 
 
 " No ? Well, it is not to be wondered at. Perhaps 
 if you ever come to New York you will take an 
 interest in the stock market." 
 
 "Ah you were referring to stocks? Yes, I 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 37 
 
 have read a little about your methods of business, but 
 that kind of study is not much in my line. Why 
 do you say Baden, though, instead of some quiet 
 place?" 
 
 "I suppose I like a crowd. Besides, there are 
 some people I know there. But I want you to go 
 with me, and if you would rather not go to Baden- 
 Baden, we can go somewhere else. I really think 
 we ought to become better acquainted, and I may 
 prevail on you to go with me to New York." 
 
 Claudius was silent, and he blew a great cloud of 
 smoke. What sort of a travelling companion would 
 Mr. Barker be for him? Could there be a greater 
 contrast to his own nature ? And yet he felt that he 
 would like to observe Mr. Barker. He felt drawn 
 to him without knowing why, and he had a presenti- 
 ment that the American would drag him out of his 
 quiet life into a very different existence. Mr. 
 Barker, on the other hand, possessed the showman's 
 instinct. He had found a creature who, he was sure, 
 had the elements of a tremendous lion about town ; 
 and having found him, he meant to capture him and 
 exhibit him in society, and take to himself ever after 
 the credit of having unearthed the handsome, rich, 
 and talented Dr. Claudius from a garret in Heidel- 
 berg. What a story that would be to tell next year, 
 when Claudius, clothed and clipped, should be marry- 
 ing the girl of the season, or tooling his coach down 
 the Newport avenue, or doing any of the other fash- 
 ionable and merry things that Americans love to do 
 in spring and summer! 
 
 So Mr. Barker insisted on driving Claudius back 
 to his lodging, though it was only five minutes' 
 walk, and exacted a promise that the Doctor should 
 
88 DOCTOR CLAtTDItrS. 
 
 take him on the morrow to a real German breakfast 
 at the Fauler Pelz, and that they would " start off 
 somewhere " in the afternoon. 
 
 Claudius said he had enjoyed a very pleasant even- 
 ing, and went up to his room, where he read an elabo- 
 rate article on the vortex theory by Professor Helm- 
 holtz, with which, having dipped into transcendental 
 geometry, he was inclined to find fault; and then he 
 went calmly to bed. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 39 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Claudius told his old landlord — his pMlister, as 
 he would have called him — that he was going away 
 on his customary foot tour for a month or so. He 
 packed a book and a few things in his knapsack and 
 joined Mr. Barker. To Claudius in his simplicity 
 there was nothing incongruous in his travelling as 
 a plain student in the company of the exquisitely- 
 arrayed New Yorker, and the latter was far too much 
 a man of the world to care what his companion wore. 
 He intended that the Doctor should be introduced 
 to the affectionate skill of a London tailor before he 
 was much older, and he registered a vow that the 
 long yellow hair should be cut. But these details 
 were the result of his showman's intuition ; person- 
 ally, he would as readily have travelled with Claudius 
 had he affected the costume of a shoeblack. He 
 knew that the man was very rich, and he respected 
 his eccentricity for the present. To accomplish the 
 transformation of exterior which he contemplated, 
 from the professional and semi-cynic garb to the 
 splendour of a swell of the period, Mr. Barker 
 counted on some more potent influence than his own. 
 The only point on which his mind was made up was 
 that Claudius must accompany him to America and 
 create a great sensation. 
 
 "I wonder if we shall meet her," remarked Mr. 
 
40 DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 
 
 Barker reflectively, when they were seated in the 
 train. 
 
 "Whom?" asked Claudius, who did not intend to 
 understand his companion's chaff. 
 
 But Mr. Barker had shot his arrow, and started 
 cleverly as he answered — 
 
 " Did I say anything ? I must have been talking 
 to myself." 
 
 Claudius was not so sure. However, the hint had 
 produced its effect, falling, as it did, into the vague 
 current of his thoughts and giving them direction. 
 He began to wonder whether there was any likeli- 
 hood of his meeting the woman of whom he had 
 thought so much, and before long he found himself 
 constructing a conversation, supposed to take place 
 on their first encounter, overleaping such trifles as 
 probability, the question of an introduction, and 
 other formalities with the ready agility of a mind 
 accustomed to speculation. 
 
 "The scenery is fine, is it not?" remarked Clau- 
 dius tritely as they neared Baden. 
 
 " Oh yes, for Europe. We manage our landscapes 
 better in America." 
 
 "H&wso?" 
 
 " Swivels. You can turn the rocks around and see 
 the other side." 
 
 Claudius laughed a little, but Barker did not smile. 
 He was apparently occupied in inventing a patent 
 transformation landscape on wheels. In reality, he 
 was thinking out a menu for dinner whereby he might 
 feed his friend without starving himself. For Mr. 
 Barker was particular about his meals, and accus- 
 tomed to fare sumptuously every day, whereas he 
 had observed that the Doctor was fond of sgAisages 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 41 
 
 and decayed cabbage. But he knew such depraved 
 tastes could not long withstand the blandishments 
 and caressing hypersensualism of Delmonico, if he 
 ever got the Doctor so far. 
 
 Having successfully accomplished the business of 
 dining, Mr. Barker promised to return in an hour, 
 and sallied out to find the British aristocracy, whom 
 he knew. The British aristocracy was taking his 
 coffee in solitude at the principal cafS, and hailed 
 Mr. Barker's advent with considerable interest, for 
 they had tastes in common. 
 
 " How are you, Duke ? " 
 
 " Pretty fit, thanks. Where have you been ? " 
 
 "Oh, all over. I was just looking for you." 
 
 " Yes ? " said the aristocracy interrogatively. 
 
 " Yes. I want you to introduce me to somebody 
 you know." 
 
 "Pleasure. Who?" 
 
 " She has black eyes and dark hair, very dark com- 
 plexion, middling height, fine figure; carries an 
 ivory-handled parasol with a big M and a crown." 
 Mr. Barker paused for a look of intelligence on the 
 Englishman's face. 
 
 " Sure she's here ? " inquired the latter. 
 
 "I won't swear. She was seen in Heidelberg, 
 admiring views and dropping her parasol about, 
 something like three weeks ago." 
 
 "Oh! ah, yes. Come on." And the British aris- 
 tocracy settled the rose in his buttonhole and led the 
 way. He moved strongly with long steps, but Mr. 
 Barker walked delicately like Agag. 
 
 "By the by. Barker, she is a, countrywoman of 
 yours. She married a Russian, and her name is 
 Marga^^t." 
 
42 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "Was it a happy marriage?" asked the American, 
 taking the cigar from his mouth. 
 
 " Exceedingly. Husband killed at Plevna. Left 
 her lots of tin." 
 
 They reached their destination. The Countess 
 was at home. The Countess was enchanted to make 
 the acquaintance of Monsieur, and on learning that 
 he was an American and a compatriot, was delighted 
 to see him. They conversed pleasantly. In the 
 course of twenty minutes the aristocracy discovered 
 he had an engagement and departed, but Mr. Barker 
 remained. It was rather stretching his advantage, 
 but he did not lack confidence. 
 
 "So you, too, Countess, have been in Heidelberg 
 this summer?" 
 
 " About three weeks ago. I am very fond of the 
 old place." 
 
 "Lovely, indeed," said Barker. "The castle, the 
 old tower half blown away in that slovenly war " 
 
 "Oh, such a funny thing happened to me there," 
 exclaimed the Countess Margaret, innocently falling 
 into the trap. "I was standing just at the edge 
 with Miss Skeat — she is my companion, you know 
 — and I dropped my parasol, and it fell rattling to 
 the bottom, and suddenly there started, apparently 
 out of space " 
 
 "A German professor, seven or eight feet high, 
 who bounded after the sunshade, and bounded back 
 and bowed and left you to your astonishment. Is 
 not that what you were going to say. Countess ? " 
 
 "I believe you are a medium," said the Countess, 
 looking at Barker in astonishment. "But perhaps 
 you only guessed it. Can you tell me what he was 
 like, this German professor?" 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 43 
 
 " Certainly. He had long yellow hair, and a beard 
 like Rip Van "Winkle's, and large white hands; and 
 he was altogether one of the most striking indi- 
 viduals you ever saw." 
 
 "It is evident that you know him, Mr. Barker, and 
 that he has told you the story. Though how you 
 should have known it was I " 
 
 "Guess-work and my friend's description." 
 
 " But how do you come to be intimate with Ger- 
 man professors, Mr. Barker? Are you learned, and 
 that sort of thing ? " 
 
 " He was a German professor once. He is now an 
 eccentricity without a purpose. Worth millions, 
 and living in a Heidelberg garret, wishing he were 
 poor again." 
 
 "What an interesting creature! Tell me more, 
 please. " 
 
 Barker told as much of Claudius's history as he 
 knew. 
 
 "Too delightful! " ejaculated the Countess Mar- 
 garet, looking out of the window rather pensively. 
 
 "Countess," said the American, "if I had enjoyed 
 the advantage of your acquaintance even twenty-four 
 hours I would venture to ask leave to present my 
 friend to you. As it is " Mr. Barker paused. 
 
 "As it is I will grant you the permission unasked," 
 said the Countess quietly, still looking out of the 
 window. "I am enough of an American still to 
 know that your name is a guarantee for any one you 
 introduce." 
 
 "You are very kind, " said Mr. Barker modestly. 
 Indeed the name of Barker had long been honourably 
 known in connection with New York enterprise. 
 The Barkers were not Dutch, it is true, but they had 
 
44 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 the next highest title to consideration in that their 
 progenitor had dwelt in Salem, Massachusetts. 
 
 "Bring him in the morning," said the Countess, 
 after a moment's thought. 
 
 "About two?" 
 
 " Oh no ! At eleven or so. I am a very early per- 
 son. I get up at the screech of dawn." 
 
 " Permit me to thank you on behalf of my friend 
 as well as for myself," said Mr. Barker, bending low 
 over the dark lady's hand as he took his departure. 
 
 " So glad to have seen you. It is pleasant to meet 
 a civilised countryman in these days." 
 
 " It can be nothing to the pleasure of meeting a 
 charming countrywoman," replied Mr. Barker, and 
 he glided from the room. 
 
 The dark lady stood for a moment looking at the 
 door through which her visitor had departed. It was 
 almost nine o'clock by this time, and she rang for 
 lights, subsiding into a low chair while the servant 
 brought them. The candles flickered in the light 
 breeze that fanned fitfully through the room, and, 
 finding it difficult to read, the Countess sent for Miss 
 Skeat. 
 
 " What a tiny little world it is ! " said Margaret, 
 by way of opening the conversation. 
 
 Miss Skeat sat down by the table. She was thin 
 and yellow, and her bones were on the outside. She 
 wore gold-rimmed eyeglasses, and was well dressed, 
 in plain black, with a single white ruffle about her 
 long and sinewy neck. She was hideous, but she 
 had a certain touch of dignified elegance, and her 
 face looked trustworthy and not unkind. 
 
 " Apropos of anything especial ? " asked she, seeing 
 that the Countess expected her to say something. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 45 
 
 " Do you remember when I dropped my parasol at 
 Heidelberg?" 
 
 "Perfectly," replied Miss Skeat. 
 
 " And the man who picked it up, and who looked 
 like Niemann in Lohengrin ? " 
 
 "Yes, and who must have been a professor. I 
 remember very well." 
 
 " A friend of mine brought a friend of his to see 
 me this afternoon, and the man himself is coming to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " What is his name ? " asked the lady-companion. 
 
 "I am sure I don't know, but Mr. Barker says he 
 is very eccentric. He is very rich, and yet he lives 
 in a garret in Heidelberg and wishes he were poor." 
 
 " Are you quite sure he is in his right mind, dear 
 Countess ? " 
 
 Margaret looked kindly at Miss Skeat. Poor lady ! 
 she had been rich once, and had not lived in a garret. 
 Money to her meant freedom and independence. Not 
 that she was unhappy with Margaret, who was 
 always thoughtful and considerate, and valued her 
 companion as a friend; but she would rather have 
 lived, with Margaret feeling it was a matter of choice 
 and not of necessity, for she came of good Scottish 
 blood, and was very proud. 
 
 " Oh yes ! " answered the younger lady; " he is very 
 learned and philosophical, and I am sure you will 
 like him. If he is at all civilised we will have him 
 to dinner." 
 
 "By all means," said Miss Skeat with alacrity. 
 She liked intelligent society, and the Countess had 
 of late indulged in a rather prolonged fit of solitude. 
 Miss Skeat took the last novel — one of Tourgu^neff 's 
 — from the table and, armed with a paper-cutter, 
 began to read to her ladyship. 
 
46 DOCTOR CLATTDIUS. 
 
 It was late when Mr. Barker found Claudius scrib- 
 bling equations on a sheet of the hotel letter-paper. 
 The Doctor looked up pleasantly at his friend. He 
 could almost fancy he had missed his society a little ; 
 but the sensation was too novel a one to be believed 
 genuine. 
 
 " Did you find your friends ? " he inquired. 
 
 " Yes, by some good luck. It is apt to be the other 
 people one finds, as a rule." 
 
 "Cynicism is not appropriate to your character, 
 Mr. Barker." 
 
 " No. I hate cynical men. It is generally affecta- 
 tion, and it is always nonsense. But I think the 
 wrong people have a way of turning up at the 
 wrong moment." After a pause, during which 
 Mr. Barker lighted a cigar and extended his thin 
 legs and trim little feet on a chair in front of him, 
 he continued: 
 
 " Professor, have you a very strong and rooted dis- 
 like to the society of women ? " 
 
 Assailed by this point-blank question, the Doctor 
 put his bit of paper inside his book, and drumming 
 on the table with his pencil, considered a moment. 
 Mr. Barker puffed at his cigar wi,th great regularity. 
 
 " No, " said Claudius at last, " certainly not. To 
 woman man owes his life, and to woman he ought to 
 owe his happiness. Without woman civilisation 
 would be impossible, and society would fall to 
 pieces." 
 
 "Oh! " ejaculated Mr. Barker. 
 
 " I worship woman in the abstract and in the con- 
 crete. I reverence her mission, and I honour the 
 gifts of Heaven which fit her to fulfil it." 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Barker. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 47 
 
 " I think there is nothing made in creation that 
 can be compared with woman, not even man. I am 
 enthusiastic, of course, you will say, but I believe 
 that homage and devotion to woman is the first duty 
 of man, after homage and devotion to the Supreme 
 Being whom all different races unite in describing 
 as God." 
 
 "That will do, thank you," said Mr. Barker, "I 
 am quite satisfied of your adoration, and I will not 
 ask her name." 
 
 "She has no name, and she has all names," con- 
 tinued Claudius seriously. "She is an ideal." 
 
 " Yes, my feeble intelligence grasps that she can- 
 not be anything else. But I did not want a confes- 
 sion of faith. I only asked if you disliked ladies' 
 society, because I was going to propose to introduce 
 you to some friends of mine here." 
 
 "Oh!" said Claudius, and he leaned back in his 
 chair and stared at the lamp. Barker was silent. 
 
 The Doctor was puzzled. He thought it would Jbe 
 very rude of him to refuse Mr. Barker's offer. On 
 the other hand, in spite of his protestaticms of devo- 
 tion to the sex, he knew that the exalted opinion he 
 held of woman in general had gained upon him of 
 late years, since he had associated less with them. 
 It was with him a beautiful theory, the outcome of 
 a knightly nature thrown back on itself, but as yet 
 not fixed or clearly defined by any intimate knowl- 
 edge of woman's character, still less by any profound 
 personal experience of love. Courtesy was upper- 
 most as he answered. 
 
 " Really," he said at last, " if you are very desirous 
 of presenting me to your friends, of course I " 
 
 " Oh, only if it is agr^able to you, of course. If 
 
48 DOCTOR CLAXTDIUS. 
 
 it is in any way the reverse " protested the polite 
 
 Mr. Barker. 
 
 " Not that — not exactly disagreeable. Only it is 
 some time since I have enjoyed the advantage of an 
 hour's conversation with ladies; and besides, since 
 it comes to that, I am here as a pedestrian, and I do 
 not present a very civilised appearance." 
 
 "Don't let that disturb you. Since you consent," 
 went on Mr. Barker, briskly taking everything for 
 granted, " I may tell you that the lady in question 
 has expressed a wish to have you presented, and that 
 I could not do less than promise to bring you if 
 possible. As for your personal appearance, it is not 
 of the least consequence. Perhaps, if you don't 
 mind a great deal, you might have your hair cut. 
 Don't be offended. Professor, but nothing produces 
 an appearance of being dressed so infallibly as a 
 neatly-trimmed head." 
 
 "Oh, certainly, if you think it best, I will have 
 my hair cut. It will soon grow again." 
 
 Mr. Barker smiled under the lambrikin of his 
 moustache. "Yes," thought he, "but it sha'n't." 
 
 " Then," he said aloud, "we will go about eleven." 
 
 Claudius sat wondering who the lady could be who 
 wanted to have him presented. But he was afraid 
 to ask ; Barker would immediately suppose he imag- 
 ined it to be the dark lady. However, his thoughts 
 took it as a certainty that it must*be she, and went 
 on building castles in the air and conversations in 
 the clouds. Barker watched him and probably 
 guessed what he was thinking of; but he did not 
 want to spoil the surprise he had arranged, and fear- 
 ing lest Claudius might ask some awkward question, 
 he went to bed, leaving the Doctor to his cogitations. 
 
DOOTOE CLAUDIUS. 49 
 
 In the morning he lay in wait for his friend, who 
 had gone off for an early walk in the woods. He 
 expected that a renewal of the attack would be neces- 
 sary before the sacrifice of the yellow locks could be 
 accomplished, and he stood on the steps of the hotel, 
 clad in the most exquisite of grays, tapering down 
 to the most brilliant of boots. He had a white rose 
 in his buttonhole, and his great black dog was lying 
 at his feet, having for a Avonder found his master, for 
 the beast was given to roaming, or to the plebeian 
 society of Barker's servant. The American's care- 
 ful attire contrasted rather oddly with his sallow face, 
 and with the bony hand that rested against the 
 column. He was a young man, but he looked any 
 age that morning. Before long his eye twinkled 
 and he changed his position expectantly, for he saw 
 the tall figure of Claudius striding up the street, a 
 head and shoulders above the strolling crowd ; and, 
 wonderful to relate, the hair was gone, the long 
 beard was carefully clipped and trimmed, and the 
 Doctor wore a new gray hat! 
 
 " If he will black his boots and put a rose in his 
 coat, he will do. What a tearing swell he will be 
 when he is dressed," thought Mr. Barker, as he 
 looked at his friend. 
 
 "You see I have followed your advice," said 
 Claudius, holding out his hand. 
 
 "Always do that, and you will yet taste great- 
 ness, " said the other cheerfully. "You look like a 
 crown prince like that. Perfectly immense." 
 
 "I suppose I am rather big," said Claudius apolo- 
 getically, not catching the American idiom. Mr. 
 Barker, however, did not explain himself, for he was 
 thinking of other things. 
 
50 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "We will go very soon. Excuse the liberty, Pro- 
 fessor, but you might have your boots blacked. 
 There is a little cad dovi^n the backstairs who does 
 
 it." 
 
 "Of course," answered Claudius, and disappeared 
 within. A small man who was coming out paused 
 and turned to look after him, putting up his eye- 
 glass. Then he took off his hat to Mr. Barker. 
 
 "Pardon, Monsieur," he began, "if I take the 
 liberty of making an inquiry, but could you inform 
 me of the name of that gentleman, whose appearance 
 fills me with astonishment, and whose vast dimen- 
 sions obscure the landscape of Baden?" 
 
 Mr. Barker looked at the small man for a moment 
 very gravely. 
 
 "Yes," said he pensively, "his royal highness is a 
 large man certainly." And while his interlocutor 
 was recovering enough to formulate another ques- 
 tion, Mr. Barker moved gently away to a flower- 
 stand. 
 
 When Claudius returned his friend was waiting 
 for him, and himself pinned a large and expensive 
 rose in the Doctor's buttonhole. Mr. Barker sur- 
 veyed his work — • the clipped head, the new hat, the 
 shiny boots and the rose — with a satisfied air, such 
 as Mr. Barnum may have worn when he landed 
 Jumbo on the New York pier. Then he called a 
 cab, and they drove away. 
 
DOCTOR CLAtTDIUS. 51 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The summer breath of the roses blew sweetly in 
 through the long windows of the Countess's morn- 
 ing-room from the little garden outside as Barker 
 and Claudius entered. There was an air of inhabited 
 luxury which was evidently congenial to the Ameri- 
 can, for he rubbed his hands softly together and 
 touched one or two objects caressingly while waiting 
 for the lady of the house. Claudius glanced at the 
 table and took up a book, with that singular student 
 habit that is never lost. It was a volume of English 
 verse, and in a moment he was reading, just as he 
 stood, with his hat caught between the fingers that 
 held the book, oblivious of countesses and visits and 
 formalities. There was a rustle and a step on the 
 garden walk, and both men turned towards the open 
 glass door. Claudius almost dropped the vellum- 
 covered poet, and was very perceptibly startled as he 
 recognised the lady of his Heidelberg adventure — 
 the woman who had got, as by magic, a hold over his 
 thoughts, so that he dreamed of her and wondered 
 about her, sleeping and waking. 
 
 Dark-eyed Countess Margaret, all clad in pure 
 white, the smallest of lace fichus just dropped over 
 her heavy hair, moved smoothly up the steps and into 
 the room. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Barker, I am so glad you 
 
52 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 have come," said she, graciously extending her hand 
 in the cordial Transatlantic fashion. 
 
 "Permit me to present my friend. Professor 
 Claudius," said Barker. Claudius bowed very low. 
 The plunge was over, and he recovered his outward 
 calm, whatever he might feel. 
 
 "Mr. Barker flatters me. Madam," he said quietly. 
 "I am not a professor, but only a private lecturer." 
 
 " I am too far removed from anything learned to 
 make such distinctions," said the Countess. "But 
 since good fortune has brought you into the circle 
 of my ignorance, let me renew my thanks for the 
 service you did me in Heidelberg the other day." 
 
 Claudius bowed and murmured something inau- 
 dible. 
 
 " Or had you not realised that I was the heroine of 
 the parasol at the broken tower?" asked Margaret 
 smiling, as she seated herself in a low chair and 
 motioned to her guests to follow her example. 
 Barker selected a comfortable seat, and arranged the 
 cushion to suit him before he subsided into repose, 
 but the Doctor laid hands on a stern and solid-look- 
 ing piece of carving, and sat upright facing the 
 Countess. 
 
 "Pardon me," said he, "I had. But it is always 
 startling to realise a dream." The Countess looked 
 at Claudius rather inquiringly; perhaps she had not 
 expected he was the sort of man to begin an acquaint- 
 ance by making compliments. However, she said 
 nothing, and he continued, " D& you not always find 
 it so?" 
 
 " The bearded hermit is no duffer," thought IVlr. 
 Barker. " He will say grace over the whole barrel of 
 pork." 
 
DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 53 
 
 "Ah! I have few dreams," replied the Countess, 
 " and when I do have any, I never realise them. I am 
 a very matter-of-fact person." 
 
 " What matters the fact when you are the person. 
 Madam?" retorted Claudius, fencing for a discus- 
 sion of some kind. 
 
 "Immense," thought Mr. Barker, changing one leg 
 over the other and becoming interested. 
 
 " Does that mean anything, or is it only a pretty 
 paradox?" asked the lady, observing that Claudius 
 had thrown himself boldly into a crucial position. 
 Upon his answer would probably depend her opinion 
 of him as being either intelligent or banal. It is an 
 easy matter to frame paradoxical questions implying 
 a compliment, but it is no light task to be obliged 
 to answer them oneself. Claudius was not thinking 
 of producing an effect, for the fascination of the dark 
 woman was upon him, and the low, strange voice 
 bewitched him, so he said what came uppermost. 
 
 " Yes," said he, "there are persons whose lives may 
 indeed be matters of fact to themselves — who shall 
 say? — but who are always dreams in the lives of 
 others. " 
 
 "Charming," laughed the Countess, "do you 
 always talk like that. Professor Claudius ? " 
 
 "I have always thought," Mr. Barker remarked in 
 his high-set voice, "that I would like to be the 
 dream of somebody's life. But somehow things have 
 gone against me." 
 
 The other two laughed. He did not strike one as 
 the sort of individual who would haunt the lovesick 
 dreams of a confiding heart. 
 
 "I would rather it were the other way," said 
 Claudius thoughtfully. 
 
54 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "And I," rejoined the American, "would drink 
 perdition to the unattainable." 
 
 " Either I do not agree with you, Mr. Barker," said 
 the Countess, " or else I believe nothing is unattain- 
 able." 
 
 "I implore you to be kind, and believe the latter," 
 he answered courteously. 
 
 " Come, I will show you my garden, " said Margaret, 
 rising. "It is pleasanter in the open air." She led 
 the way out through the glass door, the men walk- 
 ing on her right and left. 
 
 "I am very fond of my garden," she said, "and I 
 take great care of it when I am here." She stopped 
 and pulled two or three dead leaves off a rosebush to 
 illustrate her profession of industry. 
 
 " And do you generally live here ? " asked Claudius, 
 who was as yet in complete ignorance of the Coun- 
 tess's name, title, nationality, and mode of life, for 
 Mr. Barker had, for some occult reason, left him in 
 the dark. 
 
 Perhaps the Countess guessed as much, for she 
 briefly imparted a good deal of information. 
 
 " When Count Alexis, my husband, was Jlive, we 
 lived a great deal in Russia. But I am an American 
 like Mr. Barker, and I occasionally make a trip to 
 my native country. However, I love this place in 
 summer, and I always try to be here. That is my 
 friend, Miss Skeat, who lives with me." 
 
 Miss Skeat was stranded under a tree with a news- 
 paper and several books. Her polished cheekbones 
 and knuckles glimmered yellow in the shade. By 
 her side was a long cane chair, in which lay a white 
 silk wrap and a bit of needlework, tumbled together 
 as the Countess had left them when she went in to 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 55 
 
 receive her visitors. Miss Skeat rose as the party 
 approached. The Countess introduced the two men, 
 who bowed low, and they all sat down, Mr. Barker 
 on the bench by the ancient virgin, and Claudius on 
 the grass at Margaret's feet. It was noonday, but 
 there was a light breeze through the flowers and 
 grasses. The conversation soon fell into pairs as 
 they sat. 
 
 "I should not have said, at first sight, that you 
 were a very imaginative person, Dr. Claudius," said 
 the Countess. 
 
 "I have been dreaming for years," he answered. 
 "I am a mathematician, and of late I have become a 
 philosopher in a small way, as far as that is possible 
 from reading the subject. There are no two branches 
 of learning that require more imagination than 
 mathematics and philosophy." 
 
 "Philosophy, perhaps," she replied, "but mathe- 
 matics — I thought that was an exact science, where 
 everything was known, and there was no room for 
 dreaming." 
 
 " I suppose that is the general impression. But 
 do you think it requires no imagination to conceive 
 a new application of knowledge, to invent new 
 methods where old ones are inadequate, to lay out 
 a route through the unknown land beyond the regions 
 of the known?" 
 
 " Ordinary people, like me, associate mathematics 
 with measurement and figures and angles." 
 
 " Yes, " said Claudius, " but it is the' same as though 
 you confused religion with its practical results. If 
 the religion is true at all, it would be just as true 
 if man did not exist, and if it consequently had no 
 application to life." 
 
66 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 " I understand the truth of that, though we might 
 differ about the word. So you have been dreaming 
 for years — and what were your dreams like ? " The 
 Countess looked down earnestly at Claudius, who in 
 his turn looked at her with a little smile. She 
 thought he was different from other men, and he was 
 wondering how much of his dreams he might tell her. 
 
 "Of all sorts," he answered, still looking up into 
 her face. "Bitter and sweet. I have dreamed of 
 the glory of life and of mind-power, of the accom- 
 plishment of the greatest good to the greatest num- 
 ber; I have believed the extension of science possible 
 'beyond the bounds of all imaginable experience' into 
 the realms of the occult and hidden; I have wan- 
 dered with Hermes by the banks of the Nile, with 
 Gautama along the mud-flats of the Ganges. I have 
 disgusted myself with the writings of those who 
 would reduce alb hi3tory and religion to solar myths, 
 and I have striven to fathom the meaning of those 
 whose thoughts are profound and their hearts noble, 
 but their speech halting. I have dreamed many 
 things, Countess, and the worst is that I have lived 
 to weary of my dreams, and to say that all things 
 are vanity — all save one," he added with hesitation. 
 There was a momentary pause. 
 
 " Of course, "-Mr. Barker was saying to Miss Skeat, 
 with a fascinating smile, " I have the greatest admira- 
 tion for Scotch heroism. John Grahame of Claver- 
 house. Who can read Macaulay's account " 
 
 "Ah," interrupted the old gentlewoman, "if you 
 knew how I feel about these odious calumnies ! " 
 
 "I quite understand that," said Barker sympathet- 
 ically. He had discovered Miss Skeat's especial 
 enthusiasm. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 57 
 
 Margaret turned again to the Doctor. 
 
 " And may I ask, without indiscretion, what the 
 one dream may be that you have refused to relegate 
 among the vanities ? " 
 
 " Woman, " answered Claudius, and was silent. 
 
 The Countess thought the Doctor spoke ironically, 
 and she laughed aloud, half amused and half annoyed. 
 
 "I am in earnest," said Claudius, plucking a blade 
 of grass and twisting it round his finger. 
 
 "Truly?" asked she. 
 
 " Foi de gentilhomme ! " he answered. 
 
 " But Mr. Barker told me you lived like a hermit. " 
 
 " That is the reason it has been a dream," said he. 
 
 "You have not told me what the dream was like. 
 What beautiful things have you fancied about us ? " 
 
 "I have dreamed of woman's mission, and of 
 woman's' love. I have fancied that woman and 
 woman's love represented the ruling spirit, as man 
 and man's brain represent the moving agent, in the 
 world. I have drawn pictures of an age in which 
 real chivalry of word and thought and deed might 
 be the only law necessary to control men's actions. 
 Not the scenic and theatrical chivalry of the middle 
 age, ready at any moment to break out into epidemic 
 crime, but a true reverence and understanding of 
 woman's supreme right to honour and consideration ; 
 an age wherein it should be no longer coarsely said 
 that love is but an episode in the brutal life of man, 
 while to woman it is life itself. I have dreamed 
 that the eternal womanhood of the universe beckoned 
 me to follow." 
 
 The Countess could not take her eyes off Claudius. 
 She had never met a man like him ; at least she had 
 never met a man who plunged into this kind of talk 
 
68 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 after half an hour's acquaintance. There was a thrill 
 of feeling in her smooth deep voice when she an- 
 swered : " If all men thought as you think, the world 
 would be a very different place." 
 
 " It would be a better place in more ways t}atf&- 
 (jne, " he replied. 
 
 "And yet you yourself call it a dream," said 
 Margaret, musing. 
 
 " It is only you. Countess, who say that dreams are 
 never realised." 
 
 "And do you expect to realise yours ? " 
 
 "Yes — I do." He looked at her with his bold 
 blue eyes, and she thought they sparkled. 
 
 "Tell me," she asked, "are you going to preach 
 a cnisade for the liberation of our sex? Do you 
 mean to bring about the great change in the social 
 relations of the world? Is it you who will build up 
 the pedestal which we are to mount and from which 
 we shall survey countless ranks of adoring men?" 
 
 " Do you not see, as you look down on me from 
 your throne, from this chair, that I have begun 
 already?" answered Claudius, siniling, and making 
 a pretence of folding his hands. 
 
 "No," said the Countess, overlooking his last 
 speech ; " if you had any convictions about it, as you 
 pretend to have, you would begin at once and revolu- 
 tionise the world in six months. What is the use 
 of dreaming? It is not dreamers who make history." 
 
 "No, it is more often women. But tell me, 
 Countess, do you approve of my crusade ? Am I not 
 right? Have I your sanction?" 
 
 Margaret was silent. Mr. Barker's voice was 
 heard again, holding forth to Miss Skeat. 
 
 "In all ages," he said, with an air of conviction, 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 59 
 
 " the aristocracy of a country have been in reality the 
 leaders of its thought and science and enlightenment. 
 Perhaps the form of aristocracy most worthy of^ 
 admiration is that time-honoured institution of pre- 
 eminent families, the Scottish clan, the Hebrew 
 tribe " 
 
 Claudius overheard and opened his eyes. It 
 seemed to him that Barker was talking nonsense- 
 Margaret smiled, for she knew her companion well, 
 and understood in a moment that the American had 
 discovered her hobb}', and was either seeking to win 
 her good graces, or endeavouring to amuse himself 
 by inducing her to air her views. But Claudius 
 returned to the charge. 
 
 " What is it to be, Countess?" he,asked. "Ami 
 to take up arms and sail out and conquer the universe, 
 and bring it bound to your feet to do you homage ; or 
 shall I go back to my turret chamber in Heidelberg ? " 
 
 "Your simile seems to me to be appropriate," said 
 Margaret. "I am sure your forefathers must have 
 been Vikings." 
 
 "They were," replied Claudius, "for I am a Scan- 
 dinavian. Shall I go out and plunder the world for 
 your benefit ? Shall I make your universality, your 
 general expression, woman, sovereign over my gen- 
 eral expression, man?" 
 
 "Considering who is to be the gainer," she an- 
 swered, laughing, " I cannot well withhold my con- 
 sent. When will you begin ? " 
 
 "Now." 
 
 "And how?" ^ 
 
 " How should I begin," said he, a smile on his face, 
 and the light dancing in his eyes, " except by making 
 myself the first convert?" 
 
60 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 Margaret was used enough to pretty speeches, in 
 earnest and in jest, but she thought she had never 
 heard any one turn them more readily than the yellow- 
 bearded student. 
 
 "And Mr. Barker," she asked, "will you convert 
 him?" 
 
 " Can you look at him at this moment. Countess, 
 and say jou really think he needs it?" 
 
 She glanced at the pair on the bench, and laughed 
 again, in the air, for it was apparent that Mr. Barker 
 had made a complete conquest of Miss Skeat. He 
 had led the conversation about tribes to the ancient 
 practices of the North American Indians, and was 
 detailing their customs with marvellous fluency. A 
 scientific hearer, might have detected some startling 
 inaccuracies, but Miss Skeat listened with rapt atten- 
 tion. Who, indeed, should know more about Indians 
 than a born American who had travelled in the West ? 
 
 The Countess turned the conversation to other sub- 
 jects, and talked intelligently about books. She evi- 
 dently read a great deal, or rather she allowed Miss 
 Skeat to read to her, and her memory was good. 
 Claudius was not behind in sober criticism of current 
 literature, though his reading had been chiefly of a 
 tougher kind. Time flew by quickly, and when the 
 two men rose to go their visit had lasted two hours. 
 
 "You will report the progress of your conquest?" 
 said the Countess to Claudius as she gave him her 
 hand, which he stooped to kiss in the good old Ger- 
 man fashion. 
 
 "Whenever you will permit me. Countess," he 
 said. 
 
 " I am always at home in the middle of the day. 
 And you too, Mr. Barker, do not wait to be asked 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 61 
 
 before you come again. You are absolutely the only 
 civilised American I know here." 
 
 "Don't say that, Countess. There is the Duke, 
 who came with me yesterday." 
 
 "But he is English." 
 
 " But he is also American. He owns mines and 
 prairies, and he emigrates semi-annually. They all 
 do now. You know rats leave a sinking ship, and 
 they are going to have a commune in England." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Barker, how can you ! " exclaimed Miss 
 Skeat. 
 
 "But I am only joking, of course," said he, and 
 pacified her. So they parted. 
 
 Mr. Barker and Claudius stood on the front door- 
 step, and the former lit a cigar while the carriage 
 drove up. 
 
 "Doctor," said he, "I consider you the most re- 
 markable man of my acquaintance." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Claudius as he got into the car- 
 riage. 
 
 "Well, for several reasons. Chiefly because 
 though you have lived in a 'three pair back ' for 
 years, and never seen so much as a woman's ear, by 
 your own account, you nevertheless act as if you had 
 never been out of a drawing-room during your life. 
 You are the least shy man I ever saw." 
 
 '•' Shy ? " exclaimed Claudius, " what a funny idea ! 
 Why should I be shy?" 
 
 "No reason in the world, I suppose, after all. 
 But it is very odd." And Mr. Barker ruminated, 
 rolling his cigar in his mouth. " Besides, " he added, 
 S,fter a long pause, " you have made a conquest. " 
 
 " Nonsense. Now, you have some right to flatter 
 yourself on that score." 
 
62 DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "Miss Skeat?" said Mr. Barker. "Sit still, my 
 heart!" 
 
 They drove along in silence for some time. At 
 last Mr. Barker began again, — 
 
 " "Well, Professor, what are you going to do about 
 it?" 
 
 "About what?" 
 
 "Why, about the conquest. Shall you go there 
 again?" 
 
 "Very likely." Claudius was annoyed at his com- 
 panion's tone of voice. He would have scoffed at 
 the idea that he loved the Countess at first sight; 
 but she nevertheless represented his ideal to him, and 
 he could not bear to hear Mr. Barker's chaiBng 
 remarks. Of course Barker had taken him to the 
 house, and had a right to ask if Claudius had found 
 the visit interesting. But Claudius was determined 
 to check any kind of levity from the first. He did 
 not like it about women on any terms, but in con- 
 nection with the Countess Margaret it was positively 
 unbearable. So he answered curtly enough to show 
 Mr. Barker he objected to it. The latter readily 
 understood and drew his own inferences. 
 
 A different conversation ensued in the Countess's 
 garden when the visitors were gone. 
 
 "Well, Miss Skeat," said Margaret, "what do 
 you think of my new acquaintances ? " 
 
 " I think Mr. Barker is the most agreeable Ameri- 
 can I ever met," said Miss Skeat. "He has very 
 sound views about social questions, and his informa- 
 tion on the subject of American Indians is perfectly 
 extraordinary. ' ' 
 
 " And the Doctor ? what do you think of him ? " 
 
 "He dresses very oddly," said the lady companion; 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 63 
 
 "but his manners seem everjrthing that could be 
 desired, and be has aristocratic hands." 
 
 " I did not notice his dress much. But he is very- 
 handsome. He looks like a Scandinavian hero. 
 You know I was sure I should meet him again that 
 day in Heidelberg." 
 
 "I suppose he really is very good-looking," as- 
 sented Miss Skeat. 
 
 " Shall we have them to dinner some day ? I think 
 we might; very quietly, you know." 
 
 "I would certainly advise it, dear Countess. You 
 really ought to begin and see people in some way 
 besides allowing them to call on you. I think this 
 solitude is affecting your spirits." 
 
 " Oh no ; I am very happy — at least, as happy as I 
 can be. But we will have them to dinner. When 
 shall it be?" 
 
 " To-morrow is too soon. ' Say Thursday, since you 
 ask me," said Miss Skeat. 
 
 " Very well. Shall we read a little ? " And Tour- 
 gu^neff was put into requisition. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when the Countess's 
 phaeton, black horses, black liveries, and black 
 cushions, swept round a corner of the drive. Clau- 
 dius and Barker, in a hired carriage, passed her, com- 
 ing from the opposite direction. The four people 
 bowed to each other — the ladies graciously, the men 
 with courteous alacrity. Each of the four was inter- 
 ested in the others, and each of the four felt that 
 they would all be thrown together in the immediate 
 future. There was a feeling among them that they 
 had known each other a long time, though they were 
 but acquaintances of to-day and yesterday. 
 
 " I have seldom seen anything more complete than 
 
64 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 that turn-out," said Mr. Barker. "The impression 
 of mourning is perfect ; it could not have been better 
 if it had been planned by a New York undertaker." 
 
 " Are New York undertakers such great artists ? " 
 asked Claudius. 
 
 "Yes; people get buried more profusely there. 
 But don't you think it is remarkably fine? " 
 
 "Yes. I suppose you are trying to make me 
 say that the Countess is a beautiful woman," an- 
 swered Claudius, who was beginning to understand 
 Barker. " If that is what you want, I yield at once. 
 I think she is the most beautiful woman I ever 
 saw." 
 
 "Ah! — don't you think perhaps that Miss Skeat 
 acts as an admirable foil? " 
 
 " Such beauty as that requires no foil. The whole 
 world is a foil to her." 
 
 "Wait till you come to America. I will show 
 you her match in Newport." 
 
 " I doubt it. What is Newport ? " 
 
 " Newport is the principal watering-place of our 
 magnificent country. It is Baden, Homburg, Bigorre, 
 and Biarritz rolled into one. It is a terrestrial para- 
 dise, a land of four-in-hands and houris and surf- 
 bathing and nectar and ambrosia. I could not begin 
 to give you an idea of it ; wait till you get there. " 
 
 " A society place, I suppose, then ? " said Claudius, 
 not in the least moved by the enthusiastic description. 
 
 " A society place before all things. But you may 
 have plenty of solitude if you like." 
 
 "I hardly think I should care much for Newport," 
 said Claudius. 
 
 " Well, I like it very much. My father has a place 
 there, to which I take the liberty of inviting you for 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 65 
 
 the season, whenever you make up your mind to enjoy 
 yourself." 
 
 " You are very good, I am sure ; and if, as you say, 
 I ever go to America, which seems in your opinion 
 paramount to enjoying myself, I will take advantage 
 of your kind invitation." 
 
 " Really, I hope you will. Shall we go and dine ? " 
 
66 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 On tlie following day Claudius and Mr. Barker 
 received each a note. These communications were 
 in square, rough envelopes, and directed in a large 
 feminine handwriting. The contents intimated that 
 the Countess Margaret would be glad to see them at 
 dinner at half-past seven on Thursday. 
 
 "That is to-morrow," said Mr. Barker pensively. 
 
 Claudius, who was generally the calmest of the 
 calm, made a remark in German to the effect that 
 he fervently desired a thousand million bushels of 
 thunder-weather to fly away with him that very 
 instant. 
 
 "Did you say anything, Professor?" inquired Mr. 
 Barker blandly. 
 
 "I did. I swore," answered Claudius. "I have 
 half a mind to swear again." 
 
 "Do it. Profanity is the safety-valve of great 
 minds. Swear loudly, and put your whole mind to 
 it." 
 
 Claudius strode to the window of their sitting-room 
 and looked out. 
 
 " It is extremely awkward, upon my word," he said. 
 
 "What is awkward. Professor? The invitation?" 
 
 "Yes — very." 
 
 " Why, pray ? I should think you would be very 
 much pleased." 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDItrs. 67 
 
 " Exactly — I should be : but there is a drawback." 
 
 " Of what nature ? Anj'thing I can do ? " 
 
 "Not exactly. I cannot wear one of your coats." 
 
 "Oh! is that it?" said Mr. Barker; and a pleasant 
 little thrill of triumph manifested itself, as he pushed 
 out his jaw and exhibited his circular wrinkle. " Of 
 course — how stupid of me ! You are here as a 
 pedestrian, and you have no evening dress. Well, 
 the sooner we go and see a tailor the better, in that 
 case. I will ring for a carriage." He did so, 
 remarking internally that he had scored one in put- 
 ting the Doctor into a position which forced him 
 to dress like a Christian. 
 
 " Do you never walk ? " asked Claudius, putting a 
 handful of cigarettes into his pocket. 
 
 "No," said the American, "I never walk. If man 
 were intended by an all-wise Providence to do much 
 walking he would have four legs." 
 
 The tailor promised upon his faith as a gentleman 
 to make Claudius presentable by the following even- 
 ing. Baden tailors are used to providing clothes at 
 short notice ; and the man kept his word. 
 
 Pending the event, Barker remarked to Claudius 
 that it was a pity they might not call again before 
 the dinner. Claudius said in. some countries he 
 thought it would be the proper thing; but that in 
 Germany Barker was undoubtedly right — it would 
 not do at all. 
 
 " Customs vary so much in society, " said Barker ; 
 "now in America we have such a pretty habit." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 " Sending flowers — we send them to ladies on the 
 smallest provocation." 
 
 "But is not the Countess an American?" asked 
 Claudius. 
 
68 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "Yes, certainly. Old Southern family settled 
 north." 
 
 "In that case," said Claudius, "the provocation is 
 sufficient. Let us send flowers immediately." And 
 he took his hat from the table. 
 
 Thought Mr. Barker, "My show Doctor is going 
 it ; " but he translated his thoughts into English. 
 
 "I think that is a good idea. I will send for a 
 carriage. " 
 
 "It is only a step," said Claudius, "we had much 
 better walk." 
 
 "Well, anything to oblige you." 
 
 Claudius had good taste in such things, and the 
 flowers he sent were just enough to form a beautiful 
 ensemble, without producing an impression of lavish 
 extravagance. As Mr. Barker had said, the sending 
 of flowers is a "pretty habit," — a graceful and gentle 
 fashion most peculiar to America. There is no coun- 
 try where the custom is carried to the same extent; 
 there is no other country Avhere on certain occasions 
 it is requested, by advertisement in the newspapers, 
 " that no flowers be sent." Countess Margaret was 
 charmed, and though Miss Skeat, who loved roses 
 and lilies, poor thing, ofi'ered to arrange them and 
 put them in water, t;Jie dark lady would not let her 
 touch them. She was jealous of their beauty. 
 
 The time seemed long to Claudius, though he went 
 in the meanwhile with Barker and the British aris- 
 tocracy to certain races. He rather liked the racing, 
 though he would not bet. The Duke lost some 
 money, and Barker won a few hundred francs from 
 a Russian acquaintance. The Duke drank cura§ao 
 and potass water, and Mr. Barker drank champagne, 
 while Claudius smoked innumerable cigarettes. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 69 
 
 There were a great many bright di-esses, there was a 
 great deal of shouting, and the congregation of the 
 horse-cads was gathered together. 
 
 "It does not look much like Newmarket, does it? " 
 said the Duke. 
 
 "More like the Paris Exposition, without the 
 exposition," said Barker. 
 
 "Do you have much racing in America?" asked 
 Claudius. 
 
 "Just one or two," answered Barker, "generally 
 on wheels." 
 
 "Wheels?" 
 
 "Yes. Trotting. Ag'd nags in sulkies. See 
 how fast they can go a mile," explained the Duke. 
 "Lots of shekels on it too, very often." 
 
 At last the evening came, and Claudius appeared 
 in Barker's room arrayed in full evening-dress. As 
 Barker had predicted to himself, the result was sur- 
 prising. Claudius was far beyond the ordinary 
 stature of men, and the close-fitting costume showed 
 off his athletic figure, while the pale, aquiline 
 features, with the yellow beard that looked gold at 
 night, contrasted in their refinement with the mas- 
 sive proportions of his frame, in a way that is rarely 
 seen save in the races of the far north or the far south. 
 
 The Countess received them graciously, and Miss 
 Skeat was animated. The flowers that Claudius had 
 sent the day before were conspicuously placed on a 
 table in the drawing-room. Mr. Barker, of course, 
 took in the Countess, and Miss Skeat put her arm in 
 that of Claudius, inwardly wondering how she could 
 have overlooked the fact that he was so excessively 
 handsome. They sat at a round table on which were 
 flowers, and a large block of ice in a crystal dish. 
 
70 DOCTOR OLAtTDItJS. 
 
 " Do you understand Russian soups ? " asked Mar- 
 garet of Claudius, as she deposited a spoonful of a 
 wonderful looking ^i:?*^ in the middle of her consomme. 
 
 "Alas," said the Doctor, "I am no gastronome. 
 At least my friend Mr. Barker tells me so, but I 
 have great powers of adaptation. I shall follow your 
 example, and shall doubtless fare sumptuously." 
 
 "Do not fear," said she, "you shall not have any 
 more strange and Cossack things to eat. I like some 
 Russian things, but they are so tremendous, that un- 
 less you have them first you cannot have them at all." 
 
 "I think it is rather a good plan," said Barker, 
 " to begin with something characteristic. It settles 
 the plan of action in one's mind, and helps the 
 memory." 
 
 "Do you mean in things in general, or only in 
 dinner?" asked the Countess. 
 
 " Oh, things in general, of course. I always gen- 
 eralise. In conversation, for instance. Take the 
 traditional English stage father. He always devotes 
 himself to everlasting perdition before he begins a 
 sentence, —and then you know what to expect." 
 
 " On the principle of knowing the worst — I under- 
 stand," said Margaret. 
 
 "As long as people understand each other," Clau- 
 dius put in, " it is always better to plunge in medias 
 res from the first." 
 
 "Yes, Dr. Claudius, you understand that very 
 well ; " and Margaret turned towards him as she spoke. 
 
 "The Doctor understands many things," said Bar- 
 ker in parenthesis. 
 
 "You have not yet reported the progress of the 
 crusade, " continued the Countess, " I must know all 
 about it at once." 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 71 
 
 " I have been plotting and planning in the spirit, 
 while my body has been frequenting the frivolities 
 of this over-masculine world," answered the Doctor. 
 At this point Miss Skeat attacked Mr. Barker about 
 the North American Indians, and the conversation 
 paired off, as it will under such circumstances. 
 
 Claudius was in good spirits and talked wittily, 
 half in jest, one would have thought, but really in 
 earnest, about what was uppermost in his mind, and 
 what he intended should be uppermost in the world. 
 It was a singular conversation, in the course of 
 which he sometimes spoke very seriously; but the 
 Countess did not allow herself the luxury of being 
 serious, though it was an effort to her to laugh at the 
 enthusiasm of his language, for he had a strong 
 vitality, and something of the gift which carries 
 people away. But Margaret had an impression that 
 Claudius was making love, and had chosen this 
 attractive ground upon which to open his campaign. 
 She could not wholly believe him different from 
 other men — at least she would not believe so soon — 
 and her instinct told her that the fair-haired student 
 admired her greatly. 
 
 Claudius, for his part, wondered at himself, when 
 he found a moment to reflect on what he had been 
 saying. He tried to remember whether any of these 
 thoughts had been formulated in his mind a month 
 ago. He was, indeed, conscious that his high rever- 
 ence for women in the abstract had been growing in 
 him for years, but he had had no idea how strong his 
 belief had grown in this reverence as an element in 
 social affairs. Doubtless the Doctor had often ques- 
 tioned why it was that women had so little weigfeitin 
 the scale, why they did so little of all they, might do. 
 
72 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 and he had read something of their doings across the 
 ocean. But it had all been vague, thick, and foggy, 
 whereas now it was all sharp and clean-edged. He 
 had made the first step out of his dreams in that he 
 had thought its realisation possible, and none but 
 dreamers know how great and wide that step is. 
 The first faint dawning, "It may be true, after all," 
 is as different from the remote, listless view of the 
 shadowy thought incapable of materialisation, as a 
 landscape picture seen by candle-light is different 
 from the glorious reality of the scene it represents. 
 Therefore, when Claudius felt the awakening touch, 
 ^nd saw his ideal before him, urging him, by her 
 very existence which made it possible, to begin the 
 fight, he felt the blood run quickly in his veins, and 
 his blue eyes flashed again, and the words came flow- 
 ing easily and surely from his lips. But he won- 
 dered at his own eloquence, not seeing yet that the 
 divine spark had kindled his genius into a broad 
 flame, and not half understanding what he felt. 
 
 It is late in the day to apostrophise love. It has 
 been done too much by people who persuade them- 
 selves that they love because they say they do, and 
 because it seems such a fine thing. Poets and 
 cynics, and good men and bad, have had their will 
 of the poor little god, and he has grown so shy and 
 retiring that he would rather not be addressed, or 
 described, or photographed in type, for the benefit of 
 the profane. He is chary of using pointed shafts, 
 and most of his target practice is done with heavy 
 round-tipped arrows that leave an ugly black bruise 
 where they strike, but do not draw the generous 
 blood. He lurks in out-of-the-way places and mopes, 
 and he rarely springs out suddenly on unwary youth 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 73 
 
 and maid, as he used to in the good old days be- 
 fore Darwin and La Rochefoucauld destroyed the 
 beauty of the body and the beauty of the soul, — or 
 man's belief in them, which is nearly the same. 
 Has not the one taught us to see the animal in the 
 angel, and the other to detect the devil in the saint ? 
 And yet we talk of our loves as angels and our de- 
 parted parents as saints, in a gentle, commonplace 
 fashion, as we talk of our articles of faith. The 
 only moderns who apostrophise love with any genu- 
 ine success are those who smack their lips sensuously 
 at his flesh and blood, because they are too blind to 
 see the lovely soul that is enshrined therein, and 
 they have too little wit to understand that soul and 
 body are one. 
 
 Mr. Barker, who seemed to have the faculty of 
 carrying on one conversation and listening to another 
 at the same time, struck in when Claudius paused. 
 
 " The Professor, Countess, " he began, " is one of 
 those rare individuals who indulge in the most un- 
 bounded enthusiasm. At the present time I think, 
 with all deference to his superior erudition, that he 
 is running into a dead wall. We have seen some- 
 thing of the ' woman's rights' question in America. 
 Let us take him over there and show him what it all 
 means." 
 
 "My friend," answered Claudius, "you are one 
 of those hardened sceptics for whom nothing can be 
 hoped save a deathbed repentance. When you are 
 mortally hit and have the alternative of marriage or 
 death set before you in an adequately lively manner, 
 you will, of course, elect to marry. Then your wife, 
 if you get your deserts, will rule you with a rod of 
 iron, and you will find, to your cost, that the woman 
 
74 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 who has got you has rights, whether you like it or 
 not, and that she can use them." 
 
 "Dollars and cents," said Barker grimly, "that 
 is all." 
 
 "No, it is not all," retorted Claudius. "A wise 
 Providence has provided women in the world who can 
 make it very uncomfortable for sinners like you, and 
 if you do not reform and begin a regular course of 
 worship, I hope that one of them will get you." 
 
 " Thanks. And if I repent and make a pilgrimage 
 on my knees to every woman I know, what fate do 
 you predict? what countless blessings are in store 
 for me?" 
 
 The Countess was amused at the little skirmish, 
 though she knew that Claudius was right. Barker, 
 with all his extreme politeness and his pleasant 
 speeches, had none of the knightly element in his 
 character. 
 
 "You never can appreciate the ' countless bless- 
 ings ' until you are converted to woman-worship, my 
 friend, " said Claudius, evading the question. " But, " 
 he added, " perhaps the Countess might describe them 
 to you." 
 
 But Margaret meant to do nothing of the kind. 
 She did not want to continue the general conversa- 
 tion on the topic which seemed especially Claudius's 
 own, particularly as Mr. Barker seemed inclined to 
 laugh at the Doctor's enthusiasm. So she changed 
 the subject, and began asking the American ques- 
 tions about the races on the previous day. 
 
 "Of course," she said, "I do not go anywhere 
 now." 
 
 The dinner passed off very pleasantly. Miss Skeat 
 was instructed in the Knickerbocker and Boston .peer- 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 75 
 
 age, so to speak, by the intelligent Mr. Barker, who 
 did not fail, however, to hint at the superiority 
 of Debrett, who does not hesitate to tell, and boldly 
 to print in black and white, those distinctions of 
 rank which he considers necessary to the salvation 
 of society; whereas the enterprising compilers of the 
 " Boston Blue Book " and the " New York List " only 
 divide society up into streets, mapping it out into 
 so many square feet and so much frontage of dukes, 
 marquesses, generals, and "people we don't know." 
 Miss Skeat listened to the disquisition on the rights 
 of birth with rapt attention, and the yellow candle- 
 light played pleasantly on her old corners, and her 
 ancient heart fluttered sympathetically. Margaret, 
 on the other side, made Claudius talk about his 
 youth, and took infinite pleasure in listening to his 
 tales of the fresh Northern life he had led as a boy. 
 The Doctor had the faculty of speech and told his 
 stories with a certain vigour that savoured of the sea. 
 
 "I hope you will both come and see me," said the 
 Countess, as the two men took their departure; but 
 as she spoke she looked at Barker. 
 
 Half an hour later they sat in their sitting-room at 
 the hotel, and Barker sipped a little champagne while 
 Claudius smoked cigarettes, as usual. As usual, 
 also, they were talking. It was natural that two 
 individuals endowed with the faculty of expressing 
 their thoughts, and holding views for the most part 
 diametrically opposed, should have a good deal to say 
 to each other. The one knew^a great deal, and the 
 other had seen a great deal ; both were given to look- 
 ing at life rather seriously than the reverse. Barker 
 never deceived himself for a moment about the reality 
 of thijigs, and spent much of his time in the practi- 
 
76 DOCTOR CLATTDIUS. 
 
 cal adaptation of means to ends he had in view; he 
 was superficial in his knowledge, but profound in 
 his actions. Claudius was an intellectual seeker 
 after an outward and visible expression of an inward 
 and spiritual truth which he felt must exist, though 
 he knew he might spend a lifetime in the prelimi- 
 narj"- steps towards its attainment. Just now they 
 were talking of marriage. 
 
 " It is detestable, " said Claudius, "to think how 
 mercenary the marriage contract is, in all civilised 
 and uncivilised countries. It ought not to be so — 
 it is wrong from the very begin'ning." 
 
 "Yes, it is wrong of course," answered Barker, 
 who was always ready to admit the existence and 
 even the beauty of an ideal, though he never took the 
 ideal into consideration for a moment in his doings. 
 "Of course it is wrong; but it cannot be helped. 
 It crops up everywhere, as the question of dollars 
 and cents will in every kind of business; and I 
 believe it is better to be done with it at first. Now 
 you have to pay a Frenchman cash down before he 
 will marry your daughter." 
 
 "I know," said Claudius, "and I loathe the idea." 
 
 "I respect your loathing, but there it is, and it 
 has the great advantage that it is all over, and there 
 is no more talk about it. Now the trouble in our 
 country is that people marry for love, and when they 
 get through loving they have got to live, and then 
 somebody must pay the bills. Supposing the son of 
 one rich father marAs the daughter of another rich 
 father; by the time they have got rid of the novelty 
 of the thing the bills begin to come in, and they 
 spend the remainder of their amiable lives in trying 
 to shove the expense off on to each other. With an 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 77 
 
 old-fashioned marriage contract tb tie them up, that 
 would not happen, because the wife is bound to pro- 
 vide so many clothes, and the husband has to giye 
 her just so much to eat, and there is an end of it. 
 See?" 
 
 "No, I do not see," returned Claudius. "If they 
 really loved each other " 
 
 " Get out ! " interrupted Barker, merrily. " If you 
 mean to take the immutability of the human affec- 
 tions as a basis of argument, I have done." 
 
 "There your cynicism comes in," said the other, 
 "and denies you the pleasure and profit of contem- 
 plating an ideal, and of following it up to its full 
 development." 
 
 " Is it cynical to see things as they are instead of 
 as they might be in an imaginary world?" 
 
 "Provided you really see them as they are — -no," 
 said Claudius. "But if you begin with an idea that 
 things, as they are, are not very good, you will very 
 soon be judging them by your own inherent standard 
 of badness, and you will produce a bad ideal as I 
 produce a good one, farther still from the truth, and 
 extremely depressing to contemplate." 
 
 "Why?" retorted Barker; " why should it be de- 
 pressing to look at everything as it is, or to try to ? 
 Why should my naturally gay disposition suffer on 
 making the discovery that the millennium is not 
 begun yet? The world may be bad, but it is a 
 merry little place while it laste^^" 
 
 " You are a hopeless case, "mid Claudius, laugh- 
 ing ; " if you had a conscience and some little feeling 
 for humanity, you would feel micomfortable in a bad 
 world." 
 
 " Exactly. I am moderately comfortable because I 
 
78 DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 
 
 know that I am just like everybody else. I would 
 rather, I am sure." 
 
 "I am not sure that you are," said Claudius 
 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Oh! not as you imagine everybody else, certainly. 
 Mediseval persons who have a hankering after tour- 
 naments and crawl about worshipping women." 
 
 "I do not deny the softer impeachment," answered 
 the Doctor, "but I hardly think I crawl much." 
 
 " No, but the people you imagine do — the male 
 population of this merry globe, as you represent it to 
 the Countess." 
 
 "I think Countess Margaret understands me very- 
 well." 
 
 "Yes," said Barker, "she understands you very 
 well." He did not emphasise the remark, and his 
 voice was high and monotonous ; but the repetition 
 was so forcible tha,t Claudius looked at his companion 
 rather curiously, and was silent. Barker was exam- 
 ining the cork of his little pint bottle of champagne 
 — "just one square drink, as he would have ex- 
 pressed it — and his face was a blank. 
 
 "Don't you think, Professor," he said at last, 
 "that with your views about the rights of women you 
 might make some interesting studies in America?" 
 
 "Decidedly." 
 
 "You might write a book." 
 
 "I might," said Claudius. 
 
 "You and the Countess might write a book to- 
 gether. " 
 
 " Are you joking ? " 
 
 " No. What I have heard you saying to each- other 
 this evening and the other day when we called would 
 make a very interesting book, thoxigh I disagree with 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 79 
 
 you both from beginning to end. It would sell, 
 though." 
 
 " It seems to me you rather take things for granted 
 when you infer that the Countess would be willing 
 to undertake anything of the kind." 
 
 Barker looked at the Doctor steadity, and smiled. 
 
 "Do you really think so? Do you imagine that 
 if you would do the work she would have any objec- 
 tion whatever to giving you the benefit of her views 
 and experience ? " 
 
 "In other words," Claudius said, "you are refer- 
 ring to the possibility of a journey to America, in the 
 company of the charming woman to whom you have 
 introduced me." 
 
 "You are improving. Professor; that is exactly 
 what I mean. Let us adjourn from the bowers of 
 Baden to the wind-swept cliffs of Newport — we can 
 be there before the season is over. But I forgot, you 
 thought you would not like Newport." 
 
 "I am not sure," said Claudius. "Do you think 
 the Countess would go ? " 
 
 " If you will call there assiduously, and explain 
 to her the glorious future that awaits your joint liter- 
 ary enterprise, I believe she might be induced." 
 
 Claudius went to bed that night with his head full 
 of this new idea, just as Mr. Barker had intended. 
 He dreamed he was writing with the Countess, and 
 travelling with her and talking to her ; and he woke 
 up with the determination that the thing should be 
 done if it were possible. Why not ? She often made 
 a trip to her native country, as she herself had told 
 him, and why should she not make another? For 
 aught he knew, she might be thinking of it even 
 now. 
 
80 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 Then he had a reaction of despondency. He knew 
 nothing of her ties or of her way of life. A woman 
 in her position probably made engagements long 
 beforehand, and mapped out her year among her 
 friends. She would have promised a week here and 
 a month there in visits all over Europe, and the idea 
 that she would give up her plans and consent, at the 
 instance of a two days' acquaintance, to go to Amer- 
 ica was preposterous. Then again, he said to him- 
 self, as he came back from his morning walk in the 
 woods, there was nothing like trying. He would 
 call as soon as it was decent after the dinner, and he 
 would call again. 
 
 Mr. Barker was a man in whom a considerable 
 experience of men supplemented a considerable natu- 
 ral astuteness. He was not always right in the judg- 
 ments he formed of people and their aims, but he was 
 more often right than wrong. His way of dealing 
 with men was calculated on the majority, and he 
 knew that there are no complete exceptions to be 
 found in the world's characters. But his standard 
 was necessarily somewhat low, and he lacked the 
 sympathetic element which enables one high nature 
 to understand another better than it understands its 
 inferiors. Barker would know how to deal with the 
 people he met; Claudiu.s could understand a hero if 
 he ever met one, but he bore himself toward ordinary 
 people by fixed rules of his own, not caring or 
 attempting to comprehend the principles on which 
 they acted. 
 
 If any one had asked the Doctor if he loved the 
 Countess, he would have answered that he certainly 
 did not. That she was the most beautiful woman 
 in the world, that she represented to him his highest 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 81 
 
 ideal, and that he was certain she came up to that 
 ideal, although he knew her so little, for he felt sure 
 of that. But love, the Doctor thought, was quite a 
 different affair. What he felt for Margaret bore no 
 resemblance to what he had been used to call love. 
 Besides, he would have said, did ever a man fall in 
 love at such short notice ? Only in books. But as 
 no one asked him the question, he did not ask it of 
 himself, but only went on thinking a great deal of 
 her, and recalling all she said. He was in an 
 unknown region, but he was happy, and he asked no 
 questions. Nevertheless his nature comprehended 
 hers, and when he began to go often to the beautiful 
 little villa, he knew perfectly well that Barker was 
 mistaken, and that the dark Countess would think 
 twice and three times before she would be persuaded 
 to go to America, or to write a book, or to do any- 
 thing in the world for Claudius, except like him and 
 show him that he was welcome. She would have 
 changed the subject had Claudius proposed to her to 
 do any of the things he seemed to think she was 
 ready to do, and Claudius knew it instinctively. 
 He was bold with women, but he never transgressed, 
 and his manner allowed him to say many things that 
 would have sounded oddly enough in Mr. Barker's 
 mouth. He impressed women with a sense of con- 
 fidence that he might be trusted to honour them and 
 respect them under any circumstances. 
 
 The Countess was accustomed to have men at her 
 feet, but she had never treated a man unjustly, and 
 if they had sometimes lost their heads it was not her 
 fault. She was a loyal woman, and had loved her 
 husband as much as most good wives, though with 
 an honest determination to love him better; for she 
 
82 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 was young when they married, and she thought her 
 love stronger than it really was. She had mourned 
 him sincerely, but the wound had healed, and being 
 a brave woman, with no morbid sensitiveness of her- - 
 self, she had contemplated the possibility of marrying 
 again, without, however, connecting the idea with 
 any individual. She had liked Claudius from the 
 first, and there had been something semi-romantic 
 about their meeting in the Schloss at Heidelberg. 
 On nearer acquaintance she liked him better, though 
 she knew that he admired her, and by the time a fort- 
 night had passed Claudius had become an institu- 
 tion. They read together and they walked together, 
 and once she took him with her in the black phaeton, 
 whereupon Barker remarked that it was " an immense 
 thing on wheels." 
 
 Mr. Barker, seeing that his companion was safe for 
 the present, left Baden for a time and lighted on his 
 friend the Duke at Como, where the latter had dis- 
 covered some attractive metal. The Duke remarked 
 that Como would be a very decent place if the scenery 
 wasn't so confoundedly bad. " I could beat it on my 
 own place in the west," he added. 
 
 The British aristocracy liked Mr. Barker, because 
 he was always inventing original ways of passing the 
 time, and because, though he was so rich, he never 
 talked about money except in a vague way as " lots 
 of shekels," or "piles of tin." So they said they 
 would go back to Baden together, which they did, 
 and as they had talked a good deal about Claudius, 
 they called on the Countess the same afternoon, 
 and there, sure enough, was the Swede, sitting by 
 the Countess's side in the garden, and expounding 
 the works of Mr. Herbert Spencer. Barker and the 
 
DOCTOR CLAtTDIUS. 83 
 
 Duke remained half an hour, and Claudius would 
 have gone with them, but Margaret insisted upon 
 finishing the chapter, so he stayed behind. 
 
 "He's a gone 'coon, Duke," remarked Barker, 
 beginning to smoke as soon as he was in the Victoria. 
 
 " I should say he was pretty hard hit, myself. I 
 guess nothing better could have happened." The 
 Duke, in virtue of his possessions in America, af- 
 fected to "guess " a little now and then when none 
 of those horrid people were about. 
 
 "Come on, Duke," said Barker, "let us go home, 
 and take them with us." 
 
 "I could not go just now. Next month. Autumn, 
 you know. Glories of the forest and those sort of 
 things." 
 
 " Think they would go ? " 
 
 "Don't know," said the Duke. "Take them over 
 in the yacht, if they like." 
 
 " All right. We can play poker while they bay 
 the moon." 
 
 "Hold on, though; she won't go without some 
 other woman, you know. It would be in all the 
 papers." 
 
 "She has a lady-companion," said Barker. 
 
 "That won't do for respectability." 
 
 "It is rather awkward, then." There was silence 
 for a few moments. 
 
 "Stop a bit," said the Duke suddenly. "It just 
 strikes me. I have got a sister somewhere. I'll 
 look her up. She is never ill at sea, and they have 
 sent her husband off to Kamtchatka, or some such 
 place." 
 
 "That's the very thing," said Barker. "I will 
 talk to Claudius. Can you manage the Countess, do 
 you think? Have you known her long ? " 
 
84 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "Rather. Ever since she married poor Alexis." 
 
 "All right, then. You ask her." And they 
 reached their hotel. 
 
 So these two gentlemen settled things between 
 them. They both wanted to go to America, and 
 they were not in a hurry, so that the prospect of a 
 pleasant party, with all the liberty and home feeling 
 there is on board of a yacht, was an immense attrac- 
 tion. Barker, of course, was amused and interested 
 by his scheme for making Claudius and the Countess 
 fall in love with each other, and he depended on the 
 dark lady for his show. Claudius would not have 
 been easily induced to leave Europe by argument or 
 persuasion, but there was little doubt that he would 
 follow the Countess, if she could be induced to lead. 
 
 The Duke, on the other hand, thought only of 
 making up a well-arranged party of people who 
 wanted to make the journey in any case, and would 
 not be on his hands after he landed. So two or three 
 days later he called on the Countess to open the 
 campaign. It was not altogether new ground, as 
 they had crossed together once before. The Duke 
 was not very good at leading the conversation up to 
 his points, so he immediately began talking about 
 America, in order to be sure of hitting somewhere 
 near the mark. 
 
 " I have not been over since the autumn, " he said, 
 "and I really ought to go." 
 
 "When will you start?" asked Margaret. 
 
 " I meant to go next month. I think I will take 
 the yacht." 
 
 " I wonder you do not always do that. It is so 
 much pleasanter, and you feel as if you never had 
 gone out of your own house." 
 
DOOTOE CLAUDIUS. 85 
 
 "The fact is," said lie, plunging, "I am going to 
 take my sister, and I would like to have a little party. 
 Will you not join us yourself. Countess, and Miss 
 Skeat?" 
 
 " Really, Duke, you are very kind. But I was not 
 thinking of going home just yet." 
 
 " It is a long time since you have been there. Not 
 
 since " 
 
 "Yes, I know," said Margaret gravely. "And 
 perhaps that is why I hesitate to go now." 
 .^ " But would it not be different if we all went to- 
 gether ? Do you not think it would be much nicer ? " 
 " Did you say your sister was going ? " 
 "Oh yes, she will certainly go." 
 "Well," said the Countess after a moment's 
 thought, " I will not say just yet. I need not make 
 up my mind yet ; need I ? Then I will take a few 
 days to think of it." 
 
 "I am sure you will decide to join us," said the 
 Duke pressingly. 
 
 " Perhaps I ought to go, and it is so kind of you, 
 really, to give me such a delightful chance." She 
 had a presentiment that before long she would be 
 on her way to join the yacht, though at first sight 
 it seemed rather improbable, for, as Claudius had 
 guessed, she had a great many engagements for 
 visits. If any one had suggested to her that morn- 
 ing that she might make a trip to America, she would 
 have said it was quite impossible. The idea of the 
 disagreeable journey, the horror of being cast among 
 an immense crowd of unknown travellers; or, still 
 worse, of being thrown into the society of some 
 chance acquaintance who would make the most of 
 knowing her — it was all sufficient, even in the 
 
86 DOCTOK CLAUDIUS, 
 
 absence of other reasons, to deter her from underlak- 
 ing the journey. But in the party proposed by the 
 Duke it was all very different. He was a gentle- 
 man, besides being a peer, and he was an old friend. 
 His sister was a kind-hearted gentlewoman of narrow 
 views but broad humanity; and not least, the yacht 
 was sure to be perfection, and she would be the 
 honoured guest. She would be sorry to leave Baden 
 for some reasons ; she liked Claudius very much, and 
 he made her feel that she was leading an intellectual 
 life. But she had not entirely realised him yet. 
 He was to her always the quiet student whom she 
 had met in Heidelberg, and during the month past 
 the feeling she entertained for him had developed 
 more in the direction of intellectual sympathy than 
 of personal friendship. She would not mind part- 
 ing with him any more than she would mind laying 
 down an interesting book before she had half read it. 
 Still that was something, and the feeling had weight. 
 
 "Miss Skeat," she said, when they were alone, 
 " you have never been in America ? " 
 
 "No, dear Countess, I have never been there, and 
 until lately I have never thought I would care to go." 
 
 "Would you like to go now?" 
 
 "Oh! " exclaimed the ancient one, "I would like 
 it of all things ! " 
 
 "I am thinking of going over next month," said 
 Margaret, "and of course I would like you to go 
 with me. Do you mind the sea very much ? " 
 
 " Oh dear, no ! I used to sail a great deal when I 
 was a girl, and the Atlantic cannot be worse than 
 our coast." 
 
 Miss Skeat's assent was a matter of real impor- 
 tance to Margaret, for the old gentlewoman was 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 87 
 
 sincerely attached to her, and Margaret would have 
 been very unwilling to turn her faithful companion 
 adrift, even for a time, besides the minor considera- 
 tion that without a companion she would not go at 
 all. The end of it was that by dinner-time she had 
 made up her mind to write excuses to all the people 
 who expected her, and to accept the Duke's invita- 
 tion. After all, it was not until next month, and 
 she could finish the book she was reading with 
 Claudius before that. She postponed writing to the 
 Duke until the following day, in order to make a 
 show of having considered the matter somewhat 
 longer. But her resolution did not change, and in 
 the morning she despatched a friendly little note to 
 .the effect that she found her engagements would per- 
 mit her, etc. etc. 
 
 When Margaret told Miss Skeat that they were 
 going in one of the finest yachts afloat, with the 
 Duke and his sister, her companion fairly crackled 
 with joy. 
 
88 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The Duke was away during the day, and did not 
 receive the Countess's note until late in the even- 
 ing. To tell the truth, he was very glad to find that 
 she was going ; but he felt there might be difficulties 
 in the way; for, of course, he was bound to let her 
 know the names of his remaining guests. She might 
 hesitate when she heard that Claudius and Barker 
 were to be of the party. After all, Barker was the 
 companion whom the Duke wanted. He knew noth- 
 ing about Claudius, but he had met enough men of 
 all types of eccentricity not to be much surprised at 
 him, and as the Doctor was evidently a gentleman, 
 there was no objection. Therefore, as soon as the 
 Duke knew of Margaret's determination, he sallied 
 forth, armed with her note, to find Mr. Barker. It 
 was late, but the American was nocturnal in his 
 habits, and was discovered by his friend in a huge 
 cloud of tobacco smoke, examining his nails with 
 that deep interest which in some persons betokens 
 thought. 
 
 "It's all right," said the Duke; "she will go." 
 
 " You don't mean it? " said Barker, taking his legs 
 off the sofa and wrinkling his face. 
 
 " There you are. Note. Formal acceptance, and 
 all the rest of it." And he handed Margaret's letter 
 to Barker. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 89 
 
 "Well, that is pretty smart practice," remarked 
 tlie latter; "I expected you would have difficulties." 
 
 " Said she would take some days to make up her 
 mind. She wrote this the same evening I called, I 
 am sure. Just like a woman." 
 
 "Well, I think it's deuced lucky, anyhow," said 
 Barker. "Did you tell her who was going? " 
 
 " I told her about my sister. I have not mentioned 
 you or your friend yet. Of course I will do that as 
 soon as I am sure of you both." 
 
 "Well," said Barker, "if you don't mind, perhaps - 
 you might write a note to the Doctor. He might be 
 shy of accepting an invitation by word of mouth. 
 Do you mind?" 
 
 "Not in the least," said the Englishman; "give 
 me a rag of paper and a quill, and I'll do it now." 
 
 And he accordingly did it, and directed the invita- 
 tion to Claudius, Phil.D., and Barker pushed it into 
 the crack of the door leading to the apartment where 
 the Doctor was sleeping, lest it should be forgotten. 
 
 The next morning Claudius appeared with the 
 Duke's note in his hand. 
 
 "What does this mean?" he asked. "I hardly 
 know him at all, and here he asks me to cross the 
 Atlantic in his yacht. I wish you would explain." 
 
 " Keep your hair on, my young friend," replied Mr. 
 Barker jocosely. "He has asked you and me be- 
 cause his party would not be complete without us." 
 
 " And who are ' the party ' ? " 
 
 " Oh, very small. Principally his sister, I believe. 
 Hold on though. Miss Skeat is going." 
 
 "Miss Skeat?" Claudius anticipated some chaff 
 from his friend, and knit his brows a little. 
 
 " Yes ; Miss Skeat and the Countess ; or, perhaps 
 I should say the Countess and Miss Skeat." 
 
90 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "Ah!" ejaculated Claudius, "anyone else?" 
 
 " Not that I know of. Will you go ? " 
 
 "It is rather sudden," said the Doctor reflectively. 
 
 "You must make up your mind one way or the 
 other, or you will spoil the Duke's arrangements." 
 
 "Barker," said Claudius seriously, "do you sup- 
 pose the Countess knows who are going ? " 
 
 "My dear boy," replied the other, peeling a peach 
 which he had impaled on a fork, " it is not likely the 
 Duke would ask a lady to go with him without tell- 
 ing her who the men were to be. Be calm, however; 
 I have observed your habits, and in two hours and 
 twenty-three minutes your mind will be at rest. " 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "It is now thirty-seven miniites past nine. Do 
 you mean to say you have failed once for weeks past 
 to be at the Countess's as the clock strikes twelve?" 
 
 Claudius was silent. It was q uite true ; he went 
 there daily at the same hour ; for, as appeared in the 
 beginning of this tale, he was a regular man. But 
 he reflected just now that the Countess would not be 
 likely to speak of the party unless she knew that he 
 was to be one. He had not accepted his invitation 
 yet, and the Duke would certainly not take his 
 acceptance as a foregone conclusion. Altogether it 
 seemed probable that he would be kept in suspense. 
 If he then accepted without being sure of the 
 Countess, he was binding himself to leave her. 
 Claudius had many things to learn j^et. 
 
 "If I were you," said Barker, "I would write at 
 once and say 'Yes.' Why can't you do it now?" 
 
 "Because I have not made up my mind." 
 
 " Well, a bird in the hand is the soul of business, 
 as the good old proverb says. I have accepted for 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 91 
 
 myself, anyhow ; but I would be sorry to leave you 
 on this side." 
 
 So ClaudiuiS went to the Countess as usual, and 
 found her in her morning-room awaiting him. He 
 bent over her hand, but as he took it he thought it 
 was a trifle colder than usual. It might have been 
 imagination, but he fancied her whole manner was 
 less cordial than before. And he said to himself, 
 " She has heard I am going, and she is annoyed, and 
 is not glad to see me." There was a preternatural 
 solemnity about their conversation which neither of 
 them could break through, and in a few minutes 
 they both looked as though they had not smiled for 
 years. 
 
 Now Claudius was entirely mistaken. Margaret 
 had not heard that he was going. If she had, she 
 would have spoken frankly, as was her nature to do 
 always, if she spoke at all. Margaret had accepted 
 the Duke's invitation, and intended to keep her 
 word, and she had no suspicion whatever of who 
 the other guests might be. She foresaw that such 
 a journey would break up her acquaintance with 
 Claudius, and she regretted it; and especially she 
 regretted having allowed the Doctor so much inti- 
 macy and so many visits. Not that he had taken 
 advantage of the footing on which he was received, 
 for any signs of such a disposition on his part would 
 have abruptly terminated the situation ; he had been 
 the very model of courtesy from the first. But she 
 knew enough of men to perceive that this gentle 
 homage clothed a more sincere admiration than lay 
 at the root of the pushing attentions of some other 
 men she had known. Therefore she made up her 
 mind that as there were yet three weeks before sail- 
 
92 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 ing, after the expiration of which she would never 
 be likely to see Claudius again, she would let him 
 down easily, so to speak, that there might be no over- 
 tender recollections on his part, nor any little stings 
 of remorse on her own. He had interested her ; they 
 had spent a couple of pleasant months ; she had given 
 him no encouragement, and he Avas gone without a 
 sigh : that was the way in which Countess Margaret 
 hoped to remember Dr. Claudius by that time next 
 month. And so, fearing lest she might inadver- 
 tently have been the least shade too cordial, she 
 began to be a little more severe, on this hot morning 
 when Claudius, full of indecision, followed her out 
 to their favourite reading-place under the trees. It 
 was the same spot where they had sat when Barker 
 first brought him to see her. Margaret had no par- 
 ticular feeling about the little nook under the trees. 
 It was merely the most convenient place to sit and 
 work ; that was all. But to Claudius the circle of 
 green sward represented the temple of his soul, and 
 Margaret was to him Rune Wife and prophetess as 
 well as divinity. In such places, and of such women, 
 his fair-haired forefathers, bare-armed and sword- 
 girt, had asked counsel in trouble, and song-inspira- 
 tion in peace. 
 
 Here they sat them down, she determined to do 
 the right by him, and thinking it an easy matter; 
 he utterly misunderstanding her. Without a smile, 
 they set to work at their reading. They read for an 
 hour or more, maintaining the utmost gravity, when, 
 as luck would have it, the word "friendship" oc- 
 cured in a passage of the book. Claudius paused a 
 moment, his broad hand laid flat on the open page. 
 
 " That is one of the most interesting and one of 
 
DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 93 
 
 the most singularly misunderstood words in all 
 languages," he said. 
 
 "What word?" inquired Margaret, looking up 
 from her work, to which she had attentively applied 
 herself while he was reading. 
 "Friendship." 
 
 " Will you please defiiae what it means ? " said she. 
 " I can define what I myself mean by it, or rather 
 what I think I mean by it. I can define what a 
 dozen writers have meant by it. But I cannot tell 
 what it really means, still less what it may ultimately 
 come to mean." 
 
 " You will probably be best able to explain what 
 you mean by it yourself," answered Margaret rather 
 coldly. " Will you please begin ? " 
 
 "It seems to me," Claudius began, "that the diffi- 
 culty lies in the contradiction between the theory 
 and the fact. Of course, as in all such cases, the 
 theory loses the battle, and we are left groping for 
 an explanation of the fact which we do not under- 
 stand. Perhaps that is a little vague ? " Claudius 
 paused. 
 
 "A little vague — yes," said she. 
 " I will try and put it more clearly. First take 
 the fact. No one will deny that there have occasion- 
 ally in the world's history existed friendships which 
 have stood every test and which have lasted to the 
 very end. Such attachments have been always affairs 
 of the heart, even between man and man. I do not 
 think you can name an instance of a lasting friend- 
 ship on a purely intellectual basis. True friendship 
 implies the absence of envy, and the vanity of even 
 the meanest intellect is far too great to admit of such 
 a condition out of pure thought-sympathy." 
 
94 DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 
 
 " I do not see any contradiction, even admitting 
 your last remark, which is cynical enough." Mar- 
 garet spoke indifferently, as making a mere criticism. 
 
 " But I believe most people connect the idea of 
 friendship, beyond ordinary liking, with intellectual 
 sympathy. They suppose, for instance, that a man 
 may love a woman wholly and entirely with the best 
 kind of love, and may have at the same time a friend 
 with whom he is in entire sympathy." 
 
 "And why not?" she asked. 
 
 " Simply because he cannot serve two masters. If 
 he is in entire sympathy with more than one indi- 
 vidual he must sometimes not only contradict him- 
 self, as he would rightly do for one or the other 
 alone, but he must also contradict one in favour of 
 the other in case they disagree. In such a case he 
 is no longer in entire sympathy with both, and either 
 his love or his friendship must be imperfect." 
 Claudius looked at the Countess to see what impres- 
 sion he had made. She did not return his glance. 
 
 " In other words ? " was her question. 
 
 "In other words," he answered in a tone of con- 
 viction, " friendship is only a substitute for love, and 
 cannot exist beside it unless lover and friend be one 
 and the same person. Friendship purely intellectual 
 is a fallacy, owing to the manifest imperfections of 
 human nature. It must, then, be an affair of the 
 heart, whatever you may define that to be, and can- 
 not, therefore, exist at the same time with any other 
 affair of the heart without inevitable contradiction. 
 How often has love separated old friends, and friend- 
 ship bred discord between lovers ! " 
 
 "I never heard that argument before," said Mar- 
 garet, who, to tell the truth, was surprised at the 
 result of the Doctor's discourse. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 95 
 
 "What do you think of it?" he asked. 
 
 "I a,m not sure, but the point is interesting. I 
 think you are a little vague about what an 'affair of 
 the heart,' as you call it, reallj' is." 
 
 " I suppose an affair of the heart to be such a situa- 
 tion of the feelings that the heart rules the head and 
 the actions by the head. The prime essence of love 
 is that it should be complete, making no reservations 
 and allowing of no check from the reason." 
 
 "A dangerous state of things." 
 
 "Yes," said Claudius. "When the heart gets 
 the mastery it knows neither rest nor mercy. If the 
 heart is good the result will be good, if it is bad the 
 result will be evil. Real love has produced incal- 
 culably great results in the lives of individuals and 
 in the life of the world." 
 
 "I suppose so," said Margaret; "but you made out 
 friendship to be also an 'affair of the heart,' so far as 
 you believe in it at all. Is true friendship as uncal- 
 culating as true love? Does it make no reserva- 
 tions, and does it admit of no check from the reason ? " 
 
 " I think, as I said, that friendship is a substitute 
 for love, second best in its nature and second best, 
 too, in its unselfishness." 
 
 "Many people say love is selfishness itself." 
 
 " I know, " answered the Doctor, and paused as if 
 thinking. 
 
 "Do you not want to smoke?" asked Margaret, 
 with a tinge of irony, " it may help you to solve the 
 difiiculty." 
 
 " Thank you, no," said he, " the difiiculty is solved, 
 and it is no difficulty at all. The people who say 
 that do not know what they are talking about, for 
 they have never been in love themselves. Love, 
 
96 DOCTOR CLATJDIUS. 
 
 worth the name, is complete; and being complete, 
 demands the whole, and is not satisfied with less 
 than the whole any more than it is satisfied with 
 giving less than all that it has. The selfishness lies 
 in demanding and insisting upon having everything, 
 while only offering rags and shreds in return; and if 
 one may find this fault in ordinary love affairs, one 
 may find it tenfold in ordinary friendships. Friend- 
 ship may be heroic but love is godlike." 
 
 Margaret had become interested in spite of herself, 
 though she had preserved the constrained manner 
 she had first assumed. Now, however, as Claudius 
 turned his flashing blue eyes to hers, she understood 
 that she had allowed the conversation to go far 
 ' enough, and she marvelled that on the very day when 
 she was trying to be most unapproachable he should 
 have said more to show what was next his heart than 
 ever before. She did not know enough of excep- 
 tional natures like his to be aware that a touch of 
 the curb is the very thing to rouse the fierce blood. 
 True, he spoke generally, and even argumentatively, 
 and his deep voice was calm enough, but there was 
 a curious light in his eyes that dazzled her even in 
 the mid-day sun, and she looked away. 
 
 "I am not sure I agree with you," she said, "but 
 you put it very clearly. Shall we go on reading ? " 
 
 Claudius was some time in finding his place in the 
 open book, and then went on. Again he misunder- 
 stood her, for though he could not remember saying 
 anything he regretted, he fancied she had brought 
 the conversation to a somewhat abrupt close. He 
 read on, feeling very uncomfortable, and longing 
 for one of those explanations that are impossible 
 between acquaintances and emotional between lovers. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 97 
 
 He felt also that if lie ever spoke out and told her he 
 loved her it would be in some such situation as the 
 present. Margaret let her needlework drop and 
 leaned back in the long chair, staring at a very unin- 
 teresting-looking tree on the other side of the garden. 
 Claudius read in a steady determined tone, emphasis- 
 ing his sentences with care, and never once taking 
 his eyes from the book. At last, noticing how 
 quietly he was doing his work, Margaret looked at 
 him, not furtively or as by stealth, but curiously 
 and thoughtfully. He was good to look at, so strong 
 and straight, even as he sat at ease with the book in 
 his hand, and the quivering sunlight through the 
 leaves played over his yellow beard and white fore- 
 head. She knew well enough now that he admired 
 her greatly, and she hoped it would not be very hard 
 for him when she went away. Somehow, he was 
 still to her the professor, the student, quiet and 
 dignified and careless of the world, as she had first 
 known him. She could not realise Claudius as a 
 man of wealth and power, who was as well able to 
 indulge his fancies as the Duke himself, — perhaps 
 more so, for the Duke's financial affairs were the 
 gossip of Europe, and always had been since he came 
 of age. 
 
 Meanwhile the Doctor reached the end of the chap- 
 ter, and there was a pause. Neither spoke, and the 
 silence was becoming awkward, when a servant 
 came across the lawn announcing the Duke. 
 
 "Ask his Grace to come outside," said Margaret, 
 and the representative of the aristocracy was striding 
 over the green, hat in hand, a moment afterwards. 
 Margaret put out her hand and Claudius rose. Each 
 felt that the deus ex machind had arrived, and that 
 
98 DOCTOK CLAtTDlUS. 
 
 the subject of the yachting excursion would be im- 
 mediately broached. 
 
 "Immense luck, finding you both," remarked the 
 Duke when he was seated. 
 
 "We have been reading. It is so pleasant here," 
 said Maragret, to say something. 
 
 " I have come to thank you for your kind note, 
 Countess. It is extremely good of you to go in such 
 a party, with your taste for literature and those sort 
 of things." 
 
 " I am sure it is I who ought to thank you, Duke. 
 But when are we to sail ? " 
 
 "About the tenth of next month, I should say. 
 Will that be convenient? " 
 
 Margaret turned to Claudius. 
 
 " Do you think we can finish our book by the tenth. 
 Dr. Claudius ? " 
 
 "If not," broke in the Duke, "there is no reason 
 why you should not finish it on board. We shall 
 have lovely weather." 
 
 "Oh no! " said Margaret, "we must finish it be- 
 fore we start. I could not understand a word of 
 it alone." 
 
 "Alone?" inquired the Duke. "Ah! I forgot. 
 Thought he had told you. I have asked Dr. Clau- 
 dius to give us the pleasure of his company." 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" said Margaret. "That will be 
 very nice." She did not look as if she thought so, 
 however. Her expression was not such as led the 
 Duke to believe she was pleased, or Claudius to 
 think she would like his going. To tell the truth, 
 she was annoyed for more than one reason. She 
 thought the Duke, although he was such an old 
 friend, should have consulted her before making up 
 
DOCTOR CLATTDIUS. % 
 
 the list of men for the party. She was annoyed with 
 Claudius because he had not told her he was going, 
 when he really thought she knew it, and was dis- 
 pleased at it. And most of all, she was momentarily 
 disconcerted at being thus taken off her guard. 
 Besides, the Duke must have supposed she liked 
 Claudius very much, and he had perhaps contrived 
 the whole excursion in order to throw them together. 
 Her first impulse was to change her mind and not go 
 after all. 
 
 Meanwhile Claudius was much astonished at the 
 turn things had taken. Margaret had known noth- 
 ing about the invitation to the Doctor after all, and 
 her coldness this morning must be attributed to some 
 other cause. But now that she did know she looked 
 less pleased than ever. She did not want him. The 
 Doctor was a proud man in his quiet way, and he 
 was, moreover, in love, not indeed hopelessly as yet, 
 for love is never wholly irrevocable until it has sur- 
 vived the crucial test, attainment of its object; but 
 Claudius loved, and he knew it. Consequently his 
 pride revolted at the idea of thrusting himself where 
 he was not wanted, and his love forbade him to per- 
 secute the woman he worshipped. He also said to 
 himself, "I will not go." He had not yet accepted 
 the invitation. 
 
 " I had intended to write to you this afternoon," 
 he said, turning to the Duke. " But since it is my 
 good fortune to be able to thank you in person for 
 your kind invitation, let me do so now." 
 
 "I hope you are going," said the Duke. 
 
 "I fear," answered Claudius, "that I shall be pre- 
 vented from joining you, much as I would like to do 
 so. I have by no means decided to abandon my posi- 
 tion in Heidelberg." 
 
100 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 Neither Margaret nor the Duke were in the least 
 prepared for this piece of news. The Duke was 
 taken aback at the idea that any human being could 
 refuse such an invitation. Following on his aston- 
 ishment that Margaret should not be delighted at 
 having the Doctor on board, the intelligence that the 
 Doctor did not want to go at all threw the poor man 
 into the greatest perplexity. He had made a mis- 
 take somewhere, evidently; but where or how he 
 could not tell. 
 
 "Barker," he said to himself, "is an ass. He has 
 made me muff the whole thing." However, he did 
 not mean to give up the fight. 
 
 " I am extremely sorry to hear you say that, Dr. 
 Claudius," he said aloud, "and I hope you will 
 change your mind, if I have to send you an invitation 
 every day until we sail. You know one does not ask 
 people on one's yacht unless one wants them very 
 much, and we want you. It is just like asking a 
 man to ri'de your favourite hunter; you would .not 
 ask him unless you meant it, for fear he would." 
 The Duke seldom made so long a speech, and Clau- 
 dius felt that the invitation was really genuine, which 
 gave his wounded pride a pleasant little respite from 
 its aches. He was grateful, and he said so. Mar- 
 garet was silent and plied her needle, planning how 
 she might escape the party if Claudius changed his 
 mind and went, and how she could with decency 
 leave herself the option of going if he remained. 
 She did not intend to give people any farther chance 
 of pairing her off with Claudius or any one else 
 whom they thought she fancied, and she blamed her- 
 self for having given people even the shadow of an 
 idea that such officious party-making would please 
 her. 
 
DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 101 
 
 Claudius rose to go. The position was not tenable 
 any longer, and it was his only course. The Count- 
 ess bade him good morning with more cordiality 
 than she had displayed as yet; for, in spite of her 
 annoyance, she would have been sorry to wound his 
 feelings. The change of tone at first gave Claudius 
 a thrill of pleasure, which gave way to an increased 
 sense of mortification as he reflected that she was 
 probably only showing that she was glad to be rid of 
 him — a clumsy, manlike thought, which his reason 
 would soon get the better of. So he departed. 
 
 There was silence for some minutes after he had 
 gone, for Margaret and the Englishman were old 
 friends, and there was no immediate necessity for 
 making conversation. At last he spoke with a cer- 
 tain amount of embarrassment. 
 
 " I ought to have told you before that I had asked 
 those two men." 
 
 "Who is the other?" she inquired without look- 
 ing up. 
 
 "Why, Barker, his friend." 
 
 " Oh, of course ! But it would have been simpler 
 to have told me. It made it rather awkward, for of 
 course Dr. Claudius thought I knew he was asked 
 and wondered why I did not speak of it. Don't you 
 see ? " she raised her eyes as she put the question. 
 
 " It was idiotic of me, and I am very sorry. Please 
 forgive me." 
 
 "As he is not going, it does not make any differ- 
 ence, of course, and so I forgive you." 
 
 Considering that Barker had suggested the party, 
 that it was Barker whom the Duke especially wanted 
 to amuse him on the trip, that Barker had proposed 
 Margaret and Claudius, and that, finally, the whole 
 
102 DOCTOR CLAUDItrS. 
 
 affair was a horrid mess, the Duke did not see what 
 he could have done. But he knew it was good form 
 to be penitent whenever it seemed to be expected, 
 and he liked Margaret well enough to hope that she 
 would go. He did not care very much for the society 
 of women at any time. He was more or less married 
 when he was at home, which was never for long to- 
 gether, and when he was away he preferred the 
 untrammelled conversational delights of a foreign 
 green-room to the twaddle of the embassies or to 
 the mingled snobbery and philistinism produced by 
 the modern fusion of the almighty dollar and the 
 ancienne noblesse. 
 
 And so he was in trouble just now, and his one 
 idea was to submit to everything the Countess might 
 say, and then to go and "give it" to Mr. Barker for 
 producing so much complication. But Margaret had 
 nothing more to say about the party, and launched 
 out into a discussion of the voyage. She introduced 
 a cautious "if" in most of her sentences. "If I go 
 I would like to see Madeira," and "if we join you, 
 you must take care of Miss Skeat, and give her the 
 best cabin," etc. etc. The Duke wisely abstained 
 from pressing his cause, or asking why she q\ialified 
 her plans. At last he got awaj'-, after promising to 
 do every conceivable and inconceivable thing which 
 she should now or at any future time evolve from 
 the depths of her inventive feminine consciousness. 
 
 " By the way, Duke, " she called after him, as he 
 went over the lawn, " may I take old Vladimir if I 
 go?" 
 
 " If you go, " he answered, moving back a step or 
 two, " you may bring all the Imperial Guards if you 
 choose, and I will provide transports for those that 
 the yacht won't hold." 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 103 
 
 "Thanks; that is all," she said laughing, and the 
 stalwart peer vanished through the house. The 
 moment he was gone Margaret dropped her work and 
 lay back in her long chair to think. The heavy lids 
 half closed over her dark eyes, and the fingers of her 
 right hand slowly turned round and round the ring 
 she wore upon her left. Miss Skeat was upstairs 
 reading Lord Byron's Corsair in anticipation of the 
 voyage. Margaret did not know this, or the thought 
 of the angular and well-bred Scotchwoman bounding 
 over the glad waters of the dark blue sea would have 
 made her smile. As it was, she looked serious. 
 
 "I am sorry," she thought to herself. "It was 
 nice of him to say he would not go." 
 
 Meanwhile the strong-legged nobleman footed it 
 merrily towards Barker's hotel, It was a good two 
 miles, and the Duke's ruddy face shone again under 
 the August sun. But the race characteristic was 
 strong in him, and he liked to make himself unneces- 
 sarily hot; moreover he was really fond of Barker, 
 and now he was going to pitch into him, as he said 
 to himself, so it was indispensable to keep the steam 
 up. He found his friend as usual the picture of 
 dried-up coolness, so to say. Mr. Barker never 
 seemed to be warm, but he never seemed to feel cold 
 either, and at this moment, as he sat in a half -lighted 
 room, clad in a variety of delicate gray tints, Avith a 
 collar that looked like fresh-baked biscuit ware, and 
 a pile of New York papers and letters beside him, he 
 was refreshing to the eye. 
 
 "Upon my word. Barker, you always look cool," 
 said the Duke, as he sat himself down in an arm- 
 chair, and passed his handkerchief round his wrists. 
 "I would like to know how you do it." 
 
104 DOCTOK CLAUDITTS. 
 
 " To begin with, I do not rush madly about in the 
 sun in the midlde of the day. That may have some- 
 thing to do with it." 
 
 The Duke sneezed loudly, from the mingled dust 
 and sunshine he had been inhaling. 
 
 " And then I don't come into a cold room and catch 
 cold, like you. Here I sit in seclusion and fan my- 
 self with the pages of my newspapers as I turn them 
 over. " 
 
 " You have got us all into the deuce of a mess with 
 your confounded coolness," said the Duke after a 
 pause, during which he had in vain searched all his 
 pockets for his cigar-case. Barker had watched him, 
 and pushed an open box of Havanas across the table. 
 But the Duke was determined to be sulky, and took 
 no notice of the attention. The circular wrinkle 
 slowly furrowed its way round Barker's mouth, and 
 his under jaw pushed forward. It always amused 
 him to see sanguine people angry. They looked so 
 uncomfortable, and " gave themselves away " so reck- 
 lessly. 
 
 "If you won't smoke, have some beer," he sug- 
 gested. But his Grace fumed the redder. 
 
 "I don't understand how a man of your intelli- 
 gence. Barker, can go and put people into such awk- 
 ward positions," he said. "I think it is perfectly 
 idiotic." 
 
 "Write me down an ass, by all means," said Bar- 
 ker calmly; " but please explain what you mean. I 
 told you not to buy in the Green Swash Mine, and 
 now I suppose you have gone and done it, because I 
 said it might possibly be active some day." 
 
 "I have been to see the Countess this morning," 
 said the Duke, beating the dust from his thick walk- 
 ing-boot with his cane. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 105 
 
 "Ah! " said Barker, without any show of interest. 
 " Was she at home ? " 
 
 " I should think so, " said the Duke. " Very much 
 at home, and Dr. Claudius was there too." 
 
 "Oh! so you are jealous of Claudius, are you?" 
 The ducal wrath rose. 
 
 "Barker, you are insufferably ridiculous." 
 
 "Duke, you had much better go to bed," returned 
 his friend. 
 
 " Look here, Barker " 
 
 "Do not waste your vitality in that way," said the 
 American.. " I wish I had half of it. It quite pains 
 me to see you. Now I will put the whole thing 
 clearly before you as I suppose it happened, and you 
 shall tell me if it is my fault or not, and whether, 
 after all, it is such a very serious matter. Countess 
 Margaret did not know that Claudius was going, 
 and did not speak of the trip. Claudius thought 
 she was angry, and when you arrived and let th6 cat 
 out of the bag the Countess thought you were trying 
 to amuse yourself by surprising her, and she was 
 angry too. Then they both made common cause and 
 would have nothing more to do with you, and told 
 you to go to the devil, and at this moment they are 
 planning to remain here for the next forty or fifty 
 years, and are sending off a joint telegram to Pro- 
 fessor Immanuel Spencer, or whatever his name is, to 
 hurry up and get some more books ready for them to 
 read. I am glad you have not bought Green Swash, 
 though, really. " There was a pause, and the Duke 
 glared savagely at the cigar-box. 
 
 " Is your serene highness satisfied that I know all 
 about it?" asked Barker at last. 
 
 "No, I am not. And I am not serene. She says 
 
106 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 she will go, and Claudius says he won't. And it is 
 entirely your fault." 
 
 "It is not of any importance what he says, or 
 whether it is my fault or not. If you had bestirred 
 yourself to go and see her at eleven before Claudius 
 arrived it would not have happened. But he will 
 go all the same ; never fear. And the Countess will 
 persuade him too, without our doing anything in the 
 matter. " 
 
 " You would not have thought so if you had seen 
 the way she received the news that he was invited," 
 grumbled the Duke. 
 
 "If you associated more with women you would 
 understand them better," replied the other. 
 
 "I dare say." The Englishman was cooler, and 
 at last made up his mind to take one of Mr. Barker's 
 cigars. When he had lit it, he looked across at his 
 friend. "How do you expect to manage it?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 " If you will write a simple little note to the 
 Countess, and say you are sorry there should have 
 been any misunderstanding, and if you and I leave 
 those two to themselves for ten days, even if she 
 invites us to dinner, they will manage it between 
 them, depend upon it. They are in love, you know 
 perfectly well." 
 
 "I suppose they are," said the Duke, as if he did 
 not understand that kind of thing. "I think I 
 will have some cura§ao and potass; " and he rang the 
 bell. 
 
 "That's not half a bad idea," he said when he 
 was refreshed. "I begin to think you are not so 
 idiotic as I supposed." 
 
 "Waal, "said Barker, suddenly affecting the ac- 
 
DOCTOE CLAUDItrS. 107 
 
 cents of his native shore, "I ainH much on the 
 drivel this journey awyhow." The Duke laughed; 
 he always laughed at Americanisms. 
 
 " I guess so, " said the Duke, trying ineffectually 
 to mimic his friend. Then he went on in his natural 
 voice, "I have an idea." 
 
 "Keep it," said Barker; "they are scarce." 
 
 "No; seriously. If we must leave them alone, 
 why — why should we not go down and look at the 
 yacht?" 
 
 " Not bad at all. As you say, we might go round 
 and see how she looks. Where is she ? " 
 
 "Nice." 
 
 So the one went down and the other went round, 
 but they went together, and saw the yacht, and ran 
 over to Monte Carlo, and had a good taste of the 
 dear old green-table, now that they could not have 
 it in Baden any longer. And they enjoyed the trip, 
 and were temperate and well dressed and cjnaical, 
 after their kind. But Claudius stayed where he was. 
 
108 DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The daily reading proceeded as usual after Bar- 
 ker's departure, but neither Margaret nor Claudius 
 mentioned the subject of the voyage. Margaret was 
 friendly, and sometimes seemed on the point of re- 
 lapsing into her old manner, but she always checked 
 herself. What the precise change was it would be 
 hard to say. Claudius knew it was very easy to feel 
 the difference, but impossible to define it. As the 
 days passed, he knew also that his life had ceased to 
 be his own; and, with the chivalrous wholeness of 
 purpose that was his nature, he took his soul and laid 
 it at her feet, for better for worse, to do with as she 
 would. But he knew the hour was not come yet 
 wherein he should speak; and so he served her in 
 silence, content to feel the tree of life growing within 
 him, which should one day overshadow them both 
 with its sheltering branches. His service was none 
 the less whole and devoted because it had not yet 
 been accepted. 
 
 One evening, nearly a week after they had been 
 left to themselves, Claudius was sitting over his 
 solitary dinner in the casino restaurant when a note 
 was brought to him, a large square envelope of rough 
 paper, and he knew the handwriting. He hesitated 
 to open it, and, glancing round the brilliantly-lighted 
 restaurant, involuntarily wondered if any man at all 
 
DOCTOR CLAXJDIT7S. 109 
 
 those tables were that moment in such suspense as 
 he. He thought it was probably an intimation that 
 she was going away, and that he was wanted no 
 longer. Then, for the first time in many days, he 
 thought of his money. "And if she does," he said 
 half aloud, "shall I not follow? Shall not gold 
 command everything save her heart, and can I not 
 win that for myself?" And he took courage and 
 quietly opened the note. 
 
 " Mr DEAE Dk. Clatjoius — As the time is ap- 
 proaching, will you not do me a favour? I want 
 you to make a list of books to read on the voyage — 
 that is, if I may count on your kindness as an ex- 
 pounder. If not, please tell me of some good novels. 
 
 " Sincerely yours, " 
 
 and her full name signed at the end. The hot blood 
 turned his white forehead red as Claudius finished 
 reading. He could not believe his eyes, and the 
 room swam for a moment ; for he was very much in 
 love, this big Swede. Then he grew pale again and 
 quite calm, and read the note over. Novels indeed ! 
 What did he know about novels? He would ask 
 her plainly if she wanted his company on the yacht 
 or no. He would say, "Shall I come? or shall I 
 stay behind?" Claudius had much to learn from 
 Mr. Barker before he was competent to deal with 
 women. But then Claudius would have scorned the 
 very expression "to deal " with them; theirs to com- 
 mand, his to obey — there was to be no question of 
 dealing. Only in his simple heart he would like to 
 know in so many words what the commands were ; 
 and that is sometimes a little hard, for women like 
 to be half understood before they speak, and the 
 
110 DOCTOR CLAT7DITJS. 
 
 grosser intellect of man seldom more than half under- 
 stands them after they have spoken. 
 
 A note requires an answer, and Claudius made the 
 usual number of failures. When one has a great 
 deal more to say than one has any right to say, and 
 when at the same time one is expected to say partic- 
 ularly little, it is very hard to write a good note. 
 All sorts of ideas creep in and express themselves 
 automatically. A misplaced plural for a singular, 
 a superlative adjective where the vaguer comparative 
 belongs ; the vast and immeasurable waste of weary 
 years that may lie between " dear " and " dearest," the 
 gulf placed between " sincerely yours, John Smith, " 
 and "yours, J. S.,"and "your J.," until the blessed 
 state is reached wherein the signature is omitted 
 altogether, and every word bears the sign-manual 
 of the one woman or one man who really exists for 
 you. What a registering thermometer of intimacy 
 exists in notes, from the icy zero of first acquaintance 
 to the raging throb of boiling blood-heat! So Clau- 
 dius, after many trials, arrived at the requisite pitch 
 of absolute severity, and began his note, " My dear 
 Countess Margaret," and signed it, "very obediently 
 yours," which said just what was literally true; and 
 he stated that he would immediately proceed to carry 
 out the Countess's commands, and make a list in 
 which nothing should be wanting that could contrib- 
 ute to her amusement. 
 
 When he went to see her on the following day he 
 was a little surprised at her manner, which inclined 
 more to the severe coldness of that memorable day 
 of difficulties than to the unbending he had expected 
 from her note. Of course he had no reason to be 
 disappointed, and he showed his inexperience. She 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. Ill 
 
 was compensating her conscience for the concession 
 she had made in intimating that he might go. It 
 was indeed a concession, but to what superior power 
 she had yielded it behoves not inquisitive man to ask. 
 Perhaps she thought Claudius would enjoy the trip 
 very much, and said to herself she had no right to 
 make him give it up. 
 
 They read together for some time, and at last 
 Claudius asked her, in connection with a point which 
 arose, whether she would like to read a German book 
 that he thought good. 
 
 "Very much," said she. "By the by, I am glad 
 you have been able to arrange to go with us. I 
 thought your engagements were going to prevent 
 you." 
 
 Claudius looked at her, trying to read her thoughts, 
 in which he failed. He might have been satisfied, 
 but he was not. There was a short silence, and then 
 he closed the book over his hand and spoke. 
 
 "Countess, do you wish me to go or not?" 
 
 Margaret raised her dark eyebrows. He had never 
 seen her do that before. But then he had never said 
 anything so clumsy before in his whole life, and he 
 knew it the moment the words were out of his mouth, 
 and his face was white in sunshine. She looked at 
 him suddenly, a slight smile on her lips, and her 
 eyes just the least contracted, as if she were going 
 to say something sarcastic. But his face was so. 
 pitifully pale. She saw how his hand trembled. A 
 great wave of womanly compassion welled up in her 
 soul, and the smile faded and softened away as she 
 said one word. 
 
 " Yes." It came from the heart, and she could not 
 help it if it sounded kindly. 
 
112 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "Then I will go," said Claudius, hardly knowing 
 what he said, for the blood came quickly back to his 
 face. 
 
 " Of course you will, I could have told you that 
 ever so long ago," chirped a little bullfinch in the 
 tree overhead. 
 
 A couple of weeks or more after the events last 
 chronicled, the steam yacht Streak was two days 
 out on the Atlantic, with a goodly party on board. 
 There were three ladies— the Duke's sister, the 
 Countess, and Miss Skeat, the latter looking very 
 nautical in blue serge, which sat tightly over her, 
 like the canvas cover sewn round a bicycle when it 
 is sent by rail. Of men there were also three — to 
 wit, the owner of the yacht, Mr. Barker, and Dr. 
 Claudius. 
 
 The sea has many kinds of fish. Some swim on 
 their sides, some swim straight, ■ some come up to 
 take a sniff of air, and some stay below. It is just 
 the same with people who go to sea. Take half a 
 dozen individuals who are all more or less used to 
 the water, and they will behave in half a dozen dif- 
 ferent ways. One will become encrusted to the deck 
 - like a barnacle, another will sit in the cabin playing 
 cards; a third will spend his time spinning yarns 
 with the ship's company, and a fourth will rush 
 madly up and down the deck from morning till night 
 in the pursuit of an appetite which shall leave no 
 feat of marine digestion untried or unaccomplished. 
 Are they not all stamped on the memory of them that 
 go down to the sea in yachts ? The little card-box 
 and the scoring-book of the players, the deck chair 
 and rugs of the inveterate reader, the hurried tread 
 and irascible eye of the carnivorous passenger, and 
 
DOCTOB CLAUDIUS. 113 
 
 the everlasting pipe of the ocean talker, who feels 
 time before him and the world at his feet wherein to 
 spin yarns • — has any one not seen them ? 
 
 Now, the elements on board of the Streak were suf- 
 ficiently diverse to form a successful party, and by the 
 time they were two days out on the long swell, with 
 a gentle breeze just filling the trj^sails, and every- 
 thing stowed, they had each fallen into the groove 
 of sea life that was natural to him or to her. There 
 were Barker and the Duke in the pretty smoking- 
 room forward with the windows open and a pack 
 of cards between them. Every now and then they 
 stopped to chat a little, or the Duke would go out 
 and look at the course, and make his rounds to see 
 that every one was all right and nobody sea-sick. 
 But Barker rarely moved, save to turn his chair and 
 cross one leg over the other, whereby he might the 
 more easily contemplate his little patent leather 
 shoes and stroke his bony hands over his silk-clad 
 ankles; for Mr. Barker considered sea-dressing, as 
 he called it, a piece of affectation, and arrayed him- 
 self on board ship precisely as he did on land. The 
 Duke, on the other hand, like most Englishmen 
 when they get a chance, revelled in what he consid- 
 ered ease; that is to say, no two of his garments 
 matched or appeared to have been made in the same 
 century ; he wore a flannel shirt, and was inclined to 
 go about barefoot when the ladies were not on deck, 
 and he adorned his ducal forehead with a red worsted 
 cap, price one shilling. 
 
 Margaret, as was to be expected, was the deck 
 member, with her curiously-wrought chair and her 
 furs and her portable bookcase ; while Miss Skeat, 
 who looked tall and finny, and sported a labyrinthine 
 
114 DOCTOR CLATTDIUS. 
 
 tartan, was generally to be seen entangled in the 
 weather-shrouds near by As for the Duke's sister, 
 Lady Victoria, she was plain, but healthy, and made 
 regular circuits of the steamer, stopping every now 
 and then to watch the green swirl of the foam by 
 the side, and to take long draughts of salt air into 
 her robust lungs. But of all the party there was 
 not one on whom the change from the dry land to 
 the leaping water produced more palpable results 
 than on Claudius. He affected nothing nautical in 
 dress or speech, but when the Duke saw him come 
 on deck the first morning out, there was something 
 about his appearance that made the yachtsman say to 
 Barker — 
 
 " That man has been to sea, I am positive. I am 
 glad I asked him." 
 
 "All those Swedes are amphibious," replied Bar- 
 ker; "they take to the water like ducks. But I 
 don't believe he has smelled salt water for a dozen 
 years." 
 
 "They are the best sailors, at all events," said the 
 Duke. " I have lots of them among the men. Cap- 
 tain a Swede too. Let me introduce you." They 
 were standing on the bridge. "Captain Sturleson, 
 my friend Mr. Barker. " And so in turn the captain 
 was made known to every one on board; for he was 
 an institution with the Duke, and had sailed his 
 Grace's yachts ever since there had been any to sail, 
 which meant for about twenty years. To tell the 
 truth, if it were not for those beastly logarithms, 
 the Duke was no mean sailing-master himself, and he 
 knew a seaman when he saw one ; hence his remark 
 about Claudius. The Doctor knew every inch of the 
 yacht and every face in the ship's company by the 
 
DOCTOR CLATTDItlS. 115 
 
 second day, and it amused the Countess to hear his 
 occasional snatches of the clean-cut Northern tongue 
 that sounded like English, but was yet so different. 
 Obedient to her instructions, he had provided books 
 of all sorts for the voyage, and they began to read 
 together, foolishly imagining that, with the whole 
 day at their disposal, they would do as much work 
 as when they only met for an hour or two daily to 
 accomplish a set purpose. The result of their un- 
 bounded freedom was that conversation took the 
 place of reading. Hitherto Margaret had confined 
 Claudius closely to the matter in hand, some instinct 
 warning her that such an intimacy as had existed 
 during his daily visits could only continue on the 
 footing of severe industry she had established from 
 the first. But the sight of the open deck, the other 
 people constantly moving to and fro, the proper aspect 
 of the lady-companion, just out of earshot, and alto- 
 gether the appearance of publicity which the sea-life 
 lent to their tSte-d-tSte hours, brought, as a necessary 
 consequence, a certain unbending. It always seemed 
 such an easy matter to call some third party into the 
 conversation if it should grow too confidential. And 
 so, insensibly, Claudius and Margaret wandered into 
 discussions about the feelings, about love, hate, and 
 friendship, and went deep into those topics which so 
 often end in practical experiment. Claudius had 
 lived little and thought much ; Margaret had seen a 
 great deal of the world, and being gifted with fine 
 intuitions and tact, she had reasoned very little 
 about what she saw, understanding, as she did, the 
 why and wherefore of most actions by the pure light 
 of feminine genius. The Doctor theorised, and it 
 interested his companion to find facts she remem- 
 
116 DOCTOR CLAUDItrS. 
 
 bered. suddenly brought directly under a neat gener- 
 alisation; and before long she found herself trying 
 to remember facts to fit his theories, a mode of going 
 in double harness which is apt to lead to remarkable 
 but fallacious results. In the intervals of theorising 
 Claudius indulged in small experiments. But Bar- 
 ker and the Duke played poker. 
 
 Of course the three men saw a good deal of each 
 other — in the early morning before the ladies came 
 on deck, and late at night when they sat together 
 in the smoking-room. In these daily meetings the 
 Duke and Claudius had become better acquainted, 
 and the latter, who was reticent, but perfectly simple, 
 in speaking of himself, had more than once alluded 
 to his peculiar position and to the unexpected change 
 of fortune that had befallen him. One evening they 
 were grouped as usual around the square table in 
 the brightly-lighted little room that Barker and the 
 Duke affected most. The fourfold beat of the screw 
 crushed the water quickly and sent its peculiar 
 vibration through the vessel as she sped along in 
 the quiet night. The Duke was extended on a tran- 
 som, and Claudius on the one opposite, while Barker 
 tipped himself about on his chair at the end of the 
 table. The Duke was talkative, in a disjointed, 
 monosyllabic fashion. 
 
 "Yes. I know. No end of a queer sensation, lots 
 of money. Same thing happened to me when I came 
 of age." 
 
 "Not exactly the same thing," said Claudius; 
 "you knew you were going to have it." 
 
 " No," put in Barker. " Having money and being 
 likely to have it are about the same as far as spend- 
 ing it goes. Particularly in England." 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 117 
 
 "I believe the whole thing is a fraud," said the 
 Duke in a tone of profound reflection. " Never had 
 a cent before I came of age. Seems to me I never 
 had any since. " 
 
 "Spent it all in water-melon and fire-crackers, 
 celebrating your twenty-first birthday, I suppose," 
 suggested Barker. 
 
 "Spent it some way, at all events," replied the 
 Duke. "Now, here," he continued,' addressing 
 Barker, "is a man who actually has it, who never 
 expected to have it, who has got it in hard cash, and 
 in the only way in which it is worth having — by 
 somebody else's work. Query — what will Claudius 
 do with his millions ? " Exhausted by this effort of 
 speech, the Duke puffed his tobacco in silence, wait- 
 ing for an answer. Claudius laughed, but said noth- 
 ing. 
 
 " I know of one thing he will do with his money. 
 He will get married," said Barker. 
 
 "For God's sake, Claudius," said the Duke, look- 
 ing serious, "don't do that." 
 • "I don't think I will," said Claudius. 
 
 " I know better, " retorted Barker, " I am quite sure 
 I shall do it myself some day, and so will you. Do 
 you think if I am caught, you are going to escape ? " 
 
 The Duke thought that if Barker knew the 
 Duchess, he might yet save himself. 
 
 " You are no chicken, Barker, and perhaps you are 
 right. If they catch you they can catch anybody," 
 he said aloud. 
 
 " Well, I used to say the mamma was not born 
 who could secure me. But I am getting old, and 
 my nerves are shaken, and a secret presentiment tells 
 me I shall be bagged before long, and delivered over 
 to the tormentors." 
 
118 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "I pity you if you are," said the Duke. "No 
 more poker, and very little tobacco then." 
 
 " Not as bad as that. You are as much married as 
 most men, but it does not interfere with the innocent 
 delights of your leisure hours, that I can see." 
 
 " Ah, well — you see — I am pretty lucky. The 
 Duchess is a domestic type of angel. Likes children 
 and bric-a-brac and poultry, and all those things. 
 Takes no end of trouble about the place." 
 
 " Why should not I marry the angelic domestic — 
 the domestic angel, I mean?" 
 
 "You won't, though. Doesn't grow in America. 
 I know the sort of woman you will get for your 
 money." 
 
 "Give me an idea." Barker leaned back in his 
 chair till it touched the door of the cabin, and rolled 
 his cigar in his mouth. 
 
 "Of course she will be the rage for the time. 
 Eighteen or nineteen summers of earthly growth, 
 and eighteen or nineteen hundred years of experience 
 and calculation in a former state." 
 
 " Thanks, that sounds promising. Claudius, this 
 is intended for your instruction." 
 
 " You will see her first at a ball, with a cartload of 
 nosegays slung on her arms, and generally all over 
 her. That will be your first acquaintance ; you will 
 never see the last of her." 
 
 " No — I know that, " said Barker gloomily. 
 
 "She will marry you out of hand after a three 
 months' engagement. She will be married by 
 Worth, and you will be married by Poole. It will 
 be very effective, you know. No end of wedding 
 presents, and acres of flowers. And then you will 
 start away on your tour, and be miserable ever after." 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 119 
 
 " I am glad you have done, " was Barker's comment. 
 
 "As for me," said Claudius, "I am of course not 
 acquainted with the peculiarities of American life, 
 but I fancy the Duke is rather severe in his judg- 
 ment." 
 
 It was a mild protest against a wholesale condem- 
 nation of American marriages; but Barker and the 
 Duke only laughed as if they understood each other, 
 and Claudius had nothing more to say. He mentally 
 compared the utterances of these men, doubtless 
 grounded on experience, with the formulas he had 
 made for himself about women, and which were 
 undeniably the outcome of pure theory. He found 
 himself face to face with the old difficulty, the appar- 
 ent discord between the universal law and the indi- 
 vidual fact. But, on the other hand, he could not 
 help comparing himself with his two companions. 
 It was not in his nature to think slightingly of other 
 men, but he felt that they were of a totally different 
 mould, besides belonging to a different race. He 
 knew that however much he might enjoy their society, 
 they had nothing in common with him, and that it 
 was only his own strange fortune that had suddenly 
 transported him into the very midst of a sphere 
 where such characters were the rule and not the 
 exception. 
 
 The conversation languished, and Claudius left 
 the Duke and Barker, and went towards his quarters. 
 It was a warm night for the Atlantic, and though 
 there was no moon, the stars shone out brightly, 
 their reflection moving slowly up and down the 
 slopes of the long ocean swell. Claudius walked 
 aft, and was going to sit down for a few minutes 
 before turning in, when he was suddenly aware of a 
 
120 DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 
 
 muffled female figure leaning against the taffrail only 
 a couple of paces from where he was. In spite of 
 the starlight he could not distinguish the person. 
 She was wrapped closely in a cloak and veil, as if 
 fearing the cold. As it must be one of the three 
 ladies who constituted the party, Claudius naturally 
 raised his cap, but fearing lest he had chanced on the 
 Duke's sister, or still worse, on Miss Skeat, he did 
 not speak. Before long, however, as he leaned against 
 the side, watching the wake, the unknown remarked 
 that it was a delightful night. It was Margaret's 
 voice, and the deep musical tones trembled on the 
 rise and fall of the waves, as if the sounds themselves 
 had a distinct life and beating in them. Did the 
 dark woman know what magic lay in her most trivial 
 words? Claudius did not care a rush whether the 
 night were beautiful or otherwise, but when she said 
 it was a fine evening, it sounded as if she had said 
 she loved him. 
 
 "I could not stay downstairs," she said, "and so 
 when the others went to bed I wrapped myself up 
 and came here. Is it not too wonderful ? " 
 
 Claudius moved nearer to her. 
 
 "I have been pent up in the Duke's tabagie for 
 at least two hours," he said, "and I am perfectly 
 sufEj^cated." 
 
 " How can you sit in that atmosphere ? Why don't 
 you come and smoke on deck?" 
 
 " Oh ! it was not only the tobacco that suffocated 
 me to-night, it was the ideas." 
 
 " What ideas ? " asked Margaret. 
 
 "You have known the Duke a long time," said 
 he, "and of course you can judge. Or rather, you 
 know. But to hear those two men talk is enough to 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 121 
 
 make one think there is neither heaven above nor 
 hell beneath." He was rather incoherent. 
 
 " Have they been attacking your favourite theories," 
 Margaret asked, and she smiled behind her veil ; but 
 he could not see that, and her voice sounded some- 
 what indifferent. 
 
 " Oh ! I don't know, " he said, as if not wanting 
 to continue the subject; and he turned round so as 
 to rest his elbows on the taffrail. So he stood, bent 
 over and looking away astern at the dancing star- 
 light on the water. There was a moment's silence. 
 
 " Tell me, " said Margaret at last. 
 
 " What shall I tell you, Countess ? " asked Claudius. 
 
 " Tell me what it was you did not like about their 
 talk." 
 
 "It is hard to say, exactly. They were talking 
 about women, and American marriages; and I did 
 not like it, that is all." Claudius straightened him- 
 self again and turned towards his companion. The 
 screw below them rushed round, worming its angry 
 way through the long quiet waves. 
 
 "Barker," said Claudius, "was saying that he sup- 
 posed he would be married some day — delivered 
 up to torture, as he expressed it — and the Duke 
 undertook to prophesy and draw a picture of Barker's 
 future spouse. The picture was not attractive." 
 
 "Did Mr. Barker think so too?" 
 
 " Yes. He seemed to regard the prospects of mat- 
 rimony from a resigned and melancholy point of 
 view. I suppose he might marry any one he chose 
 in his own country, might he not?" 
 
 " In the usual sense, yes, " answered Margaret. 
 
 "What is the 'usual sense'?" asked the Doctor. 
 
 "He might marry beauty, wealth, and position. 
 
122 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 That is the usual meaning of marrying whom you 
 please." 
 
 "Oh! then it does not mean any individual he 
 pleases ? " 
 
 " Certainly not. It means that out of half a dozen 
 beautiful, rich, and accomplished girls it is morally 
 certain that one, at least, would take him for his 
 money, his manners, and his accomplishments." 
 
 " Then he would go from one to the other until he 
 was accepted? A charming way of doing things, 
 upon my word!" And Claudius sniffed the night 
 air discontentedly. 
 
 "Oh no," said Margaret. "He will be thrown 
 into the society of all six, and one of them will 
 marry him, that will be the way of it." 
 
 " I cannot say I discover great beauty in that social 
 arrangement either, except that it gives the woman 
 the choice." 
 
 "Of course," she answered, "the system does not 
 pretend to the beautiful, it only aspires to the prac- 
 tical. If the woman is satisfied with her choice, 
 domestic peace is assured." She laughed. 
 
 " Why cannot each satisfy himself or herself of the 
 other? "Why cannot the choice be mutual?" 
 
 " It would take too long, " said she ; and laughed 
 again. 
 
 "Very long?" asked Claudius, trying not to let 
 his voice change. But it changed nevertheless. 
 
 "Generally very long," she answered in a matter- 
 of-fact way. 
 
 "Why should it?" 
 
 "Because neither women nor men are so easily 
 understood as a chapter of philosophy," said she. 
 
 " Is it not the highest pleasure in life, that con- 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 123 
 
 stant, loving study of the one person one loves ? Is 
 not every anticipated thought and wish a triumph 
 more worth living for than everything else in the 
 wide world?" He moved close to her side. "Do 
 you not think so too ? " She said nothing. 
 
 "I think so," he said. "There is no pleasure like 
 the pleasure of trying to understand what a woman 
 wants ; there is no sorrow like the sorrow of failing 
 to do that; and there is no glory like the glory of 
 success. It is a divine task for any man, and the 
 greatest have thought it worthy of them." Still she 
 was silent; and so was he for a little while, looking 
 at her side face, for she had thrown back the veil and 
 her delicate profile showed clearly against the sea 
 foam. 
 
 "Countess," he said at last; and his voice came 
 and went fitfully with the breeze — "I would give 
 my whole life's strength and study for the gladness 
 of foreseeing one little thing that you might wish, 
 and of doing it for you." His hand stole along the 
 taffrail till it touched hers, but he did not lift his 
 fingers from the polished wood. 
 
 "Dr. Claudius, you would give too much," she 
 said; for the magic of the hour and place was upon 
 her, and the Doctor's earnest tones admitted of no 
 laughing retort. She ought to have checked him 
 then, and the instant she had spoken she knew it ; 
 but before she could speak again he had taken the 
 hand he was already touching between both of his, 
 and was looking straight in her face. 
 
 " Margaret, I love you with all my soul and heart ' 
 and strength." Her hand trembled in his, but she 
 could not take it away. Before she had answered he 
 had dropped to his knee and was pressing the gloved 
 fingers to his lips. 
 
124 DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "I love you, I love you, I love you," lie repeated, 
 and his strength was as the strength of ten in that 
 moment. 
 
 "Dr. Claudius," said she at last, in a broken and 
 agitated way, "you ought not to have said this. It 
 was not right of you. " She tried to loose her hand, 
 but he rose to his feet still clasping it. 
 
 " Forgive me, " he said, "forgive me!" His face 
 was almost luminously pale. " All the ages cannot 
 take from me this — that I have told you. " 
 
 Margaret said never a word, but covered her head 
 with her veil and glided noiselessly away, leaving 
 Claudius with his white face and staring eyes to the 
 contemplation of what he had done. And she went 
 below and sat in her stateroom and tried to think it 
 all over. She was angry, she felt sure. She was 
 angry at Claudius and half angry at herself — at 
 least she thought so. She was disappointed, she 
 said, in the man, and she did not mean to forgive 
 him. Besides, in a yacht, with a party of six people, 
 where there was absolutely no escape possible, it. 
 was unpardonable. He really ought not to have 
 done it. Did he think — did he flatter himself ^ — • 
 that if she had expected he was going to act just like 
 all the rest of them she would have treated him as 
 she had ? Did he fancy his well-planned declaration 
 would flatter her ? Could he not see that she wanted 
 to consider him always as a friend, that she thought 
 she had found at last what she had so often dreamed 
 of — a friendship proof against passion ? It was so 
 common, so commonplace. It was worse, for it was 
 taking a cruel advantage of the narrow limits within 
 which they were both confined. Besides, he had 
 taken advantage of her kindness to plan a scene 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 125 
 
 which he knew would surprise her out of herself. 
 She ought to have spoken strongly and sharply and 
 made him suffer for his sin while he was yet red- 
 handed. And instead, what had she done ? She had 
 merely said very meekly that "it was not right," 
 and had sought safety in a hasty retreat. 
 
 She sighed wearily, and began to shake out the 
 masses of her black hair, that was as the thickness 
 of night spun fine. And as she drew out the thick 
 tortoise-shell pins that bore it up, it rolled down 
 heavily in a soft dark flood and covered her as with 
 a garment. Then she leaned back and sighed again, 
 and her eyes fell on a book that lay at the corner of 
 her dressing-table, where she had left it before din- 
 ner. It was the book they had been reading, and 
 the mark was a bit of fine white cord that Claudius 
 had cunningly twisted and braided, sailor fashion, 
 to keep the place. Margaret rose to her feet, and 
 taking the book in her hand, looked at it a moment 
 without opening it. Then she hid it out of sight and 
 sat down again. The action had been almost uncon- 
 scious, but now she thought about it, and she did 
 not like what she had done. Angry with him and 
 with herself, she was yet calm enough to ask why 
 she could not bear the sight of the volume on the 
 table. Was it possible she had cared enough about 
 her friendship for the Doctor to be seriously dis- 
 tressed at its sudden termination ? She hardly knew 
 — perhaps so. So many men had made love to her, 
 none had ever before seemed to be a friend. 
 
 The weary and hard-worked little sentiment that 
 we call conscience spoke up. Was she just to him ? 
 No. If she had cared even as much as that action 
 showed, had he no right to care also ? He had the 
 
126 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 right, yes; but he had been wanting in tact. He 
 should have waited till they were ashore. Poor 
 fellow ! he looked so white, and his hands were so 
 cold. Was he there still, looking out at the ship's 
 wake? Margaret, are you quite sure you never 
 thought of him save as a friendly professor who 
 taught you philosophy ? And there was a little some- 
 thing that would not be silenced, and that would 
 say — Yes, you are playing tricks with your feel- 
 ings, you care for him, you almost love him. And 
 for a moment there was a fierce struggle in the 
 brave heart of that strong woman as she shook out 
 her black hair and turned pale to the lips. She rose 
 again, and went and got the book she had hidden, 
 and laid it just where it had lain before. Then she 
 knew, and she bowed her head till her white forehead 
 touched the table before her, and her hands were wet 
 as they pressed her eyelids. 
 
 "I am very weak," she said aloud, and proceeded 
 with her toilet. 
 
 " But you will be kind to him, Margaret," said the 
 little voice in her heart, as she laid her head on the 
 pillow. 
 
 " But it is my duty to be cold. I do not love him," 
 she argued, as the watch struck eight bells. 
 
 Poor Saint Duty ! what a mess you make of human 
 kindness ! 
 
 Claudius was still on deck, and a wretched man 
 he was, as his chilled hands clung to the side. He 
 knew well enough that she was angry, though she 
 had reproached herself with not having made it clear 
 to him. He said to himself he ought not to have 
 spoken, and then he laughed bitterly, for he knew 
 that all his strength could not have kept back the 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 127 
 
 words, because they were true, and because the truth 
 must be spoken sooner or later. He was hopeless 
 now for a time, but he did not deceive himself. 
 
 " I am not weak. I am strong. And if my love is 
 stronger than I what does that prove ? I am glad it 
 is, and I would not have it otherwise. It is done 
 now and can never be undone. I am sorry I spoke 
 to-night. I would have waited if I could. But I 
 could not, and I should despise myself if I could. 
 Love that is not strong enough to make a man move 
 in spite of himself is not worth calling love. I 
 wonder if I flattered myself she loved me? No, I 
 am quite sure I did not. I never thought anything 
 about it. It is enough for me that I love her, and 
 live, and have told her so; and I can bear all the 
 misery now, for she knows. I suppose it will begin 
 at once. She will not speak to me. No, not that, 
 but she will not expect me to speak to her. I will 
 keep out of her way ; it is the least I can do. And 
 I will try and not make her life on board disagree- 
 able. Ah, my beloved, I will never hurt you again 
 or make you angry." 
 
 He said these things over and over to himself, and 
 perhaps they comforted him a little. At eight bells 
 the Swedish captain turned out, and Claudius saw 
 him ascend the bridge, but soon he came down again 
 and walked aft. 
 
 "God afton, Captain," said Claudius. 
 
 "It is rather late to say good evening, Doctor," 
 replied the sailoi'. 
 
 "Why, what time is it?" 
 
 "Midnight." 
 
 "Well, I shall turn in." 
 
 "If you will take my advice," said the captain. 
 
128 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "you won't leave any odds and ends lying about to- 
 night. We shall have a dance before morning." 
 "Think so?" said Claudius indifferentlj^ 
 " Why, Doctor, where are your eyes ? You are a 
 right Svensk sailor when you are awake. You have 
 smelled the foam in Skager Rak as well as I." 
 
 " Many a time, " replied the other, and looked to 
 windward. It was true; the wind had backed to 
 the north-east, and there was an angry little cross 
 sea beginning to run over the long ocean swell. 
 There was a straight black belt below the stars, and 
 a short, quick splashing, dashing, and breaking of 
 white crests through the night, while the rising 
 breeze sang in the weather rigging. 
 
 " Claudius turned away and went below. He took 
 the captain's advice, and secured his traps and went 
 to bed. But he could not sleep, and he said over and 
 over to himself that he loved her, that he was glad 
 he had told her so, and that he would stand by the 
 result of his night's work, through all time, — ay, 
 and beyond time. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 129 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Lady Victoria was not afraid of the sea. No 
 indeed, and if her brother would go with her she 
 would like nothing better. And Miss Skeat, too, 
 would she like to come ? Such a pity poor Margaret 
 had a headache. She had not even come to breakfast. 
 
 Yes, Miss Skeat would come, and the boatswain 
 would provide them both with tarpaulins and sou'- 
 westers, and they would go on deck for a few minutes. 
 But Mr. Barker was so sorry he had a touch of neu- 
 ralgia, and besides he knew that Claudius was on 
 deck and would be of more use to the ladies than he 
 could ever be. Mr. Barker had no idea of getting 
 wet, and the sudden headache of the Countess, com- 
 bined with the absence of Claudius from her side, 
 interested him. He meant to stay below and watch 
 the events of the morning. Piloted by the Duke, 
 the strong English girl and the wiry old Scotch lady 
 made their way up the companion, not without dififi- 
 culty, for the skipper's prediction was already ful- 
 filled, and the Streak was ploughing her way through 
 all sorts of weather at once. 
 
 The deck was slippery and sloppy, and the sharp 
 spray was blowing itself in jets round every available 
 corner. The sky was of an even lead colour, but it 
 was hard to tell at first whether it was raining or 
 not. The Duke's face gleamed like a wet red apple 
 
130 COCTOR CLATJDItTS. 
 
 in the wind and water as he helped his sister to the 
 leeward and anchored her among the shrouds. 
 
 " Hullo, Claudius, you seem to like this ! " he sang 
 out, spying the tall Swede near the gangway. Clau- 
 dius came towards them, holding on by the pins and 
 cleats and benches. He looked so white that Lady 
 Victoria was frightened. 
 
 "You are not well. Dr. Claudius. Please don't 
 mind me, my brother will be back in a moment. Go 
 below and get warm. You really look ill." 
 
 " Do I ? I do not feel ill at all. I am very fond 
 of this kind of weather." And he put one arm 
 through the shrouds and prepared for conversation 
 under difficulties. Meanwhile the Duke brought 
 out Miss Skeat, who rattled inside her tarpaulin, but 
 did not exhibit the slightest nervousness, though a 
 bit of a sea broke over the weather-bow just as she 
 appeared. 
 
 " Keep your eye peeled there, will you ? " the Duke 
 shouted away to the men at the wheel ; whereat they 
 grinned, and luffed a little, just enough to let the 
 lady get across. 
 
 " Steady ! " bawled the Duke again when Miss Skeat 
 was made fast ; and the men at the wheel held her 
 off once more, so that the spray flew up in a cloudy 
 sheet. 
 
 Claudius was relieved. He had expected to see 
 Margaret come up the companion, and he had dreaded 
 the meeting, when he would almost of necessity be 
 obliged to help her across and touch her hand ; and 
 he inwardly blessed her wisdom in staying below. 
 The others might have stayed there too, he thought, 
 instead of coming up to get wet and to spoil his 
 solitude, which was the only thing left to him to-day. 
 
DOCTOR CLAODltlS. 131 
 
 But Claudius was not the man to betray his ill- 
 temper at being disturbed ; and after all there was 
 something about these two women that he liked — 
 in different ways. The English girl was so solidly 
 enthusiastic, and the Scotch gentlewoman so severely 
 courageous, that he felt a sort of companionable 
 sympathy after he had been with them a few minutes. 
 
 Lady Victoria, as previously hinted, was married, 
 and her husband, who was in the diplomatic service, 
 and who had prospects afterwards of coming into 
 money and a peerage, was now absent on a distant 
 mission. They had not been married very long, but 
 his wife was always ready to take things cheerfully, 
 and, since she could not accompany him, she had 
 made up her mind to be happy without him ; and the 
 trip with her brother was "just the very thing." 
 Mr. Barker admired what he called her exuberant 
 vitality, and expressed his opinion that people with 
 a digestion like that were always having a good time. 
 She was strong and healthy, and destined to be the 
 mother of many bold sons, and she had a certain 
 beauty born of a good complexion, bright eyes, and 
 white teeth. To look at her, you would have said 
 she must be the daughter of some robust and hard- 
 working settler, accustomed from her youth to face 
 rain and snow and sunshine in ready reliance on her 
 inborn strength. She did not suggest dukes and 
 duchesses in the least. Alas ! the generation of those 
 ruddy English boys and girls is growing rarer day 
 by day, and a mealy-faced, over-cerebrated people are 
 springing up, who with their children again, in try- 
 ing to rival the brain-work of foreigners with larger 
 skulls and more in them, forget that their English 
 forefathers have always done everything by sheer 
 
132 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 strength and bloodshed, and can as easily hope to 
 accomplish anything by skill as a whale can expect 
 to dance upon the tight rope. They would do better, 
 thought Lady Victoria, to give it up, to abandon the 
 struggle for intellectual superiority of that kind. 
 They have produced greater minds when the mass 
 of their countrymen were steeped in brutality, and 
 Elizabethan surfeit of beef and ale, than they ^nflU. 
 ever produce with a twopenny-halfpenny universal 
 education. What is the use? Progress. What is 
 progress ? Merely the adequate arrangement of in- 
 equalities — in the words of one of their own thinkers 
 who knows most about it and troubles himself least 
 about theories. What is the use of your "univer- 
 sal " education, to which nine-tenths of the popula- 
 tion submit as to a hopeless evil, which takes bread 
 out of their mouths and puts bran into their heads ; 
 for might they not be at work in the fields instead 
 of scratching pothooks on a slate ? At least so Lady 
 Victoria thought. 
 
 " You look just like a sailor," said she to Claudius. 
 
 "I feel like one," he answered, "and I think I 
 shall adopt the sea as a profession." 
 
 "It is such a pity, "said Miss Skeat, sternly clutch- 
 ing the twisted wire shroud. "I would like to see 
 you turn pirate ; it would be so picturesque — you 
 and Mr. Barker." The others laughed, not at the 
 idea of Claudius sporting the black flag — for he 
 looked gloomy enough to do murder in the first 
 degree this morning — but the picture of the exqui- 
 site and comfort-loving Mr. Barker, with his patent- 
 leather shoes and his elaborate travelling apparatus, 
 leading a band of black-browed ruffians to desperate 
 deeds of daring and blood, was novel enough to be 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 133 
 
 exhilarating; and they laughed loudly. They did 
 not understand Mr. Barker ; but perhaps Miss Skeat, 
 who liked him with an old-maidenly liking, had 
 some instinct notion that the gentle American could 
 be dangerous. 
 
 "Mr. Barker would never do for a pirate," laughed 
 Lady Victoria ; " he would be always getting his feet 
 wet and having attacks of neuralgia." 
 
 "Take care, Vick," said her brother, "he might 
 hear you." 
 
 " Well, if he did ? I only said he would get his feet 
 wet. There is no harm in that, and it is clear he 
 has neuralgia, because he says it himself." 
 
 " Well, of course," said the Duke, " if that is what 
 you mean. But he will wet his feet fast enough 
 when there is anj' good reason." 
 
 "If you make it ' worth his while,' of course," said 
 Lady Victoria, "I have no doubt of it." She turned 
 up her nose, for she was not very fond of Mr. Bar- 
 ker, and she thought poorly of the Duke's financial 
 enterprises in America. It was not a bit like a 
 good old English gentleman to be always buying and 
 selling mines and stocks and all sorts of things with 
 queer names. 
 
 "Look here, Vick, we won't talk any more about 
 Barker, if you please." 
 
 "Very well, then you can talk about the weather," 
 said she. 
 
 "Yes," said Claudius, "you may well do that. 
 There is a good deal of weather to talk about." 
 
 " Oh, I like a storm at sea, of all things ! " ex- 
 claimed- Lady Victoria, forgetting all about Mr. Bar- 
 ker in the delicious sense of saltness and freedom 
 one feels on the deck of a good ship running through 
 
134 DOCTOR CLAtTDItrS. 
 
 a lively sea. She put out her face to catch the fine 
 salt spray on her cheek. Just then a little water 
 broke over the side abaft the gangway, and the vessel 
 rose and fell to the sweep of a big wave. The water 
 ran along over the flush deck, as if hunting for the 
 scuppers, and came swashing down to the lee where 
 the party were standing, wetting the ladies' feet to 
 the ankle. The men merely pulled themselves up 
 by the ropes they held, and hung till the deck was 
 clear again. 
 
 "I don't suppose it hurts you to get wet," said the 
 Duke to his sister, " but you would be much better 
 under hatches while this sort of thing is going on." 
 
 " I think, if j^ou will help me, I will go down and 
 see how the Countess is," said Miss Skeat; and 
 Claudius detached her from the rigging and got her 
 down the companion, but the Duke stayed with his 
 sister, who begged for a few minutes more. Once 
 below, Claudius felt how near he was to Margaret, 
 who was doubtless in the ladies' cabin. He could 
 reach his own quarters without entering that sanc- 
 tum, of course, but as he still held Miss Skeat's arm 
 to steady her to the door, he could not resist the 
 temptation of putting his head through, for he knew 
 now that she must be there. It was a large sitting- 
 room, extending through the whole beam, with big 
 port-holes on each side. Miss Skeat entered, and 
 Claudius looked in. 
 
 There was Margaret, looking much as usual, her 
 face turned a little from him as she lay in a huge 
 arm-chair. She could not see him as she was, and 
 his heart beat furiously as he looked at the face he 
 loved best of all others. 
 
 Margaret spoke to Miss Skeat without turning her 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 135 
 
 head, for she was working at some of her eternal 
 needlework. 
 
 " Have you had a good time ? How did you get 
 down ? " 
 
 "Such an airing," answered the lady-companion, 
 who was divesting herself of her wraps, "and Dr. 
 Claudius " 
 
 The last was lost to the Doctor's ear, for he with- 
 drew his head and beat a hasty retreat. Miss Skeat 
 also stopped speaking suddenly, for as she mentioned 
 his name she looked naturally towards the door, sup- 
 posing him to be standing there, and she just saw his 
 head disappear from between the curtains. Mar- 
 garet turned her eyes and saw Miss Skeat's astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 "Well, what about Dr. Claudius?" she asked. 
 
 "Oh, nothing," said Miss Skeat, "you asked me 
 how I got down, and I was going to say Dr. Clau- 
 dius gave me his arm, and I thought he had come 
 in here with me." 
 
 Neither Miss Skeat nor Claudius had noticed Mr. 
 Barker, who was ensconced on a corner transom, 
 with his nails and a book to amuse himself with. 
 He saw the whole thing: how the Doctor put his 
 white face and dripping beard through the curtains, 
 and suddenly withdrew it at the mention of his 
 name, and how Miss Skeat held her peace about hav- 
 ing seen it too. He reflected that something had hap- 
 pened, that Miss Skeat knew all about it, and that 
 she was a discreet woman. He wondered what it 
 could be. Claudius would not look like that unless 
 something were wrong, he thought, and he would 
 certainly come back in five minutes if everything 
 were right. He had not seen him at breakfast. He 
 
136 DOCTOR CLAUDITJS. 
 
 took out his watch softly and let it drop on his book, 
 face upwards. Meanwhile he talked to the two 
 ladies about the weather, and listened to Miss 
 Skeat's rapturous account of the spray and the gen- 
 eral slipperiness of the upper regions. When five 
 minutes were elapsed he put his watch back and said 
 he thought he would try it himself, as he fancied the 
 fresh air would do him good. So he departed, and 
 obtained a pair of sea-boots and an oilskin, which he 
 contemplated with disgust, and put on with resolu- 
 tion. He wanted to find the Duke, and he wanted 
 to see Claudius ; but he wanted them separately. 
 
 Mr. Barker cautiously put his head out of the 
 cuddy door and espied the Duke and his sister. 
 This was not exactly what he wanted, and he would 
 have retired, but at that moment Lady Victoria 
 caught sight of him, and immediately called out to 
 him not to be afraid, as it was much smoother now. 
 But Mr. Barker's caution had proceeded from other 
 causes, and being detected, he put a bold face on it, 
 stepped on the deck and slammed the door behind 
 him. Lady Victoria was somewhat surprised to see 
 him tread the slippery deck with perfect confidence 
 and ease, for she thought he was something of a 
 "duffer." But Barker knew how to do most things 
 more or less, and he managed to bow and take off 
 his sou'wester with considerable grace in spite of the 
 rolling. Having obtained permission to smoke, he 
 lighted a cigar, crooked one booted leg through the 
 iron rail, and seated himself on the bulwark, where, 
 as the steamer lurched, he seemed to be in a rather 
 precarious position. But there was a sort of cat-like 
 agility in his wiry frame, that bespoke unlimited 
 powers of balancing and holding on. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 137 
 
 "I thought there were more of you," he began, 
 addressing Lady Victoria. " You seem to be having 
 quite a nice time here." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I wish I had come up sooner; the atmosphere 
 downstairs is very oppressive." 
 
 " I thought you had neuralgia, " said Lady Victoria. 
 
 " So I had. But that kind of neuralgia comes and 
 goes very suddenly. Where is the giant of the 
 North?" 
 
 " Dr. Claudius ? He went down with Miss Skeat, 
 and when he came up again he said he would go for- 
 ward," answered she, giving the nautical pronuncia- 
 tion to the latter word. 
 
 "Oh, I see him," cried Barker, "there he is, just 
 going up the bridge. By Jove ! what a height he 
 looks." 
 
 "Yes," put in the Duke, "he is rather oversparr^d 
 for a nor'-easter, eh? Rather be your size. Barker, 
 for reefing tawpsels ; " and the Englishman laughed. 
 
 "Well," said Barker, "when I first knew him he 
 used to wear a balustrade round his neck to keep 
 from being dizzy. I wouldn't care to have to do 
 that. I think I will go and have a look too." And 
 leaving his companions to laugh at his joke, Mr. 
 Barker glided easily from the rail, and began his 
 journey to the bridge, which he accomplished with- 
 out any apparent difficulty. When he had climbed 
 the little ladder he waved his hand to the Duke and 
 his sister, who screamed something complimentary 
 in reply ; and then he spoke to Claudius who was 
 standing by the skipper, his legs far apart, and both 
 his hands on the railing. 
 
 "Is that you. Barker?" asked Claudius; "you are 
 well disguised this morning." 
 
138 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "Claudius," said the other, "what on earth is the 
 row?" The captain was on the other side of the 
 Doctor, and could not hear in the wind. 
 
 "What row?" asked Claudius. Barker knew 
 enough of his friend by this time to be aware that 
 roundabout methods of extracting information were 
 less likely to be successful than a point-blank ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " Don't pretend ignorance," said he. "You look 
 like a ghost, you are so pale, and when you put your 
 head through the curtains a quarter of an hour ago, 
 I thought you were one. And you have not been 
 near the Countess this morning, though you have 
 never been away from her before since we weighed 
 anchor. Now, something has happened, and if I 
 can do anything, tell me, and I will do it, right 
 away. " It is a good old plan, that one of trying to 
 satisfy one's curiosity under pretence of offering 
 assistance. But Claudius did not trouble himself 
 about such things ; he wanted no help from any one, 
 and never had; and if he meant to tell, nothing 
 would prevent him, and if he did not mean to tell, 
 no power would make him. 
 
 " Since you have found it out. Barker, something 
 has happened, as you say; and thanks for your offer 
 of help, but I cannot tell you anything more about 
 it." 
 
 " I think you are unwise. " 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 " I might help you a great deal, for I have some 
 natural tact." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Besides, you know I am as secret as the grave." 
 
 "Quite so." 
 
DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 139 
 
 "I introduced you to the Countess, too." 
 
 "I know it." 
 
 " And I should be very sorry indeed to think that 
 my action should have had any evil consequences." 
 
 "I am sure you would." 
 
 " Then, my dear fellow, you must really take me a 
 little more into your confidence, and let me help 
 you, " said Barker, in the tone of an injured man. 
 
 "Perhaps I ought," said Claudius. 
 
 " Then why will you not tell me what has happened 
 now ? " 
 
 "Because I won't," said Claudius, turning sharplj;- 
 on Barker, and speaking in a voice that seemed to 
 make the railings shake. He was evidently on the 
 point of losing his temper, and Barker repented him 
 too late of his attempt to extract the required infor- 
 mation. Now he changed his tone. 
 
 "Excuse me, Claudius, I did not mean to offend 
 you." 
 
 " You did not offend me at all. Barker. But please 
 — do not ask me any more questions about it." 
 Claudius was perfectly calm again. 
 
 " No indeed, my dear fellow, I would not think of ' 
 
 it; and I don't seem to think that I should advise 
 
 anybody else to," he added mentally. He made up 
 his mind that it must be something very serious, or 
 Claudius, who was so rarely excited, would hardly 
 have behaved as he had done. He made a few re- 
 marks about the weather, which had certainly not 
 improved since morning ; and then, resolving that he 
 would find out what was the matter before he was 
 much older, he glided down the ladder and went aft. 
 Lady Victoria had disappeared, and her brother was 
 trying to light a short black pipe. 
 
140 DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "Duke," Barker began, "what the deuce is the 
 matter with Claudius this morning?" 
 
 "Don't know, I'm sure. My sister thinks it is 
 very odd." 
 
 " Well, if you don't know, I don't either, but I 
 can make a pretty good guess." 
 
 The Duke's vesuvian was sputtering in the spray 
 and wind, and he got a good light before he an- 
 swered. 
 
 "I'll take six to four he marries her, at all events." 
 
 " I don't go in for playing it as low down as that 
 on my friends," said Barker virtuously, "or I would 
 take you in hundreds. You must be crazy. Can't 
 you see he has shown up and is sold ? Bah ! it's all 
 over, as sure as you're born." 
 
 " Think that's it ? " said the other, much interested. 
 " You may be right. Glad you would not bet, any- 
 how." 
 
 " Of course that's it. The idiot has proposed to 
 her here, on board, and she has refused him, and now 
 he has to face the fury of the elements to keep out 
 of her way." 
 
 "Upon my soul, it looks like it," said the Duke.. 
 "He won't stay on the bridge much longer if this 
 lasts, though." 
 
 " You had best ask your sister, " answered Barker. 
 " Women always know those things first. What do 
 you say to a game ? It is beastly dirtj'^ weather to 
 be on the deck watch. " And so they pushed forward 
 to the smoking-room, just before the bridge, and 
 settled themselves for the day with a pack of cards 
 and a box of cigars. 
 
 As Margaret had not put in an appearance at break- 
 fast, which was a late and solid meal on board, and 
 
DOCTOR CLAtJDIUS. 141 
 
 as there was no other regular congregation of the 
 party until dinner, for each one lunched as he or she 
 pleased, it was clear that the Countess and Claudius 
 would not be brought together until the evening. 
 Margaret was glad of this for various reasons, some 
 definable and others vague. She felt that she must 
 have misjudged Claudius a little, and she was glad 
 to see that her exhibition of displeasure on the pre- 
 vious night had been sufficient to keep him away. 
 Had he been as tactless as she had at first thought, 
 he would surely have sought an early opportunity of 
 speaking to her alone, and the rest of the party were 
 so much used to seeing them spend their mornings 
 together that such an opportunity would not have 
 been lacking, had he wished it. And if he had mis- 
 understood her words and manner — well, if he had 
 not thought they were meant as a decisive check, he 
 would have followed her there and then, last night, 
 when she left him. She felt a little nervous about 
 his future conduct, but for the present she was satis- 
 fied, and prepared herself for the inevitable meeting 
 at dinner with a certain feeling of assurance. " For, " 
 said she, "I do not love him in the least, and why 
 should I be embarrassed?" 
 
 Not so poor Claudius, who felt the blood leave his 
 face and rush wildly to his heart, as he entered the 
 saloon where the party were sitting down to dinner. 
 The vessel was rolling heavily, for the sea was run- 
 ning high under the north-easter, and dinner would 
 be no easy matter. He knew he must sit next to her 
 and help her under all the difficulties that arise under 
 the circumstances. It would have been easy, too, 
 for them both to see that the eyes of the other four 
 were upon them, had either of them suspected it. 
 
142 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 Claudius held himself up to the full of his great 
 height and steadied every nerve of his body for the 
 meeting. Margaret belonged to the people who do 
 not change colour easily, and when she spoke, even 
 the alert ear of Mr. Barker opposite could hardly 
 detect the faintest change of tone. And yet she bore 
 the burden of it, for she spoke first. 
 
 "How do you do, Dr. Claudius?" 
 
 " Thank you, well. I was sorry to hear you had a 
 headache to-day. I hope you- are better." 
 
 " Thanks, yes ; much better. " They all sat down, 
 and it was over. 
 
 The conversation was at first very disjointed, and 
 was inclined to turn on small jokes about the difii- 
 culty of dining at an angle of forty-five degrees. 
 The weather was certainly much heavier than it 
 had been in the morning, and the Duke feared they 
 would have a longer passage than they had expected, 
 but added that they would be better able to judge 
 to-morrow at twelve. Claudius and Margaret ex- 
 changed a few sentences, with tolerable tact and 
 indifference ; but, for some occult reason, Mr. Barker 
 undertook to be especially lively and amusing, and 
 after the dinner was somewhat advanced he launched 
 out into a series of stories and anecdotes which served 
 very well to pass the time and to attract notice to 
 himself. As Mr. Barker was generally not very 
 talkative at table, though frequently epigrammatic, 
 his sudden eloquence was calculated to engage the 
 attention of the party. Claudius and Margaret were 
 glad of the rattling talk that delivered them from the 
 burden of saying anything especial, and they both 
 laughed quite naturally at Barker's odd wit. They 
 were grateful to him for what he did, and Claudius 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 143 
 
 entertained some faint hope that he might go on in 
 the same strain for the rest of the voyage. But 
 Margaret pondered these things. She saw quickly 
 that Barker had perceived that some embarrassment 
 existed, and was spending his best strength in try- 
 ing to make the meal a particularly gay one. But 
 she could not understand how Barker could have 
 found out that there was any difficulty. Had Clau- 
 dius been making confidences ? It would have been 
 very foolish for him to do so, and besides, Claudius 
 was not the man to make confidences. He was 
 reticent and cold as a rule, and Barker had more than 
 once confessed to the Countess that he knew very 
 little of Claudius's previous history, because the 
 latter "never talked," and would not always answer 
 questions. So she came to the conclusion that Bar- 
 ker only suspected something, because the Doctor 
 had not been with her during the day. And so she 
 laughed, and Claudius laughed, and they were well 
 satisfied to pay their social obolus in a little well- 
 bred and well-assumed hilarity. 
 
 So the dinner progressed, in spite of the rolling 
 and pitching ; for there was a good deal of both, as 
 the sea ran diagonally to the course, breaking on the 
 starboard quarter. They had reached the dessert, 
 and two at least of the party were congratulating 
 themselves on the happy termination of the meal, 
 when, just as the Duke was speaking, there was a 
 heavy lurch, and a tremendous sea broke over . their 
 heads. Then came a fearful whirring sound that 
 shook through every plate and timber and bulkhead, 
 like the sudden running down of a mammoth clock- 
 work, lasting some twenty seconds ; then everything 
 was quiet again save the sea, and the yacht rolled 
 heavily to and fro. 
 
144 DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 
 
 Every one knew that there had been a serious acci- 
 dent, but no one moved from the table. The Duke 
 sat like a rock in his place and finished what he 
 was saying, though no one noticed it. Miss Skeat 
 clutched her silver fruit-knife till her knuckles shone 
 again, and she set her teeth. Mr. Barker, who had 
 a glass of wine in the "fiddle" before him took it 
 out when the sea struck and held it steadily to save 
 it from being spilled; and Lady Victoria, who was 
 not the least ashamed of being startled, cried out — 
 
 " Goodness gracious ! " and then sat holding to the 
 table and looking at her brother. 
 
 Margaret and Claudius were sitting next each other 
 on one side of the table. By one of those strange, 
 sympathetic instincts, that only manifest themselves 
 in moments of great danger, they did the same thing 
 at the same moment. Claudius put out his left hand 
 and Margaret her right, and those two hands met 
 just below the table and clasped each other, and in 
 that instant each turned round to the other and looked 
 the other in the face. What that look told man 
 knoweth not, but for one instant there was nothing 
 in the world for Margaret but Claudius. As for 
 him, poor man, he had long known that she was the 
 whole world to him, his life and his death. 
 
 It was very short, and Margaret quickly withdrew 
 her hand and looked away. The Duke was the first 
 to speak. 
 
 "I do not think it is anything very serious," said 
 he. "If you will all sit still, I will go and see what 
 is the matter." He rose and left the saloon. 
 
 " I don't fancy there is any cause for anxiety," said 
 Barker. " There has probably been some slight acci- 
 dent to the machinery, and we shall be off again in 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDItrS. 145 
 
 an hour. I think we ought to compliment the ladies 
 on the courage they have shown ; it is perfectly won- 
 derful." And Mr. Barker smiled gently round the 
 table. Lady Victoria was palpably scared and Miss 
 Skeat was silent. As for Margaret, she was confused 
 and troubled. The accident of her seizing Claudius's 
 hand, as she had done, was a thousand times more 
 serious than any accident to the ship. The Doctor 
 could not help stealing a glance at her, but he chimed 
 in with Barker in praising the coolness of all three 
 ladies. Presently the Duke came back. He had 
 been forward by a passage that led between decks to 
 the engine-room, where he had met the captain. The 
 party felt reassured as the ruddy face of their host 
 appeared in the doorway. 
 
 "There is nothing to fear," he said cheerfully. 
 "But it is a horrid nuisance, all the same." 
 
 "Tell us all about it," said Lady Victoria. 
 
 " Well we have lost our means of locomotion. 
 
 We have carried away our propeller." 
 
 "What are you going to do about it?" asked 
 Barker. 
 
 "Do? There is nothing to be done. We must 
 sail for it. I am dreadfully sorry. " 
 
 "It is not your fault," said Claudius. 
 
 "Well, I suppose not. It happens even to big 
 steamers." 
 
 " And shall we sail all the way to New York ? " 
 asked his sister, who was completely reassured. " I 
 think it will be lovely." Miss Skeat also thought 
 sailing much more poetic than steaming. 
 
 "I think we must hold a council of war," said the 
 master. " Let us put it to the vote. Shall we make 
 for Bermuda, which is actually nearer, but which is 
 
146 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 four or five days from New York, or shall we go 
 straight and take our chance of a fair wind?" 
 
 " If you are equally willing to do both, why not 
 let the ladies decide ? " suggested Barker. 
 
 " Oh no," broke in the Countess, "it will be much 
 more amusing to vote. We will write on slips of 
 paper and put them in a bag." 
 
 "As there are five of you I will not vote," said 
 the Duke, "for we might be three on a side, you 
 know." 
 
 So they voted, and there were three votes for New 
 York and two for Bermuda. 
 
 "New York has it," said the Duke, who counted, 
 "and I am glad, on the whole, for it is Sturleson's 
 advice." Barker had voted for New York, and he 
 wondered who the two could have been who wanted 
 to go to Bermuda. Probably Miss Skeat and Lady 
 Victoria. Had the Countess suspected that those 
 two would choose the longer journey and out-vote 
 her, if the decision were left to the ladies ? 
 
 Meanwhile there had been heavy tramping of feet 
 on the deck, as the men trimmed the sails. She 
 could only go under double-reefed trysails and fore- 
 staysail for the present, and it was no joke to keep 
 her head up while the reefs were taken in. It was 
 blowing considerably more than half a gale of wind, 
 and the sea was very heavy. Soon, however, the 
 effect of the sails made itself felt ; the yacht was a 
 good sea-boat, and when she fairly heeled over on 
 the port-tack and began to cut the waves again, the 
 ladies downstairs agreed that sailing was much 
 pleasanter and steadier than steam, and that the next 
 time they crossed in a yacht they would like to sail 
 all the way. But in spite of their courage, and not- 
 
DOCTOR CLATTDITTS. 147 
 
 withstanding that they were greatly reassured by the 
 explanations of Mr. Barker, who made the nature of 
 the accident quite clear to them, they had been badly 
 shaken, and soon retired to their respective state- 
 rooms. In the small confusion of getting to their 
 feet to leave the cabin it chanced that Claudius found 
 himself helping Margaret to the door. The recollec- 
 tion of her touch and look when the accident hap- 
 pened was strong in him yet and gave him courage. 
 
 "Good-night, Countess," he said.; "shall I have 
 the pleasure of reading with you to-morrow ? " 
 
 "Perhaps," she answered; " if it is very fine. Fate 
 has decreed that we should have plenty of time." 
 He tried to catch a glance as she left his arm, but 
 she would not, and they were parted for the night. 
 Barker had gone into the engine-room, now quiet and 
 strange ; the useless machinery stood still as it had 
 been stopped when the loss of the propeller, relieving 
 the opposition to the motor-force, allowed it to make 
 its last frantic revolutions. The Duke and Claudius 
 were left alone in the main cabin. 
 
 " Well, " said the Duke, " we are in for it this time, 
 at all events." 
 
 " We are indeed, " said Claudius ; " I hope the delay 
 will not cause you any serious inconvenience, for I 
 suppose we shall not reach New York for a fortnight 
 at least." 
 
 "It will not inconvenience me at all. But I am 
 
 sorry for you for j'^ou all, I mean," he added, 
 
 fearing he had been awkward in thus addressing 
 Claudius directly, "because it will be very disagree- 
 able, such an awful bore for you to be at sea so long. " 
 
 " I have no doubt we shall survive," said the other, 
 with a smile. " What do you say to going on deck 
 
148 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 and having a chat with Sturleson, now that all is 
 quiet?" 
 
 "And a pipe?" said the Duke, "I am with you." 
 So On deck they went, and clambered along the lee 
 to the smoking-room, without getting very wet. 
 Sturleson was sent for, and they reviewed together 
 the situation. The result of the inquiry was that 
 things looked much brighter to all three. They 
 were in a good sea-boat, well manned and provi- 
 sioned, with nothing to fear from the weather, and if 
 they were lucky they might make Sandy Hook in a 
 week. On the other hand, they might not; but it is 
 always well to take a cheerful view of things. Peo- 
 ple M^ho cross the Atlantic in yachts are very differ- 
 ent from the regular crowds that go backwards and 
 forwards in the great lines. They are seldom in a 
 hurry, and have generally made a good many voyages 
 before. Perhaps the Duke himself, in his quality of 
 host, was the most uncomfortable man on board. 
 He did not see how the Countess and the Doctor 
 could possibly survive being shut up together in a 
 small vessel, for he was convinced that Barker knew 
 all about their difficulty. If he had not liked Clau- 
 dius so much, he would have been angry at him for 
 daring to propose to this beautiful young friend of 
 his. But then Claudius was Claudius, and even the 
 Duke saw something in him besides his wealth which 
 gave him a right to aspire to the highest. 
 
 "I can't make out," the Duke once said to Barker, 
 "where Claudius got his manners. He never does 
 anything the least odd; and he always seems at his 
 ease." 
 
 "I only know he came to Heidelberg ten years 
 ago, and that he is about thirty. He got his man- 
 ners somewhere when he was a boy. " 
 
DOCTOR OLAUDItre. 149 
 
 " Of course, there are lots of good people in Swe- 
 den, " said the Duke ; " but they all have titles, just as 
 they do in Germany. And Claudius has no title." ' 
 
 "No," said Barker pensively, "I never heard him 
 say he had a title." 
 
 "I don't know anything about it," answered the 
 Duke. " But I have been a good deal about Sweden, 
 and he is not in the least like a respectable Swedish 
 burgher. Did you not tell me that his uncle, who 
 left him all that money, was your father's partner in 
 business ? " 
 
 " Yes, I remember once or twice hearing the old 
 gentleman say he had a nephew. But he was a silent 
 man, though he piled up the dollars." 
 
 "Claudius is a silent man too," said the Duke. 
 
 " And he has sailed into the dollars ready piled. " 
 
 But this was before the eventful day just described ; 
 and the Duke had forgotten the conversation, though 
 he had repeated the reflections to himself, and found 
 them true. To tell the truth, Claudius looked niore 
 like a duke than his host, for the sea air had blown 
 away the professorial cobwebs; and, after all, it did 
 not seem so very incongruous in the Englishman's 
 eyes that his handsome guest should fall in love with 
 the Countess Margaret. Only, it was very uncom- 
 fortable ; and he did not know exactly what he should 
 do with them for the next ten days. Perhaps he 
 ought to devote himself to the Countess, and thus 
 effectually prevent any approaches that Claudius 
 might meditate. Yes — that was probably his duty. 
 He wished he might ask counsel of his sister; but 
 then she did not know, and it seemed unfair, and 
 altogether rather a betrayal of confidence or some- 
 thing — at all events, it was not right, and he would 
 
150 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 not do it. Barker might be wrong too. And so the 
 poor Duke, muddle-headed and weary with this storm 
 in his tea-cup, and with having his tea-cup come to 
 grief in a real storm into the bargain, turned into 
 his deck-cabin to " sleep on it, " thinking the morn- 
 ing would bring counsel. 
 
 Claudius had many things to think of too ; but he 
 was weary, for he had slept little of late, and not at 
 all the night before ; so he lay down and went over 
 the scenes of the evening; but soon he fell asleep, 
 and dreamed of hei' all the night long. 
 
 But the good yacht Streak held on her course 
 bravely, quivering in the joy of her new-spread 
 wings. For what hulk is so dull and pitifully 
 modern as not to feel how much gladder a thing it is 
 to bound along with straining shrouds and singing 
 sails and lifting keel to the fierce music of the wind 
 than to be ever conscious of a burning sullenly- 
 thudding power, put in her bosom by the unartistic 
 beast, man, to make her grind her breathless way 
 whither he would, and whither she would not ? Not 
 the meanest mud-scow or harbour tug but would 
 rather have a little mast and a bit of canvas in the 
 fresh salt breeze than all the hundreds of land-born 
 horse-powers and fire-driven cranks and rods that a 
 haste-loving generation can cram into the belly of the 
 poor craft. How much more, then, must the beauti- 
 ful clean-built Streak have rejoiced on that night 
 when she felt the throbbing, gnashing pain of the 
 engines stop suddenly in her breast, and was allowed 
 to spread her beautiful wings out to be kissed and 
 caressed all over by her old lover, the north-east 
 wind? 
 
 And the grand crested waves came creeping up, 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 151 
 
 curling over their dark heads till they bristled with 
 phosphorescent foam ; and some of them broke angrily- 
 upward, jealous that the wind alone might touch 
 those gleaming sails. But the wind roared at them 
 in his wrath and drove them away, so that they, sank 
 back, afraid to fight with him ; and he took the ship in 
 his strong arms, and bore her fast and far that night, 
 through many a heaving billow, and past many a 
 breating crest — far over the untrodden paths, where 
 footsteps are not, neither the defiling hand of man. 
 
 But within were beating hearts and the breathings 
 of life. The strong man stretched to his full length 
 on his couch, mighty to see in his hard-earned sleep. 
 And the beautiful woman, with parted lips and wild 
 tossing black hair; dark cheeks flushed with soft 
 resting; hands laid together lovingly, as though, in 
 the quiet night, the left hand would learn at last 
 what good work the right hand has wrought; the 
 fringe of long eyelashes drooping with the lids, to 
 fold and keep the glorious light safe within, and 
 — ah yes, it is there ! — the single tear still cling- 
 ing to its birthplace — mortal impress of immortal 
 suffering. Is it not always there, the jewelled sign- 
 manual of grief? 
 
 But the good yacht Streak held on her course 
 bravely; and the north-easter laughed and. sang as 
 he buffeted the waves from the path of his love. 
 
152 DOCTOB CLAUDIUS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Duke was the first to be astir in the morning, 
 and as soon as he opened his eyes he made up his 
 mind that the weather was improving. The sea was 
 still running high, but there was no sound of water 
 breaking over the bulwarks. He emerged from his 
 deck-cabin, and took a sniff of the morning air. A 
 reef had been shaken out of the trysails, and the fore- 
 topsail and jib were set. He went aft, and found 
 the mate just heaving the patent log. 
 
 "Nine and a half, your Grace," said the officer 
 with a chuckle, for he was an old sailor, and hated 
 steamers. 
 
 " That's very fair, " remarked the owner, skating 
 off with his bare feet over the wet deck. Then he 
 went back to his cabin to dress. 
 
 Presently Mr. Barker's neat person emerged from 
 the cuddy. He looked about to see if any one were 
 out yet, but only a party of red-capped tars were 
 visible, swabbing the forward deck with their pendu- 
 lum-like brooms, and working their way aft in a 
 regular, serried rank. The phalanx moved with an 
 even stroke, and each bare foot advanced just so 
 many inches at every third sweep of the broom, while 
 the yellow-haired Norse 'prentice played the hose in 
 front of them. Mr. Barker perceived that they would 
 overtake him before long, and '|ie determined on 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 153 
 
 flight, not forward or aft, but aloft; and he leisurely- 
 lifted himself into the main-shrouds, and climbing 
 half-way, hooked his feet through the ratlines. In 
 this position he took out a cigar, lighted it with a 
 vesuvian, and, regardless of the increased motion 
 imparted to him at his greater elevation, he began 
 to smoke. The atmosphere below must have been 
 very oppressive indeed to induce Mr. Barker to come 
 up before breakfast — in fact, before eight o'clock — 
 for the sake of smoking a solitary cigar up there by 
 the catharpings. Mr. Barker wanted to think, for an 
 idea had struck him during the night. 
 
 In ten minutes the parade of deck-swabbers had 
 passed, and Claudius also appeared on deck, looking 
 haggard and pale. He did not see Barker, for he 
 turned, seaman-like, to the weatherside, and the try- 
 sail hid his friend from his sight. Presently he too 
 thought he would go aloft, for he felt cramped and 
 weary, and fancied a climb would stretch his limbs. 
 He went right up to the crosstrees before he espied 
 Barker, a few feet below him on the other side. He 
 stopped a moment in astonishment, for this sort of 
 diversion was the last thing he had given the Ameri- 
 can credit for. Besides, as Barker was to leeward, 
 the rigging where he was perched stood almost per- 
 pendicular, and his position must have been a very 
 uncomfortable one. Claudius was not given to jocu- 
 larity as a rule, but he could not resist such a chance 
 for astonishing a man who imagined himself to be 
 enjoying an airy solitude between sky and water. 
 So he gently swung himself into the lee rigging and, 
 leaning far down, cautiously lifted Mr. Barker's cap 
 from his head by the woollen button in the middle. 
 Mr. Barker knocked the ash from his cigar with his 
 
154 DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 
 
 free hand, and returned it to his mouth; he then 
 conveyed the same hand to the top of his head, to 
 assure himself that the cap was gone. He knew per- 
 fectly well that in his present position he could not 
 look up to see who had played him the trick. 
 
 "I don't know who you are," he sang out, "but I 
 may as well tell you my life is insured. If I catch 
 cold, the company will make it hot for you — and no 
 error." 
 
 A roar of laughter from below saluted this sally, 
 for the Duke and Sturleson had met, and had watched 
 together the progress of the joke. 
 
 "I will take the risk," replied Claudius, who had 
 retired again to the crosstrees. "I am going to put 
 it on the topmast-head, so that you may have a good 
 look at it." 
 
 "You can't do it," said Barker, turning himself 
 round, and lying flat against the ratlines, so that he 
 could look up at his friend. 
 
 "What's that?" bawled the Duke from below. 
 
 " Says he will decorate the main truck with my hat, 
 and I say he can't do it," Barker shouted back. 
 
 "I'll back Claudius, level money," answered the 
 Duke in stentorian tones. 
 
 "I'll take three to two," said Barker. 
 
 "No, I won't. Level money." 
 
 "Done for a hundred, then," answered the Ameri- 
 can. 
 
 It was an unlikely thing to bet on, and Barker 
 thought he might have given the Duke odds, instead 
 of asking them, as he had done. But he liked to 
 get all he could in a fair way. Having arranged his 
 bet, he told Claudius he might climb to the mast- 
 head if he liked, but that he. Barker, was going down 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 155 
 
 SO as to have a better view; and he forthwith de- 
 scended. All three stood leaning back against the 
 weather bulwarks, craning their necks to see the 
 better. Claudius was a very large man, as had been 
 said, and Barker did not believe it possible that he 
 could drag his gigantic frame up the smooth mast 
 beyond the shrouds. If it were possible, he was 
 quite willing to pay his money to see him do it. 
 
 Claudius put the woollen cap in his pocket, and 
 began the ascent. The steamer, as has been said, 
 was schooner-rigged, with topsail yards on the fore- 
 mast, but there were no ratlines in the main topmast 
 shrouds, which were set about ten feet below the 
 mast-head. To this point Claudius climbed easily 
 enough, using his arms and legs against the stiffened 
 ropes. A shout from the Duke hailed his arrival. 
 
 "Now comes the tug of war," said the Duke. 
 
 "He can never do it," said Barker confidently. 
 
 But Barker had underrated the extraordinary 
 strength of the man against whom he was betting, 
 and he did not know how often, when a boy, Claudius 
 had climbed higher masts than those of the Streak. 
 The Doctor was one of those natural athletes whose 
 strength does not diminish for lack of exercise, and 
 large as he was, and tall, he was not so heavy as 
 Barker thought. 
 
 Now he pulled the cap out of his pocket and held 
 it between his teeth, as he gripped the smooth wood 
 between his arms and hands and legs, and with firm 
 and even motion he began to swarm up the bare pole. 
 
 "There — I told you so," said Barker. Claudius 
 had slipped nearly a foot back. 
 
 "He will do it yet," said. the Duke, as the climber 
 clasped his mighty hands to the mast. He would 
 
156 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 not slip again, for his blood was up, and he could 
 almost fancy his iron grip pressed deep into the 
 wood. Slowly, slowly those last three feet were con- 
 quered, inch by .inch, and the broad hand stole 
 stealthily over the small wooden truck at the top- 
 mast-head till it had a firm hold — then the other, and 
 with the two he raised and pushed his body up till 
 the truck was opposite his breast. 
 
 "Skal to the Viking!" yelled old Sturleson, the 
 Swedish captain, his sunburnt face growing red with 
 triumph as Claudius clapped the woollen cap over 
 the mast-head. 
 
 " Well done, indeed, man ! " bawled the Duke. 
 
 "Well," said Barker, "it was worth the money, 
 anyhow." 
 
 There was a faint exclamation from the door of 
 the after-cabin ; but none of the three men heard it, 
 nor did they see a horror-struck face, stony and wide- 
 eyed, staring up at the mast-head, where the Doctor's 
 athletic figure swayed far out over the water with 
 the motion of the yacht. Time had flown, and the 
 bright sunlight streaming down into the ladies' cabin 
 had made Margaret long for a breath of fresh air; so 
 that when Lady Victoria appeared, in all sorts of 
 jersies and blue garments, fresh and ready for any- 
 thing, the two had made common cause and ventured 
 up the companion without any manly assistance. It 
 chanced that they came out on the deck at the very 
 moment when Claudius was accomplishing . his feat, 
 and seeing the three men looking intently at some- 
 thing aloft, Margaret looked too, and was horrified 
 at what she saw. Lady Victoria caught her and held 
 her tightly, or she would have lost her footing with 
 the lurch of the vessel. Lady Victoria raised her 
 eyes also, and took in the situation at a glance. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 157 
 
 ■" Don 't be afraid, " she said, " he can take care of 
 himself, no doubt. My brother used to be able to do 
 it before he grew so big. " 
 
 Claudius descended rapidly, but almost lost his 
 hold when he saw Margaret leaning against the taff- 
 rail. He would not have had her see him for worlds, 
 and there she was, and she had evidentlj'' witnessed 
 the whole affair. Before he had reached the deck, 
 the Duke had seen her too, and hastened to her side. 
 She was evidently much agitated. 
 
 " How can you allow such things ? " she said in- 
 dignantly, her dark eyes flashing at him. 
 
 "I had nothing to say about it. Countess. But he 
 did it magnificently." 
 
 Claudius had reached the deck, and eluding the 
 compliments of Barker and Sturleson, hastened to 
 the cuddy door, bowing to the ladies as he passed. 
 He meant to beat a retreat to his cabin. But Mar- 
 garet was determined to call him to account for hav- 
 ing given her such a fright. 
 
 " Dr. Claudius, " said the voice that he loved and 
 feared. 
 
 "Yes, Countess," said he, steadying himself by 
 the door as the vessel lurched. 
 
 " Will you please come here ? I want to speak to 
 you." He moved to her side, waiting his chance 
 between two seas. " Do you think you have a right 
 to risk your life in such follies ? " she asked, when 
 he was close to her. The Duke and Lady Victoria 
 were near by. 
 
 "I do not think I have risked my life, Countess. 
 I have often done it before." 
 
 " Do you think, then, that you have a right to do 
 such things in the sight of nervous women? ", 
 
158 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 " No, Countess, I pretend to no such brutality, and 
 I am very sincerely sorry that you should have un- 
 expectedly seen me. I apologise most humbly to 
 you and to Lady Victoria for having startled you; " 
 he bowed to the Duke's sister as he spoke, and 
 moved to go away. He had already turned when 
 Margaret's face softened. 
 
 "Dr. Claudius," she called again. He was at her 
 side in a moment. " Please do not do it again — 
 even if I am not there." She looked at him; he 
 thought it strange. But he was annoyed at the 
 whole business, and really angry with himself. She 
 had spoken in a low "tone so that the others had not 
 heard her. 
 
 " Countess," said he in a voice decidedly sarcastic, 
 " I pledge myself never in future to ascend to the 
 mast-head of any vessel or vessels without your 
 express permission." 
 
 "Very well," said she coldly; "I shall keep you 
 to your word." But Claudius had seen his mistake, 
 and there was no trace of irony in his voice as he 
 looked her steadfastly in the eyes and answered. 
 
 " Believe me, I will keep any promise I make to 
 you," he said earnestly, and went away. Lady 
 Victoria, who was not without tact, and had guessed 
 that Margaret had something to say to the Doctor, 
 managed meanwhile to keep her brother occupied 
 by asking him questions about the exploit, and he, 
 falling into the trap, had begun to tell the story 
 from the beginning, speaking loud, by way of show- 
 ing Claudius his appreciation. But Claudius, reck- 
 ing little of his laurels, went and sat in his cabin, 
 pondering deeply. Barker, from a distance, had 
 witnessed the conversation between Margaret and 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIITS. 159 
 
 the Doctor. He came up murmuring to himself tliat 
 the plot was thickening. " If Claudius makes a cor- 
 ner in mast-heads, there will be a bull market," he 
 reflected, and he also remembered that just now he 
 was a bear. "In that case," he continued his train 
 of thought, "no more mast-heads." 
 
 "Good morning, Countess; Lady "Victoria, good 
 morning," he said, bowing. "I would take off my 
 hat if I could, but the Doctor has set the cap of 
 liberty on high." Lady Victoria and the Duke 
 laughed, but Margaret said " Good morning " with- 
 out a smile. Barker immediately abandoned the 
 subject and talked about the weather, which is a 
 grand topic when there is enough of it. It was clear 
 by this time that they had passed through a violent 
 storm, which had gone away to southward. The 
 sea was heavy of course, but the wind had moderated, 
 and by twelve o'clock the yacht was running between 
 nine and ten knots, with a stiff breeze on her quarter 
 and all sails set. 
 
 The Duke was extremely attentive to Margaret all 
 that day, rarely leaving her side, whether she was 
 below or on deck ; bringing her books and rugs, and 
 adjusting her chair, and altogether performing the 
 offices of a faithful slave and attendant. Whenever 
 Claudius came within hail the Duke would make 
 desperate efforts to be animated, lengthening his 
 sentences with all the vigorous superlatives and 
 sledge-hammer adverbs he could think of, not to 
 mention any number of "you knows." His efforts to 
 be agreeable, especially when there appeared to be 
 any likelihood of Claudius coming into the conversa- 
 tion, were so palpable that Margaret could not but 
 see there was a reason for the expenditure of so much 
 
160 DOCTOR CLAtTDITJS. 
 
 energy. She could not help being amused, but at 
 the same time she was annoyed at what she considered 
 a bit of unnecessary officiousness on the part of her 
 host. However, he was such an old friend that she 
 forgave him. But woman's nature is impatient of 
 control. Left to herself she would have avoided 
 Claudius ; forcibly separated from him she discovered 
 that she wanted to speak to him. As the day wore 
 on and the Duke's attentions never relaxed, she 
 grew nervous, and tried to think how she could send 
 him away. It was no easy matter. If she asked for 
 anything, he flew to get it and returned breathless, 
 and of course at that very moment Claudius was just 
 out of range. Then she called Miss Skeat, but the 
 Duke's eloquence redoubled, and he talked to them 
 both at once ; and at last she gave it up in despair, 
 and said she would lie down for a while. Once safe 
 in her stateroom, the Duke drew a long breath, and 
 went in search of Mr. Barker. Now Mr. Barker, in 
 consequence of the idea that had unfolded itself to 
 his fertile brain in the darkness of night, had been 
 making efforts to amuse Claudius all day long, with 
 as much determination as the Duke had shown in 
 devoting himself to the Countess, but with greater 
 success; for Barker could be very amusing when he 
 chose, whereas the Duke was generally most amus- 
 ing when he did not wish to be so. He found them 
 in the smoking cabin, Claudius stretched at full 
 length with a cigarette in his teeth, and Barker 
 seated apparently on the table, the chair, and the 
 transom, by a clever distribution of the various parts 
 of his body, spinning yarns of a high "Western flavour 
 about death's-head editors and mosquitoes with brass 
 ribs. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 161 
 
 The Duke was exhausted with his efforts, and 
 refreshed himself with beer before he challenged 
 Barker to a game. 
 
 "To tell the truth, Duke," he answered, "I don't 
 seem to think I feel like winning your money to- 
 day. I will go and talk to the ladies, and Claudius 
 will play with you." 
 
 "You won't make much headway there," said the 
 Duke. "The Countess is gone to bed, and Miss 
 Skeat and my sister are reading English history." 
 
 " Besides, " put in Claudius, "you know I never 
 play." 
 
 "Well," said Barker, with a sigh, "then I will 
 play with you, and Claudius can go to sleep where 
 he is." They cut and dealt. But Claudius did not 
 feel at all sleepy. When the game was well started 
 he rose and went out, making to himself the same 
 reflection that Margaret had made, "Why is my 
 friend so anxious to amuse me to-day ? " He seldom 
 paid any attention to such things, but his strong, 
 clear mind was not long in unravelling the situa- 
 tion, now that he was roused to thinking about it. 
 Barker had guessed the truth, or very near it, and 
 the Duke and he had agreed to keep Claudius and 
 Margaret apart as long as they could. 
 
 He went aft, and descended to the cabin. There 
 sat Miss Skeat and Lady Victoria reading aloud, 
 just as the Duke had said. He went through the 
 passage and"^ met the steward, or butler, whom he 
 despatched to see if the Countess were in the ladies' 
 cabin. The rosy-cheeked, gray-haired priest of 
 Silenus said her ladyship was there, "alone," he 
 added with a little emphasis. Claudius walked in, 
 and was not disappointed. There she sat at the side 
 
 M 
 
162 DOCTOR CLAUDItrS. 
 
 of the table in her accustomed place, dark and beauti- 
 ful, and his heart beat fast. She did not look up. 
 
 "Countess," he began timidly. 
 
 "Oh, Doctor Claudius, is that you? Sit down." 
 He sat down on the transom, so that he could see 
 the evening light fall through the port-hole above 
 him on her side face, and as the vessel rose and fell 
 the rays of the setting sun played strangely on her 
 heavy hair. 
 
 " I have not seen you all day, " she said. 
 
 "No, Countess." He did not know what to say to 
 her. 
 
 " I trust you are none the worse for your foolish 
 performance this morning?" Her voice was even 
 and unmodulated, not too friendly and not too cold. 
 
 " I am, and I am not. I am unspeakably the worse 
 in that I displeased you. Will you forgive me?" 
 
 "I will forgive you," in the same tone. 
 
 " Do you mean it ? Do you mean you will forgive 
 me what I said to you that — the other night?" 
 
 " I did not say that, " she answered, a little weari- 
 ness sounding with the words. Claudius's face fell. 
 
 "I am sorry," he said very simply. 
 
 " So am I. I am disappointed in you more than 1 
 can say. You are just like all the others, and I 
 thought you were different. Do you not understand 
 me?" 
 
 " Not entirely, though I will try to. Will you not 
 tell me just what you mean to say ? " 
 
 "I think I will," she answered, looking up, but not 
 towards Claudius. She hesitated a moment and 
 then continued, "We are not children, Dr. Clau- 
 dius; let us speak plainly, and not misunderstand 
 each other." She glanced round the cabin as if to 
 
DOCTOR CLATJDItTS. l6g 
 
 see if they were alone. Apparently she was not 
 satisfied. "Move my chair nearer to the sofa, 
 please," she added; and he rose and did her bidding. 
 
 "I have not much to say," she went on, "but I do 
 not want to say it before the whole ship's company.- 
 It is this : I thought I had found in you a friend, a 
 man who would be to me what no one has ever been 
 — a friend ; and I am disappointed, for you want to 
 be something else. That is all, except that it must 
 not be thought of, and you must go." 
 
 An Englishman would have reproached her with 
 having given him encouragement; an Italian would 
 have broken out into a passionate expression of his 
 love, seeking to kindle her with his own fire. But 
 the great, calm Northman clasped his hands together 
 firmly on his knee and sat silent. 
 
 "You must go " she repeated. 
 
 "I cannot go," he said honestly. 
 
 " That is all the more reason why you should go at 
 once," was the feminine argument with which she 
 replied. 
 
 " Let us go back to two days ago, and be as we 
 were before. Will you not forget it? " 
 
 " We cannot — you cannot, and I cannot. You are 
 not able to take back your words or to deny them." 
 
 " May God forbid ! " said he very earnestly. " But 
 if you will let me be your friend, I will promise to 
 obey you, and I will not say anything that will dis- 
 please you." 
 
 "You cannot," she repeated; and she smiled 
 bitterly. 
 
 " But I can, and I will, if you will let me. I am 
 very strong, and I will keep my word; " and indeed 
 he looked the incarnation of strength as he sat with 
 
164 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 folded hands and earnest face, awaiting her reply. 
 His words were not eloquent, Isut they were plain 
 and true, and he meant them. Something in the sup- 
 pressed power of his tone drove away the smile from 
 Margaret's face, and she looked toward him. 
 
 "Could you?" she asked. But the door opened, 
 and Lady Victoria entered with her book. 
 
 "Oh! '' said Lady Victoria. 
 
 "I must go and dress," said Claudius. 
 
 "We will go on with the book to-morrow," said 
 the Countess. And he bore away a light heart. 
 
 On the following day the Duke began to take care 
 of the Countess, as he had done yesterday, and Bar- 
 ker turned on the fireworks of his conversation for 
 the amusement of Claudius. Claudius sat quite 
 still for an hour or more, perhaps enjoying the sur- 
 prise he was going to give the Duke and Barker. 
 As the latter finished a brilliant tale, for the veracity 
 of which he vouched in every particular, Claudius 
 calmly rose and threw away his cigarette. 
 
 "That is a very good story," he said. "Good-bye 
 for the present. I am going to read with the Count- 
 ess." Barker was nearly "taken off his feet." 
 
 "Why " he began, but stopped short. "Oh, 
 
 very well. She is on deck. I saw the Duke bring 
 Tip her rugs and things." His heavy moustache 
 seemed to uncurl itself nervously, and his jaw 
 dropped slowly, as he watched Claudius leave the 
 deck-cabin. 
 
 "I wonder when they got a chance," he said to 
 himself. 
 
 But Barker was not nearly so much astonished as 
 the Duke. The latter was sitting by Margaret's 
 side, near the wheel, making conversation. He was 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 165 
 
 telling her such a good story about a mutual friend 
 — the son of a great chancellor of the great empire of 
 Kakotopia — who had gambled away his wife at cards 
 with another mutual friend. 
 
 "And the point of the story," said the Duke, "is 
 that the lady did not object in the least. Just fancy, 
 you know, we all knew her, and now she is married 
 
 again to " At this point Claudius strode up, 
 
 and Margaret, who did not care to hear any more, 
 interrupted the Duke. 
 
 "Dr. Claudius, I have our book here. Shall we 
 read?" The Doctor's face flushed with pleasure. 
 The Duke stared. 
 
 "I will get a chair," he said; and his long legs 
 made short work of it. 
 
 " Well, if you will believe it," said the Duke, who 
 meant to finish his story, " it was not even the man 
 who won her at cards that she married when she was 
 divorced. It was a man you never met; and they 
 are living in some place in Italy." The Duke could 
 hardly believe his eyes when Claudius boldly marched 
 up with his chair and planted himself on Margaret's 
 other side. She leaned back, looking straight before 
 her, and turning the leaves of the book absently 
 backwards and forwards. The Duke was evidently 
 expected to go, but he sat fully a minute stupidly 
 looking at Margaret. At last she spoke. 
 
 " That was not a very nice story. How odd ! I 
 knew them both very well. Do you remember where 
 we left ofe. Dr. Claudius?" 
 
 "Page one hundred and nineteen," answered the 
 Doctor, who never forgot anything. This looked 
 like business, and the Duke rose. He got away 
 rather awkwardly. As usual, he departed to wreak 
 vengeance on Mr. Barker. 
 
166 fiOCTOR CLATJDItrS. 
 
 "Barker," he began with emphasis, "you are an 
 ass." 
 
 "I know it," said Barker, with humility. "I 
 have been saying it over to myself for a quarter of 
 an hour, and it is quite true. Say it again ; it does 
 me good." 
 
 " Oh, that is all. If you are quite sure you appre- 
 ciate the fact I am satisfied." 
 
 " It dawned upon me quite suddenly a few minutes 
 ago. Claudius has been here," said Barker. 
 
 "He has been there too," said the Duke. "He is 
 there now." 
 
 "I suppose there is no doubt that we are talking 
 about the same thing ? " 
 
 "I don't know about you," said the other. "I am 
 talking about Claudius and Countess Margaret. 
 They never had a chance to speak all day yesterday, 
 and now she asks him to come and read with her. 
 Just as I was telling no end of a jolly story too." 
 Mr. Barker's wrinkle wound slowly round his 
 mouth. He had been able to shave to-day, and the 
 deep furrow was clearly defined. 
 
 "Oh! she asked him to read, did she?" Then he 
 swore, very slowly and conscientiously, as if he 
 meant it. 
 
 " Why the deuce do you swear like that ? " asked 
 the Duke. " If it is not true that she has refused 
 him, you ought to be very glad. " And he stuffed a 
 disreputable short black pipe full of tobacco. 
 
 " Why, of course I am. I was swearing at my own 
 stupidity. Of course T am very glad if she has not 
 refused him." He smiled a very unhealthy-looking 
 smile. " See here " he began again. 
 
 " Well ? I am seeing, as you call it. " 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 167 
 
 "This. They must Have had a talk yesterday. 
 He was here with me, and suddenly he got up and 
 said he was going to read with her. And you say 
 that she asked him to read with her when he went to 
 where you were." 
 
 " Called out to him half across the deck — in the 
 middle of my story, too, and a firstrate one at that." 
 
 " She does not care much for stories," said Barker; 
 " but that is not the question. It was evidently a 
 put-up job." 
 
 "Meaning a preconcerted arrangement," said the 
 Duke. "Yes. It was arranged between them some 
 time yesterday. But I never left her alone until she 
 said she was going to lie down." 
 
 " And I never left him until you told me she had 
 gone to bed." 
 
 "She did not lie down, then," said the Duke. 
 
 "Then she lied up and down," said Barker, sav- 
 agely playful. 
 
 "Ladies do not lie," said the Duke, who did not 
 like the word, and refused to laugh. 
 
 " Of course. And you and I are a couple of idiots, 
 and we have been protecting her when she did not 
 want to be protected. And she will hate us for ever 
 after. I am disgusted. I will drown my cares in 
 drink. Will you please ring the bell? " 
 
 "You had better drink apollinaris. Grog will go 
 to your head. I liever saw you so angry." The 
 Duke pressed the electric button. 
 
 " I loathe to drink of the water, " said Barker, tear- 
 ing off the end of a cigar with his teeth. The Duke 
 had seen a man in Egypt who bit off the heads of 
 black snakes, and he thought of him at that moment. 
 The steward appeared, and when the arrangements 
 
168 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 were made, the ocean in which Barker proposed to 
 drown his cares was found to consist of a small glass 
 of a very diluted concoction of champagne, bitters, 
 limes, and soda water. The Duke had some, and 
 thought it very good. 
 
 "It is not a question of language," said Barker, 
 returning to the conversation. "They eluded us 
 and met. That is all." 
 
 "By her wish, apparently," said the other." 
 
 "We must arrange a plan of action," said Barker. 
 
 " Why ? If she has not refused him, it is all right. 
 We have nothing more to do with it. Let them go 
 their own way." 
 
 "You are an old friend of the Countess's, are you 
 not?" asked the American. "Yes — very well, 
 would you like to see her married to Claudius?" 
 
 "Upon my word," said the Duke, "I cannot see 
 that I have anything to say about it. But since you 
 ask me, I see no possible objection. He is a gentle- 
 man — has money, heaps of it — if she likes him, let 
 her marry him if she pleases. It is very proper that 
 she should marry again; she has no children, and 
 the Russian estates are gone to the next heir. I only 
 wanted to save her from any inconvenience. I did 
 not want Claudius to be hanging after her, if she 
 did not want him. She does. There is an end of 
 it. " O glorious English Common Sense ! What a 
 fine thing you are when anybody gets you by the right 
 end. 
 
 "You may be right," said Barker, with a superior 
 air that meant "you are certainly wrong." "But 
 would Claudius be able to give her the position in 
 foreign society " 
 
 "Society be damned," said the Duke. "Do you 
 
DOCTOR CLATJDIUS. 169 
 
 think the widow of Alexis cannot command society ? 
 Besides, Claudius is a gentleman, and that is quite 
 enough." O 
 
 "I suppose he is," said Mr. Barker, with an air of 
 regret. 
 
 " Suppose ? There is no supposing about it. He 
 is." And the Duke looked at his friend as if he 
 would have said, "If I, a real, palpable, tangible, 
 hereditary duke, do not know a gentleman when I see 
 one, what can you possibly know about it, I would 
 like to inquire ? " And that settled the matter. 
 
 But Mr. Barker was uneasy in his mind. An idea 
 was at work there which was diametrically opposed 
 to the union of Claudius and Margaret, and day by 
 day, as he watched the intimacy growing back into its 
 old proportions, he ground his gold-filled teeth with 
 increasing annoyance. He sought opportunities for 
 saying and doing things that might curtail the length 
 of those hours when Claudius sat at her side, osten- 
 sibly reading. Ostensibly? Yes — the first day or 
 two after she had allowed him to come back to her side 
 were days of unexampled industry and severe routine, 
 only the most pertinent criticisms interrupting from 
 time to time the even progress from line to line, 
 from page to page, from paragraph to paragraph, from 
 chapter to chapter. But soon the criticism became 
 less close, the illustration more copious, the tongue 
 more eloquent, and the glance less shy. The elec- 
 tive strength of their two hearts rose up and wrought 
 mightily, saying, "We are made for each other, we 
 understand each other, and these foolish mortals who 
 carry us about in their bosoms shall not keep us 
 apart." And to tell the truth, the foolish mortals 
 made very little effort. Margaret did not believe 
 
170 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 that Claudius could possibly break his plighted word, 
 and he knew that he would die rather than forfeit 
 his faith. And so they sat side by side with the 
 book, ostensibly reading, actually talking, most of 
 the day. And sometimes one or the other would go 
 a little too near the forbidden point, and then there 
 was a moment's silence, and the least touch of embar- 
 rassment; and once Margaret laughed a queer little 
 laugh at one of these stumbles, and once Claudius 
 sighed. But they were happy, and the faint colour 
 that was natural to the Doctor's clear white skin 
 came back- as his heart was eased of its burden, and 
 Margaret's dark cheek grew darker with the sun and 
 the wind that she took no pains to keep from her 
 face, though the olive flushed sometimes to a warmer 
 hue, with pleasure — or what ? She thought it was 
 the salt breeze. 
 
 " How well those two look ! " exclaimed Lady Vic- 
 toria once to Mr. Barker. 
 
 "I have seen Claudius look ghastly," said Barker, 
 for he thought they looked too " well " altogether. 
 
 "Yes; do you remember one morning — I think it 
 was the day before, or the day after, the accident? 
 I thought he was going to faint." 
 
 "Perhaps he was sea-sick," suggested Barker. 
 
 "Oh no, we were a week out then, and he was 
 never ill at all from the first." 
 
 " Perhaps he was love-sick," said the other, willing 
 to be spiteful. 
 
 "How ridiculous! To think of such a thing!" 
 cried the stalwart English girl ; for she was only a 
 girl in years despite her marriage. "But really," 
 she continued, " if I were going to write a novel I 
 would put those two people in it, they are so awfully 
 
DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 17l 
 
 good-looking. I would make all my heroes and 
 heroines beautiful if I wrote books." 
 
 "Then I fear I shall never be handed down to 
 posterity by your pen, Lady Victoria," said Barker, 
 with' a smile. 
 
 "No," said she, eyeing him critically, "I don't 
 think I would put you in my book. But then, you 
 know, I would not put myself in it either." 
 
 "Ah," grinned Mr. Barker, "the book would lose 
 by that, but I should gain." 
 
 "How?" asked her ladyship. 
 
 "Because we shoiild both be well out of it," said 
 he, having reached his joke triumphantly. But Lady 
 Victoria did not like Mr. Barker, or his jokes, very 
 much. She once said so to her brother. She 
 thought him spiteful. 
 
 "Well, Vick," said her brother good-naturedly, 
 " I daresay you are right. But he amuses me, and 
 he is very square on settling days." 
 
 Meanwhile Lady Victoria was not mistaken — Mr. 
 Barker was spiteful; but she did not know that she 
 was the only member of the party to whom he ven- 
 tured to show it, because he thought she was stupid, 
 and because it was such a relief to say a vicious thing 
 now and then. He devoted himself most assiduously 
 to Miss Skeat, since Margaret would not accept his 
 devotion to her, and indeed had given him little 
 chance to show that he would offer it. The days 
 sped fast for some of the party, slowly for others, and 
 pretty much as they did anywhere else for the Duke, 
 who was in no especial hurry to arrive in New York. 
 His affairs were large enough to keep, and he had 
 given himself plenty of time. But nevertheless his 
 
172 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 affairs were the object in view; and though he did 
 not like to talk about those things, even with Bar- 
 ker, the fate of Claudius and Margaret as compared 
 with the larger destinies of the Green Swash Mining 
 Company were as the humble and unadorned mole- 
 hill to the glories of the Himalaya. People had crit- 
 icised the Duke's financial career in England. Why 
 had he sold that snuffbox that Marie Therese gave to 
 his ancestor when — well, you know when? Why 
 had he converted those worm-eaten manuscripts, 
 whereon were traced many valuable things in a 
 variety of ancient tongues, into coin of the realm ? 
 Aad why had he turned his Irish estates into pounds, 
 into shillings, yea, and into pence? Pence — just 
 think of it! He had sold his ancestral lands for 
 pence; that was what it came to. These and many 
 other things the scoffers scoffed, with a right good- 
 will. But none save the Duke could tell how many 
 broad fields of ripening grain, and vine-clad hills, 
 and clean glistening miles of bright rail, and fat ore 
 lands sodden with wealth of gold and silver and 
 luscious sulphurets — none save the Duke could tell 
 how much of these good things the Duke possessed in 
 that great land beyond the sea, upon which if England 
 were bodilj^ set down it would be as hard to find as 
 a threepennj' bit in a ten-acre field. But the Duke 
 never told. He went about his business quietly, for 
 he said in his heart,, "Tush! I have children to be 
 provided for; and if anything happens to the old 
 country, I will save some bacon for them in the new, 
 and they may call themselves dukes or farmers as far 
 as I am concerned; but they shall not lack a few 
 hundred thousand acres of homestead in the hour of 
 need, neither a cow or two or a pig." 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 173 
 
 The breeze held well, on the whole, and old 
 Sturleson said they were having a wonderful run, 
 which was doubtless an effort on the part of nature 
 to atone for the injury she had done. But the days 
 flew by, and yet they were not at their voyage's end. 
 At last, as they sat sunning themselves in the fair 
 September weather, Sturleson came to them, his 
 bright quadrant, with its coloured glasses sticking 
 out in all directions, in his hand, and told the Duke 
 he thought that by to-morrow afternoon they would 
 sight the Hook. The party were all together, as it 
 happened, and there was a general shout, in which, 
 however, Claudius joined but faintly. He longed 
 for contrary winds, and he wished that Sandy Hook 
 and all its appurtenances, including New York and 
 th6 United States, would sink gently down to the 
 bottom of the sea. He knew, and Sturleson had 
 told him, that with unfavourable weather they might 
 be at sea a month, and he was one of the two who 
 voted to go to Bermuda when the accident occurred. 
 
 That evening, as the sun was going down to his 
 tossing bed of golden waves, all canopied with soft- 
 est purple, Margaret stood leaning over the taffrail. 
 Every stitch of canvas was out — topsails, gaff-top- 
 sails, staysails, and jibs — and the good yacht bounded 
 with a will to the bright west. But the dark woman 
 looked astern to where the billows rolled together, 
 forgetting what precious burden they had borne. 
 Claudius stole to her side and stood a moment look- 
 ing at her face. 
 
 " So it is over, " he said at last. 
 
 " Nearly over. It has been very pleasant, " said she. 
 
 "It has been more than pleasant. It has been 
 divine — for me. " 
 
174 DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "Hush!" said Margaret softly; "remember." 
 There was silence, save for the rushing of the rudder 
 through the dark-blue foam. Again Caudius spoke, 
 softly, and it seemed to her that the "voice was not 
 his, but rather that it came up mystically from the 
 water below. 
 
 "Are you sorry it is over?" he asked — or the 
 voice of the mighty deep welling up with its burden 
 of truth. 
 
 "Yes, I am very sorry," she answered, whether 
 she would or no. The sun sank down, and the 
 magic after-glow shone in the opposite sky, tinging 
 ship and sails and waves. 
 
 "I am very sorry too," he said; and he sighed and 
 looked astern eastwards, and thought of the golden 
 hours he had spent on that broad track stretching 
 away behind. Margaret leaned down, resting her 
 chin on her hands, and presently she unfolded them, 
 and her fingers stole upwards and covered her face, 
 and she bent her head. There was a mighty beating 
 in Claudius's breast, and a thousand voices in the air 
 cried to him to speak and to say what was in his 
 heart to say. But he would not, for he had given 
 the woman at his side the promise of his faith. At 
 last she looked up and turned toward him. They 
 were alone on the deck in the faintness of the gather- 
 ing twilight. 
 
 " Claudius, you have kept your promise truly and 
 well. Keep it — keep it always." She held out 
 her ungloved hand. 
 
 "Always, my queen and my lady," and he kissed 
 the white fingers once. 
 
 " Hullo ! " shouted the Duke, emerging from the 
 cuddy. "Upon my word I Why, it's dinner time." 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 175 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 How they left the good yacht Streak, and how they 
 bade a hearty farewell to that old sea lion Captain 
 Sturleson, and how they went through the hundred 
 and one formalities of the custom-house, and the 
 thousand and one informalities of its officials, are 
 matters of interest indeed, but not of history. There 
 are moments in a man's existence when the act of 
 conveying half a dozen sovereigns to the pocket of 
 that stern monitor of good faith, the brass-buttoned 
 custom-house officer with the tender conscience, is 
 of more importance to salvation than women's love 
 or the Thirty-nine Articles. All this they did. Nor 
 were they spared by the great tormentor of the West, 
 who bristleth with the fretful quill, whose ears sur- 
 round us in the night-time, and whose voice is as the 
 voice t)f the charmer, the reporter of the just and the 
 unjust, but principally of the latter. And Mr. Bar- 
 ker made an appointment with the Duke, and took 
 a tender farewell of the three ladies, and promised 
 to call on Claudius in the afternoon, and departed. 
 But the rest of the party went to a famous old hotel 
 much affected by Englishmen, and whose chief recom- 
 mendation in their eyes is that there is no elevator, 
 so that they can run upstairs and get out of breath, 
 and fancy themselves at home. Of course their 
 apartments had been secured, and had been waiting 
 
176 DOCTOR CLATJDIUS. 
 
 for them a week, and the Countess was glad to with- 
 draw for the day into the sunny suite over the corner 
 that was hers. As for Miss Skeat, she went to the 
 window and stayed there, for America was quite 
 different from what she had fancied. Claudius de- 
 scended to the lower regions, and had his hair cut; 
 and the cook and the bar-keeper and the head " boots, " 
 or porter, as he called himself, all came and looked 
 ir^ at the door of the barber's shop, and stared at 
 the huge Swede. And the barber walked reverently 
 round him with scissors and comb, and they all 
 agreed that Claudius must be Mr. Barnum's new 
 attraction, except the head porter — no relation of an 
 English head porter — who thought it was "Fingal's 
 babby, or maybe the blessed Sint Pathrick himself." 
 And the little boy who brushed the frequenters of 
 the barber's shop could not reach to Claudius's coat 
 collar, so that the barber had to set a chair for him, 
 and so he climbed up. 
 
 The Duke retired also to the depths of his apart- 
 ments, and his servant arrayed him in the purple and 
 stove-pipe of the higher civilisation. And before 
 long each of the ladies received a large cardboard box 
 full of fresh-cut flowers, sent by Mr. Barker of 
 course ; and the Duke, hearing of this from his man, 
 sent " his compliments to Lady Victoria, and would 
 she send him a rose for Ms coat?" So the Duke 
 sallied forth on foot, and the little creases in his 
 clothes showed that he had just arrived. But he 
 did not attract any attention, for the majority of the 
 population of New York have "just arrived." Be- 
 sides, he had not far to go. He had a friend in town 
 who lived but a few steps from the hotel, and his 
 first move on arriving was generally to call there. 
 
DOCTOR CLATTDITJS. 177 
 
 Claudius waited a short time to see whether 
 Mr. Barker would come; but as Claudius rarely- 
 waited for anybody, he soon grew impatient, and 
 squeezing himself into a cab, told the driver to take 
 him to Messrs. Screw and Scratch in Pine Street. 
 He was received with deference, and treated as his 
 position demanded. Would he like to see Mr. Silas 
 B. Barker senior? Very natural that he should want 
 to make the acquaintance of his relative's old friend 
 and partner. Mr. Screw was out, yes — but Mr. 
 Scratch would accompany him. No trouble at all. 
 Better "go around right off," as Mr. Barker would 
 probably go to Newport by the boat that evening. 
 So they went "around right away," and indeed it was 
 a circular journey. Down one elevator, through a 
 maze of corridors, round crowded corners, through 
 narrow streets, Claudius ploughing his way through 
 billows of curbstone brokers, sad and gay, messenger- 
 boys, yoang clerks, fruit vendors, disreputable-look- 
 ing millionaires and gentlemanly-looking scamps, 
 newspaper-boys, drunken Irishmen, complacent hold- 
 ers of preferred, and scatterbrained speculators in 
 wild-cat, an atmosphere of tobacco smoke, dust, 
 melons, and unintelligible jargon — little Mr. Scratch 
 clinging to his client's side, nodding furiously at 
 every other face he saw, and occasionally shouting a 
 word of outlandish etymt)logy, but of magic import. 
 Claudius almost thought it would be civil to offer to 
 carry the little man, but when he saw how deftly Mr. 
 Scratch got in a foot here and aft elbow there, and 
 how he scampered over any little bit of clear pave- 
 ment, the Doctor concluded his new acquaintance 
 was probably used to it. More elevators, more pas- 
 sages, a glass door, still bearing the names " Barker 
 
178 DOCTOR OLAUDItrS. 
 
 and Lindstrand, " and they had reached their destina- 
 tion. 
 
 The office was on the second floor, with large win- 
 dows looking over the street; there were several 
 people in the room they first entered, and the first 
 person Claudius saw was Mr. Barker junior, his 
 friend. 
 
 "Well," said Barker, "so you have found us out. 
 That's right. I was coming round to see you after- 
 wards, for I did not suppose you would like to face 
 'the street' alone. Father," he said, turning to a 
 thickset man with white hair and bushy eyebrows, 
 "this is Dr. Claudius, Mr. Lindstrand's nephew." 
 
 The old gentleman looked up keenly into Clau- 
 dius's face, and smiled pleasantly as he put out his 
 hand. He said a few words of cordial welcome, 
 and seemed altogether a sturdy, hearty, hardworking 
 man of business — rather a contrast to his son. He 
 hoped that Claudius would come on to Newport with 
 Silas, as he wanted to have a long talk with him. 
 The old gentleman was evidently very busy, and his 
 son took Claudius in charge. 
 
 "What is that?" asked the Doctor, looking curi- 
 ously at a couple of wheels that unwound unceas- 
 ingly long strips of white paper. The paper passed 
 through a small instrument, and came out covered 
 with unintelligible signs, coiling itself in confusion 
 into a waste-basket below. 
 
 "That has driven more men to desperation, ruin, 
 and drink, than all the other evils of humanity put 
 together," said Barker. "That is the ticker." 
 
 "I perceive that it ticks," said Claudius. And 
 Barker explained how every variation in the market 
 was instantly transmitted to every place of business. 
 
DOCTOE CLATTDirS. 179 
 
 to every club, and to many private houses in New 
 York, by means of a simple arrangement of symbols 
 — how " Gr. S. " meant Green Swash, and " N. P. pr. " 
 "North Pacific, preferred," and many other things. 
 Claudius thought it an ingenious contrivance, but 
 said it must be very wearing on the nerves. 
 
 "It is the pulse of New York," said Barker. "It 
 is the croupier calling out from morning till night 
 "trente-sept, rouge, impair,' and then 'Messieurs 
 f aites votre jeu — le jeu est fait. ' When stock goes 
 down you buy, when it goes up you sell. That is 
 the whole secret." 
 
 "I think it is very like gambling," said Claudius. 
 
 " So it is. But we never gamble here, though we 
 have a ticker to see what other people are doing. 
 Besides, it tells you everything. Horse-racing, base- 
 ball, steamers, births, deaths, and marriages; corn, 
 wheat, tobacco, and cotton. Nobody can live here 
 without a ticker." 
 
 And after this they went out into the street again, 
 and Mr. Scratch took off his hat to Claudius, which 
 is the highest token of unusual esteem and respect of 
 which "the street" is capable, and in a moment the 
 heels of his boots were seen disappearing into the 
 dense crowd. Claudius and Barker walked on, and 
 crossed Broadway ; a few steps farther, and the Doc- 
 tor was brought face to face with the triumph of 
 business over privacy — the elevated railway. He 
 had caught a glimpse of portions of it in the morn- 
 ing, but had supposed the beams and trestles to be 
 scaffoldings for buildings. He stood a few moments 
 in profound thought, contemplating and comprehend- 
 ing this triumph of wheels. 
 
 "It is a great invention," he said quietly. And 
 
180 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 when they were seated in the long airy car, he looked 
 out of the window, and asked whether the people in 
 the first stories of the houses did not find it very dis- 
 agreeable to have trains running by their windows all 
 day. 
 
 " The social and municipal economy of New York," 
 explained Mr. Barker, "consists in one-third of the 
 population everlastingly protesting against the out- 
 rageous things done by the other two-thirds. One- 
 third fights another third, and the neutral third takes 
 the fees of both parties. All that remains is handed 
 over to the deserving poor." 
 
 " That is the reason, I suppose, why there are so 
 few poor in New York," observed the Doctor with a 
 smile. 
 
 "Exactly," said Barker; "they go West." 
 
 " I would like to discuss the political economy of 
 this country with you, when I have been here six 
 months." 
 
 " I hope you will not. And when you have been 
 here six months you will be willing to pay a large 
 sum rather than discuss it with any one." 
 
 And so they went up town, and Claudius watched 
 everything with interest, and occasionally made a 
 remark. Barker was obliged to go on, and he put 
 Claudius out on the platform at the station nearest 
 his hotel, and which was in fact at the same cross- 
 street. As Claudius ascended the steps he was over- 
 taken by the Duke, who was breathless with running. 
 
 " I — am afraid — it is too late, " he panted ; " come 
 along," and he seized Claudius by the arm and 
 dragged him to the corner of Fifth Avenue, before 
 he could ask any questions. 
 
 "What is the matter?" asked the Doctor, looking 
 about. 
 
DOCTOR CLATJDItrS. 181 
 
 "He is gone," said the Duke, who had recovered 
 his speech, " I knew he would, but I thought there 
 was time. I was with a friend of mine, and I had 
 just left him when I saw you, and as I have asked 
 him to dinner I wanted to introduce you first. But 
 he is always in such a hurry. Nowhere to be seen. 
 Probably down town by this time." They turned 
 back and went in. The Duke asked for the ladies. 
 The Countess and her companion had gone to drive 
 in the park, but Lady Victoria was upstairs. 
 
 " Vick, I am going to have a man to dinner — of 
 course we will all dine together the first night ashore 
 — a man you have heard me speak of; you will like 
 him amazingly." 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 "He is the uncle of the whole human race." 
 
 " Including the peerage ? " laughed Lady Victoria. 
 
 "Peerage? I should think so. The whole of 
 Debrett and the Almanack de Crotha. Nobility and 
 gentry, the Emperor of China and the North Ameri- 
 can Indians." 
 
 " That will suit Miss Skeat. She is always talk- 
 ing about the North American Indians. I think I 
 know who it is." 
 
 " Of course you do, and now he is coming." There 
 was a pause. "Vick, may I smoke?" 
 
 " Oh yes, if you like. " His Grace lit a cigarette. 
 
 "Vick, I am afraid you have had a dreadfully 
 stupid time of it on this trip. I am so sorry. Those 
 people turned out rather differently from what I had 
 expected." The Duke was fond of his sister, though 
 she was much younger than he, and he began to 
 reflect that she had been poorly provided for, as he 
 had engaged Barker most of their time. 
 
182 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 " Not at all. You know I am so fond of the sea 
 and the open air, and I have enjoyed it all so much. 
 Besides " 
 
 " It is awfully good of you to say so, my dear, but 
 I don't believe a word of it. 'Besides' — you were 
 going to say something." 
 
 "Was I? Oh yes. Besides, you could not have 
 had another man, you know, because it would have 
 spoiled the table." 
 
 " No, but I was so selfish about Barker, because he 
 can play cards, and Claudius would not, or could not. " 
 
 " I am not sorry for that, exactly, " said Lady Vic- 
 toria. "You remember, we talked about him once. 
 I do not like Mr. Barker very much." 
 
 " Oh, he is no end of a good fellow in his way, " 
 said her brother. " Have you — a — any reason for 
 not liking him, Vick?" 
 
 "I think he is spiteful. He says such horrid 
 things." 
 
 "Does he? What about?" said the Duke indif- 
 ferently, as he tore a bit of charred paper from the 
 end of his cigarette, which had burned badly. She 
 did not answer at first. He inspected the cigarette, 
 puffed it into active life again, and looked up. 
 
 "What about, Vick?" 
 
 "About his friend — about Doctor Claudius. I 
 like Doctor Claudius." Lady Victoria smoothed her 
 rebellious brown hair at the huge over-gilt pier-glass 
 of the little drawing-room which she and Margaret 
 had in common. 
 
 " I like him too, " said the Duke. " He is a gentle- 
 man. Why don't you do your hair like the Ameri- 
 can women — all fuzzy, over your eyes? I should 
 think it would be much less trouble. " 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 183 
 
 "It's not neat," said her ladyship, still looking 
 into the glass. Then suddenly, " Do you know what 
 I think?" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I believe Mr. Barker would like to marry Mar- 
 garet himself." 
 
 "Pshaw! Victoria, don't talk nonsense. Who 
 ever heard of such a thing!" The Duke rose and 
 walked once up and down the room; then he sat 
 down again in the same place. He was not pleased 
 at the suggestion. 
 
 "Why is it such nonsense?" she asked. 
 
 "Any number of reasons. Besides, she would not 
 have him." 
 
 "That would not prevent him from wishing to 
 marry her." 
 
 "No, of course not, but — well, it's great stuff." 
 He looked a little puzzled, as if he found it hard to 
 say exactly why he objected to the idea. 
 
 " You would be very glad if Claudius married her, 
 would you not?" asked his sister. 
 
 "Glad — I don't know — yes, I suppose so." 
 
 " But you pretend to like Mr. Barker a great deal 
 more than you like Doctor Claudius," said she 
 argumentatively. 
 
 "I know him better," said the Duke; "I have 
 known Barker several years." 
 
 " And he is rich — and that, and why should he 
 not think of proposing to Margaret?" 
 
 "Because — wellT don't know, but it would be 
 so deuced inappropriate," in which expression the 
 honest-hearted Englishman struck the truth, going 
 for it with his head down, after the manner of his 
 people. 
 
184 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "At first he was very nice, " said Lady Victoria, 
 who had gained a point, though for what pupose she 
 hardly knew ; " but after a while he began to say dis- 
 agreeable things. He hinted in all sorts of ways 
 that Claudius was not exactly a gentleman, and that 
 no one knew where he came from, and that he ought 
 not to make love to Margaret, and so on, till I 
 wanted to box his ears ; " and she waxed warm in her 
 wrath, which was really due in great part to the fact 
 that Mr. Barker was personally not exactly to her 
 taste. If she had liked him she would have thought 
 differently of the things he said. But her brother 
 was angry too by this time, for he remembered a con- 
 versation he had had with Barker on the same topic. 
 
 "I told Barker once that Claudius was a gentle- 
 man, every inch of him, and I should think that 
 was enough. As if I did not know — it's too bad, 
 upon my word! " And the ducal forehead reddened 
 angrily. The fact was that both he and his sister 
 had taken an unaccountable fancy to this strange 
 Northman, with his quiet ways and his unaffected 
 courtesy, and at the present moment they would have 
 quarrelled with their best friends rather than hear 
 a word against him. "My guest, too, and on my 
 yacht," he went on; and it did his sister good to see 
 him angry — " it's true he brought him, and intro- 
 duced him to me." Then a bright idea struck him. 
 "And if Claudius were not a gentleman, what the 
 deuce right had Barker to bring him to me at all, eh ? 
 Wasn't it his business to find out? My word! I 
 would like to ask him that, and if I find him I will." 
 Lady Victoria had no intention of making mischief 
 between her brother and Mr. Barker. But she did 
 not like the American, and she thought Barker was 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 185 
 
 turning the Duke into a miner, or a farmer, or a 
 greengrocer, or something — it was not quite clear. 
 But she wished him out of the way, and fate' had 
 given her a powerful weapon. It was just that sort 
 of double-handedness that the Duke most hated of all 
 things in the earth. Moreover, he knew his sister 
 never exaggerated, and that what she had told him 
 was of necessity perfectly true. 
 
 Woe to Mr. Silas B. Barker junior if he came in 
 the Duke's way that evening! 
 
 " I suppose he is coming to dinner ? " said the Duke 
 after a pause, during which his anger had settled 
 into a comfortable ferocity. 
 
 "No," said Lady Victoria; "he sent some flowei's 
 and a note of regret." 
 
 " Well — I am glad of that. Would you like to 
 go for a drive, Vick ? " 
 
 " Yes, of all things. I have not been here since I 
 was married " — which was about eighteen months, 
 but she had already caught that matronly phrase — 
 " and I want to see what they have been doing to the 
 Park." 
 
 "All right. We'll take Claudius, if he is any- 
 where about the place." 
 
 "Of course," said Lady Victoria. And so the 
 brother and sister prepared to soothe their, ruffled 
 feelings by making much of the man who was "a 
 gentleman." But they were right, for Claudius was 
 all they thought him, and a great deal more too, as 
 they discovered in the sequel. 
 
 Having driven in the Park, the Duke insisting 
 that Claudius should sit in the place of honour with 
 Lady Victoria, and having criticised to their satisfac- 
 tion the few equipages they met — for it was too 
 
186 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 early for New York — they went back to their hotel, 
 and dispersed to dress for dinner. The Duke, as he 
 had told his sister, had invited his friend to dine. 
 They all sat together waiting his arrival. Punctual 
 to the moment, the door opened, and Mr. Horace 
 Bellingham beamed upon the assembled party. Ay, 
 but he was a sight to do good to the souls of the 
 hungry and thirsty, and of the poor, and in misery ! 
 
 He requires description, not that any pen can de- 
 scribe him, but no one ever saw him who did not im- 
 mediately wish to try. He was short, decidedly; 
 but a broad deep chest and long powerful arms had 
 given him many an advantage over taller adversaries 
 in strange barbarous lands. He was perfectly bald, 
 but that must have been because Nature had not the 
 heart to cover such a wonderful cranium from the 
 admiring gaze of phrenologists. A sweeping mous- 
 tache and a long imperial of snowy white sat well 
 on the ruddy tan of his complexion, and gave him 
 an air at once martial and diplomatic. He was 
 dressed in the most perfect of London clothes, and 
 there were superb diamonds in his shirt, while a 
 priceless sapphire sparkled, in a plain gold setting, on 
 his broad, brown hand. He is the only man of his 
 time who can wear precious stones without vulgarity. 
 He moves like a king and has the air of the old 
 school in every gesture. His dark ejes are brighter 
 than his diamonds, and his look, for all his white 
 beard and seventy years, is as young and fresh as the 
 rose he wears in his coat. 
 
 There are some people who turn gray, but who do 
 not grow hoary, whose faces are furrowed but not 
 wrinkled, whose hearts are sore wounded in many 
 places, but are not dead. There is a youth that bids 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 187 
 
 defiance to age, and there is a kindness which laughs 
 at the world's rough usage. These are they who 
 have returned good for evil, not having learned it 
 as a lesson of righteousness, but because they have 
 no evil in them, to return upon others. Whom the 
 gods love die young, and they die young because they 
 never grow old. The poet, who at the verge of death 
 said this, said it of, and to, this very man. 
 
 The Duke went through the introductions, first to 
 the Countess, then to Miss Skeat, then to his sister, 
 and last of all to Claudius, who had been intently 
 watching the newcomer. Mr. Bellingham paused 
 before Claudius, and looked up in a way peculiarly 
 his own, without raising his head. He had of 
 course heard in New York of the strange fortune that 
 had befallen Claudius on the death of the well-known 
 Mr. Lindstrand, and now he stood a minute trying 
 to take the measure of the individual before him, not 
 in the least overcome by the physical proportions of 
 the outer man, but struck by the intellectual face and 
 forehead that surmounted such a tower of strength. 
 
 "I was in Heidelberg myself — a student," said 
 he, his face lighting up with coming reminiscences, 
 " but that was long before you were born, fifty years 
 ago." 
 
 "I fancy it is little changed," said Claudius. 
 
 " I would like to go back to the Badischer Hof . I 
 
 remember once " but he broke off short and 
 
 turned to the Countess, and sat down beside her. 
 He knew all her people in America and her hus- 
 band's people abroad. He immediately began tell- 
 ing her a story of her grandmother, with a verve and 
 graphic spirit that enchanted Margaret, for she liked 
 clever old men. Besides he is not old. It is not so 
 
188 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 long since — well, it is a long story. However, in 
 less than one minute the assembled guests were 
 listening to the old-time tale of Margaret's ances- 
 tress, and the waiter paused breathless on the thresh- 
 old to hear the end, before he announced dinner. 
 
 There are two very different ways of dining — din- 
 ing with Mr. Bellingham, and dining without him. 
 But for those who have dined with him, all other 
 prandial arrangements are an empty sham. At least 
 so Claudius said to Margaret in an aside, when they 
 got to the fruit. .And Margaret, ^vho looked won- 
 derfully beautiful with a single band of gold through 
 her black hair, laughed her assent, and said it w'as 
 hopeless for the men of this day to enter the lists 
 against the veterans of the ancien rSgime. And 
 Claudius was not in the least hurt by the compari- 
 son, odious though it would have been to Mr. Bar- 
 ker, had he been there. Claudius had plenty of 
 vanity, but it did not assume the personal type. 
 Some people call a certain form of vanity pride. It 
 is the same thing on a larger scale. Vanity is to 
 pride what nervousness is to nerve, what morbid 
 conscience is to manly goodness, what the letter of 
 the law is to the spirit. 
 
 Before they rose from the table, Mr. Bellingham 
 proposed that they should adjourn to Newport on the 
 following day. He said it was too early to be in 
 New York and that Newport was still gay; at all 
 events, the weather promised well, and they need 
 not stay more than, twenty-four hours unless! they 
 pleased. The proposition was carried unanimously, 
 the Duke making a condition that he should be left 
 in peace and not "entertained in a handsome man- 
 ner by the 4lite of our Newport millionaires" — as 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 189 
 
 the local papers generally have it. Lady Victoria 
 would not have objected to the operation of " being 
 entertained " by Newport, for it amused her to see 
 people, but of course she . would enjoy herself very 
 well without it. She always enjoyed herself, even 
 when she went for a wait in the rain on a slippery 
 Yorkshire road, all bundled up in waterproofs and 
 hoods and things for her poor people -r- she enjoyed 
 it all. 
 
 As for Claudius, he knew that if he went to New- 
 port he must of necessity stay with the Barkers, but 
 as he had not yet learned to look at Mr. Barker in 
 the light of a rival, he thought this would be rather 
 convenient than otherwise. The fact that he would 
 be within easy reach of Margaret was uppermost in 
 his mind. 
 
 During the last two days his relations with her had 
 been of the happiest. There was an understanding 
 between them, which took the place of a great deal 
 of conversation. Claudius felt that his error in 
 speaking too boldly had been retrieved, if not atoned 
 for, and that henceforward his position was assured. 
 He was only to be a friend, it was true, but he still 
 felt that from friendship to love was but a step, and 
 that the time would come. He thought of the 
 mighty wooings of the heroes of his Northern home, 
 and he felt in him their strength and their constancy. 
 What were other men that he should think of them ? 
 He was her accepted friend of all others. She had 
 said she hoped to find in him what she had never 
 found before; and were not her words "always, 
 always ! " still ringing in his ears ? She had found 
 it then in him, this rare quality of friendship ; she 
 had found more, — a man who was a friend and yet 
 
190 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 a lover, but who could curb the strong passion to 
 the semblance and docility of the gentler feeling. 
 And when at last she should give the long-desired 
 sign, the single glance that bids love speak, she 
 would find such a lover as was not even dreamt 
 of among the gods of the Greeks, nor yet among 
 berserk heroes of ice and storm and battle. He felt 
 to-day that he could endure to the end, for the end 
 was worthy all endurance. 
 
 And now he sat by her side and looked down into 
 her face when she spoke, and they laughed together. 
 Verily was Claudius the proudest man in all earth's 
 quarters, and his blue eyes flashed a deep fire, and 
 his nostrils expanded with the breath of a victory 
 won. Mr. Bellingham, on the other side of the 
 table, sparkled with a wit and grace that were to, 
 modern table-talk what a rare flagon of old madeira, 
 crusted with years, but brimming with the imperish- 
 able strength and perfume of eternal youth, might 
 be to a gaudily-ticketed bottle of California cham- 
 pagne, effervescent, machine-made, cheap, and nasty. 
 And his glance comprehended the pair, and loved 
 them. He thought they were like a picture of the 
 North and of the South ; and the thought called up 
 memories in his brave old breast of a struggle that 
 shook the earth to her foundations, and made him 
 think of problems yet unsolved. He sat in his place 
 silent for some minutes, and the broad brown hand 
 stroked the snowy beard in deep thought, so that the 
 conversation flagged, and the Duke began to talk 
 about the voyage. But Mr. Bellingham took his 
 brimming glass, filled with the wine that ripened in 
 the siin when he himself was but a little boy, and he 
 held it a moment to the light; the juice was clearer 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 191 
 
 now than it had been that day sixty years, and the 
 hand that held the goblet was as a hand of iron for 
 strength and steadiness, though the dark fingers 
 might have plucked the grapes on the day they were 
 pressed. And with an old-time motion he carried it 
 to his lips, then paused one instant, then drank it 
 slowly, slowlj' to the last drop. It was a toast, but 
 the speech was unspoken, and none knew to whom 
 or to what he drained the measure. In a little time 
 he began to speak again; the conversation turned 
 upon mutual friends in England, and the dinner was 
 at an end. , 
 
 But all through the evening Claudius never left 
 Margaret's side. He felt that he was bridging over 
 the difference between life at sea and life on land 
 — that he was asserting his right to maintain in a 
 drawing-room the privileges he had gained on the 
 deck of the Streak. And Margaret, moreover, was 
 especially friendly to-night, for she too felt the dif- 
 ference, and recognised that, after all, life on shore 
 is the freer. There are certain conventionalities of 
 a drawing-room that a man is less likely to break 
 through, more certain to remember, than the un- 
 written rules of cruising etiquette. Most men who 
 have led a free life are a little less likely to make love 
 under the restraint of a white tie than they are when 
 untrammelled by restraints of dress, which always 
 imply some restraint of freedom. 
 
 At least Margaret thought so. And Claudius felt 
 it, even though he would not acknowledge it. They 
 talked about the voyage ; about what they had said 
 and done, about the accident, and a hundred other 
 things. There is a moment in acquaintance, in 
 friendship, and in love, when two people become 
 
192 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 suddenly aware that they have a common past. Days, 
 "weeks, or months have been spent in conversation, m 
 reading, perhaps in toil and danger, and they have 
 not thought much about it. But one day they wake 
 up to the fact that these little or great things bind 
 them, as forming the portion of their lives that have 
 touched; and as they talk over the incidents they 
 remember they feel unaccountably drawn to each 
 other by the past. Margaret and Claudius knew 
 this on the first evening they spent together on shore. 
 The confusion of landing, the custom-house, the 
 strange iquarters in the great hotel — all composed a 
 drop-curtain shutting off the ocean scene, and ending 
 thus an episode of their life-drama. A new act was 
 beginning for them, and they both knew how much 
 might depend on the way in which it was begun, and 
 neither dared plan how it should end. At all events, 
 they were not to be separated yet, and neither antic- 
 ipated such a thing. 
 
 Little by little their voices dropped as they talked, 
 and they recked little of the others, as the dark 
 cheek of the woman flushed with interest, and the 
 blue light shone in the man's eyes. Their compan- 
 ions on the voyage were well used to seeing them 
 thus together, and hardly noticed them, but Mr. 
 Bellingham's bright eyes stole a glance from time to 
 time at the beautiful pair in their corner, and the 
 stories of youth and daring and love, that he seemed 
 so full of this evening, flashed with an unwonted 
 brilliancy. He made up his mind that the two were 
 desperately, hopelessly, in love, and he had taken a 
 fancy to Claudius from the first. There was no 
 reason why they should not be, and he loved to build, 
 up romances, always ending happily, in his fertile 
 imagination. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 193 
 
 But at last it was "good-night." Mr. Bellingham 
 was not the man to spend the entire evening in one 
 house, and he moved towards Margaret, hating to 
 disturb the couple, but yet determined to do it. 
 He rose, therefore, still talking, and, as the Duke 
 rose also, cleverly led him round the chairs until 
 within speaking distance of Margaret, who was still 
 absorbed in her conversation. Then, having finished 
 the one thread, he turned round. 
 
 " By the by. Countess, " he said, " I remember once 
 
 " and he told a graceful anecdote of Margaret's 
 
 grandmother, which delighted every one, after which 
 he bowed, like a young lover of twenty, to each of 
 the three ladies, and departed. 
 
 The party dispersed, the Duke and Claudius for 
 half an hour's chat and a cigar, and the ladies to 
 their rooms. But Claudius and Margaret lingered 
 one moment in their corner, standing. 
 
 " Has it been a happy day for you ? " he asked, as 
 she gave her hand. 
 
 " Yes, it has been happy. May there be many like 
 it ! " she answered. 
 
 "There shall be," said Claudius; "good-night. 
 Countess." 
 
 " Good-night — good-night, Claudius. " 
 
 The Duke waited fully ten minutes for the Doctor. 
 It was the second time she had spoken his name with- 
 out the formality of a prefix, and Claudius stood 
 where she left him, thinking. There was nothing 
 so very extraordinary in it, after all, he thought. 
 Foreign women, especially Russians, are accustomed 
 to omit any title or prefix, and to call their intimate 
 friends by their simple names, and it means nothing. 
 But her voice was so wonderful. He never knew his 
 
194 DOCTOR CLAUDIITS. 
 
 name sounded so sweet before — the consonants and 
 vowels, like the swing and fall of a deep silver bell 
 in perfect cadence. "A little longer," thought 
 Claudius, " and it shall be hers as well as mine." He 
 took a book from the table absently, and had opened 
 it when he suddenly recollected the Duke, put it 
 down and left the room. 
 
 Soon a noiseless individual in a white waistcoat 
 and a dress-coat put his head in at the door, ad- 
 vanced, straightened the chairs, closed the book the 
 Doctor had opened, put the gas out and went away, 
 shutting the door for the night, and leaving the room 
 to its recollections. What sleepless nights the 
 chairs and heavy-gilt glasses and gorgeous carpets of 
 a hotel must pass, puzzling over the fragments of 
 history that are enacted in their presence I 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDItrs. 195 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Me. Bakkee's urgent engagement up town that 
 evening must have been to meet some one ; but con- 
 sidering that the individual he might be supposed to 
 be awaiting did not come, he showed a remarkable 
 degree of patience. He went to a certain quiet club 
 and ordered, with the utmost care, a meal after his 
 own heart — for one; and though several members 
 hailed him and greeted him on his return, he did 
 not seem particularly interested in what they had to 
 say, but sat solitary at his small square table with 
 its exquisite service; and .when he had eaten, and 
 had finished his modest pint of Pommery Sec, he 
 drank his coffee and smoked his own cigars in un- 
 disturbed contemplation of the soft-tinted wall-paper, 
 and in calm, though apparently melancholy, enjoy- 
 ment of the gentle light that pervaded the room, and 
 of the sweet evening breeze that blew in from the 
 trees of Madison Square, so restful after the dust and 
 discomfort of the hot September day. 
 
 Whoever it was that he awaited did not come, and 
 yet Mr. Barker exibited no sign of annoyance. He 
 went to another room, and sat in a deep arm-chair 
 with a newspaper which he did not read, and once 
 he took a scrap of paper from his pocket and made a 
 short note upon it with a patent gold pencil. It 
 was a very quiet club, and Mr. Barker seemed to be 
 
196 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 its quietest member. And well he might be, for he 
 had made up his mind on a grave point. He had 
 determined to marry. 
 
 He had long known it must come, and had said to 
 himself more than once that " to every man upon this 
 earth death cometh, soon or late ; " but being human, 
 he had put off the evil day, having always thought 
 that it must, of necessity, be evil. But now it was 
 different. What he had said to the Duke, and what 
 the Duke had said to him, that evening on the yacht 
 when they were talking about marriage, was exactly 
 what he had always expected to occur. The day, he- 
 said, must come when the enterprising mamma will 
 get the better of Silas B. Barker junior. The girl 
 of the season, with her cartload of bouquets slung 
 all over her, her neat figure, her pink-and-white 
 complexion and her matchless staying powers in a 
 ball-room, will descend upon the devoted victim 
 Barker, beak and talons, like the fish-hawk on the 
 poor, simple minnow innocently disporting itself in 
 the crystal waters of happiness. There will be wed- 
 ding presents, and a breakfast, and a journey, and a 
 prospect of everlasting misery. All these things, 
 thought he, must come to every man in time, unless 
 he is a saint, or an author, or has no money, and there- 
 fore they must come to me ; but now it was different. 
 If there is to be any fishing, he thought, I will be 
 the hawk, and the minnow may take its chance of 
 happiness. Why should the minnow not be happy? 
 I am a hawk ; well — but I am a very good hawk. 
 
 But these reflections were not what occupied his 
 mind as he sat with his second cigar in the reading- 
 room of his quiet club. These things he had elabo- 
 rated in his brain at least three days ago, and they had 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 197 
 
 now taken the form of a decision, against wMch there 
 could be no appeal, because it was pleasant to the 
 ego of Mr. Barker. Judgments of that sort he never 
 reversed. He had fully determined to be the hawk, 
 he had picked out his minnow, and he was meditat- 
 ing the capture of his prey. A great many people 
 do as much as that, and discover too late that what 
 they have taken for a minnow is an alligator, or a 
 tartar, or a salamander, or some evil beast that is too 
 much for their powers. This was what Mr. Barker 
 was afraid of, and this was what he wished to guard 
 .against. Unfortunately he was a little late in the 
 selection of his victim, and he knew it. He had 
 determined to marry the Countess Margaret. 
 
 He knew perfectly well that Claudius had deter- 
 mined upon the very same thing, and he knew that 
 Claudius was intimate, to say the least of it, with 
 the woman he loved. But Barker had made up 
 his mind that Claudius had been refused, and had 
 accepted the Platonic position offered him by the 
 Countess, merely because he had not the strength 
 to leave her. " Just like the vanity of a fellow like 
 that, " he argued, " not to be willing to believe him- 
 self beaten." He had drawn the whole situation in 
 his mind entirely to his own satisfaction. If Clau- 
 dius could only be removed, any other man would 
 have as good a chance. The other man is Barker — 
 therefore, remove Claudius at once. Remove him! 
 Away with him ! Let his place know hini no more ! 
 
 Mr. Barker sat unmoved in his chair; but he con- 
 templated the nail on the middle finger of his left 
 hand with absorbed interest, even bringing it nearer 
 the light in order to obtain a better view. 
 
 He was one of those men who are seldom altogether 
 
198 DOCTOR CLAtTDlUS. 
 
 unprepared. His mind was of the Napoleonic order, 
 on a A'-ery small scale ; with him to think of the end 
 was to plan the means, and in the days that had fol- 
 lowed the memorable night wherein the idea had 
 struck him that he might marry the Countess in the 
 teeth of Dr. Claudius, a project had grown up in 
 his mind whereby he hoped now to effect his pur- 
 pose. Perhaps the scheme had developed uncon- 
 sciously, as often happens with persons whose lives 
 are spent in planning. Perhaps he fondly hoped — 
 for he was not without vanity — ■ that he might yet 
 win the Countess fairly, and had only contemplated 
 his plot as a possibility. Be that as it may, from the 
 moment he realised that a plan of action was neces- 
 sary he also realised that the plan was ready, and he 
 determined to put it into execution. It was an 
 unfair plan he meditated, bad from the root up, and 
 he knew it ; but he did not hesitate on that account. 
 Silas B. Barker junior had not enough conscience to 
 make it an object for him to deceive himself as to the 
 morality of his actions. A year or two since he 
 would perhaps have defended himself in a general 
 way by saying it was arrogance for a man to set him- 
 self up as any better than his surroundings. But 
 between a year or two ago and this September even- 
 ing there was set a gulf, represented by a couple 
 of transactions in the "street," over which there was 
 small joy in heaven and very little on earth. 
 
 Fair or unfair, it would be so much easier if Clau- 
 dius were out of the way. It would simplify Mr. 
 Barker's campaign so much; and, besides, it was so 
 easy a matter to remove him, for a time at least. 
 How? Why, simply by asserting that Claudius 
 was not Claudius, that he was not the late Mr. Lind- 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 199 
 
 strand's nephew, that he had no right to the fortune, 
 and that if he wished to save himself trouble he had 
 better return immediately to Heidelberg and resiime 
 his duties as a private lecturer in the University. It 
 was easy enough! Who was there to show that 
 Cla^idius was Claudius? There was nothing but 
 the attestation of a wretched Heidelberg notary, who 
 might easily have been persuaded to swear a little in 
 consideration of a large bribe. 
 
 Besides, reflected Mr. Barker, the real Dr. Clau- 
 dius was dead. He died about eight months ago ; no 
 doubt it was in the newspapers at the time, and a 
 newspaper could certainly be found which should 
 contain a notice of his death. Therefore, if the real 
 Dr. Claudius were dead this Dr. Claudius was a 
 sham, an impostor, a man obtaining money by per- 
 sonating the dead — in short, a criminal. However, 
 it might not be necessary to proceed with all the 
 rigour of the law, and he might be quietly sent back 
 to Germany. 
 
 Of course Mr. Barker was responsible in some 
 measure for having introduced this villain to the 
 Countess and to the Duke. But how could Mr. 
 Barker, a creature of sunny, lamb-like innocence, be 
 expected to know an impostor at first sight ? Clau- 
 dius had acted his part so very well, you know, and 
 Barker had been deceived by his apparent frankness ; 
 he had not even made any inquiries in Heidelberg, 
 but had simply gone to the address his father had 
 given him. Of course, also, the pretender had 
 adopted the obvious expedient of taking the dead 
 man's lodgings; had installed himself there, and 
 called himself "Dr. Claudius." Nobody in America 
 had ever seen the real Dr. Claudius; none of the 
 
200 DOCTOE CLATJDIXTS. 
 
 yachting party had any means of knowing whether 
 he were what he pretended to be or not; the only 
 person who vouched for him was Silas B. Barker 
 junior. And if Silas B. Barker junior would not 
 vouch for him any longer, who would, pray ? Obvi- 
 ously, no one. 
 
 "Dukes are very pretty things," said Mr. Barker; 
 "and to know them intimately is a special grace. 
 But they cannot swear to what they do not know 
 anything about, any more than other people. " And 
 he lit another cigar, and looked at the clock, an old- 
 fashioned black-marble timepiece with gilded hands. 
 It wanted half an hour of midnight, and Mr. Bar- 
 ker's solitude had lasted since seven or thereabouts. 
 Some one entered the room, bidding good-night to 
 some one else at the door. Mr. Barker turned his 
 eyes, and, recognising a friend, he smiled a wrinkled 
 smile. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Screw, how goes it?" he said. "It 
 is some time since we met." 
 
 " Happy to meet you, sir ; glad to see you, " replied 
 the lawyer, putting out a long hand towards the part 
 of the room where Mr. Barker was standing. 
 
 Mr. Screw was Mr. Scratch's partner. Mr. Screw 
 was very tall, very thin, and exceedingly yellow. 
 He had thick yellow hair, streaked with gray. His 
 face seemed bound in old parchment, and his eyes 
 were like brass nails driven very deep, but bright 
 and fixed when he spoke. He had a great abundance 
 of teeth of all sizes and shapes ; his face was clean 
 shaven ; and he wore a stand-up collar, with a nar- 
 row black tie neatly adjusted in a bow. His feet 
 and hands were of immense size. He was in evening- 
 dress. He doubled up a few of his joints and de- 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIITS. 201 
 
 posited himself in a deep arm-chair — the twin of 
 Barker's — on the other side of the fireplace. 
 
 "I thought very likely you would be here before 
 the evening was out," said Mr. Barker. "Yes," he 
 continued after a pause, "that is the reason I came 
 here. I wanted to see you on business, and I missed 
 you to-day down town." 
 
 "Oh! business, did you say?" inquired the other, 
 rubbing his bony nose and looking at the empty 
 grate. 
 
 " Yes, rather important to you — more than to my- 
 self, though it concerns me too. You have a new 
 client, I believe ; the nephew of our old partner Mr. 
 Lindstrand." 
 
 "Dr. Claudius?" asked the lawyer, looking up. 
 
 "He calls himself so, at any rate," said Barker. 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Mr. Screw quickly, 
 shifting his position. 
 
 " Do you think you have taken all the necessary 
 steps towards ascertaining that he is the heir — the 
 right man — the real Dr. Claudius ? " 
 
 " Great heavens ! " exclaimed the lawyer, surprised 
 and terribly frightened by Barker's insinuation, 
 "you don't mean to say there is any doubt about it, 
 do you?" 
 
 " I am inclined to think there is doubt — yes, de- 
 cidedly. It is a very serious matter, and I thought 
 it best to speak to you about it before talkifig to my 
 father. You see, though the loss might fall on us, 
 indirectly, the moral responsibility is yours, since 
 you are the lawyers in the case." 
 
 " But your father is one of the executors, Mr. Bar- 
 ker," said Mr. Screw, who felt obliged to say some- 
 thing, and wanted to gain time. 
 
202 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "My father —yes," and Barker smiled disagree- 
 ably. " Yes, he is one of the executors. But you 
 yourself are the other, Mr. Screw. And as far as 
 any intelligence in the matter is concerned, you 
 might be alone." Barker was willing to flatter the 
 lawyer at the expense of his fond parent. Screw 
 would be of more use to him than many fathers in 
 this matter. Mr. Screw relapsed into silence, and 
 sat for some minutes, hooking one leg behind the 
 other, and thrusting as much of his hands into his 
 pockets as those receptacles would contain. After 
 a time he changed his position, heaved a species of 
 sigh that sounded like the sudden collapse of a set 
 of organ-bellows, and ran his fingers through his 
 thick hair. 
 
 Barker thought he was going to speak. But he 
 was mistaken ; Mr. Screw was too much taken aback 
 to speak yet. Then Barker spoke for him. 
 
 "Well," said he, caressing his foot and looking 
 at the ceiling, "what are, you going to do about it?" 
 
 "I shall do what is proper in such cases. I will 
 stop his drawing any more money, and investigate 
 the matter. If this is not the real Claudius, the real 
 Claudius must be somewhere, and can be found." 
 
 "Perhaps he is dead," suggested Barker. 
 
 " It is about as easy to find a dead man as a live 
 man," said Screw. "It is a surer thing, on the 
 whole. A dead man can't change his clothes, and 
 get his beard shaved off, and cavoort around the 
 corner." 
 
 " Not generally speaking, " said the other, " no well- 
 regulated corpse would do it, anyhow. Besides, if 
 he is dead, there must have been some notice of it in 
 the Heidelberg papers. He belonged to the Univer- 
 
DOCTOR CLATJDIXJS. 203 
 
 sity and they always put those things in the local 
 sheet in Germany." 
 
 " That's so, " said the lawyer. " Do you know any- 
 body in Heidelberg who would look the matter up, 
 Mr. Barker?" 
 
 Mr. Barker did know some one in Heidelberg — 
 the very man, in fact. He would write immediately, 
 and set the inquiry on foot. Meanwhile there were 
 other things to be settled. After the first shock the 
 lawyer was not inclined to let Barker off so easily 
 for having indorsed a man he suspected of being a 
 humbug. Barker retorted that he had found Clau- 
 dius in possession of the documents transmitted by 
 Messrs. Screw and Scratch, and that it was not his 
 fault if he supposed that those astute gentlemen had 
 taken proper precautions to ascertain the identity of 
 their client. He went into many details, explaining 
 how his suspicions had been aroused by degrees in 
 the course of many conversations. He was expecting 
 a question from Mr. Screw. At last it came. 
 
 "Mr. Barker," said Screw, fixing his brass-headed 
 eyes intently on his companion — for Mr. Screw was 
 no fool — " Mr. Barker, you brought this man over 
 here, and you know him better than any one else. 
 Now, what I want to know is this. He may be the 
 right man, after all. What we are going to do is 
 entirely precautionary. Do you want to appear or 
 not?" Barker had not expected the question to be 
 put so directly, but he was perfectly prepared for it. 
 
 " I am sure I do not care, " he said, with a fine in- 
 difference. "I have no objection. It is a mere 
 question of expediency; do not consider me in the 
 matter. Do what you think is right," he added, 
 emphasising the last word, and meeting Screw's 
 
204 DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 
 
 glance boldly enough. Screw looked at him for a 
 moment or two in silence, and then turned his eyes 
 away. There was the faintest reflection of a smile 
 on his yellow face, and the expression became him 
 well. Screw was astute, sharp as a ferret, relent- 
 less as a steel-corkscrew, crushing its cruel way 
 through the creaking cork ; but Screw was an hon- 
 est man, as the times go. That was the difference 
 between him and Barker. Screw's smile was his 
 best expression. Barker's smile was of the devil, 
 and very wily. Screw smiled because he was amused. 
 Barker smiled when he was successful. 
 
 "I think for the present," said Mr. Screw, "that 
 unless you positively wish to appear, it would be 
 as well that you should not. If we are mistaken, 
 and the Doctor is really what he pretends to be, it 
 will be very unpleasant for you afterwards to have 
 been concerned in an inquiry into the validity of his 
 rights." 
 
 " Do you think so ? " asked Barker, looking lan- 
 guidly across at Mr. Screw. "Very well, in that 
 case you may conduct the inquiry, and I will not 
 appear, I shall meet him just as if nothing had 
 happened, and let him tell me what you have done. 
 Of course he will tell me, the first thing. Besides, 
 as you say, he may be the right man, after all." 
 
 "Exactly," said Mr. Screw. He knew perfectly 
 well that Barker would not want Claudius to know 
 the part he had played, in case all turned out to be 
 right, though he did not know that Barker was 
 deceiving him. He supposed that Barker really had 
 serious doubts about Claudius, and as there was no 
 one else to vouch for the latter, he was very honestly 
 frightened. He reviewed the situation in his own 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 205 
 
 mind, and he came to the conclusion that he~ had 
 really been remiss in the performance of his duties 
 as executor. It had not seemed in the least prob- 
 able that any deception could be practised, and 
 yet, when all was said, there was only the Heidel- 
 berg notary's attestation of the signature to support 
 the claimant of Mr. Lindstrand's fortune. This 
 reflection comforted Mr. Screw a little. At all 
 events, he would be perfectly justified in calling on 
 Claudius and stating his difficulty, requesting him 
 to give what assistance was in his power towards a 
 speedy identification of himself. In the meantime 
 he set himself to cross-examine Mr. Barker, endeav- 
 ouring to extract all the information he could. But 
 extracting information from Mr. Barker was no easy 
 task, as he very soon found, and as the hands of the 
 clock pointed to one, he rose slowly, as by stages, 
 from the depths of his arm-chair, and made up his 
 mind that Barker did not know very much about the 
 matter, though he knew more than any one else, and 
 that the only thing to be done was to go straight to 
 Claudius and state the case. No honest man ever 
 had much difficulty in proving who he was, thought 
 Mr. Screw, and if he is an impostor, he will very 
 likely not show fight at all, but make off to parts 
 unknown, where he can very easily be caught. 
 
 Barker rose from his seat too, and took leave of 
 the lawyer, well pleased-with the result of his even- 
 ing's work. It was very satisfactory. He had pro- 
 duced exactly the impression on Mr. Screw's mind 
 which he had intended to produce ; and having set 
 that engine of the law in motion, he knew that he 
 could fold his hands and proceed to enjoy himself 
 after his manner. He knew that everything would 
 
206 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 be done which could contribute to annoy and mortify 
 Claudius, and that it would be done in such a way, 
 with such paraphernalia of legal courtesy and mer- 
 cantile formality, that the unhappy Doctor could not 
 complain. Barker had shrewdly calculated the dif- 
 ficulties Claudius would have to surmount in identi- 
 fying himself in a strange country, without friends, 
 and against the prejudices of Mr. Screw, his uncle's 
 executor. Moreover, if, after countless efforts and 
 endless trouble, Claudius succeeded, as he probably 
 would, in obtaining his fortune. Barker would be no 
 worse ofE than before. He would have done nothing 
 assailable, and he would have gained all the advan- 
 tages of the time Claudius lost, not to mention the 
 cloud of suspicion which must inevitablj' rest on the 
 Doctor, until he should succeed in clearing himself 
 before the world. With skill, courage, and money, 
 there was no telling what progress Barker might 
 make in his suit for the Countess, before Claudius 
 was himself again. With such an advantage, if he 
 could not outdo the Swede, he did not deserve to. 
 
 So saying, Mr. Barker, left once more alone in the 
 sitting-room, paced slowly twice round the table, 
 looked at himself in the glass, twisted his heavy 
 moustache into shape, and smoothed his hair. Then 
 he took his hat and went out. There was a cab at 
 the door of the club, and in a minute more he was 
 spinning along Fifth Avenue, in the direction of 
 his father's house. 
 
 The machinery was wound up, and he had nothing 
 more to do. To-morrow morning Claudius would 
 pass a bad quarter of an hour with Mr. Screw, and 
 in the afternoon Barker would call upon him and 
 offer such consolation as was in his power ; and when 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 207 
 
 he had called on Claudius, he would call on the 
 Countess Margaret and tell her what sad sceptics 
 these legal people were, everlastingly pestering 
 peaceable citizens in the hope of extracting from 
 them a few miserable dollars. And he would tell 
 her how sorry he was that Claudius should be an- 
 noyed, and how he, Barker, would see him through 
 — that is, he hoped so ; for, he would add, of course, 
 such men as Mr. Screw and his own father would 
 not make so much trouble if they did not at least 
 think they had some cause for anxiety ; and so forth, 
 and so on. And he would leave the Countess with 
 a most decided impression that there was something 
 .wrong about Claudius. Oh yes! something not 
 quite clear about his antecedents, you know. Of 
 course it would come right in the end — no doubt of 
 that; oh dear, no. 
 
 It was a happy night for Mr. Barker ; but Claudius 
 slept ill. He had an evil dream. 
 
208 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 When Mr. Screw called at Claudius's hotel the 
 next day, the Doctor had gone out. Mr. Screw said 
 he would wait, and sat down with a book to pass the 
 time, for he was fond of reading in his leisure 
 moments, few as they were. Claudius had left the 
 house early in the morning, and had gone to find the 
 spot where his uncle had been buried — no easy mat- 
 ter, in the vast cemetery where the dead men lie in 
 hundreds of thousands, in stately avenues and im- 
 posing squares, in houses grand and humble, high 
 and low, but all closed and silent with the grandeur 
 of a great waiting. Claudius was not sentimental 
 in this pilgrimage; it was with him a matter of 
 course, a duty which he performed naturally for the 
 satisfaction of his conscience. He could not have 
 told any other reason, though, if he had been called 
 upon to analyse the feeling which impels most men 
 to do the same thing, under the same circumstances, 
 he would have replied that a scientific explanation 
 of the fact. could only be found in the ancient prac- 
 tices of "ancestor worship," of which some trace 
 remains unto this day. But he would have added 
 that it was a proper mark of reverence and respect 
 for the dead, and that man naturally inclines to ful- 
 fil such obligations, unless deterred by indolence or 
 the fear of ridicule. At any rate, he went alone; 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDITTS. 209 
 
 and it was late in the afternoon before he came 
 back. 
 
 When at last he returned, he was not surprised to 
 find Mr. Screw awaiting him. He had not found 
 that gentleman on his first visit to Pine Street; and 
 it seemed ver}"- natural that his uncle's executor 
 should call upon him. He was cordial and courteous 
 to his visitor, who took the Doctor's measure, and 
 looked into his honest eyes, and realised that this 
 claimant to Lindstrand's money Vas undoubtedly 
 a very fine fellow indeed. Mr. Screw felt that it 
 would be hard to tell such a man to his face that he 
 was not altogether satisfied of his identity. But 
 then, as the lawyer reflected, swindlers are generally 
 fine fellows; indeed, their imposing appearance is 
 often their whole capital and stock-in-trade. Mr. 
 Screw had a profound knowledge of mankind, and 
 he immediately determined upon his course of action, 
 which should be cautious, but at the same time 
 honest and straightforward. After a preliminary 
 exchange of civilities, he opened fire. 
 
 " I have come on very delicate business. Dr. Clau- 
 dius," said he; and he hooked one leg behind the 
 other as he sat and ran his hands through his hair. 
 Claudius settled himself in his chair and waited, 
 not having any idea what the business might be. 
 
 "You will readily understand," continued Mr. 
 Screw, " that in my position I feel obliged to take 
 every conceivable precaution in administering the 
 estate of the late Mr. Lindstrand., You will, there- 
 fore, not be offended at what I am going to say. My 
 personality has nothing to do with it, nor can any 
 personal impression you produce upon me, no mat- 
 ter how favourable, be considered in the light of 
 
210 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 evidence. I have never seen you before, and I am 
 bound to say that the little I know of you, although 
 perfectly satisfactory as far as it goes, is not suffi- 
 cient to prove in a court that you are really the per- 
 son indicated in Mr. Lindstrand's will." Here Mr. 
 Screw paused to see how Claudius would take the 
 hint that more evidence was required. 
 
 But Claudius, the embodiment of calm strength, 
 intellectual and physical, was not to be moved by 
 such trifles. He*showed not the slightest emotion, 
 nor did he betray any especial interest in what the 
 lawyer was saying. His attitude was that of atten- 
 tion to a matter which it was his duty to understand 
 and to elucidate. But that was all. He wished 
 Mr. Screw would talk a little faster, and say what 
 he required and go; but he was too courteous to 
 hurry him. 
 
 " My dear sir, " he answered, " I fully understand 
 your position, and any apology from you would he 
 out of place. Pray proceed. " 
 
 "I have nothing more to say," said Mr. Screw, 
 astonished at so much indifference where a great 
 fortune was concerned. " I like to be brief in such 
 matters. I have nothing more to saj', sir, excepting 
 that I would be greatly obliged if you would put into 
 my hands such documents as you may think proper 
 for the full establishing of your rights." 
 
 " Very well," said Claudius. " If you will tell me 
 what evidence you require I will procure it immedi- 
 ately.'-' With that he rose, and lighted a cigarette. 
 
 "A properly-attested certificate of your birth 
 would be all-sufficient," said Mr. Screw, who began 
 to feel relieved by the conduct of the Doctor. The 
 latter, however, suddenly stood still with the match 
 
DOCTOE CLAUDITJS. 211 
 
 in his fingers, and looked at the lawyer with a 
 curious scrutiny. 
 
 "I would prefer," he said, "to giye some other 
 evidence of my identity than that, if it is the same 
 to you." 
 
 "If you prefer it, of course," said the lawyer 
 coldly. His suspicions were immediately roused, 
 for he had named the simplest description of docu- 
 ment he could think of, and it seemed odd that the 
 Doctor should be so evidently disinclined to pro- 
 duce it. 
 
 "I suppose," said the Doctor, "that the formal 
 attestation of my identity by the authorities of the 
 University of Heidelberg would be sufficient?" 
 
 " Yes, I should think so, " said Screw cautiously. 
 "But will it not take some time to procure that?" 
 
 " Well ? If it does, what then ? " 
 
 " Only that — you will understand that until this 
 matter is settled I should not feel justified in au- 
 thorising you to draw upon the estate." 
 
 Claudius's sense of logic was offended. 
 
 "My dear sir," he replied, "have I drawn upon 
 the estate for a single dollar yet?" 
 
 " No, sir, I am bound to say you have not, although 
 you might have considered it natural to do so, and 
 
 we should have put no obstacle " Mr. Screw 
 
 stopped short. He had betrayed himself, and felt 
 .extremely embarrassed. But he said enough to give 
 Claudius an idea of the situation. Something had 
 occurred, some one had spoken, to east a doubt on 
 his identity; and Mr. Screw was the chosen emissary 
 of that "some one." 
 
 " Then, Mr. Screw, " said the Doctor in measured 
 tones, "I would admonish you to be more careful 
 
212 DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 
 
 how you insinuate that I might do anything of the 
 kind. You have inconvenienced me quite enough 
 already. You had better not inconvenience me any 
 more. I consider your conduct a piece of unparal- 
 leled clumsiness, and your language little short of 
 impertinent. What you have said now you should 
 have said in the letter which announced my uncle's 
 death. Or j^ou should have instructed Mr. Barker, 
 who was abroad at the time and found me in Hei- 
 delberg, to make the necessary investigations. The 
 evidence shall be forthcoming in proper season, and 
 until then I do not desire the advantage of your 
 company." 
 
 Mr. Screw was so much astonished with this mode 
 of address from a man whom he had foolishly' imag- 
 ined to be good-natured that he stood a moment by 
 the table hesitating what he should say. Claudius 
 took up a book and began to read. 
 
 "Well," said he, perceiving that Mr. Screw was 
 still in the room, "why don't you go?" 
 
 "Really, Dr. Claudius, I am not accustomed " 
 
 he began. 
 
 "Go," said Claudius, interrupting him; "it is 
 not of the smallest interest to me to know what you 
 are accustomed to. There is the door." 
 
 "Sir " 
 
 " Do you prefer the window ? " asked the Doctor, 
 rising in great wrath and striding towards the un- 
 happy lawyer. Mr. Screw instantly made up his 
 mind that the door was preferable, and disappeared. 
 When he was gone Claudius sat down again. He 
 was very angry; but, in his own view, his anger 
 was just. It was very clear to him, from the words 
 Mr. Screw had inadvertently let fall, that some one 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 213 
 
 had, for reasons unknown, undertaken to cause him 
 a great deal of unpleasantness. "What he had said 
 to Screw was not to be denied. If there was any 
 question as to his identity, full proof should have 
 been required from the first. But his autograph 
 letter from Heidelberg, attested by a notary, had been 
 accepted as sufficient; and "Screw and Scratch" 
 had answered the letter, and Claudius had received 
 their answer in Baden. It had never entered his 
 head that anything more would be required. So 
 long as Screw had confined himself to stating his 
 position, merely asking for further evidence, the 
 Doctor had nothing to say. But at the suggestion 
 that Claudius might want to draw money from the 
 estate before his claims were fully established, he 
 lost his temper. It was an imputation • on his 
 honour; and, however slight it might seem to Mr. 
 Screw, Claudius was not the man to bear it. 
 
 Ten minutes later Mr. Barker walked in unan- 
 nounced. It was natural enough that he should call, 
 but Claudius did not want him. The Doctor had 
 not had time to think over the situation, but he had 
 a vague impression that Barker had something to do 
 with this sudden cloud of annoyance that had risen 
 to darken his path. Barker, on his side, was pre- 
 pared for storms, but he intended to play the part 
 of confidential friend and consoler. Claudius, how- 
 ever, wanted neither friends nor consolation, and he 
 was in the worst of tempers. Nevertheless, he rose 
 and offered his guest a chair, and asked him how he 
 did. Barker took the chair and said he was fairly 
 well, on the way to recovery from the voyage. 
 
 "What have j-ou been doing all day, Claudius?" 
 he asked. 
 
214 DOCTOR CLATJDICS. 
 
 " I have been to a place called Greenwood, to see 
 where they had buried my uncle," answered Clau- 
 dius, and relapsed into silence. 
 
 " No wonder you look so gloomy. Whatever in- 
 duced you to do such a thing?" 
 
 "I was not induced," said Claudius. "He was 
 my last relation in the world, and I did the only 
 thing I could to honour his memory, which was to 
 go and see his grave." 
 
 "Yes, very proper, I am sure," replied Barker. 
 " If my relations would begin and die, right away, I 
 would trot around and see their graves fast enough! " 
 
 Claudius was silent. 
 
 " What on earth is the matter with you, Claudius ? 
 Have you got a headache, or are you going to be mar- 
 ried?" 
 
 Claudius roused himself, and offered Barker a 
 cigar. 
 
 " There is nothing the matter," he said; "I sup- 
 pose my excursion has made me a little gloomy; but 
 I shall soon get over that. There are matches on 
 the mantelpiece." 
 
 " Thanks. Why did you not come down town to- 
 day ? Oh ! of course you were away. It was very 
 good fun. We had a regular bear garden. " 
 
 " It looked like something of that sort yesterday 
 when I was there." 
 
 " Yesterday ? Oh ! you had never been there before. 
 Yes, it is always like that. I say, come and take a 
 drive in the park before dinner. " 
 
 "No, thanks. I am very sorry, but I have an 
 appointment in a few minutes. I would like to go 
 very much ; you are very kind. " 
 
 " Business ? " asked the inquisitive Mr. Barker. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 215 
 
 "Well — yes, if you like, business." 
 
 "Oh!" said Barker. "By the by, have you seen 
 any of your lawyer people to-day?" Barker had 
 expected that Claudius would confide to him the 
 trouble Screw was raising. But as Claudius did not 
 begin, Barker asked the question. 
 
 "Yes," answered the Doctor, "Screw has been 
 here. In fact he is just gone." 
 
 "Anything wrong?" inquired the tormentor. 
 
 "No, nothing wrong that I know of," said Clau- 
 dius. Then he suddenly turned sharply on Barker, 
 and looked straight at him. "Did you expect to 
 hear that there was anything wrong?" he asked 
 quickly. Claudius had a very unpleasant way of 
 turning upon his antagonist just a minute before 
 the enemy was ready for him. Barker had found 
 this out before, and, being now directly interrogated, 
 he winced perceptibly. 
 
 " Oh dear, no, " he hastened to say. " But lawyers 
 are great bores sometimes, especially where wills are 
 concerned. And I thought perhaps Screw might be 
 wearying you with his formalities." 
 
 "No," said Claudius indifferently, "nothing to 
 
 " he was interrupted by a knock at the door. 
 
 It was the Duke's servant, a quiet man in gray 
 clothes and gray whiskers. He had a bald head and 
 bright eyes. 
 
 "His Grace's compliments, sir, and can you see 
 him now, sir?" 
 
 "Yes, I will come in a moment," said Claudius. 
 
 "I think, sir," said the man, "that his Grace is 
 coming to your rooms." 
 
 "Very good. My compliments, and I shall be 
 glad to see him." The gray servant vanished. 
 
216 DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 
 
 Barker rose to go ; but Claudius was begging him 
 not to hurry, when there was another knock, and the 
 Duke entered. He shook hands with Claudius, and 
 spoke rather coldly to Barker. The latter was un- 
 easy, and felt that he was in the way. He was. 
 Barker had fallen into a singular error of judgment 
 in regard to the relations existing between the Duke 
 and Claudius. He had imagined it in his power to 
 influence the Duke's opinion, whereas in trying to 
 effect that object he had roused the Englishman's 
 animosity. Besides, Mr. Barker was to the Duke 
 a caprice. He found the quick-thinking man of 
 business amusing and even useful, but for steady 
 companionship he did not want him. A passage 
 across the Atlantic was more than enough to satisfy 
 his desire for Mr. Barker's society, even if Barker 
 had not managed to excite his indignation. But 
 Claudius was different. The honest nobleman could 
 not tell why it was, but it was true, nevertheless. 
 He looked upon the Doctor more as an equal than 
 Barker. The Duke was a very great man in his 
 own country, and it was singular indeed that he 
 should find a man to his liking, a man who seemed 
 of his own caste and calibre, in the simple privat- 
 docent of a German university. Perhaps Barker felt 
 it too. At all events, when the Duke sat himself 
 down in Claudius's room, after begging permission 
 to ring for lights, and made himself most evidently 
 at home, Mr. Barker felt that he was in the way; 
 and so, promising to call on Claudius again in the 
 morning, he departed. Claudius stood by the man- 
 telpiece while the servant lit the gas. 
 
 "I am very glad to see you," he said, when the 
 man had gone. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 217 
 
 " I am glad of that, for I want your society. The 
 Countess Margaret has a headache, and Lady Vic- 
 toria has gone to dine in her rooms, and to spend the 
 evening with her." 
 
 " I am very sorry to hear that the Countess is not 
 well, " said Claudius, " but I am very glad of any- 
 thing that brings you here to-night. I am in trouble 
 — that is, I have been very much annoyed." 
 
 "Ah, very sorry," said the Duke. 
 
 "It so happens that you are the only person in 
 America, as far as I know, who can help me." 
 
 "I?" The Duke opened his eyes wide. Then 
 he reflected that it might be something concerning 
 the Countess, and waited. 
 
 "You are a gentleman," said Claudius reflectively, 
 and hardly addressing his visitor as he said it. 
 
 " Quite so," said the Duke. " It's a very fine word 
 that." 
 
 "And a man of honour," continued Claudius in a 
 meditative tone. 
 
 " The deuce and all, it's the same thing, " said the 
 Duke, rather puzzled. 
 
 "Yes; in some countries it is. Now, what I want 
 to ask you is this. Could you, as a gentleman and a 
 man of honour, swear in a court of law that you know 
 me, and that I am the person I represent myself to 
 be? That is the question." 
 
 The Duke was too much surprised to answer 
 . directly. He made a great fuss over his cigar, and 
 got up and shut the window. Then he sat down in 
 another chair. 
 
 "I don't know what you mean," he said at last, 
 to gain time. 
 
 " I mean what I say, " said Claudius. " Could you 
 
218 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 swear, before the Supreme Court of the United 
 States, for instance, that I am Claudius, sometime 
 student, now Doctor of Philosophy of the University 
 of Heidelberg in Germany ? Could you swear that ? " 
 
 " My dear boy," said the other, "what in the world 
 are you driving at?" The Duke realised that he 
 could not conscientiously swear to any such state- 
 ment as that proposed by Claudius ; and, liking him 
 as he did, he was much distressed at being put into 
 such a corner. 
 
 "I will tell you afterwards what it is about, 
 Duke," said Claudius. "I am serious, and I would 
 like you to answer the question, though I foresee that 
 you will say you could not swear to anything of the 
 kind." 
 
 "Honestly, Claudius, though there is not the 
 slightest doubt in my mind that you are what you 
 appear to be, I could not conscientioiisly swear it in 
 evidence. I do not know anything about you. But 
 Barker could. " 
 
 " No, he could not. He knows no more about me 
 than you do, saving that he met me two or three 
 days sooner. He met me in Heidelberg, it is true, 
 but he made no inquiries whatever concerning me. ' 
 It never entered his head that I could be an3i;hing 
 but what I professed to be." 
 
 "I should think not, indeed," said the Duke 
 warmly. 
 
 " But now that I am here in the flesh, these lawyers 
 are making trouble. One of them was here a little 
 while since, and he wanted documentary evidence of 
 my identity." 
 
 "Who was the lawyer?" 
 
 "A Mr. Screw, one of the executors of the will." 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 219 
 
 "Who is the other executor?" asked the Duke 
 quickly. 
 
 "Barker's father." 
 
 The Englishman's face darkened, and he puffed 
 sayagely at his cigar. He had been angry with Bar- 
 ker the da}' before. Now he began to suspect him of 
 making trouble. 
 
 "What sort of evidence did the man want?" he 
 asked at length. 
 
 " Any sort of documentary evidence would do. He 
 asked me for my certificate of birth, and I told him 
 he could not have it. And then he went so far as to 
 remark in a very disagreeable way that he could not 
 authorise me to draw upon the estate until I pro- 
 duced evidence." 
 
 "Well, that is natural enough." 
 
 "It would have been so at first. But they had ac- 
 cepted the mere signature to my letter from Heidel- 
 berg as proof of my existence, and I got word in 
 Baden in July that I might draw as much as I 
 pleased. And now they turn upon me and say I am 
 not myself. Something has happened. Fortunately 
 I have not touched the money, in spite of their kind 
 permission." 
 
 There is something very odd about this, Claudius. 
 Have you got such a thing as a birth certificate to 
 show?" 
 
 " Yes, " answered Claudius, after a pause. " I have 
 everything in perfect order, my mother's marriage 
 and all." 
 
 " Then why, in Heaven's name, can you not show 
 it, and put all these rascally lawyers to flight? " 
 
 " Because " Claudius began, but he hesitated 
 
 and stopped. "It is a curious story," he said, "and 
 it is precisely what I want to talk to you about." 
 
220 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "Is it very long?" asked the Duke; "I have not 
 dined yet." 
 
 " No, it will not take long, and if you have nothing 
 better to do we will dine together afterwards. But 
 first there are two things I want to say. If I prove 
 to you that I am the son of my uncle's sister, will 
 you tell Mr. Screw that you know it for a fact, that 
 is, that if it had to be sworn. to, you would be will- 
 ing to swear to it?" 
 
 " If you prove it to me so that I am legally sure of 
 it, of course I will." 
 
 " The other thing I will ask you is, not to divulge 
 what I shall tell you, or show you. You may 
 imagine from my being unwilling to show these 
 papers, even to a lawyer, when my own fortune is 
 concerned, that I attach some importance to secrecy." 
 
 "You may trust me," said the Duke; "you have 
 my word," he added, as if reluctantly.' People 
 whose word is to be trusted are generally slow to 
 give it. Claudius bowed his head courteously, in 
 acknowledgment of the plighted promise. Then he 
 opened a trunk that stood in a corner of the room, 
 and took from it the iron box in which he had depos- 
 ited the lawyer's letter on that evening three months 
 before, when his destiny had roused itself from its 
 thirty years' slumber. He set the box on the table, 
 and having locked the door of the room sat down 
 opposite his guest. He took a key from his pocket. 
 
 "You will think it strange," he said with a smile, 
 "that I should have taken the liberty of confiding 
 to you my secret. But when you have seen what is 
 there, you will perceive that you are the most fitting 
 confidant in this country — for general reasons, of 
 course ; for I need not say there is nothing in those 
 
DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 221 
 
 papers which concerns you personally." Claudius 
 unlocked the box and took out a few letters that 
 were lying on the top, then he pushed the casket 
 across the table to the Duke. 
 
 "Will you please examine the contents for your- 
 self ? " he said. " There are only three or four papers 
 to read — the rest are letters from my father to my 
 mother — you may look at them if you like; they are 
 very old." 
 
 All this time the Duke looked very grave. He 
 was not accustomed to have his word of honour asked 
 for small matters, and if this were some trivial ques- 
 tion of an assumed name, or the like, he was prepared 
 to be angry with Claudius. So he silently took the 
 little strong box, and examined the contents. There 
 were two packages of papers, two or three morocco 
 cases that might contain jewels, and there was a 
 string of pearls lying loose in the bottom of the casket. 
 The Duke took the pearls curiously in his hand and 
 held them to the light. He had seen enough of such 
 things to know something of their value, and he 
 knew this string might be worth anywhere from 
 eight to ten thousand pounds. He looked graver 
 than ever. 
 
 "Those are beautiful pearls, Dr. Claudius," he 
 said ; " too beautiful for a Heidelberg student to have 
 lying about among his traps." He turned them over 
 and added, "The Duchess has nothing like them." 
 
 "They belonged to my mother," said Claudius 
 simply. "I know nothing of their value." 
 
 The Duke took the papers and untied the smaller 
 package, which appeared to contain legal documents, 
 while the larger seemed to be a series of letters filed 
 in their envelopes, as they had been received. 
 
222 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "My mother's name was Maria Lindstrand," said 
 Claudius. He leaned back, smoking the eternal 
 cigarette, and watched the Duke's face. 
 
 Before the Englishman had proceeded far he looked 
 up at Claudius, uttering an exclamation of blank 
 amazement. Claudius merely bent his head as if to 
 indorse the contents of the paper, and was silent. 
 The Duke read the papers carefully through, and 
 examined one of them very minutely by the light. 
 Then he laid them down with a certain reverence, 
 as things he respected. 
 
 "My dear Claudius " he rose and extended 
 
 his hand to the young man with a gesture that had 
 in it much of dignity and something of pride. " My 
 dear Claudius, I shall all my life remember that you 
 honoured me with your confidence. I accepted it as 
 a token of friendship, but I am now able to look 
 upon it as a very great distinction." 
 
 " And I, Duke, shall never forget that you believed 
 in me on my own merits, before you were really able 
 to swear that I was myself." Claudius had also 
 risen, and their hands remained clasped a moment. 
 Then Claudius applied himself to rearranging the 
 contents of his box; and the Duke walked up and 
 down the room, glancing from time to time at the 
 Doctor. He stopped suddenly in his walk. 
 
 "But — goodness gracious! why have you kept 
 this a secret?" he asked, as if suddenly recollecting 
 himself. 
 
 "My mother," said Claudius, "was too proud to 
 come forward and claim what my father, but for his 
 untimely death, would have given her in a few 
 months. As for me, I have been contented in my 
 life, and would have been unwilling to cause pain 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDITJS. 223 
 
 to any one by claiming my rights. My mother died 
 when I was a mere child, and left these papers sealed, 
 directing me not to open them until I should be 
 twenty-one years old. And so when I opened them, 
 I made up my mind to do nothing about it." 
 
 " It is not easy to understand you, Claudius ; but 
 I will swear to anything you like. " 
 
 "Thank you; I am very grateful." 
 
 " Do not speak of that. I am proud to be of service. 
 By the by, the present — the present incumbent is 
 childless, I believe. He must be your father's 
 brother?" 
 
 "Yes," said Claudius. " Should he die, I would 
 not hesitate any longer. " 
 
 "No indeed, I hope not. It is a shame as it is." 
 
 " By the by, " said Claudius, who had put away 
 his box ; " why did you not go to Newport to-day ? 
 I meant to go on to-morrow and meet j'ou there. 
 This business had put it out of my head." 
 
 " Lady Victoria and the Countess both wanted to 
 stay another day." 
 
 "Is the Countess ill?" asked Claudius. "Or do 
 you think she woul-d see me this evening?" 
 
 " I do not think there is anything especial the mat- 
 ter. She will very likely see you after dinner. As 
 for me, I am hungry; I have walked all over New 
 York this afternoon." 
 
 " Very well, let us dine. You know New York, 
 and must select the place." 
 
 Arm-in-arm they went away together, and the 
 Duke introduced Claudius to the glories of Del- 
 monico's. 
 
224 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Troubles never come singly; moreover, they 
 come on horseback, and go away on foot. If Clau- 
 dius had passed an unpleasant afternoon, the Count- 
 ess's day had been darkened with the shadow of a 
 very serious difficulty. Early in the morning her 
 maid had brought her coffee, and with it a note in 
 a foreign hand. The maid, who was French, and 
 possessed the usual characteristics of French maids, 
 had exhausted her brain in trying to discover who 
 the sender might be. But the missive was sealed 
 with wax, and a plain "N" was all the impression. 
 So she adopted the usual expedient of busying herself 
 in the room, while her mistress opened the note, hop- 
 ing that some chance exclamation, or even perhaps 
 an answer, might give her curiosity the food it longed 
 for. But Margaret read and reread the note, and 
 tore it up into very small pieces, thoughtfully ; and, 
 as an after- thought, she burned them one by one over 
 a wax taper till nothing was left. Then she sent 
 her maid away and fell to thinking. But that did 
 not help her much; and the warm sun stole through 
 the windows, and the noise in the street prevented 
 her from sleeping, for she was unused to the sound 
 of wheels after the long weeks at sea. And so she 
 rang for her maid again. The maid came, bringing 
 another note, which, she said, had been given her by 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 225 
 
 "Monsieur Clodiuse;" and would there be an an- 
 swer? 
 
 It was simply a few lines to say he was going to 
 be away all day, and that he hoped to have the 
 pleasure of seeing the Countess in Newport to- 
 morrow. But for some reason or other Margaret was 
 not pleased with the note, and merely said there 
 would be no answer. 
 
 "Madame would she dress herself to go out, or 
 to keep the lodging ? " 
 
 Madame would not go out. Was it warm? Oh 
 yes, it was very warm. In fact it was hSb^tant. 
 Would Madame see Monsieur le Due if he called 
 at eleven? Monseigneur's Monsieur Veelees had 
 charged her to inquire of Madame. No, Madame 
 would not see Monsieur le Due this morning. But 
 if any one called, Madame desired to be informed. 
 Madame would be served. And so the toilet pro- 
 ceeded. 
 
 It was not very long before some one called. There 
 was a knock at the door of the bedroom. Clementine 
 left the Countess's hair, which she was busy comb- 
 ing and tressing, and went to the door. It was old 
 Vladimir, Margaret's faithful Russian servant. . 
 
 "At this hour! " exclaimed the Countess, who was 
 not in the best of tempers. "What does he want?" 
 
 Vladimir ventured to make a remark in Russian, 
 fropi the door, which produced an immediate effect. 
 Margaret rose swiftly, overturning her chair and 
 sweeping various small articles from the table in her 
 rapid movement. She went very quickly to the door, 
 her magnificent black hair all hanging down. She 
 knew enough Russian to talk to the servant. 
 
 "What did you say, Vladimir?" 
 
 Q 
 
226 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 " Margareta Ivanowna" — Margaret's father's name 
 had been John — "Nicolai Alexandrewitch is here," 
 said Vladimir, who seemed greatly surprised. His 
 geographical studies having been purely experimen- 
 tal, the sudden appearance of a Russian gentleman 
 led him to suppose his mistress had landed in some 
 outlying part of Russia, or at least of Europe. So 
 she bade the old servant conduct the gentleman to 
 her sitting-room and ask him to wait. She was not 
 long in finishing her toilet. Before she left the 
 room a servant of the hotel brought another box of 
 flowers from Mr. Barker. CMmentine cut the string 
 and opened the pasteboard shell. Margaret glanced 
 indifferently at the profusion of roses and pink pond- 
 lilies — a rare variety only found in two places in 
 America, on Long Island and near Boston — and 
 having looked, she turned to go. 
 
 Clementine held up two or three flowers, as if to 
 try the effect of them on Margaret's dress. 
 
 " Madame would she not put some flowers in her 
 dress ? " 
 
 No. Madame would not. Madame detested flowers. 
 Whereat the intelligent Clementine carefully ex- 
 amined the name of the sender, inscribed on a card 
 which lay in the top of the box. Mr. Barker knew 
 better than to send flowers anonymously. He wanted 
 all the credit he could get. The Countess swept out 
 of the room. 
 
 At the door of the sitting-room she was met by a 
 young man, who bent low to kiss her extended hand, 
 and greeted her with a manner which was respectful 
 indeed, but which showed that he felt himself per- 
 fectly at ease in her society. 
 
 Nicolai Alexandrewitch, whom we will call simply 
 
DOCTOR CLATTDItrS. 227 
 
 Count Nicholas, was the only brother of Margaret's 
 dead husband. Like Alexis, he had been a soldier 
 in a guard regiment; Alexis had been killed at 
 Plevna, and Nicholas had succeeded to the title and 
 the estates, from which, however, a considerable 
 allowance was paid to the Countess as a jointure. 
 
 Nicholas was a handsome man of five or six and 
 twenty, of middle height, swarthy complexion, and 
 compact figure. His beard was very black, and he 
 wore it in a pointed shape. His eyes were small 
 and deep-set, but full of intelligence. He had all 
 the manner and appearance of a man of gentle birth, 
 but there was something more; an indescribable, 
 undefinable air that hung about him. Many Rus- 
 sians have it, and the French have embodied the idea 
 it conveys in their proverb that if you scratch a Rus- 
 sian you will find the Tartar. It is rather a trait of 
 Orientalism in the blood, and it is to be noticed as 
 much in Servians, Bulgarians, Roumanians, and even 
 Hungarians, as in Russians. It is the peculiarity 
 of most of these races that under certain circum- 
 stances, if thoroughly roused, they will go to any 
 length, with a scorn of consequence which seems to 
 the Western mind both barbarous and incomprehen- 
 sible. Margaret had always liked him. He was 
 wild; but he was a courteous gentleman, and could 
 always be depended upon. 
 
 "Mon cher," said Margaret, "I need not tell you I 
 am enchanted to see you, but what is the meaning 
 of the things you wrote me this morning ? Are you 
 really in trouble ? " 
 
 " H^las, yes. I am in the worst kind of trouble 
 that exists for a Russian. I am in political trouble 
 — and that entails everything else." 
 
228 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 " Tell me all about it," said she. " Perhaps I may 
 help you." 
 
 " Ah no ! you cannot help. It is not for that I am 
 come. I have a confession to make that concerns you. 
 
 " Well ? " said she, with a smile. She did not sup- 
 pose it could be anything very bad. 
 
 " You will be angry, of course, " he said, " but that 
 is nothing. I have done you an injury that I cannot 
 repair." 
 
 "Enfin, my dear Nicholas, tell me. I do not 
 believe anything bad of you." 
 
 "You are kindness itself, and I thank you in 
 advance. Wait till you have heard. I am ' suspect, ' 
 — they think I am a Nihilist. I am exiled to the 
 mines, and everything is confiscated. Voilk ! Could 
 it be worse ? " 
 
 Margaret was taken off her guard. She had her- 
 self been in more than easy circumstances at the time 
 of her marriage, but the financial crisis in America, 
 which occurred soon after that event, had greatly 
 crippled her resources. She had of late looked chiefly 
 to her jointure for all the luxuries which were so 
 necessary to her life. To find this suddenly gone, 
 in a moment, without the slightest preparation, was 
 extremely embarrassing. She covered her eyes with 
 one hand for a moment to collect her thoughts and to 
 try and realise the extent of the disaster. Nicholas 
 mistook the gesture. 
 
 "You will never forgive me, I know. I do not 
 deserve that you should. But I will do all in my 
 power to repair the evil. I will go to Siberia if they 
 will consider your rights to the estate." 
 
 Margaret withdrew her hand, and looked earnestly 
 at the young man. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 229 
 
 "Forgive you?" said she. "My dear Nicholas, 
 you do not suppose I seriously think there is any- 
 thing to forgive ? " 
 
 "But it is true," he said piteously; "in ruining 
 me they have ruined you. Mon Dieu, men Dieu! 
 If I only had a friend " 
 
 "Taisez vous done, mon ami. It is everything 
 most bete what you say. You have many friends, 
 and as for me, I do not care a straw for the money. 
 Only if I had known I would not have left Europe. 
 Voilatout." 
 
 "Ah, that is it," said Nicholas. "I escaped the 
 police and huri-ied to Baden. But you were gone. 
 So I took the first steamer and came here. But I 
 have waited ten days, and it was only last night I 
 saw in the papers that you had arrived yesterday 
 morning. And here I am." 
 
 Margaret rose, from a feeling that she must move 
 about — the restless fiend that seizes energetic people 
 in their trouble. Nicholas thought it was a sign for 
 him to go. He took his hat. 
 
 "Believe me " he began, about to take his 
 
 leave. 
 
 "You are not going?" said Margaret. "Oh no. 
 Wait, and we will think of some expedient. Besides 
 you have not told me half what I want to know. 
 The money is of no consequence; but what had 
 you done to lead to such a sentence ? Are you really 
 a Nihilist?" 
 
 " Dieu m'en garde ! " said the Count devoutly. " I 
 am a Republican, that is all. Seulement, our Holy 
 Russia does not distinguish." 
 
 "Is not the distinction very subtle?" 
 
 "The difference between salvation by education 
 
230 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 and salvation by dynamite; the difference between 
 building up and tearing down, between Robespierre 
 and Monsieur Washington." 
 
 "You must have been indiscreet. How could 
 they have found it out ? " " 
 
 "I was bSte enough to write an article in the 
 Busski Mir — the mildest of articles. And then 
 some of the Nihilist agents thought I was in their 
 interests and wanted to see me, and the police ob- 
 served them, and I was at once classed as a Nihilist 
 myself, and there was a perquisition in my house. 
 They found some notes and a few manuscripts of 
 mine, quite enough to suit their purpose, and so the 
 game was up." 
 
 " But they did not arrest you ? " 
 
 " No. As luck would have it, I was in Berlin at 
 the time, on leave from my regiment, for I was never 
 suspected before in the least. And the Nihilists, 
 who, to tell the truth, are well organised and take 
 good care of their brethren, succeeded in passing 
 word to me not to come back. A few days afterwards 
 the Russian Embassy were hunting for me in Berlin. 
 But I had got away. Sentence was passed in con- 
 tempt, and I read the news in the papers on my way 
 to Paris. There is the whole history." 
 
 " Have you any money ? " inquired Margaret after 
 a pause. 
 
 "Mon Dieu! I have still a hundred napoleons. 
 After that the deluge." 
 
 "By that time we shall be ready for the deluge," 
 said Margaret cheerfully. "I have many friends, 
 and something may yet be done. Meanwhile do not 
 distress yourself about me ; you know I have some- 
 thing of my own." 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 231 
 
 " How can I thank you for your kindness ? You 
 ought to hate me, and instead you console ! " 
 
 " My dear friend, if I did not like you for your own 
 sake, I would help you because you are poor Alexis's 
 brother. " There was no emotion in her voice at the 
 mention of her dead husband, only a certain reverence. 
 She had honoured him more than she had loved him. 
 
 "Princesse, quand mSme," said Nicholas in a low 
 voice, as he raised her fingers to his lips. 
 
 "Leave me your address before you go. I will 
 write as soon as I have decided what to do. " Nicholas 
 scratched the name of a hotel on his card. 
 
 When he was gone Margaret sank into a chair. 
 She would have sent for Claudius — Claudius was a 
 friend — but she recollected his note, and thought 
 with some impatience that just when she needed him 
 most he was away. Then she thought of Lady Vic- 
 toria, and she rang the bell. But Lady Victoria had 
 gone out with her brother, and they had taken Miss 
 Skeat. Margaret was left alone in the great hotel. 
 Far off she could hear a door shut or the clatter of 
 the silver covers of some belated breakfast service 
 finding its way up or down stairs. And in the street 
 the eternal clatter and hum and crunch, and crunch 
 and hum and clatter of men and wheels ; the ceaseless 
 ring of the tram-cars stopping every few steps to pick 
 up a passenger, and the jingle of the horses' bells 
 as they moved on. It was hot — it was very hot. 
 Clementine was right, it was hSbStant, as it can be 
 in New York in September. She bethought herself 
 that she might go out and buy things, that last re- 
 source of a rich woman who is tired and bored. 
 
 Buy things ! She had forgotten that she was ruined. 
 Well, not quite that, but it seemed like it. It would 
 
232 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 be long before she would feel justified in buying any- 
 thing more for the mere amusement of the thing. She 
 tried to realise what it would be like to be poor. 
 But she failed entirely, as women of her sort always 
 do. She was brave enough if need be; if it must 
 come, she had the courage to be poor. But she had 
 not the skill to paint to herself what it would be like. 
 She could not help thinking of Claudius. It would 
 be so pleasant just now to have him sitting there by 
 her side, reading some one of those wise books he 
 was so fond of. 
 
 It was so hot. She wished something would 
 happen. Poor Nicholas ! He need not have been so 
 terribly cut up about the money. Who is there ? It 
 was Vladimir. Vladimir brought a card. Yes, she 
 would see the gentleman. Vladimir disappeared, and 
 a moment after ushered in Mr. Horace Bellingham, 
 commonly known as "Uncle Horace." 
 
 "I am so glad to see you, Mr. Bellingham," said 
 Margaret, who had conceived a great liking for the 
 old gentleman on the previous evening, and who 
 would have welcomed anybody this morning. 
 
 Mr. Bellingham made a bow of the courtliest, most 
 ancien-rSgime kind. He had ventured to bring her a 
 few flowers. Would she accept them? They were 
 only three white roses, but there was more beauty 
 in them than in all Mr. Barker's profusion. Mar- 
 garet took them, and smelled them, and fastened them 
 at her waist, and smiled a divine smile on the bearer. 
 
 "Thank you, so much," said she,. 
 
 "No thanks," said he; "I am more than repaid by 
 your appreciation ; " and he rubbed his hands together 
 and bowed again, his head a little on one side, as if 
 deprecating any further acknowledgment. Then he 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 233 
 
 at once began to talk a little, to give her time to 
 select her subject if she would ; for he belonged to a 
 class of men who believe it their duty to talk to 
 women, and who do not expect to sit with folded 
 hands and be amused. To such men America is a 
 revelation of social rest. In America the women 
 amuse the men, and the men excuse themselves by 
 saying that they work hard all day, and cannot be 
 expected to work hard all the evening. It is evi- 
 dently a state of advanced civilisation, incomprehen- 
 sible to the grosser European mind — a state where 
 talking to a woman is considered to be hard work. 
 Or — in fear and trembling it is suggested — is it 
 because they are not able to amuse their womankind? 
 Is their refusal a testimonium paupertatis ingenii ? No 
 — perish the thought ! It may have been so a long 
 time ago, in the Golden Age. This is not the Golden 
 Age ; it is the Age of Gold Messieurs ! faites votre jeu ! 
 
 By degrees it became evident that Margaret wanted 
 to talk about Russia, and Mr. Bellingham humoured 
 her, and gave her a good view of the situation, and 
 told anecdotes of the Princess Dolgorouki, and drew 
 the same distinction between Nihilists and Republi- 
 cans that Count Nicholas had made an hour earlier 
 in the same room. Seeing she was so much inter- 
 ested, Mr. Bellingham took courage to ask a ques- 
 tion that had puzzled him for some time. He 
 stroked his snowy beard, and hesitated slightly. 
 
 "Pardon me, if I am indiscreet. Madam," he said 
 at last, " but I read in the papers the other day that 
 a nobleman of your name — a Count Nicholas, I 
 think — had landed in New York, having escaped the 
 clutches of the Petersburg police, who wanted to 
 arrest him as a Nihilist. Was he — was he any rela- 
 tion of yours ? " 
 
234 DOCTOR CLAtTDIUS. 
 
 "He is my brother-in-law," said Margaret, rather 
 startled at seeing the point to which she had led the 
 conversation. But she felt a strong sympathy for 
 Mr. Bellingham, and she was glad to be able to speak 
 on the subject to any one. She stood so much in 
 need of advice; and, after all, if the story was in the 
 papers it was public property by this time. Mr. 
 Bellingham was a perfect diplomatist, and, being 
 deeply interested, he had soon learned all the details 
 of the case by heart. 
 
 "It is very distressing," he said gravely. But 
 that was all. Margaret had had some faint idea that 
 he might offer to help her — it was absurd, of course 
 
 — or at least that he might give her some good advice. 
 But that was not Mr. Bellingham's way of doing 
 things. If he intended to do anything, the last 
 thing he would think of would be to tell her of his 
 intention. He led the conversation away, and having 
 rounded it neatly with a couple of anecdotes of her 
 grandmother, he rose to go, pleading an engagement. 
 He really had so many appointments in a day that 
 he seldom kept more than half of them, and his ex- 
 cuse was no polite invention. He bowed himself 
 out, and when he was gone Margaret felt as though 
 she had lost a friend. 
 
 She wearied of the day — so long, so hot, and so 
 unfortunate. She tried a book, and then she tried 
 to write a letter, and then she tried to think again. 
 It seemed to her that there was so little to think 
 about, for she had a hopeless helpless consciousness 
 that there was nothing to be done that she could do. 
 She might have written to her friends in Petersburg 
 
 — of course she would do that, and make every possi- 
 ble representation. But all that seemed infinitely 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 235 
 
 far off, and could be done as well to-morrow as to-day. 
 At last Lady Victoria came back, and at sight of her 
 Margaret resolved to confide in her likewise. She 
 had so inuch common sense, and always seemed able 
 to get at the truth. Therefore, in the afternoon Mar- 
 garet monopolised Lady Victoria and carried her off, 
 and they sat together with their work by the open 
 window, and the Countess was "not at home." 
 
 In truth, a woman of the world in trouble of any 
 kind could not do better than confide in Lady Vic- 
 toria. She is so frank and honest that when you talk 
 to her your trouble seems to grow small and your 
 heart big. She has not a great deal of intellect ; but, 
 then, she has a great deal of common sense. Com- 
 mon sense is, generally speaking, merely a dislike of 
 complications, and a consequent refusal on the part of 
 the individual to discover them.- People of vivid 
 imagination delight in magnifying the difficulties 
 of life by supposing themselves the centre of much 
 scheming, plotting, and cheap fiction. They cheer- 
 fully give their time and their powers to the study 
 of social diplomacy. It is. reserved for people intel- 
 lectually very high or very low in the scale to lead a 
 really simple life. The average mind of the world 
 is terribly muddled on most points, and altogether 
 beside itself as regards its individual existence; for 
 a union of much imagination, unbounded vanity, and 
 unfathomable ignorance can never take the place of 
 an intellect, while such a combination cannot fail to 
 destroy the blessed vis inertice of the primitive fool, 
 who only sees what is visible, instead of evolving the 
 phantoms of an airy unreality from the bottomless 
 abyss of his own so-called consciousness. Fortunately 
 for humanity, the low-class unimaginative mind pre- 
 
236 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 dominates in the world, as far as numbers are con- 
 cerned ; and there are enough true intellects among 
 men to leaven the whole. The middle class of mind 
 is a small class, congregated together chiefly within 
 the boundaries of a very amusing institution calling 
 itself "society." These people have scraped and 
 varnished the aforesaid composition of imagination, 
 ignorance, and vanity, into a certain conventional 
 thing which they mendaciously term their " intelli- 
 gence," from a Latin verb intelligo, said to mean "I 
 understand." It is a poor thing, after all the var- 
 nishing. It is neither hammer nor anvil ; it cannot 
 strike, and, if you strike it, dissolution instantly 
 takes place, after which the poor driveller is errone- 
 ously said to have " lost his mind," and is removed 
 to an asylum. It is curious that the great majority 
 of lunatics should be found in "society." Society 
 says that all men of genius are more or less mad ; but 
 it is a notable fact that very few men of genius have 
 ever been put in madhouses, whereas the society that 
 calls those men crazy is always finding its waj' there. 
 It takes but little to make a lunatic of poor Lady 
 Smith-Tompkins. Poor thing! you know she is so 
 verjr " high-strung, " such delicate sensibilities ! She 
 has an idSe fixe — so very sad. Ah yes ! that is it. 
 She never had an idea before, and now that she has 
 one she cannot get rid of it, and it will kill her in 
 time. 
 
 Now people whose intellect is. of a low class are 
 not disturbed with visions of all that there is to be 
 known, nor with a foolish desire to appear to know 
 it. On the other hand, they are perfectly capable of 
 understanding what is honourable or dishonourable, 
 mean or generous, and they are very tenacious of 
 
DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 237 
 
 these principles, believing that in the letter of the 
 law is salvation. They are not vain of qualities and 
 powers not theirs; and, consequently, when they 
 promise, they promise what they are able to perform. 
 Occasionally such characters appear in " society, " — 
 rare creatures, in whom a pernicious education has 
 not spoiled the simplicity and honesty which is their 
 only virtue. They fall naturally into the position 
 of confessors to the community, for the community 
 requires confessors of some sort. In them confides 
 the hardened sinner bursting with evil deeds and 
 the accumulation of petty naughtiness. To them 
 comes the beardless ass, jsimpering from his first ad- 
 venture,, and generally "afraid he has compromised" 
 the mature woman of the world, whom he has elected 
 to serve, desiring to know what he ought to do about 
 it. To them, too, comes sometimes the real sufferer 
 with his or her little tale of woe, hesitatingly told, 
 half hinted, hoping to be wholly understood. They 
 are good people, these social confessors, though they 
 seldom give much advice. Nevertheless, it is such 
 a help to tell one's story and hear how it sounds ! 
 
 Lady Victoria was^ not a woman of surpassing in- 
 tellect; perhaps she had no intellect at all. She 
 belonged to the confessors above referred to. She 
 was the soul of honour, of faith, and of secrecy. 
 People were always making confidences to her, and 
 they always felt the better for it — Itiough she herself 
 could not imagine why. And so even Margaret 
 came and told her troubles. Only, as Margaret was 
 really intelligent, she did not hesitate or make any 
 fuss about telling, when once she had made up her 
 mind. The story was, indeed, public property by 
 this time, and Lady Victoria was sure to know it all 
 
288 DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 
 
 before long from other people. When Margaret had 
 finished, she laid down her work and looked out of 
 the window, waiting. 
 
 " I need not tell you I am sorry, " said Lady Vic- 
 toria. "You know that, my dear. But what will 
 you do ? It will be so very awkward for you, you 
 know." 
 
 " I hardly can tell yet — what would you do in my 
 place?" 
 
 "Let me see," said the English girl. "What 
 would I do ? You must have a Russian minister here 
 somewhere. I think I would send for him, if I were 
 you." 
 
 " But it takes so long — so dreadfully long, to get 
 anything done in that way," said Margaret. And 
 they discussed the point in a desultory fashion. Of 
 course Lady Victoria's suggestion was the simplest 
 and most direct one. She was quite certain that 
 Margaret would get her rights very soon. 
 
 " Of course, " said she, " they must do it. It would 
 be so unjust not to." She looked at Margaret with a 
 bright smile, as if there was no such thing as injus- 
 tice in the world. But the Countess looked grave; 
 and as she leaned back in her deep arm-chair by the 
 window, with half-closed eyes, it was easy to see 
 she was in trouble. She needed help and sympathy 
 and comfort. She had never needed help before, and 
 it was not a pleasant sensation to her ; perhaps she 
 was dissatisfied when she realised whose help of all 
 others she would most gladly accept. At least it 
 would be most pleasant that he should offer it. 
 "He" — has it come to that? Poor Margaret I If 
 "he" represented a sorrow instead of a happiness, 
 would you confide that too to Lady Victoria? Or 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 289 
 
 would you feel the least shadow of annoyance because 
 you miss him to-day ? Perhaps it is only habit. You 
 have schooled yourself to believe you ought to do 
 without him, and you fancy you ought to be angry 
 with yourself for transgressing your rule. But what 
 avails your schooling against the little god? He 
 will teach you a lesson you will not forget. The 
 day is sinking. The warm earth is drinking out its 
 cup of sunlight to the purple dregs thereof. There 
 is great colour in the air, and the clouds are as a 
 trodden wine-press in the west. The old sun, the 
 golden bowl of life, is touching earth's lips, and soon 
 there will be none of the wine of light left in him. 
 She will drink it all. Yet your lover tarries, Mar- 
 garet, and comes not. 
 
 Margaret and Lady Victoria agreed they would 
 dine together. Indeed, Margaret had a little head- 
 ache, for she was weary. They would dine together, 
 and then read something in the evening — quite 
 alone ; and so they did. It was nearly nine o'clock 
 when the servant announced Claudius and the Duke. 
 The latter, of course, knew nothing about Margaret's 
 troubles, and was in high spirits. As for Claudius, 
 his momentary excitement, caused by Mr. Screw's 
 insinuations, had long since passed away, and he 
 was as calm as ever, meditating a graphic description 
 of his day's excursion to Greenwood Cemetery for 
 Margaret's benefit. It was a lugubrious subject, but 
 he well knew how to make his talk interesting. It 
 is the individual, not the topic, that makes the con- 
 versation ; if a man can talk well, graveyards are as 
 ■ good a subject as the last novel, and he will make 
 tombstones more attractive than scandal. 
 No one could have told from Claudius's appear- 
 
240 DOCTOK CLATJDITTS. 
 
 ance or conversation that night that there was any- 
 thing in the world to cloud his happiness. He 
 talked to the woman he loved with a serene contempt 
 for everything else in the world — a contempt, too, 
 which was not assumed. He was perfectly happy 
 for the nonce, and doubly so in that such a happy 
 termination to a very long day was wholly unex- 
 pected. He had thought that he should find the 
 party gone from New York on his return from Green- 
 wood, and this bit of good luck seemed to have fallen 
 to him out of a clear sky. Margaret was glad to see 
 him too; she was just now in that intermediate 
 frame of mind during which a woman only reasons 
 about a man in his absence. The moment he appears, 
 the electric circuit is closed and the quiescent state 
 ceases. She was at the point when his coming made 
 a difference that she could feel ; when she heard his 
 step her blood beat faster, and she could feel herself 
 turning a shade paler. Then the heavy lids would 
 droop a little to hide what was in her dark eyes, and 
 there were many voices in her ear, as though the 
 very air cried gloria, while her heart answered in 
 excelsis.- But when he was come the gentle tale 
 seemed carried on, as from the hour of his last going ; 
 and while he stayed life seemed one long day. 
 
 She had struggled hard, but in her deepest thoughts 
 she had foreseen the termination. It is the instinct of 
 good women to fight against love — he comes in such 
 a questionable shape. A good woman sees a differ- 
 ence between being in love and loving — well know- 
 ing that there is passion without love, but no love 
 without passion. She feels bound in faith to set up 
 a tribunal in her heart, whereby to judge between the 
 two ; but very often judge and jury and prisoner at 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 241 
 
 the bar join hands, and swear eternal friendship on 
 the spot. Margaret had feared lest this Northern 
 wooer, with his mighty strength and his bold eyes, 
 should lead her feelings whither her heart would not. 
 Sooner than suffer that, she would die. And yet 
 there is a whole unspoken prophecy of love in every 
 human soul, and his witness is true. 
 
 All this evening they sat side by side, welding 
 their bonds. Each had a secret care, but each forgot 
 it utterly. Claudius would not have deigned to 
 think of his own troubles when he was with her; and 
 she never once remembered how, during that morn- 
 ing, she had longed to tell him all about her brother- 
 in-law. They talked of all sorts of things, and they 
 made up their minds to go to Newport the next day. 
 
 Miss Skeat asked whether Newport was as roman- 
 tic as Scarborough. 
 
242 DOCTOR CLAUDItrS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 There were odours of Russian cigarettes in Mr. 
 Horace Bellingham's room, and two smokers were 
 industriously adding to the fragrant cloud. One was 
 the owner of the dwelling himself, and the other was 
 Claudius. He sat upon the sofa that stood between 
 the two windows of the room, which was on the 
 ground floor, and looked out on the street. The 
 walls were covered with pictures wherever they were 
 not covered with books, and there was not an availa- 
 ble nook or corner unfilled with scraps of bric-a-brac, 
 photographs, odds and ends of reminiscence, and all 
 manner of things characteristic to the denizen of the 
 apartment. The furniture was evidently calculated 
 more for comfort than display, and if there was an 
 air of luxury pervading the bachelor's quiet rez-de- 
 chaussSe, it was due to the rare volumes on the 
 shelves and the good pictures on the walls, rather 
 than to the silk or satin of the high-art upholsterer, 
 or the gilding and tile work of the modern decorator, 
 who ravages upon beauty as a fungus upon a fruit 
 tree. Whatever there was in Mr. Bellingham's 
 rooms was good; much of it was unique, and the 
 whole was harmonious. Rare editions were bound 
 by famous binders, and if the twopenny-halfpenny 
 productions of some little would-be modern poet, 
 resplendent with vellum and aesthetic greenliness of 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 243 
 
 paper, occasionally found their way to the table, they 
 never travelled as far as the shelves. Mr. Belling- 
 ham had fools enough about him to absorb his spare 
 trash. 
 
 On this particular occasion the old gentleman was 
 seated in an arm-chair at his table, and Claudius, as 
 aforesaid, had established himself upon the sofa. He 
 looked very grave and smoked thoughtfully. 
 
 "I wish I knew what to do;" he said. "Mr. Bel- 
 lingham, do you think I could be of any use ? " 
 
 " If I had not thought so, I would not have told 
 you — I could have let you find it out for yourself 
 from the papers. You can be of a great deal of use." 
 
 " Do you advise me to go to St. Petersburg and see 
 about it then ? " 
 
 " Of course I do. Start at once. You can get the 
 necessary steps taken in no time, if you go now." 
 
 " I am ready. But how in the world can I get the 
 thing done ? " 
 
 "Letters. Your English friend over there will 
 give you letters to the English Ambassador; he is 
 Lord Fitzdoggin — cousin of the Duke's. And I 
 will give you some papers that will be of use. I 
 know lots of people in Petersburg. Why, it's as 
 plain as a pikestaff. Besides, you know the proverb, 
 mitte sapientem et nihil dicas. That means then when 
 you send a wise man you must not dictate to him." 
 
 "You flatter me. But I would rather have your 
 advice, if that is what you call 'dictating.' I am 
 not exactly a fool, but then, I am not very wise 
 either." 
 
 " No one is very wise, and we are all fools com- 
 pared to some people," said Mr. Bellingham. "If 
 anybody wanted a figurehead for a new Ship of Fools, 
 
244 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 I sometimes think a portrait of myself would be sin- 
 gularly appropriate. There are times when I should 
 fix upon a friend for the purpose. Mermaid — half 
 fish — figurehead, half man, half fool. That's a very 
 good idea." 
 
 "Very good — for the friend. Meanwhile, you 
 know, it is I who am going on the errand. If you 
 do not make it clear to me it will be a fool's errand." 
 
 "It is perfectly clear, my dear sir," insisted Mr. 
 Bellingham. "You go to St. Petersburg; you get 
 an audience — you can do that by means of the let- 
 ters ; you lay the matter before the Czar, and request 
 justice. Either you get it or you do not. That is 
 the beauty of an autocratic country." 
 
 "How about a free country?" asked Claudius. 
 
 "You don't get it," replied his host grimly. 
 Claudius laughed a cloud of smoke into the air. 
 
 " Why is that?" he asked idly, hoping to launch 
 Mr, Bellingham into further aphorisms and para- 
 doxes. 
 
 "Men are everywhere born free, but they " 
 
 " Oh, " said Claudius, " I want to know your own 
 opinion about it." 
 
 "I have no opinion; I only have experience," an- 
 swered the other. " At any rate in an autocratic coun- 
 try there is a visible, tangible repository of power to 
 whom you can apply. If the repository is in the 
 humour you will get whatever you want done, in the 
 way of justice or injustice. Now in a free country ' 
 justice is absorbed into the great cosmic forces, and 
 it is apt to be an expensive incantation that wakes 
 the lost elementary spirit. In Russia justice shines 
 by contrast with the surrounding corruption, but 
 there is no mistake about it when you get it. In 
 
DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 245 
 
 America it is taken for granted everywhere, and the 
 consequence is that, like most things that are taken 
 for granted, it is a myth. Rousseau thought that in 
 a republic like ours there would be no more of the 
 'chains' he was so fond of talking about. He did 
 not anticipate a stagnation of the national moral 
 sense. An Englishman who has made a study of 
 these things said lately that the Americans had 
 retained the forms of freedom, but that the substance 
 had suffered considerably." 
 
 "Who said that?" asked Claudius. 
 
 " Mr. Herbert Spencer. He said it to a newspaper 
 reporter in New York, and so it was put into the 
 papers. It is the truest thing he ever said, but no 
 one took any more notice of it than if he had told the 
 reporter it was a very fine day. They don't care. 
 Tell the first man you meet down town that he is a 
 liar ; he will tell you he knows it. He will probably 
 tell you you are another. We are all alike here. I'm 
 a liar myself in a small way — there's a club of us, 
 two Americans and one Englishman." 
 
 "You are the frankest person I ever met, Mr. 
 Bellingham," said Claudius, laughing. 
 
 "Some day I will write a book," said Mr. Belling- 
 ham, rising and beginning to tramp round the room. 
 " I will call it • — ■ — - by the way, we were talking about 
 Petersburg. You had better be off." 
 
 "I am going, but tell me the name of the book 
 before I go." 
 
 "No, I won't; you would go and write it your- 
 self, and steal my thunder." Uncle Horace's eyes 
 twinkled, and a corruscation of laugh-wrinkles shot 
 like sheet-lightning over his face. He disappeared 
 into a neighbouring room, leaving a trail of white 
 
246 DOCTOE CLArDIUS. 
 
 smoke in his wake, like a locomotive. Presently he 
 returned with a Bullinger Guide in his hand. 
 
 " You can sail on Wednesday at two o'clock by the 
 Cunarder,"he said. "You can go to Newport to- 
 day, and come back by the boat on Tuesday night, 
 and be ready to start in the morning." Mr. Belling- 
 ham prided himself greatly on his faculty for making 
 combinations of times and places. 
 
 "How about those letters, Mr. Bellingham?" in- 
 quired Claudius, who had no idea of going upon his 
 expedition without proper preparations. 
 
 "I will write them," said Uncle Horace, "I will 
 write them at once," and he dived into an address- 
 book and set to work. His pen was that of the tradi- 
 tional ready-writer, for he wrote endless letters, and 
 his correspondence was typical of himself — the 
 scholar, the wanderer, and the Priest of Buddha by 
 turns, and sometimes all at once. For Mr. Belling- 
 ham was a professed Buddhist and a profound student 
 of Eastern moralities, and he was a thorough scholar 
 in certain branches of the classics. The combination 
 of these qualities, with the tact and versatile fluency 
 of a man of the world, was a rare one, and was a 
 source of unceasing surprise to his intimates. At the 
 present moment he was a diplomatist, since he could 
 not be a diplomat, and to his energetic suggestion 
 and furtherance of the plan he had devised the re- 
 sults which this tale will set forth are mainly due. 
 
 Claudius sat upon the sofa watching the old gentle- 
 man, and wondering how it was that a stranger 
 should so soon have assumed the position of an ad- 
 viser, and with an energy and good sense, too, which 
 not only disarmed resistance, but assubjugated the 
 consent of the advised. Life is full of such things. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 247 
 
 Man lives quietly like a fattening carp in some old 
 pond for years, until some idle disturber comes' and 
 pokes up the mud with a stick, and the poor fish is 
 in the dark. Presently comes another destroyer of 
 peace, less, idle and more enterprising, and drains 
 away the water, carp and all, and makes a potato- 
 garden of his old haunts. So the carp makes a new 
 study of life under altered circumstances in other 
 waters ; and to pass the time he wonders about it all. 
 It happens even to men of masterful character, accus- 
 tomed to directing events. An illness takes such 
 a man out of his sphere for a few months. He comes 
 back and finds his pond turned into a vegetable- 
 garden and his ploughed field into a swamp; and 
 then for a time he is fain to ask advice and take it, 
 like any other mortal. So Claudius, who felt himself 
 in an atmosphere new to him, and had tumbled into 
 a very burning bush of complications, had fallen in 
 with Mr. Horace Bellingham, a kind of professional 
 bone-setter, whose province was the reduction of 
 society fractures, speaking medically. And Mr. 
 Bellingham, scenting a patient, and moreover being 
 strongly attracted to him on his own merits, had 
 immediately broached the subject of the Nihilist 
 Nicholas, drawing the conclusion that the man of 
 the emergency was Claudius, and Claudius only. 
 And the bold Doctor weighed the old gentleman's 
 words, and by the light of what he felt he knew that 
 Uncle Horace was right. That if he loved Margaret 
 his first duty was to her, and that first duty was her 
 welfare. No messenger could or would be so active 
 in her interests as himself; and in his anxiety to 
 serve her he had not thought it strange that Mr. 
 Bellingham should take it for granted he was ready 
 
248 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 to embark on the expedition. He thought of that 
 later, and wondered at the boldness of the stranger's 
 assumption, no less than at the keenness of his wit. 
 Poor Claudius! anybody might see he was in love. 
 
 "There; I think that will draw sparks," said Mr. 
 Bellingham, as he folded the last of his letters and 
 put them all in a great square envelope. " Put those 
 in your pocket and keep your powder dry." 
 
 "I am really very grateful to you," said Claudius. 
 Unole Horace began to tramp round the room again, 
 emitting smoky ejaculations of satisfaction. Pres- 
 ently he stoped in front of his guest and turned his 
 eyes up to Claudius's face without raising his head. 
 It gave him a peculiar expression. 
 
 "It is a very strange thing," he said, "but I knew 
 at once that you had a destiny, the first time I saw 
 you. I am very superstitious ; I believe in destiny." 
 
 " So would I if I thought one could know anything 
 about it. I mean in a general way, " answered Clau- 
 dius, smiling. 
 
 "^Is generalisation everything?" asked Mr. Bel- 
 lingham sharply, still looking at the young man. 
 " Is experience to be dismissed as empiricism, with a 
 sneer, because the wider rule is lacking ? " 
 
 "No. But so long as only a few occupy them- 
 selves in reducing empiric knowledge to a scientific 
 shape they will not succeed, at least in this depart- 
 ment. To begin with, they have not enough experi- 
 ence among them to make rules from." 
 
 "But they contribute. One man will come who 
 will find the rule. Was Tycho Brah^ a nonentity 
 because he was not Kepler? Was Van Helmont 
 nothing because he was not Lavoisier? Yet Tycho 
 Brahd was an empiric — he was the last of the obser- 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 249 
 
 vers of the concrete, if you will allow me the phrase. 
 He was scientifically the father of Kepler. " 
 
 " That is very well put, " said Claudius. " But we 
 were talking of destiny. You are an observer. " 
 
 "I have very fine senses," replied Mr. Bellingham. 
 " I always know when anybody I meet is going to 
 do something out of the common run. You are." 
 
 "I hope so," said Claudius, laughing. "Indeed 
 I think I am beginning already." 
 
 "Well, good luck to you," said Mr. Bellingham, 
 remembering that he had missed one engagement, 
 and was on the point of missing another. . He sud- 
 denly felt that he must send Claudius away, and he 
 held out his hand. There was nothing rough in his 
 abruptness. He would have liked to talk with Clau- 
 dius for an hour longer had his time permitted. 
 Claudius understood perfectly. He put the letters 
 in his pocket, and with a parting shake of the hand 
 he bade Mr. Horace Bellingham good-morning, and 
 good-bye ; he would not trouble him again, he said, 
 before sailing. But Mr. Bellingham went to the 
 door with him. 
 
 "Come and see me before you go — Wednesday 
 morning; I am up at six, you know. I shall be very 
 glad to see you. I am like the Mexican donkey that 
 died of congojas ajenas — died of other people's trou- 
 bles. People always come to me when they are in 
 difficulties. " The old gentleman stood looking after 
 Claudius as he strode away. Then he screwed up 
 his eyes at the sun, sneezed with evident satisfac- 
 tion, and disappeared within, closing the street door 
 behind him. 
 
 "Some day I will write my memoirs," he said to 
 himself, as he sat down. 
 
250 DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 
 
 Claudius was in a frame of mind which he would 
 have found it hard to describe. The long conversa- 
 tion with Mr. Bellingham had been the first intima- 
 tion he had received of Margaret's disaster, and the 
 same interview had decided him to act at once in her 
 behalf — in other words, to return to Europe immedi- 
 ately, after a week's stay in New York, leaving be- 
 hind all that was most dear to him. This resolu- 
 tion had formed itself instantaneously in his mind, 
 and it never occurred to him, either then or later, 
 that he could have done anything else in the world. 
 It certainly did not occur to him that he was doing 
 anything especially praiseworthy in sacrificing his 
 love to its object, in leaving Margaret for a couple 
 of months, and enduring all that such a separation 
 meant, in order to serve her interests more effectu- 
 ally. He knew well enough what he was undertak- 
 ing — the sleepless nights, the endless days, the 
 soul-compelling heaviness of solitude, and the deadly 
 sinking at the heart, all which he should endure 
 daily for sixty days — he could not be back before 
 that. He knew it all, for he had suffered it all, 
 during those four and twenty hours on the yacht that 
 followed his first wild speech of love. But Clau- 
 dius's was a knightly soul, and when he served he 
 served wholly, without reservation. Had the dark- 
 browed Countess guessed half the nobleness of pur- 
 pose her tall lover carried in his breast, who knows 
 but she might have been sooner moved herself. But 
 how could she know? She suspected, indeed, that 
 he was above his fellows, and she never attributed 
 bad motives to his actions, as she would unhesitat- 
 ingly have done with most men ; for she had learned 
 lessons of caution in her life. Who steals hearts 
 
DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 251 
 
 steals souls, wherefore it behooves woman to look 
 that the lock be strong and the key hung high. 
 Claudius thought so too, and he showed it in every 
 action, though unconsciously enough, for it was a 
 knowledge natural and not acquired, an instinctive 
 determination to honour where honour was due. 
 Call it Quixotism if need be. There is nothing ridic- 
 ulous in the word, for there breathes no truer knight 
 or gentler soul than Cervantes 's hero in all the pages 
 of history or romance. Why cannot all men see it? 
 Why must an infamous world be ever sneering at 
 the sight, and smacking its filthy lips over some 
 fresh gorge of martyrs ? Society has non-suited hell 
 to-day, lest peradventure it should not sleep o' 
 nights. 
 
 Thomas Carlyle, late of Chelsea, knew that. How 
 he hit and hammered and churned in his wrath, with 
 his great cast-iron words: How the World shrieked 
 when he wound his tenacious fingers in the glory of 
 her golden hair and twisted and wrenched and 
 twisted till she yelled for mercy, promising to be 
 good, like a whipped child. There is a story told 
 of him which might be true. 
 
 It was at a dinner-party, and Carlyle sat silent, 
 listening to the talk of lesser men, the snow on his 
 hair and the fire in his amber eyes. A young Lib- 
 eral was talking theory to a beefy old Conservative, 
 who despised youth and reason in an equal degree. 
 
 "The British people, sir," said he of the beef, "can 
 afford to laugh at theories." 
 
 " Sir," said Carlyle, speaking for the first time dur- 
 ing dinner, "the French nobility of a hundred years 
 ago said they could afford to laugh at theories. 
 Then came a man and wrote a book called the Social 
 
252 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 Contract. The man was called Jean-Jacques Rous- 
 seau, and his book was a theory, and nothing but a 
 theory. The nobles could laugh at his theory; hut 
 their skins went to hind the second edition of his hook. "•' 
 
 Look to your skin, world, lest it be dressed to 
 morocco and cunningly tooled with gold. There is 
 much binding yet to be done. 
 
 Claudius thought neither of the world nor of Mr. 
 Carlyle as he walked back to the hotel; for he was 
 thinking of the Countess Margaret, to the exclusion 
 of every other earthly or unearthly consideration. 
 But his thoughts were sad, for he knew that he was 
 to leave her, and he knew also that he must tell her 
 so. It was no easy matter, and his walk slackened, 
 till, at the corner of the great thoroughfare, he stood 
 still, looking at a poor woman who ground a tune- 
 less hand-organ. The instrument of tympanum tor- 
 ture was on wheels, and to the back of it was attached 
 a cradle. In the cradle was a dirty little baby, lick- 
 ing its fist and listening with conscientious attention 
 to the perpetual trangle-tringle- jangle of the mater- 
 nal music. In truth the little thing could not well 
 listen to anything else, considering the position in 
 which it was placed. Claudius stood staring at the 
 little caravan, halted at the corner of the most aristo- 
 cratic street in New York, and his attention was 
 gradually roused to comprehend what he saw. He 
 reflected that next to being bound on the back of a 
 wild horse, like Mazeppa, the most horrible fate con- 
 ceivable must be that of this dirty baby, put to bed 
 in perpetuity on the back of a crazy grind-organ. 
 He smiled at the idea, and the woman held out a 
 
 1 There was a tannery of human skins at Meudon during the 
 Kevolution. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 253 
 
 battered tin dish with one hand, while the other in 
 its revolution ground out the final palpitating squeaks 
 of " J.A, che la morte ognora." Claudius put his hand 
 into his pocket and gave the poor creature a coin. 
 
 "You are encouraging a public nuisance," said a 
 thin gentlemanly voice at his elbow. Claudius 
 looked down and saw Mr. Barker. 
 
 " Yes," said the Doctor, " I remember a remark you 
 once made to me about the deserving poor in New 
 York — it was the day before yesterday, I think. 
 You said they went to the West." 
 
 " Talking of the West, I suppose you will be going 
 there yourself one of these days to take a look at our 
 'park' — eh?" 
 
 "No, I am going East." 
 
 "To Boston, I suppose?" inquired the inquisitive 
 Barker. "You will be very much amused with Bos- 
 ton. It is the largest village in the United States." 
 
 "I am not going to Boston," said Claudius calmly. 
 
 " Oh ! I thought when you said you were going 
 East you meant " 
 
 "I am going to sail for Europe on Wednesday," 
 said the Doctor, who had had time to reflect that he 
 might as well inform Barker of his intention. Mr. 
 Barker smiled grimly under his moustache. 
 
 "You don't mean that?" he said, trying to feign 
 astonishment and disguise his satisfaction. It seemed 
 too good to be true. "Going so soon? Why, I 
 thought you meant to spend some time." 
 
 "Yes, I am going immediately," and Claudius 
 looked Barker straight in the face. "I find it is 
 necessary that I should procure certain papers con- 
 nected with my inheritance." 
 
 " Well," said Barker turning his eyes another way. 
 
254 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 for he did not like the Doctor's look, " I am very 
 sorry, anyway. I suppose you mean to come back 
 
 soon .' 
 
 9" 
 
 "Very soon," answered Claudius. "Good morn- 
 irig, Barker." 
 
 " Good morning. I will call and see you before 
 you sail. You have quite taken my breath away 
 with this news." Mr. Barker walked quickly away 
 in the direction of the Elevated Road. He was evi- 
 dently going down town. 
 
 "Strange," thought Claudius, "that Barker should 
 take the news so quietly. I think it ought to have 
 astonished him more." Leaving the organ-grinder, 
 the dirty baby, and the horse-cars to their fate, Clau- 
 dius entered the hotel. He found the Duke over a 
 late breakfast, eating cantelopes voraciously. Can- 
 telopes are Ataerican melons, small and of sickly 
 appearance, but of good vitality and unearthly fresh- 
 ness within, a joy to the hot-stomached foreigner. 
 Behold also, his Grace eateth the cantelope and hath 
 a cheerful countenance. Claudius sat down at the 
 table, looking rather gloomy. 
 
 "I want you to give me an introduction to the 
 English Ambassador in Petersburg. Lord Fitzdog- 
 gin, I believe he is." 
 
 " Good gracious ! " exclaimed the peer ; " what for ? " 
 
 " I am going there, " answered Claudius with his 
 habitual calm, "and I want to know somebody in 
 power." 
 
 " Oh ! are you going ? " asked the Duke, suddenly 
 grasping the situation. He afterwards took some 
 credit to himself for having been so quick to catch 
 Claudius's meaning. 
 
 "Yes. I sail on Wednesday." 
 
DOCTOR CLATTDIUS. 255 
 
 " Tell me all about it, " said the Duke, who recov- 
 ered his equanimity, and plunged a knife into a fresh 
 cantelope at the same moment. 
 
 " Very well. I saw your friend, Mr. Horace Bel- 
 lingham, this morning, and he told me all about the 
 Countess's troubles. In fact, they are in the news- 
 papers by this time, but I had not read about them. 
 He suggested that some personal friend of the Coun- 
 tess had better proceed to headquarters at once, and 
 see about it; so I said I would go; and he gave me 
 some introductions. They are probably good ones; 
 but he advised me to come to you and get one for 
 yoiir ambassador." 
 
 "Anything Uncle Horace advises is right, you 
 know, " said his Grace, speaking with his mouth full. 
 
 " He knows no end of people everywhere," he added 
 pensively, when he had swallowed. 
 
 " Very well, I will go ; but I am glad you approve. " 
 
 " But what the deuce are you going to do about 
 that fortune of yours ? " asked the other suddenly. 
 "Don't you think we had better go down and swear 
 to you at once ? I may not be here when you get 
 back, you know." 
 
 "No; that would not suit my arrangements," an- 
 swered Claudius. "I would rather not let it be 
 known for what purpose I had gone. Do you under- 
 stand ? I am going ostensibly to Heidelberg to get 
 my papers from' the University, and so, with all 
 thanks, I need not trouble you." The Duke looked 
 at him for a moment. 
 
 "What a queer fellow you are, Claudius," he said 
 at last. "I should think you would like her to 
 know." 
 
 "Why? Suppose that I failed, what a figure I 
 
256 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 should cut, to be sure." Claudius preferred to at- 
 tribute to his -vanity an action which was the natural 
 outcome of his love. 
 
 "Well, that is true," said the Duke; "but I think 
 you are pretty safe for all that. Have some break- 
 fast ^ — I forgot all about it." 
 
 "No, thanks. Are you going to Newport to-day? 
 I would like to see something outside of New York 
 before I go back." 
 
 " By all means. Better go at once — all of us in 
 a body. I know the Countess is ready, and I am 
 sure I am." 
 
 " Very good. I will get my things together. One 
 word — please do not tell them I am going ; I will do 
 it myself." 
 
 "All right," answered the Duke; and Claudius 
 vanished. " He says 'them,' " soliloquised the Eng- 
 lishman, "but he means 'her.' " 
 
 Claudius found on his table a note from Mr. Screw. 
 This missive was couched in formal terms, and emit- 
 ted a kind of phosphorescent wrath. Mr. Screw's 
 dignity was seriously offended by the summary eject- 
 ment he had suffered at the Doctor's hands on the 
 previous day. He gave the Doctor formal notice 
 that his drafts would not be honoured until the exec- 
 utors were satisfied concerning his identity; and 
 he solemnly and legally "regretted the position Dr. 
 Claudius had assumed towards those whose sacred 
 duty it was to protect the interests of Dr. Claudius." 
 The cunning repetition of name conveyed the idea of 
 two personages, the claimant and the real heir, in a 
 manner that did not escape the Doctor. Since yes- 
 terday he had half regretted having lost his temper; 
 and had he known that Screw had been completely 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 257 
 
 duped by Mr. Barker, Claudius would probably have 
 apologised to the lawyer. Indeed, he had a vague 
 suspicion, as the shadow of a distant event, that 
 Barker was not altogether clear of the business ; and 
 the fact that the latter had shown so little surprise 
 on hearing of his friend's sudden return to Europe 
 had aroused the Doctor's imagination, so that he 
 found himself piecing together everything he could 
 remember to show that Barker had an interest of 
 some kind in removing him from the scene. Never- 
 theless, the burden of responsibility for the annoyance 
 he was now suffering seemed to rest with Screw, and 
 Screw should be taught a great lesson ; and to that 
 end Claudius would write a letter. It was clear he 
 was still angry. 
 
 The Doctor sat down to write; and his strong, 
 white fingers held the pen with unrelenting detet- 
 mination to be disagreeable. His face was set like 
 a mask, and ever and anon his blue eyes gleamed 
 scornfully. And this is what he said — 
 
 "SiK — Having enjoyed the advantage of your 
 society, somewhat longer than I could have wished, 
 during yesterday afternoon, I had certainly not hoped 
 for so early a mark of your favour and interest as a 
 letter from you of to-day's date. As for your formal 
 notice to me that my drafts will not be honoured in 
 future, I regard it as a deliberate repetition of the in- 
 sulting insinuation conveyed to me by your remarks 
 during your visit. You are well aware that I have 
 not drawn upon the estate in spite of your written 
 authorisation to do so. I consider your conduct in 
 this matter unworthy of a person professing the law, 
 and your impertinence is in my opinion only second 
 
258 DOCTOR CLAtTDIUS. 
 
 to the phenomenal clumsiness you have displayed 
 throughout. As I fear that your ignorance of your 
 profession may lead you into some act of folly dis- 
 astrous to yourself, I will go so far as to inform you 
 that on my return from Europe, two months hence, 
 your proceedings as executor for the estate of the late 
 Gustavus Lindstrand will be subjected to the sever- 
 est scrutiny. In the meantime, I desire no further 
 communications from you. Claudius." 
 
 This remarkable epistle was immediately de- 
 spatched by messenger to Pine Street; and if Mr. 
 Screw had felt himself injured before, he was on the 
 verge of desperation when he read Claudius's polemic. 
 He repeated to himself the several sentences, which 
 seemed to breathe war and carnage in their trenchant 
 brevity; and he thought that even if he had been 
 guilty of any breach of trust, he eould hardly have 
 felt worse. He ran his fingers through his thick 
 yellow-gray hair, and hooked his legs in and out of 
 each other as he sat, and bullied his clerks within 
 an inch of their lives. Then, to get consolation, he 
 said to himself that Claudius was certainly an im- 
 postor, or he would not be so angry, or go to Europe, 
 or refuse any more communications. In the midst 
 of his rage, Mr. Barker the younger opportunely 
 appeared in the office of Messrs. Screw and Scratch, 
 prepared to throw any amount of oil upon the flames. 
 
 "Well?" said Mr. Barker interrogatively, as he 
 settled the flower in his gray coat, and let the paper 
 ribband of the "ticker " run through his other hand, 
 with its tale of the tide of stocks. Yellow Mr. Screw 
 shot a lurid glance from his brassy little eyes. 
 
 "You're right, sir — the man's a humbug." 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDItJS. 259 
 
 "Who?" asked Barker, in well-feigned innocence. 
 
 " Claudius. It's my belief he's a liar and a thief 
 and a damned impostor, sir. That's my belief, sir." 
 He waxed warm as he vented his anger. 
 
 "Well, I only suggested taking precautions. I 
 never said any of these things," answered Barker, 
 who had no idea of playing a prominent part in 
 his own plot. "Don't give me any credit, Mr. 
 Screw." 
 
 "Now, see here, Mr. Barker; I'm talking to you. 
 You're as clever a young man as there is in New York. 
 Now, listen to me; I'm talking to you," said Mr. 
 Screw excitedly. " That man turned me out of his 
 house — turned me out of doors, sir, yesterday after- 
 noon ; and now he writes me this letter ; look here, 
 look at it; read it for yourself, can't you? And so 
 he makes tracks for Europe, and leaves no address 
 behind. An honest man isn't going to act like that, 
 sir — is he, now?" 
 
 "Not much," said Barker, as he took the letter. 
 He read it through twice, and gave it back. " Not 
 much," he repeated. "Is it true that he has drawn 
 no money?" 
 
 " Well, yes, I suppose it is, " answered Screw re- 
 luctantly, for this was the weak point in his argu- 
 ment. " However, it would be just like such a leg 
 to make everything sure in playing a big game. You 
 see he has left himself the rear platform, so he can 
 jump off when his car is boarded." 
 
 "However," said Barker sententiously, "I must 
 say it is in his favour. What we want are facts, 
 you know, Mr. Screw. Besides, if he had taken 
 anything, I should have been responsible, because I 
 accepted him abroad as the right man." 
 
260 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 " Well, as you say, there is nothing gone — not a 
 red. So if he likes to get away, he can ; I'm well 
 rid of him." 
 
 "Now that's the way to look at it. Don't be so 
 down in the mouth, sir; it will all come straight 
 enough." Barker smiled benignly, knowing it was 
 all crooked enough at present. 
 
 "Well, I'm damned anyhow," said Mr. Screw, 
 which was not fair to himself, for he was an honest 
 man, acting very properly according to his lights. 
 It was not his fault if Barker deceived him, and if 
 that hot-livered Swede was angry. 
 
 "Never mind," answered Barker, rather irrele- 
 vantly ; " I will see him before he sails, and tell you 
 what I think about it. He is dead sure to give him- 
 self away, somehow, before he gets off." 
 
 "Well, sail in, young man," said Screw, biting off 
 the end of a cigar, "i' don't want to see him again, 
 you can take your oath." 
 
 "All right; that settles it. I came about some- 
 thing else, though. I know you can tell me all about 
 this suit against the Western Union, can't you?" 
 
 So the two men sat in their arm-chairs and talked 
 steadily, as only Americans can talk, without show- 
 ing any more signs of fatigue than if they were snor- 
 ing ; and it cost them nothing. If the Greeks of the 
 time of Pericles could be brought to life in America, 
 they would be very like modern Americans in respect 
 of their love of talking and of their politics. Terri- 
 ble chatterers in the market-place, and great wrang- 
 lers in the council — the greatest talkers living, but 
 also on occasion the greatest orators, with a redun- 
 dant vivacity of public life in their political veins, 
 that magnifies and inflames the diseases of the parts, 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 261 
 
 even while it gives an unparalleled harmony to the 
 whole. The Greeks had more, for their activity, 
 hampered by the narrow limits of their political 
 sphere, broke out in every variety of intellectual 
 effort, carried into every branch of science and art. 
 In spite of the whole modern school of impressionists, 
 aesthetes, and aphrodisiac poets, the most prominent 
 features of Greek art are its intellectuality, its well- 
 reasoned science, and its accurate conception of the 
 ideal. The resemblance between Americans of to- 
 day and Greeks of the age of Pericles does not extend 
 to matters of art as yet, though America bids fair to 
 surpass all earlier and contemporary nations in the 
 progressive departments of science. But as talkers 
 they are pre-eminent, these rapid business men with 
 their quick tongues and their sharp eyes and their 
 millions. 
 
 When Barker left Screw he had learned a great 
 deal about the suit of which he inquired, but Screw 
 had learned nothing whatever about Claudius. 
 
 As for the Doctor, as soon as he had despatched 
 his letter he sent to secure a passage in Wednesday's 
 steamer, and set himself to prepare his effects for the 
 voyage, as he only intended returning from Newport 
 in time to go on board. He was provided with 
 money enough, for before leaving Germany he had 
 realised the whole of his own little fortune, not 
 wishing to draw upon his larger inheritance until he 
 should feel some necessity for doing so. He now 
 felt no small satisfaction in the thought that he was 
 independent of Mr. Screw and of every one else. It 
 would have been an easy matter, he knew, to clear 
 up the whole difficulty in twenty-four hours, by 
 simply asking the Duke to vouch for him ; and before 
 
262 DOCTOR CLATTDItrS. 
 
 hearing of Margaret's trouble he had had every in- 
 tention of pursuing that course. But now that he was 
 determined to go to Russia in her behalf, his own. 
 difficulty, if he did not take steps for removing it, 
 furnished him with an excellent excuse for the jour- 
 ney, without telling the Countess that he was going 
 for the sole purpose of recovering her fortune, as he 
 otherwise must have told her. Had he known the 
 full extent of Barker's intentions he might have 
 acted differently, but as yet his instinct against that 
 ingenious young gentleman was undefined and vague. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 263 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The cliff at Newport — the long winding patli 
 that follows it from the great beach to the point of 
 the island, always just above the sea, hardly once de- 
 scending to it, as the evenly-gravelled path, too nar- 
 row for three, though far too broad for two, winds 
 by easy curves through the grounds, and skirts the 
 lawns of the million-getters who have their tents and 
 their houses therein — it is a pretty place. There 
 the- rich men come and seethe in their gold all sum- 
 mer; and Lazarus comes to see whether he cannot 
 marry Dives's daughter. And the choleric architect, 
 dissatisfied with the face of Nature, strikes her many 
 a dread blow, and produces an unhealthy eruption 
 wherever he strikes, and calls the things he makes 
 houses. Here also, on Sunday afternoon, young 
 gentlemen and younger ladies patrol in pairs, and 
 discourse of the most saccharine inanities, not know- 
 ing what they shall say, and taking no thought, for 
 obvious reasons. And gardeners sally forth in the 
 morning and trim the paths with strange-looking 
 instruments — the earth-barbers, who lather and 
 shave and clip Nature into patterns, and the world 
 into a quincunx. 
 
 It is a pretty place. There is nothing grand, not 
 even anything natural in Newport, but it is very 
 pretty for all that. For an artificial place, destined 
 
264 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 to house the most artificial people in the world dur- 
 ing three months of the year, it is as pleasing as it 
 can be in a light-comedy-scenery style. Besides, 
 the scenery in Newport is very expensive, and it is 
 impossible to spend so much money without produc- 
 ing some result. It cost a hundred thousand to level 
 that lawn there, and Dives paid the money cheerfully. 
 Then there is Croesus, his neighbour, who can draw 
 a cheque for a hundred millions if he likes. His 
 house cost him a pot of money. And so they build 
 themselves a landscape, and pare off the rough edges 
 of the island, and construct elegant landing-stages, 
 and keep yachts, and make to themselves a fashionable 
 watering-place ; until by dint of putting money into 
 it, they have made it remarkable among the watering- 
 places of the world, perhaps the most remarkable of 
 all. 
 
 But there are times when the cliff at Newport is 
 not an altogether flippant bit of expensive scene- 
 painting, laid out for the sole purpose of "effect." 
 Sometimes in the warm summer nights the venerable 
 moon rises stately and white out of the water ; the 
 old moon, that is the hoariest sinner of us all, with 
 her spells and enchantments and her breathing love- 
 beams, that look so gently on such evil works. And 
 the artist-spirits of the night sky take of her silver 
 as much as they will, and coat with it many things 
 of most humble composition, so that they are fair "to 
 look upon. And they play strange pranks with faces 
 of living and dead. So when the ruler of the dark- 
 ness shines over poor, commonplace Newport, the 
 aspect of it is changed, and the gingerbread abomina- 
 tions wherein the people dwell are magnified into 
 lofty palaces of silver, and the close-trimmed lawns 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 265 
 
 are great carpets of soft dark velvet; and the smug- 
 faced philistine sea, that the ocean would be ashamed 
 to own for a relation by day, breaks out into broken 
 flashes of silver and long paths of light. All this 
 the moonlight does, rejoicing in its deception. 
 
 There is another time, too, when Newport is no 
 longer commonplace, when that same sea, which 
 never seems to have any life of its own, disgorges its 
 foggy soul over the land. There is an ugly odour 
 as of musty salt-water in men's nostrils, and the mist 
 is heavy and thick to the touch. It creeps up to the 
 edge of the cliff, and greedily clings to the wet grass, 
 and climbs higher and over the lawns, and in at the 
 windows of Dives's dining-room, and of Croesus's 
 library, with its burden of insidious mould. The pair 
 of trim-built flirtlings, walking so daintily down the 
 gravel path, becomes indistinct, and their forms are 
 seen but as the shadows of things dead — treading on 
 air, between three worlds. The few feet of bank 
 above the sea, dignified by the name of cliff, fall 
 back to a gaping chasm, a sheer horror of depths, 
 misty and unfathomable. Onward slides the thick 
 cloud, and soon the deep-mouthed monotone of the 
 fog-horns in the distance tells it is in the bay. 
 There is nothing commonplace about the Newport 
 cliff in a fog ; it is wild enough and dreary enough 
 then, for the scene of a bad deed. You might meet 
 the souls of the lost in such a fog, hiding before the 
 wrath to come. 
 
 Late on Tuesday afternoon Claudius and Margaret 
 had taken their way towards the cliff, a solitary 
 couple at that hour on a week-day. Even at a dis- 
 tance there was something about their appearance 
 that distinguished them from ordinary couples. 
 
266 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 Claudius's great height seemed still more imposing 
 now that he had affected the garb of civilisation, and 
 Margaret had the air of a womau of the great world 
 in every movement of her graceful body, and in 
 every fold of her perfect dress. American women, 
 when they dress well, dress better than any other 
 women in the world; but an American woman who 
 has lived at the foreign courts is unapproachable. If 
 there had been any one to see these two together on 
 Tuesday afternoon, there would have been words of 
 envy, malice, and hatred. As it was, they were 
 quite alone on the cliff walk. 
 
 Margaret was happy ; there was light in her eyes, 
 and a faint warm flush on her dark cheek. A closed 
 parasol hung from her hand, having an ivory handle 
 carved with an " M " and a crown — the very one that 
 three months ago had struck the first spark of their 
 acquaintance from the stones of the old Schloss at 
 Heidelberg — perhaps she had brought it on purpose. 
 She was happy still, for she did not know that Clau- 
 dius was going away, though he had brought her out 
 here, away from every one, that he might tell her. 
 But they had reached the cliff and had walked some 
 distance in the direction of the point, and yet he 
 spoke not. Something tied his tongue, and he would 
 have spoken if he could, but his words seemed too 
 big to come out. At last they came to a place where 
 a quick descent leads from the path down to the sea. 
 A little sheltered nook of sand and stones is there, 
 all irregular and rough, like the lumps in brown 
 sugar, and the lazy sea splashed a little against some 
 old pebbles it had known for a long time, never hav- 
 ing found the energy to wash them away. The rocks 
 above overhung the spot, so that it was entirely 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 267 
 
 shielded from the path, and the rocks below spread 
 themselves into a kind of seat. Here they sat them 
 down, facing the water — towards evening — not too 
 near to each other, not too far, — Margaret on the 
 right, Claudius on the left. And Claudius punched 
 the little pebbles with his stick after he had sat 
 down, wondering how he should begin. Indeed it 
 did not seem easy. It would have been easier if he 
 had been less advanced, or further advanced, in his 
 suit. Most people never jump without feeling, at 
 the moment of jumping, that they could leap a little 
 better if they could "take off" an inch nearer or 
 further away. 
 
 " Countess, " said the Doctor at last, turning tow- 
 ards her with a very grave look in his face, " I have 
 something to tell you, and I do not know how to say 
 it." He paused, and Margaret looked at the sea, 
 without noticing him, for she half fancied he was on 
 the point of repeating his former indiscretion and 
 saying he loved her. Would it be an indiscretion 
 now ? She wondered what she should say, what she 
 would say, if he did — venture. Would she say " it 
 was not right " of him now ? In a moment Claudius 
 had resolved to plunge boldly at the truth. 
 
 "I am obliged to go away very suddenly," he said; 
 and his voice trembled violently. 
 
 Margaret's face lost colour in answer, and she 
 resisted an impulse to turn and meet his eyes. She 
 would have liked to, but she felt his look on her, 
 and she feared lest, looking once, she should look 
 too long. 
 
 "Must you go away?" she asked with a good deal 
 of self-possession. 
 
 " Yes, I fear I must. I know I must, if I mean to 
 
268 DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 
 
 remain here afterwards. I would rather go at once 
 and be done with it." He still spoke uncertainly, 
 as if struggling with some violent hoarseness in his 
 throat. 
 
 " Tell me why you must go," she said imperiously. 
 Claudius hesitated a moment. 
 
 " I will tell you one of the principal reasons of my 
 going," he said. "You know I came here to take 
 possession of my fortune, and I very naturally relied 
 upon doing so. Obviously, if I do not obtain it I 
 cannot continue to live in the way I am now doing, 
 on the slender resources which have been enough 
 for me until now." 
 
 "Et puis?" said the Countess, raising her eye- 
 brows a little. 
 
 "Et puis," continued the Doctor, "these legal 
 gentlemen find difficulty in persuading themselves 
 that I am myself — that I am really the nephew of 
 Gustavus Lindstrand, deceased." 
 
 "What nonsense!" exclaimed Margaret. "And 
 so to please them you are going away. And who 
 will get your money, pray ? " 
 
 "I will get it," answered Claudius, "for I will 
 come back as soon as I have obtained the necessary 
 proofs of my identity from Heidelberg." 
 
 "I never heard of anything so ridiculous," said 
 Margaret hotly. " To go all that distance for a few 
 papers. As if we did not all know you ! If you are 
 not Dr. Claudius, who are you? Why, Mr. Barker 
 went to Heidelberg on purpose to find you." 
 
 "Nevertheless, Messrs. Screw and Scratch doubt 
 me. Here is their letter — the last one. Will you 
 look at it?" and Claudius took an envelope from his 
 pocket-book. He was glad to have come over to the 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 269 
 
 argumentative tack, for his heart was very sore, and 
 he knew what the end must be. 
 
 "No." The Countess turned to him for the first 
 time, with an indescribable look in her face, between 
 -anger and pain. "No, I will not read it." 
 
 "I wish you would," said Claudius, "you would 
 understand better." Something in his voice touched 
 a sympathetic chord. 
 
 "I think I understand," said the Countess, looking 
 back at the sea, which was growing dim and indis- 
 tinct before her. "I think you ought to go." 
 
 The indistinctness of her vision was not due to any 
 defect in her sight. The M'et fog was rising like a 
 shapeless evil genius out of the sluggish sea, rolling 
 heavily across the little bay to the lovers' beach, 
 with its swollen arms full of blight and mildew. 
 Margaret shivered at the sight of it, and drew the 
 lace thing she wore closer to her. throat. But she 
 did not rise, or make any sign that she would go. 
 
 "What is the other reason for your going?" she 
 asked at length. 
 
 " What other reason ? " 
 
 " You said your inheritance, or the evidence you 
 require in order to obtain it, was one of the principal 
 reasons for your going. I suppose there is another? " 
 
 " Yes, Countess, there is another reason, but I can- 
 not tell you now what it is." 
 
 "I have no right to ask, of course," said Margaret, 
 — "unless I can help you," she added, in her soft, 
 deep voice. 
 
 "You have more right than you think, far more 
 right," answered Claudius. "And I thank fou for 
 the kind thought of help. It is very good of you." 
 He turned towards her, and leaned upon his hand as 
 
270 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 he sat. Still the fog rolled up, and the lifeless sea 
 seemed overshed with an unctuous calm. They were 
 almost in the dark on their strip of beach, and the 
 moisture was already clinging in great, thick drops 
 to their clothes, and to the rocks where they sat. 
 Stiir Claudius looked at Margaret, and Margaret 
 looked at the narrow band of oily water still uncov- 
 ered by the mist. 
 
 "When are you going?" she asked slowly, as if 
 hating to meet the answer. 
 
 "To-night," said Claudius, still looking earnestly 
 at her. The light was gone from her eyes, and the 
 flush had long sunk away to the heart whence it had 
 come. 
 
 "To-night?" she repeated, a little vaguely. 
 
 "Yes,!' he said, and waited; then after a moment, 
 "Shall you mind when I am gone?" He leaned 
 towards her, earnestly looking into her face. 
 
 "Yes," said Margaret, "I shall be sorry." Her 
 voice was kind and very gentle. Still she did not 
 look at him. Claudius held out his right hand, palm 
 upward, to meet hers. 
 
 "Shall you mind much?" he asked earnestly, with 
 intent eyes. She met his hand and took it. 
 
 "Yes, I shall be very sorry." Claudius slipped 
 from the rock where he was sitting, and fell upon 
 one knee before her, kissing the hand she gave as 
 though it had been the holy cross. He looked up, 
 his face near hers, and at last he met her eyes, burn- 
 ing with a startled light under the black brows, con- 
 trasting with the white of her forehead, and face, and 
 throat. He looked one moment. 
 
 "Shall you really mind very much?" he asked a 
 third time, in a strange, lost voice. There was no 
 answer, only the wet fog all around, and those two 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 271 
 
 beautiful faces ashy pale in the mist, and very near 
 together. One instant so — and then — ^ah, God! 
 they have cast the die at last, for he has wound his 
 mighty arms about her, and is passionately kissing 
 the marble of her cheek. 
 
 " My beloved, my beloved, I love you — with all 
 my heart, and with all my soul, and with all my 
 strength" — but she speaks no word, only her arms 
 pass his and hang about his neck, and her dark head 
 lies on his breast; and could you but see her eyes, 
 you would see also the fair pearls that the little god 
 has formed deep down in the ocean of love — the 
 lashes thereof are wet with sudden weeping. And 
 all around them the deep, deaf fog, thick and muffled 
 as darkness, and yet not dark. 
 
 "Ugh!" muttered the evil genius of the sea, "I 
 hate lovers ; an' they drown not, they shall have a 
 wet wooing." And he came and touched them all 
 over with the clamminess of his deathly hand, and 
 breathed upon them the thick, cold breath of his 
 damp old soul. But he could do nothing against 
 such love as that, and the lovers burned him and 
 laughed him to scorn. 
 
 She was very silent as she kissed him and laid her 
 head on his breast. And he could only repeat what 
 was nearest, the credo of his love, and while his arms 
 were about her they were strong, but when he tried 
 to take them away, they were as tremulous as the 
 veriest aspen. 
 
 The great tidal wave comes rolling in, once in 
 every lifetime that deserves to be called a lifetime, 
 and sweeps away every one of our landmarks, and 
 changes all our coast-line. But though the waters 
 do not subside, yet the crest of them falls rippling 
 away into smoothness after the first mad rush, else 
 
272 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 should we all be but shipwrecked mariners in the sea 
 of love. And so, after a time, Margaret drew away 
 from Claudius gently, finding his hands with hers as 
 she moved, and holding them. 
 
 "Come," said she, "let us go." They were her 
 first words, and Claudius thought the deep voice had 
 never sounded so musical before. But the words, 
 the word "go," sounded like a knell on his heart. 
 He had forgotten that he must sail on the morrow. 
 He had forgotten that it was so soon over. 
 
 They went away, out of the drizzling fog and the 
 mist, and the evil sea-breath, up to the cliff walk 
 and so by the wet lanes homewards, two loving, 
 sorrowing hearts, not realising what had come to 
 them, nor knowing what should come hereafter, but 
 only big with love fresh spoken, and hot with tears 
 half shed. 
 
 "Beloved," said Claudius as they stood together 
 for the last time in the desolation of the great, dreary, 
 hotel drawing-room — • for Claudius was going — 
 "beloved, will you promise me something?" 
 
 Margaret looked down as she stood with her clasped 
 hands on his arm. 
 
 " What is it I should promise you — Claudius ? " 
 she asked, half hesitating. 
 
 Claudius laid his hand tenderly — tenderly, as 
 giants only can be tender, on the thick black hair, 
 as hardly daring, yet loving, to let it linger there. 
 
 "Will you promise that if you doubt me when I 
 am gone, you will ask of the Duke the 'other reason ' 
 of my going?" 
 
 "I shall not doubt you, " answered Margaret, look- 
 ing proudly up. 
 
 " God bless you, my beloved! " — and so he went to 
 sea again. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 273 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 When Mr. Barker, who had followed the party to 
 Newport, called on the Countess the following morn- 
 ing, she was not visible, so he was fain to content 
 himself with scribbling a very pressing invitation to 
 drive in the afternoon, which he sent up with some 
 flowers, not waiting for an answer. The fact was 
 that Margaret had sent for the Duke at an early hour 
 — for her — and was talking with him on matters of 
 importance at the time Barker called. Otherwise 
 she would very likely not have refused to see the 
 latter. 
 
 " I want you to explain to me what they are trying 
 to do to make Dr. Claudius give up his property," 
 said Margaret, who looked pale and beautiful in a 
 morning garment of nondescript shape and of white 
 silken material. The Duke was sitting by the win- 
 dow, watching a couple of men preparing to get into 
 a trim dogcart. To tell the truth, the dogcart and 
 the horse were the objects of interest. His Grace 
 was not aware that the young men were no less per- 
 sonages than young Mr. Hannibal Q. Sniggins and 
 young Mr. Orlando Van Sueindell, both of New 
 York, sons of the "great roads." Either of these 
 young gentlemen could have bought out his Grace; 
 either of them would have joyfully licked his boots; 
 and either of them would have protested, within the 
 
274 DOCTOR CLAXIDI0S. 
 
 sacred precincts of their gorgeous club in New York, 
 that he was a conceited ass of an Englishman. But 
 his Grace did not know this, or he would certainly 
 have regarded them with more interest. He was 
 profoundly indifferent to the character of the people 
 with whom he had to do, whether they were cata- 
 logued in the "book of snobs " or not. It is gener- 
 ally people who are themselves snobs who call their 
 intimates by that offensive epithet, attributing to 
 them the sin they fall into themselves. The Duke 
 distinguished between gentlemen and cads, when it 
 was a question of dining at the same table, but in 
 matters of business he believed the distinction of no 
 importance. He came to America for business pur- 
 poses, and he took Americans as he found them. 
 He thought they were very good men of business, 
 and when it came to associating with them on any 
 other footing, he thought some of them were gentle- 
 men and some were not — pretty much as it is every- 
 where else. So he watched the young men getting 
 into their dogcart, and he thought the whole turn- 
 out looked "very fit." 
 
 "Really," he began, in answer to the Countess's 
 question, " — upon my word, I don't know much 
 about it. At least, I suppose not." 
 
 " Oh, I thought you did, " said Margaret, taking 
 up a book and a paper-cutter. " I thought it must be 
 something rather serious, or he would not have been 
 obliged to go abroad to get papers about it." 
 
 " Well, you know, after all, he — aw — " the Duke 
 reddened ■ — ■ " he — well yes, exactly so. " 
 
 " Yes ? " said Margaret interrogatively, expecting 
 something more. 
 
 " Exactly, " said the Duke, still red, but determined 
 
DOCTOR CLAtTDItTS. 275 
 
 not to say anything. He had not promised Claudius 
 not to say he could have vouched for him, had the 
 Doctor stayed; but he feared that in telling Margaret 
 this, he might be risking the betrayal of Claudius's 
 actual destination. It would not do, however. 
 
 " I really do not iinderstand just what you said, " 
 said Margaret, looking at him. 
 
 " Ah ! well, no. I daresay I did not express my- 
 self very clearly. What was your question. Coun- 
 tess?" 
 
 "I asked who it was who was making so much 
 trouble for the Doctor, " said Margaret calmly. 
 
 " Oh, I was sure I could not have understood you. 
 It's the executors and lawyer people, who are not 
 satisfied about his identity. It's all right, though." 
 
 " Of course. But could no one here save him the 
 trouble of going all the way back to Germany? " 
 
 The Duke grew desperate. He was in a comer 
 where he must either tell a lie of some sort or let the 
 cat out of the bag. The Duke was a cynical and 
 worldly man enough, perhaps, as the times go, but 
 he did not tell lies. He plunged. 
 
 "My dear Countess," he said, facing towards her 
 and stroking his whiskers, " I really know something 
 about Dr. Claudius, and I will tell you all I am at 
 liberty to tell; please do not ask me anything else. 
 Claudius is really gone to obtain papers from Heidel- 
 berg as well as for another purpose which I cannot 
 divulge. The papers might have been dispensed 
 with, for I could have sworn to him." 
 
 "Then the other object is the important one," said 
 the Countess pensively. The Duke was silent. " I 
 am greatly obliged to you," Margaret continued, "for 
 .what you have told me." 
 
276 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "I will tell you what I can do," said the English- 
 man after a pause, during which an unusual expres- 
 sion in his face seemed to betoken thought. " I am 
 going to the West for a couple of months to look 
 after things, and of course accidents may happen. 
 Claudius may have difficulty in getting what he 
 wants, and I am the only man here who knows all 
 about him. He satisfied me of his identity. I will, 
 if you like, sign a statement vouching for him, and 
 leave it in your hands in case of need. It is all I can 
 do." 
 
 "In my hands?" exclaimed Margaret, drawing 
 herself up a little. " And why in my hands, Duke ? " 
 The Duke got very red indeed this time, and hesi- 
 tated. He had put his foot into it through sheer 
 goodness of heart and a desire to help everybody. 
 
 "Aw — a — the — the fact is. Countess," he got 
 out at last, " the fact is, you know, Claudius has not 
 many friends here, and I thought you were one of 
 them. My only desire is ^ — a — to serve him. " 
 
 Margaret had quickly grasped the advantage to 
 Claudius, if such a voucher as the Duke offered were 
 kept in pickle as a rod for his enemies. 
 
 "You are right," said she, "I am a good friend of 
 Dr. Claudius, and I will keep the paper in case of 
 need." 
 
 The Duke recovered his equanimity. 
 
 " Thank you, " said he. " I am a very good friend 
 of his, and I thank you on his behalf, as I am sure 
 he will himself. There's one of our Foreign Office 
 clerks here for his holiday ; I will get him to draw 
 up the paper as he is an old friend of mine — in fact, 
 some relation, I believe. By Jove ! there goes Bar- 
 ker." The latter exclamation was caused by the 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 277 
 
 sudden appearance of the man lie named on the oppo- 
 site side of the avenue, in conversation with the two 
 young gentlemen whom the Duke had already noticed 
 as preparing to mount their dogcart. 
 
 "Oh," said Margaret indiiferently, in response to 
 the exclamation. 
 
 "Yes," said the Duke, "it is he. I thought he 
 was in New York." 
 
 "No," said the Countess, "he has just called. It 
 was his card they brought me just as you came. He 
 wants me to drive with him this afternoon." 
 
 "Indeed. Shall you go?" 
 
 "I think so — yes," said she. 
 
 "Very well. I will take my sister with me,'" said 
 the Duke. " I have got something very decent to 
 drive in." Margaret laughed at the implied invita- 
 tion. 
 
 "How you take things for granted," said she. 
 " Did you really think I would have gone with you ? " 
 
 "Such things have happened," said the Duke 
 good-humouredly, and went away. Not being in the 
 least a ladies' man, he was very apt to make such 
 speeches occasionally. He had a habit of taking it 
 for granted that no one refused his invitations. 
 
 At four o'clock that afternoon Silas B. Barker 
 junior drew up to the steps of the hotel in a very gor- 
 geous conveyance, called in America a T-cart, and 
 resembling a mail phaeton in build. From the high 
 double box Mr. Barker commanded and guided a pair 
 of showy brown horses, harnessed in the most approved 
 philanthropic, or rather philozooic style; no check- 
 rein, no breeching, no nothing apparently, except a 
 pole and Mr. Barker's crest. For Mr. Barker had a 
 crest, since he came from Salem, Massachusetts, and 
 
278 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 the bearings were a witch pendant, gules, on a gallows 
 sinister, sable. Behind him sat the regulation clock- 
 work groom, brought over at considerable expense 
 from the establishment of Viscount Plungham, and 
 who sprang to the ground and took his place at the 
 horses' heads as soon as Barker had brought them 
 to a stand. Then Barker, arrayed in a new hat, 
 patent-leather boots, a very long frock-coat, and a 
 very expensive rose, descended lightly from his 
 chariot and swiftly ascended the steps, seeming to 
 tread half on air and half on eggshells. And a few 
 minutes later he again appeared, accompanied by 
 the Countess Margaret, looking dark and pale and 
 queenly. A proud man was dandy Silas as he helped 
 her to her place, and going to the other side, got in 
 and took the ribbands. Many were the glances that 
 shot from the two edges of the road at the unknown 
 beauty whom Silas drove by his side, and obsequious 
 were the bows of Silas's friends as they passed. 
 Even the groggy old man who drives the water-cart 
 on Bellevue Avenue could scarce forbear to cheer as 
 she went by. 
 
 And so they drove away,, side by side. Barker 
 knew very well that Claudius had taken his leave 
 the day before, and to tell the truth, he was a good 
 deal surprised that Margaret should be willing to 
 accept this invitation. He had called to ask her, 
 because he was not the man to let the grass grow 
 under his feet at any time, much less when he was 
 laying siege to a woman. For with women time is 
 sometimes everything. And being of a reasonable 
 mind, when Mr. Barker observed that he was sur- 
 prised, he concluded that there must be some good 
 reason for his astonishment, and still more that there 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 279 
 
 must be some very good reason why Margaret should 
 accept his first invitation to a tSte-d-tete afternoon. 
 From one reflection to another, he came at last to 
 the conclusion that she must be anxious to learn some 
 details concerning the Doctor's departure, from which 
 again he argued that Claudius had not taken her into 
 his confidence. The hypothesis that she might be 
 willing to make an effort with him for Claudius's 
 justification Mr. Barker dismissed as improbable. 
 And he was right. He waited, therefore, for her to 
 broach the subject, and confined himself, as they 
 drove along, to remarks about the people they passed, 
 the doings of the Newport summer, concerning which 
 he had heard all the gossip during the last few 
 hours, the prospect of Madame Patti in opera during 
 the coming season, horses, dogs, and mutual friends 
 — all the motley array of subjects permissible, desul- 
 tory, and amusing. Suddenly, as they bowled out on 
 an open road by the sea, Margaret began. 
 
 "Why has Dr. Claudius gone abroad?" she asked, 
 glancing at Barker's face, which remained impene- 
 trable as ever. Barker changed his bold on the reins, 
 and stuck the whip into the bucket by his side before 
 he answered. 
 
 " They say he has gone to get himself sworn to, " 
 he said rather slowly, and with a good show of indif- 
 ference. 
 
 "I cannot see why that was necessary," answered 
 Margaret calmly. " It seems to me we all knew him 
 very well." 
 
 "Oh, nobody can understand lawyers," said Bar- 
 ker, and was silent, knowing how strong a position 
 silence was, for she could know nothing more about 
 Claudius without committing herself to a direct ques- 
 
280 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 tion. Barker was in a difficult position. He fully- 
 intended later to hint that Claudius might never 
 return at all. But he knew too much to do anything 
 of the kind at present, when the memory of the Doc- 
 tor was fresh in the Countess's mind, and when, as 
 he guessed, he himself was not too high in her favour. 
 He therefore told a bit of the plain truth which could 
 not be cast in his teeth afterwards, and was silent. 
 
 It was a good move, and Margaret was fain to take 
 to some other subject of conversation, lest the pause 
 should seem long. They had not gone far before 
 the society kaleidoscope was once more in motion, 
 and Barker was talking his best. They rolled along, 
 passing most things on the road, and when they came 
 to a bit of hill, he walked his horses, on pretence of 
 keeping them cool, but in reality to lengthen the 
 drive and increase his advantage, if only by a minute 
 and a hair-breadth. He could see he was amusing 
 her, as he drew her away from the thing that made 
 her heavy, and sketched, and crayoned, and photo- 
 graphed from memory all manner of harmless gossip 
 — he took care that it should be harmless — and such 
 book-talk as he could command, with such a general 
 sprinkling of sentimentalism, ready made and easy 
 to handle, as American young men affect in talking 
 to women. 
 
 Making allowance for the customs of the country, 
 they were passing a very innocently diverting after- 
 noon ; and Margaret, though secretly annoyed at find- 
 ing that Barker would not talk about Claudius, or 
 add in any way to her information, was nevertheless 
 congratulating herself upon the smooth termination 
 of the interview. She had indeed only accepted the 
 invitation in the hope of learning something more 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 281 
 
 about Claudius and his " other reason." But she also 
 recognised that, though Barker were unwilling to 
 speak of the Doctor, he might have made himself very 
 disagreeable by taking advantage of the confession 
 of interest she had volunteered in asking so direct a 
 question. But Barker had taken no such lead, and 
 never referred to Claudius in all the ramblings of his 
 polite conversation. 
 
 He was in the midst of a description of Mrs. Orlando 
 Van Sueindell's last dinner-party, which he had un- 
 fortunately missed, when his browns, less peaceably 
 disposed than most of the lazy bean-fed cattle one 
 sees on the Newport avenue, took it into their heads 
 that it would be a joyous thing to canter down a 
 steep place into the sea. The road turned, with a 
 sudden dip, across a little neck of land separating 
 the bay from the harbour, and the descent was, for a 
 few yards, very abrupt. At this point, then, the 
 intelligent animals conceived the ingenious scheme 
 of bolting, with that eccentricity of device which 
 seems to characterise overfed carriage-horses. In an 
 instant they were off, and it was clear there would 
 be no stopping them — from a trot to a break, from 
 a canter to a gallop, from a gallop to a tearing, break- 
 neck, leave-your-bones-behind-you race, all in a mo- 
 ment, down to the sea. 
 
 Barker was not afraid, and he did what he could. 
 He was not a strong man, and he knew himself no 
 match for the two horses, but he hoped by a sudden 
 effort, repeated once or twice, to scare the runaways 
 into a standstill, as is sometimes possible. Acting 
 immediately on his determination, as he always did, 
 he wound one hand in each rein, and half rising 
 from his high seat, jerked with all his might. Mar- 
 garet held her breath. 
 
282 
 
 DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 
 
 But alas for the rarity of strength in saddlers' 
 work ! The off-rein snapped away like a thread just 
 where the buckle leads half of it over to the near 
 horse, and the strain on the right hand being thus 
 suddenly removed, the horses' heads were jerked 
 violently to the left, and they became wholly unman- 
 ageable. Barker was silent, and iietantly dropped 
 the unbroken rein. As fo Man^ttret, she sat quite 
 still, holding to the lov* rail-back of her seat, and 
 preparing for a jump. They were by this time nearly 
 at the bottom of the descent, and rapidly approach- 
 ing a corner where a great heap of rocks made the 
 prospect hideous. To haul the horses over to the 
 left would have been destruction, as the ground fell 
 away on that side to a considerable depth down to 
 the rocks below. Then Barker did a brave thing. 
 
 "If I miss him, jump off to the right," he cried; 
 and in a moment, before Margaret could answer or 
 prevent him, he had got over the dashboard, and was 
 in mid-air, a strange figure, in his long frock-coat 
 and shiny hat. With a bold leap — and the Countess 
 shivered as she saw him flying in front of her — he 
 alighted on the back of the off horse, almost on his 
 face, but well across the beast for all that. Light 
 and wiry, a mere bundle of nerves dressed up, Mr. 
 Barker was not to be shaken off, and, while the 
 animal was still plunging, he had caught the flying 
 bits of bridle, and was sawing away, right and left, 
 with the energy of despair. Between, its terror at 
 being suddenly mounted by some one out of a clear 
 sky, so to say, and the violent' wrenching it was 
 getting from Barker's bony little hands, the beast 
 decided to stop at last, and its companion, who was 
 coming in for some of the pulling too, stopped by 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 283 
 
 sympathy, with a series of snorts and plunges. Bar- 
 ker still clung to the broken rein, leaning far over 
 the horse's neck so as to wind it round his wrist; 
 and he shouted to Margaret to get out, which she 
 immediately did; but, instead of fainting away, she 
 came to the horses' heads and stood before them, a 
 commanding fig £ that even a dumb animal would 
 not dare to slight — too ^mh excited to speak yet, 
 but ready to face anything. 
 
 A few moments later the groom, whose existence 
 they had both forgotten, came running down to them, 
 with a red face, and dusting his battered hat on his 
 arm as he came. He had quietly slipped off behind, 
 and had been rolled head over heels for his pains, 
 but had suffered no injury. Then Barker got off. 
 He was covered with dust, but his hat was still on 
 his head, and he did not look as though he had been 
 jumping for his life. Margaret turned to him with 
 genuine gratitude and admiration, for he had borne 
 himself as few men could or would have done. 
 
 "You have saved my life," she said, "and I am 
 very grateful. It was very brave of you. " And she 
 held out her hand to meet his, now trembling vio- 
 lently from the fierce strain. 
 
 "Oh, not at all; it was really nothing," he said, 
 bowing low. But the deep wrinkle that scored Bar- 
 ker's successes in life showed plainly round his 
 mouth. He knew what his advantage was, and he 
 had no thought of the danger when he reflected on 
 what he had gained. Not he! His heart, or the 
 organ which served him in place of one, was full of 
 triumph. Had he planned the whole thing with the 
 utmost skill and foresight he could not have suc- 
 ceeded better. Such a victory! and the very first 
 
284 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 day after Claudius's departure Ye gods! what 
 
 luck! 
 
 And so it came to pass that by the time the harness 
 had been tied together and the conveyance got with- 
 out accident as far as the first stable on the outskirts 
 of the town, where it was left with the groom, Bar- 
 ker had received a goodly meed of thanks and praise. 
 And when Margaret proposed that they should walk 
 as far as the hotel. Barker tried a few steps and 
 found he was too lame for such exercise, his left leg 
 having been badly bruised by the pole of the carriage 
 in his late exploit; which injury elicited a further 
 show of sympathy from Margaret. And when at last 
 he left her with a cab at the door of her hotel, he pro- 
 tested that he had enjoyed a very delightful drive, 
 and went away in high spirits. Margaret, in her 
 gratitude for such an escape, and in unfeigned ad- 
 miration of Barker's daring and coolness, was cer- 
 tainly inclined to think better of him than she had 
 done for a long time. Or perhaps it would be truer 
 to say that he was more in her thoughts than he had 
 been ; for, in the reign of Claudius, Barker had dwin- 
 dled to a nearly insignificant speck in the landscape, 
 dwarfed away to nothing by the larger mould and 
 stronger character of the Swede. 
 
 Margaret saw the Duke in the evening. He gave 
 her a document, unsealed, in a huge envelope, bid- 
 ding her keep it in a safe place, for the use of their 
 mutual friend, in case he should need it. She said 
 she would give it to Claudius when he came back; 
 and then she told the Duke about her drive with Bar- 
 ker and the accident. The Duke looked grave. 
 
 " Of course," he said, " I introduced Barker to you, 
 and it would seem very odd if. I were to warn you 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 285 
 
 against him now. All the same, Countess, I have 
 had the honour of being your friend for some time, 
 and I must say I have sometimes regretted that I 
 brought him to your house." He reddened a little 
 after he had spoken, fearing she might have misun- 
 derstood him. "I wish," he added, to make things 
 clearer, "that I could have brought you Claudius 
 without Barker." Then he reddened still more, and 
 wished he had said nothing. Margaret raised her 
 eyebrows. Perhaps she could have wished as much 
 herself, but she dropped the subject. 
 
 "When are you coming back from the West, 
 Duke," she asked, busying herself in arranging some 
 books on her table. The hotel sitting-room was so 
 deadly dreary to the eye that she was trying to make 
 it look as if it had not been lately used as a place of 
 burial. 
 
 " It may be two months before I am here again. 
 A — about the time Claudius comes over, I should 
 think." 
 
 " And when do you go ? " 
 
 "Next week, I think." 
 
 "I wish you were going to stay," said Margaret 
 simply, "or Lady Victoria. I shall be so lonely." 
 
 " You will have Miss Skeat, " suggested his Grace. 
 
 "Oh, it's not that," said she. "I shall not be 
 alone altogether, for there is poor Nicholas, you 
 know. I must take care of him; and then I suppose 
 some of these people will want to amuse me, or en- 
 tertain me — not that they are very entertaining ; but 
 they mean well. Besides, my being mixed up in a 
 Nihilist persecution adds to my social value." The 
 Duke, however, was not listening, his mind being 
 full of other things — what there was of it, and his 
 
286 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 heart had long determined to sympathise with Mar- 
 garet in her troubles ; so there was nothir^g more to 
 be said. 
 
 "Dear me," thought Miss Skeat, "what a pity! 
 They say she might have had the Duke when she 
 was a mere child — and to think that she should have 
 refused him! So admirably suited to each other!" 
 But Miss Skeat, as she sat at the other end of the 
 room trying to find " what it was the people saw so 
 funny" in the Tramp Abroad, was mistaken about 
 her patroness and the very high and mighty per- 
 sonage from the aristocracy. The Duke was much 
 older than Margaret, and had been married before he 
 had ever seen her. It was only because they were 
 such good friends that the busybodies said they had 
 just missed being man and wife. 
 
 But when the Duke was gone, Margaret and Miss 
 Skeat were left alone, and they drew near each other 
 and sat by the table, the elder lady reading aloud 
 from a very modern novel. The Countess paid little 
 attention to Avhat she heard, for she was weary, and 
 it seemed as though the evening would never end. 
 Miss Skeat's even and somewhat monotonous voi'ce 
 produced no sensation of drowsiness to-night, as it 
 often did, though Margaret's eyes were half-closed 
 and her fingers idle. She needed rest, but it would 
 not come, and still her brain went whirling through 
 the scenes of the past twenty-four hours, again and 
 again recurring to the question "Why is he gone?" 
 unanswered and yet ever repeated, as the dreadful 
 wake-song of the wild Irish, the "Why did he die?" 
 that haunts the ear that has once heard it for weeks 
 afterwards. 
 
 She tried to reason, but there was no reason. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 287 
 
 Why, why, why ? He was gone with her kiss on his 
 lips and her breath in his. She should have waited 
 till he came back from over the sea before giving 
 him what was so very precious. More than once, 
 as she repeated the words he had spoken at parting, 
 she asked herself whether she doubted him after all, 
 and whether it would not be wiser to speak to the 
 Duke. But then, the latter so evidently believed in 
 Claudius that it comforted her to think of his honest 
 faith, and she would dismiss every doubt again as 
 vain and wearying. But still the eternal question 
 rang loudly in her soul's ears, and the din of the 
 inquisitive devil that would not be satisfied deafened 
 her so that she could not bear Miss Skeat. Once or 
 twice she moved her head nervously from side to 
 side, as it rested on the back of the chair, and her 
 face was drawn and pale, so that Miss Skeat anx- 
 iously asked whether she were in any pain, but Mar- 
 garet merely motioned to her companion to continue 
 reading, and was silent. But Miss Skeat grew 
 uneasy, feeling sure that something was the matter. 
 
 "Dear Countess," she said, "will you not retire 
 to rest? I fear that this horrid accident has shaken 
 you. Do go to bed, and I will come and read you 
 to sleep." Her voice sounded kindly, and Mar- 
 garet's fingers stole out till they covered Miss Skeat's 
 bony white ones, with the green veins and the yel- 
 lowish lights between the knuckles. 
 
 Miss Skeat, at this unusual manifestation of feel- 
 ing, laid down the book she held in her other hand, 
 and settled her gold-rimmed glasses over her long 
 nose. Then her eyes beamed across at Margaret, 
 and a kindly, old-fashioned smile came into her face 
 that was good to see, and as she pressed the hot young 
 
288 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 hand in hers there was a suspicion of motherliness in 
 her expression that would have surprised a stranger. 
 For Miss Skeat did not look motherly at ordinary 
 times. 
 
 "Poor child!" said she softly. Margaret's other 
 hand went to her eyes and hid them from sight, 
 and her head sank forward until it touched her fin- 
 gers, where they joined Miss Skeat's. 
 
 "I am so unhappy to-night," murmured Margaret, 
 finding at last, in the evening hours, the sympathy 
 she had longed for all day. Miss Skeat changed her 
 own. position a little so as to be nearer to her. 
 
 "Poor child!" repeated Miss Skeat almost in a 
 whisper, as she bent down to the regal head that lay 
 against her hand, smoothing the thick hair with her 
 worn fingers. "Poor child, do you love him so very 
 dearly?" She spoke almost inaudibly, and her 
 wrinkled eyelids were wet. But low as was her 
 voice, Margaret heard, and moved her head in assent, 
 without lifting it from the table. 
 
 Ah yes — she loved him very, very much. But 
 she could not bear to confess it, for all that, and a 
 moment afterwards she was sitting upright again 
 in her chair, feeling that she had weathered the 
 first storm. Her companion, who was not ignorant 
 of her ways, contented herself then with patting 
 Margaret's hand caressingly during the instant it 
 remained in her own, before it was drawn away. 
 There was a world of kindness and of gentle human- 
 ity in the gaunt gentlewoman's manner, showing 
 that the heart within was not withered yet. Then 
 Miss Skeat flattened the book before her with the 
 paper-cutter, and began to read. Reading aloud had 
 become to her a second nature, and whether she had 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 289 
 
 liked it or not at first, she had learned to do it with 
 perfect ease and indifference, neither letting her voice 
 drag languidly and hesitatingly when she was tired, 
 nor falling into that nerve-rending fault of readers 
 who vainly endeavour to personate the characters in 
 dialogue, and to give impressiveness in the descrip- 
 tive portions. She never made a remark, or asked 
 her hearer's opinion. If the Countess was in the 
 humour to sleep, the reading was soporific; if she 
 desired to listen, she felt that her companion was not 
 trying to bias her judgment by the introduction of 
 di"amatic intonation and effect. With an even, un- 
 tiring correctness of utterance. Miss Skeat read one 
 book just as she read another — M. Thiers or Mr. 
 Henry James, Mark Twain or a Parliamentary Re- 
 port — it was all one to her. Poor Miss Skeat ! 
 
 But to Margaret the evening seemed long and tlte 
 night longer, and many days and evenings and nights 
 f^fterwards. Not that she doubted, but that she 
 thought — well — perhaps she thought she ought to 
 doubt. Some cunning reader of face and character, 
 laughing and making love by turns, had once told 
 her she had more heart than head. Every woman 
 knows she ought to seem flattered at being considered 
 a "person of heart," and yet every woman cordially 
 hates to be told so. And, at last, Margaret began 
 to wonder whether it were true. Should she have 
 admitted she loved a man who left her a moment 
 afterwards in order to make a voyage of two months 
 for the mere furthering of his worldly interest ? But 
 then — he told her he was going before he kissed her. 
 What could be the " other reason " ? 
 
290 DOCTOR CLAUDItrS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that a man of Barker's 
 character would neglect the signal advantage he had 
 gained in being injured, or at least badly bruised, 
 while attempting to save Margaret from destruction. 
 That he had really saved her was a less point, in his 
 favour than that he had barked his shins in so doing. 
 The proverbial relationship between pity and love is 
 so exceedingly well known that many professional 
 love-makers systematically begin their campaigns by 
 endeavouring to move the compassion of the woman 
 they are attacking. Occasionally they find a woman 
 with whom pity is akin to scorn instead of to love — 
 and then their policy is a failure. 
 
 The dark Countess was no soft-hearted Saxon 
 maiden, any more than she was a cold-blooded, cut- 
 throat American girl, calculating her romance by the 
 yard, booking her flirtations by double-entry and 
 marrying at compound interest, with the head of a 
 railwaj' president and the heart of an Esquimaux. 
 She was rather one of those women who are ever 
 ready to sympathise froiur a naturally generous and 
 noble nature, but who rarely give their friendship 
 and still more seldom their love. They ma,rry, some- 
 times, where there is neither. They marry ye 
 
 gods ! why do people marry, and what reasons will 
 they not find for marrying? But such women, if 
 
DOCTOR CLATTDIUS. 291 
 
 they are wedded where their heart is not, are generally- 
 very young ; far too young to know what they are 
 doing; and though there be little inclination to the 
 step, it always turns out that they had at least a 
 respect for the man. Margaret had been married to 
 Count Alexis because it was in every way such a 
 plausible match, and she was only eighteen then, 
 poor thing. But Alexis was such an uncommonly 
 good fellow that she had honestly tried to love him, 
 and had not altogether failed. At least she had never 
 had any domestic troubles, and when he was shot at 
 Plevna, in 1876, she shed some very genuine tears 
 and shut herself away from the world for a long time. 
 But though her sorrow was sincere, it was not pro- 
 found, and she knew it from the first, never deceiv- 
 ing herself with the idea that she could not marry 
 again. She had sustained many a siege, however, 
 both before her husband's untimely death and since ; 
 and though a stranger to love, she was no novice in 
 love-making. Indeed few women are ; certainly no 
 beautiful women. 
 
 Margaret, then, though a pure-hearted and brave 
 lady, was of the world, understanding the wiles 
 thereof; and so, when Mr. Barker began to come 
 regularly to see her, and when she noticed how very 
 long the slight lameness he had incurred from the 
 runaway accident seemed to last, and when she ob- 
 served how cunningly he endeavoured to excite her 
 S3mipathy towards him, she began to suspect that he 
 meant something more than a mere diversion for him- 
 self. He spoke so feelingly of his lonely position in 
 the world ; to accentuate which, he spoke of his father 
 without any feeling whatever. He represented him- 
 self as so drearily lonely and friendless in this hard- 
 
292 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 hearted, thorny world. Quite a little lamb was Silas, 
 leaving shreds of his pure white wool rent off and 
 clinging to the briars of his solitary life-journey. 
 He was verj' patient in his sufferings, he said, for he 
 so keenly felt that coarser natures could not suffer 
 as he did ; that troubles glided from their backs like 
 water from the feathers of the draggled but happy 
 goose, whereas on his tender heart they struck deep 
 like a fiery rain. Was it not Danty who told of those 
 poor people who were exposed to the molten drizzle ? 
 Ah yes ! Danty knew, of course, for he had been a 
 great sufferer. What a beautiful, yet sad, word is 
 that, "to suffer"! How gentle and lovely to suffer 
 without complaint ! Had the Countess ever thought 
 of it ? To suffer silently — and long — (here Silas 
 cast a love-sick glance out of his small dark eyes) — 
 with the hope of gaining an object infinitely far re- 
 moved, but — (another glance) — infinitely beautiful 
 and worth obtaining. Oh! Silas would suffer for 
 ever in such a hope ! There was nothing Silas would 
 not do that was saintly that he might gain heaven. 
 
 After a time, Margaret, who disliked this kind of 
 talk intensely, began to look grave, an omen which 
 Barker did not fail to interpret to his advantage, for 
 it is a step gained when a woman begins to be serious. 
 Only a man ignorant of Margaret's real character, 
 and incapable of appreciating it, could have been so 
 deceived in this case. She had felt strongly that 
 Barker had saved her life, and that he had acted with 
 a boldness and determination on that occasion which 
 would have merited her admiration even had it not 
 commanded her gratitude. But she was really grate- 
 ful, and, wishing to show it, could devise no better 
 plan than to receive his visits and to listen politely 
 to his conversation. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 293 
 
 One day, late in the afternoon, they were sitting 
 together over a cup of tea, and Barker was pouring 
 out his experiences, or what he was pleased to call 
 by that name, for they were not genuine. Not that 
 his own existence would have been a dull or unin- 
 teresting chapter for a rainy afternoon, for Barker 
 had led a stirring life of its kind. But as it was 
 necessary to strike the pathetic key, seeing that 
 Claudius had the heroic symphony to himself, Bar- 
 ker embroidered skilfully a little picture in which he 
 appeared more sinned against than sinning, inas- 
 much as he had been called upon to play the aveng- 
 ing angel. He had succeeded, he admitted, in 
 accomplishing his object, which in his opinion had 
 been a justifiable one, but it had left a sore place in 
 his heart, and he had never quite recovered from the 
 pain it had given him to give so much pain — whole- 
 some pain indeed, but what of that ? — to another. 
 
 "It was in New York, some years ago," he said. 
 "A friend of mine, such a dear good fellow, was very 
 
 much in love with a reigning beauty, a Miss ; 
 
 well, you will guess the name. She threw him over, 
 after a three months' engagement, in the most heart- 
 less manner, and he was so broken-hearted that he 
 drank himself to death in six months at the club. 
 He died there one winter's evening under very pain- 
 ful circumstances." 
 
 "A noble end," said Margaret, scornfully. "What 
 a proud race we Americans are!" Barker sighed 
 skilfully and looked reproachfully at Margaret. 
 
 "Poor chap!" he ejaculated, "I saw him die. 
 And that night," continued Mr. Barker, with a 
 mournful impressiveness, "I determined that the 
 woman who had caused so much unhappiness should 
 
294 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 be made to know what unhappiness is. I made up 
 my mind that she should suffer what my friend had 
 suffered. I knew her very well, — in fact she was a 
 distant connection ; so I went to her at a ball at the 
 Van Sueindells'. I had engaged her to dance the 
 German,! ^^(j -j^^^ ^qj^^ j^gj. gome very handsome roses. 
 I had laid my plan already, and after a little chaff 
 and a few turns I challenged her to a set flirtation. 
 'Let us swear,' I said, 'to be honest, and let us make 
 a bet of a dozen pairs of gloves. If one of us really 
 falls in love, he or she must acknowledge it and pay 
 the gloves.' It was agreed, for she was in great 
 spirits that night, and laughed at the idea that she 
 could ever fall in love with me — poor me ! who have 
 so little that is attractive. At first she thought it 
 was only a joke, but as I began to visit her regularly 
 and to go through all the formalities of love-making, 
 she became interested. We were soon the talk of 
 the town, and everybody said we were going to be 
 married. Still the engagement did not come out, 
 and people waited, open-mouthed, wondering what 
 next. At last I thought I was safe, and so, the first 
 chance I had at a party in Newport, I made a dead 
 set at a new beauty just arrived from the South — I 
 forget where. The other — the one with whom I was 
 betting — was there, and I watched her. She lost her 
 temper completely, and turned all sorts of colours. 
 Then I knew I had won, and so I went back to her 
 and talked to her for the rest of the evening, explain- 
 ing that the other young lady was a sister of a very 
 dear friend of mine. 
 
 " The next day I called on my beauty, and throw- 
 ing myself at her feet, I declared myself vanquished. 
 1 American for the cotillon. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 295 
 
 The result was just as I expected. She burst into 
 tears and put her arms round my neck, and said it 
 was she who lost, for she really loved me though she 
 had been too proud to acknowledge it. Then I calmly 
 rose and laughed. 'I do not care for you in the 
 least,' I said; 'I only said so to make you speak. I 
 have won the gloves.' She broke down completely, 
 and went abroad a few days afterwards. And so I 
 avenged my friend." 
 
 There was a pause when Barker had finished his 
 tale. He sipped his tea, and Margaret rose slowly 
 and went to the window. 
 
 "Don't you think that is a very good story. Coun- 
 tess?" he asked. "Don't you think I was quite 
 right ? " Still no answer. Margaret rang the bell, 
 and old Vladimir appeared. 
 
 "Mr. Barker's carriage," said she; then, recollect- 
 ing herself, she repeated the order in Russian, and 
 swept out of the room without deigning to look at 
 the astonished young man, standing on the hearthrug 
 with his tea-cup in his hand. How is it that Vladi- 
 mir succeeds in interpreting his mistress's orders to 
 the domestics of the various countries in which she 
 travels is a mystery not fathomed, for in her pres- 
 ence he understands only the Slav tongue. But 
 however that may be, a minute had not elapsed before 
 Mr. Barker was informed by another servant that his 
 carriage was at the door. He turned pale as he de- 
 scended the steps. 
 
 You have carried it too far, Mr. Barker. That is 
 not the kind of story that a lady of Countess Mar- 
 garet's temper will listen to ; for when you did the 
 thing you have told her — 'if indeed 3'ou ever did it, 
 which is doubtful — you did a very base and unmanly 
 
296 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 thing. It may not be very nice to act as that young 
 lady did to your friend ; but then, just think how very 
 much worse it would have been if she had married him 
 from a sense of duty, and made him feel it afterwards. 
 Worse? Ay, worse than a hundred deaths. You 
 are an ass, Barker, with your complicated calcula- 
 tions, as the Duke has often told you ; and now it is 
 a thousand to one that you have ruined yourself with 
 the Countess. She will never take your view that it 
 was a justifiable piece of revenge ; she will only see 
 in it a cruel and dastardly deception, practised on a 
 woman whose only fault was that, not loving, she 
 discovered her mistake in time. A man should re- 
 joice when a woman draws back from an engagement, 
 reflecting what his life might have been had she not 
 done so. 
 
 But Barker's face was sickly with disappointment 
 as he drove away, and he could hardly collect him- 
 self enough to determine what was best to be done. 
 'However, after a time he came to the conclusion that 
 a letter must be written of humble apology, accom- 
 panied by a few very expensive flowers, and followed 
 after a week's interval by a visit. She could not 
 mean to break off all acquaintance with him for so 
 slight a cause. She would relent and see him again, 
 and then he would put over on the other tack. He 
 had made a mistake — very naturally, too — because 
 she was always so reluctant to give her own individ- 
 ual views about anything. A mistake could be 
 repaired, he thought, without any serious difficulty. 
 
 And so the next morning Margaret received some 
 flowers and a note, a very gentlemanly note, expres- 
 sive of profound regret that anything he could have 
 said and so forth, and so forth. And Margaret, 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 297 
 
 whose strong temper sometimes made her act hastily, 
 even when acting rightly, said to herself that she had 
 maltreated the poor little beast, and would see him 
 if he called again. That was how she expressed it, 
 showing that to some extent Barker had succeeded 
 in producing a feeling of pity in her mind — though 
 it was a very different sort of pity from what he 
 would have wished. Meanwhile Margaret returned 
 to New York, where she saw her brother-in-law 
 occasionally, and comforted him with the assurance 
 that when his hundred napoleons were at an end, she 
 would take care of him.. And Nicholas, who was a 
 gentleman, like his dead brother, proud and fierce, 
 lived economically in a small hotel, and wrote maga- 
 zine articles describing the state of his unhappy 
 country. 
 
 Then Barker called and was admitted, Miss Skeat 
 being present, and his face expressed a whole vol- 
 ume of apology, while he talked briskly of current 
 topics ; and so he gradually regained the footing he 
 had lost. At all events he thought so, not knowing 
 that though Margaret might forgive she could never 
 forget; and that she was now forewarned and fore- 
 armed in perpetuity against any advance Barker 
 might ever make. 
 
 One day the mail brought a large envelope with 
 an English postage stamp, addressed in a strong, 
 masculine hand, even and regular, and utterly with- 
 out adornment, but yet of a strikingly peculiar ex- 
 pression, if a handwriting may be said to have an 
 expression. 
 
 "CuNAKD S.S. Servia, Sept. 15th. 
 
 "My beloved Lady — Were it not for the possi- 
 bility of writing to you, this voyage would be an 
 
298 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 impossible task to me ; and even as it is, the feeling 
 that what I write must travel away from you for 
 many days before it travels towards you again makes 
 me half suspect it is a mockery after all. After these 
 wonderful months of converse it seems incredible 
 that I should be thus taken out of your hearing and 
 out of the power of seeing you. That I long for a 
 sight of your dear face, that I hunger for your touch 
 and for your sweet voice, I need not tell you or 
 further asseverate. I am constantly looking curi- 
 ously at the passengers, vainly thinking that you 
 must appear among them. The sea without you is 
 not the sea, any more than heaven would be heaven 
 were you not there. 
 
 "I cannot describe to you, my dear lady, how 
 detestable the life on board is to me. I loathe the 
 people with their inane chatter, and the idiotic chil- 
 dren, and the highly-correct and gentlemanly captain, 
 all equally. The philistine father, the sea-sick 
 mother, the highly-cultured daughter, and the pipe- 
 smoking son, are equally objects of disgust. When 
 I go on deck the little children make a circle round 
 me, because I am so big, and the sailors will not let 
 me go on to forecastle under three shillings — which 
 I paid cheerfully, however, because I can be alone 
 there and think of you, without being contemplated 
 as an object of wonder by about two hundred idiots. 
 I have managed to rig a sort of table in my cabin at 
 last, and here I sit, under the dubious light of the 
 port-hole, wishing it would blow, or that we might 
 meet an iceberg, or anything, to scare the people into 
 their dens and leave me a little open-air solitude. 
 
 "It seems so strange to be writing to you. I 
 never wrote anything but little notes in the old days 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 299 
 
 at Baden, and now I am writing what promises to be 
 a long letter, for we cannot be in under six days, 
 and in all that time there is nothing else I can do — 
 nothing else I would do, if I could. And yet it is 
 so different. Perhaps I am incoherent, and you will 
 say, different from what ? It is different from what 
 it used to be, before that thrice-blessed afternoon in 
 the Newport fog. 
 
 " The gray mist came down like a curtain, shut- 
 ting off the past and marking where the present 
 begins. It seems to me that I never lived before 
 that moment, and yet those months were happy while 
 they lasted, so that it sometimes seemed as though 
 no greater happiness could be possible. How did it 
 all happen, most blessed lady ? 
 
 "The lazy, good-natured sea, that loves us well, 
 washes up and glances through my port-hole as I 
 write, as if in answer to my question. The sea 
 knows how it happened, for he saw us, and bore us, 
 and heard all the tale ; and even in Newport he was 
 there, hidden under the fog and listening, and he is 
 rejoicing that those who loved are now lovers. It is 
 not hard to see how it happened. They all worship 
 you, every human being that comes near you falls 
 down and acknowledges you to be the queen. For 
 they must. There is no salvation from that, and it 
 is meet and right that it should be so. And I came, 
 like the others, to do homage to the great queen, and 
 you deigned to raise me up and bid me stand beside 
 you. 
 
 " You are my first allegiance and my first love. I 
 thank Heaven that I can say it honestly and truly, 
 without fear of my conscience pricking. You know 
 too, for I have told you, how my boyhood and man- 
 
300 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 hood have been passed, and if there is anything you 
 do not know I will tell you hereafter, for I would 
 always hate to feel that there was anything about me 
 you did not know — I could not feel it. But then, 
 say you, he should have told me what he was going 
 to do abroad. And so I have, dear lady ; for though 
 I have not explained it all to you, I have placed all 
 needful knowledge in safe hands, where you can 
 obtain it for the asking, if ever the least shadow of 
 doubt should cross your mind. Only I pray you, as 
 suing a great boon, not to doubt • — ■ that is all, for I 
 would rather you did not know yet. 
 
 " This letter is being written by degrees. I have 
 not written all this at once, for I find it as hard to 
 express my thoughts to you on paper as I find it easy 
 by word of mouth. It seems a formal thing to write, 
 and yet there should be nothing less marred by 
 formality than such a letter as mine. It is only that 
 the choice is too great. I have too much to say, and 
 so say nothing. I would ask, if I were so honoured 
 by Heaven, the tongues of men and of angels, and 
 all the mighty word-music of sage and prophet, that 
 I might tell you how I love you, m}'- heart's own. 
 I would ask that for one hour I might hold in my 
 hand the bS,ton of heaven's choir. Then would I 
 lead those celestial musicians through such a grand 
 plain chant as time has never dreamt of, nor has 
 eternity yet heard it ; so that rank on rank of angels 
 and saints should take up the song, until the arches 
 of the outer firmament rang again, and the stars 
 chimed together; and all the untold hierarchy of 
 archangelic voice and heavenly instrument should 
 cry, as with one soul, the confession of this heart of 
 mine — 'I love.' 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 301 
 
 "Another day has passed, and I think I have 
 heard in my dreams the bursts of music that I would 
 fain have wafted to your waking ears. Verily the 
 lawyers in New York say well, that I am not Clau- 
 dius. Claudius was a thing of angles and books, 
 mathematical and earthy, believing indeed in the 
 greatness of things supernal, but not having tasted 
 thereof. My beloved, God has given me a new soul 
 to love you with, so great that it seems as though it 
 would break through the walls of my heart and cry 
 aloud to you. This new Claudius is a man of infi- 
 nite power to rise above earthly things, above every- 
 thing that is below you — ■ and what things that are 
 in earth are not below you, lady mine ? 
 
 "Again the time has passed, in a dull reluctant 
 fashion, as if he delighted to torment, like the com- 
 mon bore of society. He lingers and dawdles through 
 his round of hours as though it joyed him to be slug- 
 gish. It has blown a little, and most of the people 
 are sea-sick. Thank goodness ! I suppose that is a 
 very inhuman sentiment, but the masses of cheerful 
 humanity, gluttonously fattening on the ship's fare 
 and the smooth sea, were becoming intolerable. 
 There is not one person on board who looks as though 
 he or she had left a human being behind who had 
 any claim to be regretted. Did any one of these peo- 
 ple ever love ? I suppose so. I suppose at one time 
 or another most of them have thought they loved 
 some one. I will not be uncharitable, for they are 
 receiving their just punishment. Lovers are never 
 sea-sick, but now a hoarse chorus, indescribable and 
 hideous, rises from hidden recesses of the ship. 
 They are not in love, they are sea-sick. May it do 
 them all possible good! 
 
302 DOCTOR CLAtTDIUS. 
 
 "Here we are at last. I hasten to finish this 
 rambling letter that it may catch the steamer, which, 
 I am told, leaves to-day. Nine days we have been 
 at sea, and the general impression seems to be that 
 the last part of the passage has been rough. And 
 now I shall be some weeks in Europe — I cannot tell 
 how long, but I think the least possible will be three 
 weeks, and the longest six. I shall know, however, 
 in a fortnight. My beloved, it hurts me to stop 
 writing — unreasonable animal that I am, for a letter 
 must be finished in order to be posted. I pray you, 
 sweetheart, write me a word of comfort and strength 
 in my journeying. Anything sent to Baring's will 
 reach me ; you cannot know what a line from you 
 would be to me, how I would treasure it as the most 
 sacred of things and the most precious, until we 
 meet. And so, a bientSt, for we must never say 
 'goodbye,' even in jest. I feel as though I were 
 launching this letter at a venture, as sailors throw 
 a bottle overboard when they fear they are lost. 
 I have not yet tested the post-office, and I feel a 
 kind of uncertainty as to whether this will reach 
 you. 
 
 " But they are clamouring at my door, and I must 
 go. Once more, my own queen, I love you, ever 
 and only and always. May all peace and rest be 
 with you, and may Heaven keep you from all harm ! " 
 
 This letter was not signed, for what signature 
 could it possibly need ? Margaret read it, and read 
 it again, wondering — for she had never had such a 
 letter in her life. The men who had made love to 
 her had never been privileged, to speak plainly, for 
 she would have none of them, and so they had been 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 303 
 
 obliged to confine themselves to such cunning use of 
 permissible words and phrases as they could com- 
 mand, together with copious quotations from more 
 or less erotic poets. Moreover, Claudius had never 
 been in a position to speak his heart's fill to her 
 until that last day, when words had played so small 
 a part. 
 
 It was a love-letter, at least in part, such as a man 
 might have written a hundred years ago — not such 
 as men write nowadays, thought Margaret; certainly 
 not such as Mr. Barker would write — or could. But 
 she was glad he had written; and written so, for 
 it was like him, who was utterly unlike any one 
 else. The letter had come in the morning while 
 Clementine was dressing her, and she laid it on 
 her writing-desk. But when the maid was gone, she 
 read it once again, sitting by her window, and when 
 she had done she unconsciously held it in her hand 
 and rested her cheek against it. A man kisses a 
 letter received from the woman he loves, but a 
 woman rarely does. She thinks when he is away 
 that she would hardly kiss him, were he present, 
 much less will she so honour his handwriting. But 
 when he himself comes the colour of things is changed. 
 Nevertheless, Margaret put the folded letter in her 
 bosom and wore it there unseen all through that day; 
 and when Mr. Barker came to offer to take her to 
 drive she said she would not go, making some libel- 
 lous remark about the weather, which was exceeding 
 glad and sunshiny in "spite of her refusal to face it. 
 And Mr. Barker, seeing that he was less welcome 
 than usual, went away, for he was mortally afraid of 
 annoying her. 
 
 Margaret was debating within herself whether she 
 
304 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 should answer, and if so, what she should say. In 
 truth, it was not easy. She felt herself unable to 
 write in the way he did, had she wished to. Be- 
 sides, there was that feminine feeling still lurking 
 in her heart, which said, " Do not trust him till he 
 comes back." It seemed to her it must be so easy to 
 write like that — and yet, she had not thought so at 
 the first reading. But she loved him, not yet as she 
 would some day, but still she loved, and it was her 
 first love, as it was his. 
 
 She had settled herself in the hotel for the present, 
 and to make it more like home — like her pretty home 
 at Baden — she had ordered a few plants and grow- 
 ing flowers, very simple and inexpensive, for she felt 
 herself terribly pinched, although she had not yet 
 begun actually to feel the restrictions laid on her by 
 her financial troubles. When Barker was gone, she 
 amused herself with picking off the dried leaves and 
 brushing away the little cobwebs and spiders that 
 always accumulate about growing things. In the 
 midst of this occupation she made up her mind, and 
 rang the bell. 
 
 "Vladimir, I am not at home," she said solemnly, 
 and the gray-haired, gray-whiskered functionary 
 bowed in acknowledgment of the fact, which was 
 far from evident. When he was gone she sat down 
 to her desk and wrote to Dr. Claudius. She wrote 
 rapidly in her large hand, and before long she had 
 covered four pages of notepaper. Then she read it 
 over, and tore it up. The word "dear" occurred 
 once too often for her taste. Again the white fingers 
 flew rapidly along the page, but soon she stopped. 
 
 "That is too utterly frigid," she said half aloud, 
 with a smile. Then she tried again. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 305 
 
 " Dear Dr. Claudius — So many thanks for your 
 charming letter, which I received this morning. Tell 
 me a great deal more, please, and write at once. Tell 
 me everything you do and say and see, for I want to 
 feel just as though you were here to talk everything 
 over. 
 
 "Mr. Barker has been here a good deal lately, and 
 the other day he told me a story I did not like. But 
 I forgave him, for he seemed so penitent. Please 
 burn my letters. 
 
 " It is very cold and disagreeable, and I really half 
 wish I were in Europe. Europe is much pleasanter. 
 I have not read a word of Spencer since you left, but 
 I have thought a great deal about what you saicj 
 the last time we did any work together. 
 
 " Let me know positively when you are coming back, 
 and let it be as soon as possible, for I must see you. 
 I am going to see Salvini, in Othello, to-night, witK 
 Miss Skeat. He sent me a box, in memory of a 
 little dinner years ago, and I expect him to call. He 
 did call, but I could not see him. 
 
 " I cannot write any more, for it is dinner-time. 
 Thanks, dear, for your loving letter. It was sweet 
 of you to post it the same day, for it caught the 
 steamer. — In tearing haste, yours, M. 
 
 "" P.S. — Answer all my questions, please." 
 
 There was an indistinctness about the last word ; 
 it might have been "your," or "yours." The "tear- 
 ing haste " resolved itself into ringing the bell to 
 know what time it was, for Margaret had banished 
 the hideous hotel clock from the room. On finding 
 it was yet early, she sat down in a deep chair, and 
 warmed her toes at the small wood fire, which was 
 
S06 DOCTOR CLATJDItrS. 
 
 just enough to be enjoyable and not enough to be hot. 
 It was now the beginning of October, for Claudius's 
 letter, begun on the 15th of September, had not been 
 posted until the 21st, and had been a long time on 
 the way. She wondered when he would get the let- 
 ter she had just written. It was not much of a let- 
 ter, but she remembered the last paragraph, and 
 thought it was quite affectionate enough. As for 
 Claudius, when he received it he was as much de- 
 lighted as though it had been six times as long and 
 a hundred times more expansive. "Thanks, dear, 
 for your loving letter," — that phrase alone acknowl- 
 edged everything, accepted everything, and sanc- 
 tioned everything. 
 
 In the evening, as she had said in writing to the 
 Doctor, she went with Miss Skeat and sat in the 
 front box of the theatre, which the great actor had 
 placed at her disposal. The play was Othello. Mr. 
 Barker had ascertained that she was going, and had 
 accordingly procured himself a seat in the front of 
 the orchestra. He endeavoured to catch a look from 
 Margaret all through the first part of the perform- 
 ance, but she was too entirely absorbed in the tragedy 
 to notice him. At length, in the interval before the 
 last act, Mr. Barker took courage, and, leaving his 
 chair, threaded his way out of the lines of seats to 
 the entrance. Then he presented himself at the door 
 of the Countess's box. 
 
 " May I come in for a little while ? " he inquired 
 with an affectation of doubt and delicacy that was 
 unnatural to him. 
 
 " Certainly," said Margaret indifferently, but smil- 
 ing a little withal. 
 
 " I have ventured to bring you some marrons glacSs," 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDItrS. 307 
 
 said Barker, when he was seated, producing at the 
 same time a neat bonbonni^re in the shape of a tur- 
 ban. " I thought they would remind you of Baden. 
 You used to be very fond of them." 
 
 "Thanks," said she, "I am still." And she took 
 one. The curtain rose, and Barker was obliged to 
 be silent, much against his will. Margaret immedi- 
 ately became absorbed in the doings on the stage. 
 She had witnessed that terrible last act twenty times 
 before, but she never wearied of it. Neither would 
 she have consented to see it acted by any other than 
 the great Italian. Whatever be the merits of the 
 play, there can' be no question as to its supremacy of 
 horror in the hands of Salvini. To us of the latter 
 half of this century it appears to stand alone ; it seems 
 as if there could never have been such a scene or 
 such an actor in the history of the drama. Horrible 
 — yes! beyond all description, but, being horrible, 
 of a depth of horror unrealised before. Perhaps no 
 one who has not lived in the East can understand that 
 such a character as Salvini's Othello is a possible, 
 living reality. It is certain that American audi- 
 ences, even while giving their admiration, with- 
 hold their belief. They go to see Othello, that they 
 may shudder luxuriously at the sight of so much 
 suffering ; for it is the moral suffering of the Moor 
 that most impresses an intelligent beholder, but it is 
 doubtful whether Americans or English, who have 
 not lived in Southern or Eastern lands, are capable 
 of appreciating that the character is drawn from the 
 life. 
 
 The great criticism to which all modern tragedy, 
 and a great deal of modern drama, are open is the 
 undue and illegitimate use of horror. Horror is not 
 
308 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 terror. They are two entirely distinct affections. 
 A man hurled from a desperate precipice, in the liv- 
 ing act to fall, is properly an object of terror, sudden 
 and quaking. But the same man, reduced to a 
 mangled mass of lifeless humanity, broken to pieces, 
 and ghastly with the gaping of dead wounds — the 
 same man, when his last leap is over and hope is fled, 
 is an object of horror, and as such would not in early 
 times have been regarded as a legitimate subject for 
 artistic representation, either on the stage or in the 
 plastic or pictorial arts. 
 
 It may be that in earlier ages, when men were 
 personally familiar with the horrors of a barbarous 
 ethical system, while at the same time they had the 
 culture and refinement belonging to a high develop- 
 ment of aesthetic civilisation, the presentation of a 
 great terror immediately suggested the concomitant 
 horror; and suggested it so vividlj' that the visible 
 definition of the result — the bloodshed, the agony, 
 and the death-rattle — would have produced an im- 
 pression too dreadful to be associated with any pleas- 
 ure to the beholder. There was no curiosity to 
 behold violent death among a people accustomed to 
 see it often enough in the course of their lives, and 
 not yet brutalised into a love of blood for its own 
 sake. The Romans presented an example of the latter 
 state ; they loved horror so well that they demanded 
 real horror and real victims. And that is the state of 
 the populations of England and America at the pres- 
 ent day. Were it not for the tremendous power of 
 modern law, there is not the slightest doubt that the 
 mass of Londoners or New Yorkers would flock to- 
 day to see a gladiatorial show, or to watch a pack of 
 lions tearing, limb from limb, a dozen unarmed con- 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 309 
 
 victs. Not the "cultured" classes — some of them 
 would be ashamed, and some would really feel a moral 
 incapacity for witnessing so much pain — but the 
 masses would go, and would pay handsomely for the 
 sport; and, moreover, if they once tasted blood they 
 would be strong enough to legislate in favour of tast- 
 ing more. It is not to the discredit of the Anglo- 
 Saxon race that it loves savage sports. The blood is 
 naturally fierce, and has not been cowed by the tyr- 
 anny endured by European races. There have been 
 more free men under England's worst tyrants than 
 under France's most liberal kings. 
 
 But, failing gladiators and wild beasts, the people 
 must have horrors on the stage, in literature, in art, 
 and, above all, in the daily press. Shakspere knew 
 that, and Michelangelo, who is the Shakspere of 
 brush and chisel, knew it also, as those two unri- 
 valled men seem to have known everything else. 
 And so when Michelangelo painted the Last Judg- 
 ment, and Shakspere wrote Othello (for instance), they 
 both made use of horror in a way the Greeks would 
 not have tolerated. Since we no longer see daily 
 enacted before us scenes of murder, torture, and 
 public execution, our curiosity makes us desire to see 
 those scenes represented as accurately as possible. 
 The Greeks, in their tragedies, did their slaughter 
 behind the scenes, and occasionally the cries of the 
 supposed victims were heard. But theatre-goers of 
 to-day would feel cheated if the last act of Othello 
 were left to their imagination. When Salvini thrusts 
 the crooked knife into his throat, with that ghastly 
 sound of death that one never forgets, the modern 
 spectator would not understand what the death-rattle 
 meant, did he not see the action that accompanies it. 
 
310 DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "It is too realistic," said Mr. Barker in his high 
 thin voice when it was oyer, and he was helping 
 Margaret with her silken wrappings. 
 
 "It is not realistic," said she, "it is real. It may- 
 be an unhealthy excitement, but if we are to have it, 
 it is the most perfect of its kind. " 
 
 " It is very horrible, " said Miss Skeat; and they 
 drove away. 
 
 Margaret would not stay to see the great man after 
 the curtain fell. The disillusion of such a meeting 
 is too great to be pleasurable. Othello is dead, and 
 the idea of meeting Othello in the flesh ten minutes 
 later, smiling and triumphant, is a death-blow to 
 that very reality which Margaret so much enjoyed. 
 Besides, she wanted to be alone with her own 
 thoughts, which were not entirely confined to the 
 stage, that night. Writing to Claudius had brought 
 him vividly into her life again, and she had caught 
 herself more than once during the evening wonder- 
 ing how her fair Northern lover would have acted in 
 Othello's place. Whether, when the furious general 
 takes lago by the throat in his wrath, the Swede's 
 grip would have relaxed so easily on one who should 
 dare to whisper a breath against the Countess Mar- 
 garet. She so lived in the thought for a moment 
 that her whole face glowed in the shade of the box, 
 and her dark eyes shot out fire. Ah me ! Margaret, 
 will he come back to stand by your side and face the 
 world for you? Who knows. Men are deceivers 
 ever, says the old song. 
 
 Home through the long streets, lighted with the 
 pale electric flame that gives so deathly a tinge to 
 everything that comes within the circling of its dis- 
 colour; home to her rooms with the pleasant little 
 
DOCTOR CLATJDITTS. 311 
 
 fire smouldering on the hearth, and flowers — Bar- 
 ker's flowers — scenting the room; home to the cares 
 of Clementine, to lean back with half-closed eyes, 
 thinking, while the deft French fingers uncoil and 
 smooth and coil again the jet-black tresses ; home to 
 the luxury of sleep unbroken by ill ease of body, 
 though visited by the dreams of a far-away lover — 
 dreams not always hopeful, but ever sweet ; home to 
 a hotel ! Can a hostelry be dignified with that great 
 name? Yes. Wherever we are at rest and at peace, 
 wherever the thought of love or dream of lover visits 
 us, wherever we look forward to meeting that lover 
 again — that is home. For since the cold steel-tipped 
 fingers of science have crushed space into a nut- 
 shell, and since the deep-mouthed capacious present 
 has swallowed time out of sight, there is no land- 
 mark left but love, no hour but the hour of loving, 
 no home but where our lover is. 
 
 The little god who has survived ages of sword-play 
 and centuries of peace-time, survives also science 
 the leveller, and death the destroyer. 
 
 And in the night, when all are asleep, and the 
 chimes are muffled with the thick darkness, and the 
 wings of the dream-spirits caress the air, then the 
 little Red Mouse comes out and meditates on all 
 these things, and wonders how it is that men can 
 think there is any originality in their lives or per- 
 sons or doings. The body may have, changed a little, 
 men may have grown stronger and fairer, as some 
 say, or "weaker and more puny, as others would have 
 it, but the soul of man is even as it was from the 
 beginning. 
 
312 DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A MONTH has passed since Margaret went to see 
 Othello, and New York is beginning to wake to its 
 winter round of amusements. There are dinners and 
 dances and much leaving of little pasteboard chips 
 with names and addresses. 
 
 Mr. Barker had made progress, in his own opinion, 
 since the day when he so unfortunately roused Mar- 
 garet's anger by his story. He bethought him one 
 day that Claudius's influence had begun with the 
 reading of books, and he determined to try some- 
 thing of the kind himself. He was no scholar as 
 Claudius was, but he knew men who were. He 
 cultivated the acquaintance of Mr. Horace Belling- 
 ham, and spent studious hours in ascertaining the 
 names of quaint and curious volumes, which he 
 spared no expense in procuring. He read books he 
 had never heard of before, and then talked about 
 them to Margaret; and when he hit upon anything 
 she did not know he was swift to bring it to her, and 
 sometimes she would even listen while he read a few 
 pages aloud. 
 
 Margaret encouraged Barker in this new fancy un- 
 consciously enough, for she thought it an admirable 
 thing that a man whose whole life was devoted to 
 business pursuits should develop a taste for letters ; 
 and when he had broken the ice on the sea of litera- 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 313 
 
 ture she talked more freely with him than she had 
 ever done before. It was not Barker who interested 
 her, but the books he brought, which were indeed 
 rare and beautiful. He, on the other hand, quick 
 to assimilate any knowledge that might be of use to 
 him, and cautious of exposing the weaker points of 
 his ignorance, succeeded in producing an impression 
 of considerable learning, so that by and by he began 
 to think he was taking Claudius's place in her daily 
 pursuits, as he hoped to take it in her heart. 
 
 Meanwhile no one had heard from the Doctor, for 
 his correspondence with Margaret was unknown to 
 Barker, and the latter began to cherish a hope that, 
 after all, there might be overwhelming difficulties in 
 the way of proving Claudius's right to the estate. 
 He had more than once talked over the matter with 
 Mr. Screw, and they came to the conclusion that this 
 silence was prognostic of the Doctor's defeat. Screw 
 thought it probable that, had Claudius immediately 
 obtained from Heidelberg the necessary papers, he 
 would have sent a triumphant telegram over the 
 cable, announcing his return at the shortest possible 
 interval. But the time was long. It was now the 
 first week in November and nearly two months had 
 passed since he had sailed. Mr. Barker had avoided 
 speaking of him to the Countess, at first because he 
 did not wish to recall him to her memory, and later 
 because he observed that she never mentioned the 
 Doctor's name. Barker had inquired of Mr. Belling- 
 ham whether he knew anything of his friend's move- 
 ments, to which Uncle Horace had replied, with a 
 grim laugh, that he had quite enough to do with 
 taking care of distinguished foreigners when they 
 were in New York, without looking after them when 
 they had gone elsewhere. 
 
314 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 One evening before dinner Vladimir brought Mar- 
 garet a telegram. She was seated by the fire as 
 usual, and Miss Skeat, who had been reading aloud 
 until it grew too dark, was by her side warming her 
 thin hands, which always looked cold, and bending 
 forward towards the fire as she listened to Margaret's 
 somewhat random remarks about the book in hand. 
 Margaret had long since talked' with Miss Skeat 
 _ about her disturbed affairs, and concerning the pros- 
 pect that was before her of being comparatively poor. 
 And Miss Skeat, in her high-bred old-fashioned way, 
 had laid her hand gently on the Countess's arm in 
 token of sympathy. 
 
 "Dear Countess," she had said, "please, remember 
 that it will not make any difference to me, and that 
 I will never leave you. Poverty is not a new thing 
 to me, my dear." The tears came into Margaret's 
 eyes as she pressed the elder lady's hand in silence. 
 These passages of feeling were rare between them, 
 but they understood each other, for all that. And 
 now Margaret was speaking despondently of the 
 future. A few days before she had made up her 
 mind at last to write the necessary letters to Russia, 
 and she had now despatched them on their errand. 
 Not; that she had any real hope of bettering things, 
 but a visit from Nicholas had roused her to the fact 
 that it was a duty she owed to him as well as to her- 
 self to endeavour to recover what was possible of her 
 jointure. 
 
 At last she opened the telegram and uttered an 
 exclamation of surprise. 
 
 " What in the world does it mean ? " she cried and 
 gave it to Miss Skeat, who held it close to the fire- 
 light. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 316 
 
 The message was from Lord Fitzdoggin, Her 
 Britisli Majesty's Ambassador at St. Petersburg, and 
 was an informal statement to the effect that his 
 Excellency was happy to communicate to the Coun- 
 tess Margaret the intelligence that, by the untiring 
 efforts and great skill of a personal friend, the full 
 payment of her jointure was now secured to her in 
 perpetuity. It stated, moreover, that she would 
 shortly receive official information of the fact through 
 the usual channels. 
 
 Miss Skeat beamed with pleasure ; for though she 
 had been willing to make any sacrifice for Margaret, 
 it would not have been an agreeable thing to be so 
 very poor again. 
 
 "I never met Lord Fitzdoggin," said Margaret, 
 " and I do not understand in the least. Whj^ should 
 he, of all people, inform me of this, if it is really 
 true?" 
 
 "The Duke must have written to him," said Miss 
 Skeat, still beaming, and reading the message over 
 again. 
 
 Margaret paused a moment in thought, then light- 
 ing the gas herself, she wrote a note and despatched 
 Vladimir in hot haste. 
 
 " I have asked Mr. Bellingham to dine, " she sa^d, 
 in answer to Miss Skeat's inquiring look. " He will 
 go to the party with me afterwards, if he is free." 
 
 It chanced that Mr. Bellingham was in his rooms 
 when Margaret's note came, and he immediately 
 threw over an engagement he had previously made, 
 and sent word he would be at the Countess's dis- 
 posal. Punctual to the minute he appeared. Mar- 
 garet showed him the telegram. 
 
 "What does this mean, Mr. Bellingham?" she 
 asked, smiling, but scrutinising his face closely. 
 
316 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "My dear Countess," cried the old gentleman, 
 delighted beyond measure at the result of his policy, 
 and coruscating with smiles and twinkles, "my dear 
 Countess, allow me to congratulate you." 
 
 "But who is the 'personal friend' mentioned? Is 
 it the Duke ? He is in the far West at this moment. " 
 
 "No," answered Mr. Bellingham, "it is not the 
 Duke. I am inclined to think it is a manifestation 
 of some great cosmic force, working silently for your 
 welfare. The lovely spirits," continued the old 
 gentleman, looking up from under his brows, and 
 gesticulating as though he would call down the 
 mystic presence he invoked — -"the lovely spirits 
 that guard you would be loth to allow anything so 
 fair to suffer annoyance from the rude world. You 
 are well taken care of, Countess, believe me." 
 
 Margaret smiled at Uncle Horace's way of getting 
 out of the difficulty, for she suspected him of know- 
 ing more than he would acknowledge. But all she 
 could extract from him was that he knew Lord Fitz- 
 doggin slightly, and that he believed the telegram to 
 be perfectly genuine. He had played his part in the 
 matter, and rubbed his hands as though washing 
 them of any further responsibility. Indeed he had 
 nothing to tell, save that he advised Claudius to get 
 an introduction from the Duke. He well knew that 
 the letters he had given Claudius had been the real 
 means of his success; but as Margaret only asked 
 about the telegram, he was perfectly safe in denying 
 any knowledge of it. Not that such a consideration 
 would have prevented his meeting her question with 
 a little fib, just to keep the secret. 
 
 " Will you not go to this dance with me this even- 
 ing?" asked Margaret after dinner, as they sat round 
 the fireplace. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 317 
 
 "What ball is that?" inquired Mr. Bellingham. 
 
 "I hardly know what it is. It is a party at the 
 Van Sueindell's and there is 'dancing' on the card. 
 Please go with me; I should have to go alone." 
 
 "I detest the pomp and circumstance of pleasure," 
 said Uncle Horace, "the Persian appurtenances, as 
 my favourite poet calls them ; but I cannot resist so 
 charming an invitation. It will give me the greatest 
 pleasure. I will send word to put ofE another en- 
 gagement." 
 
 "Do you really not mind at all?" 
 
 " Not a bit of it. Only three or four old fogies at 
 the club. Est mihi nonum superantis annum plenus 
 Albani cadus," continued Mr. Bellingham, who never 
 quoted Horace once without quoting him again in 
 the next five minutes. " I had sent a couple of bot- 
 tles of my grandfather's madeira to the club, 1796, 
 but those old boys will enjoy it without me. They 
 would talk me to death if I went." 
 
 "It is too bad," said Margaret, "you must go to 
 the club. I would not let you break an engagement 
 on my account." 
 
 " No, no. Permit me to do a good deed without 
 having to bear the infernal consequences in this life, 
 at all events. The chatter of those people is like 
 the diabolical screaming of the peacock on the terrace 
 of the Emir's chief wife, made memorable by Thack- 
 eray the prophet. " He paused a moment, and stroked 
 his snowy pointed beard. " Forgive my strong lan- 
 guage, " he added ; " really, they are grand adjectives 
 those, 'diabolical' and 'infernal.' They call up the 
 whole of Dante to my mhid." Margaret laughed. 
 
 "Are you fond of Dante?" asked she. 
 
 " Very. I sometimes buy a cheap copy and sub- 
 
318 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 stitute the names of my pet enemies all tlirougli the 
 Inferno wherever they will suit the foot. In that 
 way I get all the satisfaction the author got by put- 
 ting his friends in hell, without the labour of writ- 
 ing, or the ability to compose, the poem." The 
 Countess laughed again. 
 
 " Do you ever do the same thing with the Para- 
 diso?" 
 
 "No," answered Uncle Horace, with a smile. 
 "Purgatory belonged to an age when people were 
 capable of being made better by suffering, and as for 
 paradise, my heaven admits none but the fair sex. 
 They are all beautiful, and many of them are young." 
 
 "Will you admit me, Mr. Bellingham?" 
 
 "St. Margaret has forestalled me," said he gal- 
 lantly, " for she has a paradise of her own, it seems, 
 to which she has admitted me." 
 
 And so they passed the evening pleasantly until 
 the hour warned them that it was time to go to the 
 great Van Sueindell house. That mansion, like all 
 private houses in America, and the majority of mod- 
 ern dwellings in other parts of the world, is built in 
 that depraved style of architecture which makes this 
 age pre-eminent in the ugliness of brick and stone. 
 There is no possibility of criticism for such monstros- 
 ity, as there also seems to be no immediate prospect 
 of reform. Time, the iron-fisted Nihilist, will knock 
 them all down some day and bid mankind begin 
 anew. Meanwhile let us ignore what we cannot 
 improve. Night, the all-merciful, sometimes hides 
 these excrescences from our sight, and sometimes the 
 moon. Nature's bravest liar, paints and moulds them 
 into a fugitive harmony. But in the broad day let 
 us fix our eyes modestly on the pavement beneath us. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 319 
 
 or turn them boldl}'^ to the sky, for if we look to the 
 right or the left we must see that which sickens the 
 sense of sight. 
 
 On the present occasion, however, nothing was to 
 be seen of the house, for the long striped canvas 
 tent, stretching from the door to the carriage, and 
 lined with plants and servants, hid everything else 
 from view. There is probably no citj' in the world 
 where the business of " entertaining " is so thoroughly 
 done as in New York. There are many places where 
 it is more agreeable to be " entertained ; " many where 
 it is done on a larger scale, for there is nothing in 
 America so imposing as the receptions at Embassies 
 and other great houses in England and abroad. To 
 bring the matter into business form, since it is a 
 matter of business, let us say that nowhere do guests 
 cost so much by the cubic foot as in New York. 
 Abroad, owing to the peculiar conditions of court- 
 life, many people are obliged to open their houses at 
 stated intervals. In America no one is under this 
 necessity. If people begin to "entertain" they do it 
 because they have money, or because they have some- 
 thing to gain by it, and they do it with an absolute 
 regardlessness of cost which is enough to startle the 
 sober foreigner. 
 
 It may be in bad taste, but if we are to define what 
 is good taste in these days, and abide by it, we shall 
 be terribly restricted. As an exhibition of power, 
 this enormous expenditure is imposing in the ex- 
 treme ; though the imposing element, being strictly 
 confined to the display of wealth, can never produce 
 the impressions of durability, grandeur, and military 
 pomp so dear to every European. Hence the Eng- 
 lishman turns up his nose at the gilded shows of 
 
320 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 American society, and the American sniffs when he 
 finds that the door-scraper of some great London house 
 is only silverplated instead of being solid, and that 
 the carpets are at least two years old. They regard 
 things from opposite points of view, and need never 
 expect to agree. 
 
 Margaret, however, was not so new to American 
 life, seeing she was American born, as to bestow a 
 thought or a glance on the appointments of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Van Sueindell's establishment; and as for Mr. 
 Bellingham," he had never cared much for what he 
 called the pomp and circumstance of pleasure, for 
 he carried pleasure with him in his brilliant con- 
 versation and his ready tact. All places were more 
 or less alike to Mr. Bellingham. At the present 
 moment, however, he was thinking principally of 
 his fair charge, and was wondering inwardly what 
 time he would get home, for he rose early and was 
 fond of a nap in the late evening. He therefore 
 gave Margaret his arm, and kept a lookout for some 
 amusing man to introduce to her. He had really en- 
 joyed his dinner and the pleasant chat afterwards, 
 but the prospect of piloting this magnificent beauty 
 about till morning, oir till she should take it into 
 her head to go home, was exhausting. Besides, he 
 went little into society of this kind, and was not 
 over-familiar with the faces he saw. 
 
 He need not have been disturbed, however, for they 
 had not been many minutes in the rooms before a 
 score of men had applied for the "pleasure of a turn." 
 But still she held Mr. Bellingham's arm, obdurately 
 refusing to dance. As Barker came up a moment 
 later, willing, perhaps, to show his triumph to the 
 rejected suitors, Margaret thanked Mr. Bellingham, 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 321 
 
 and offered to take him home if he would stay until 
 one o'clock; then she glided away, not to dance but 
 to sit in a quieter room, near the door of which 
 couples would hover for a quarter of an hour at a 
 time waiting to seize the next pair of vacant seats. 
 Mr. Bellingham moved away, amused by the music 
 and the crowd and the fair young faces, until he 
 found a seat in a corner, shaded from the flare of light 
 by an open door close by, and there, in five minutes, 
 he was fast asleep in the midst of the gaiety and noise 
 and heat — unnoticed, a gray old man amid so much 
 youth. 
 
 But Barker knew the house better than the most 
 of the guests, and passing through the little room for 
 which every one seemed fighting, he drew aside a 
 heavy curtain and showed a small boudoir beyond, 
 lighted with a solitary branch of candles, and occu- 
 pied by a solitary couple. Barker had hoped to find 
 this sanctum empty, and as he pushed two chairs to- 
 gether he eyed the other pair savagely. 
 
 "What a charming little room," said Margaret, 
 sinking into the soft chair and glancing at the walls 
 and . ceiling, which were elaborately adorned in the 
 Japanese fashion. The chairs also were framed of 
 bamboo, and the table was of an unusual shape. It 
 was the "Japanese parlour, "^ as Mrs. Van Sueindell 
 would have called it. Every great house in New 
 York has a Japanese or a Chinese room. The entire 
 contents of the apartment having been brought direct 
 from Yokohama, the effect was harmonious, and Mar- 
 garet's artistic sense was pleased. 
 
 "Is it not?" said Barker, glad to have brought her 
 to a place she liked. " I thought you would like it, 
 
 ' Parlour or parlor, American for " sitting-room." 
 
 2a 
 
322 DOCTOR CLAUDIITS. 
 
 and I hoped," lowering liis voice, "that we should 
 find it empty. Only people who come here a great 
 deal know about it." 
 
 " Then you come here often ? " asked Margaret, to 
 say something. She was glad to be out of the din, 
 for though she had anticipated some pleasure from 
 the party, she discovered too late that she had made a 
 mistake, and would rather be at home. She had so 
 much to think of, since receiving that telegram; and 
 so, forgetting Barker and everything else, she fol- 
 lowed her own train of thought. Barker talked on, 
 and Margaret seemed to be listening — but it was 
 not the music, muffled through the heavy curtains, 
 nor the small voice of Mr. Barker that she heard. 
 It was the washing of the sea and the creaking of 
 cordage that were in her ears — the rush of the ship 
 that was to bring him back — that was perhaps bring- 
 ing him back already. When would he come ? How 
 soon ? If it could only ' ^ to-morrow, she would so 
 
 like to what in the world is Mr. Barker saying 
 
 so earnestly? Really, she ought to listen. It was 
 very rude. " Conscious of my many defects of char- 
 acter " Oh yes, he was always talking about his 
 
 defects; what next? " conscious of my many 
 
 defects of character," Mr. Barker was saying, in an 
 even, determined voice, "and feeling deeply how far 
 behind you I am in those cultivated pursuits you 
 most enjoy, I would nevertheless scorn to enlarge 
 upon my advantages, the more so as I believe you 
 are acquainted with m}' circumstances." 
 
 Good gracious ! thought Margaret, suddenly recov- 
 ering the acutest use of her hearing, what is the man 
 going to say? And she looked fixedly at him with 
 an expression of some astonishment. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 323 
 
 "Considering, as I was saying," he continued 
 steadily, "those advantages upon which I will not 
 enlarge, may I ask you to listen to what I am going 
 to say?" 
 
 Margaret, having lost the first part of Barker's 
 speech completel}', in her fit of abstraction, had some 
 vague idea that he was asking her advice about 
 marrying some other woman. 
 
 "Certainly," she said indifferently; "pray go on." 
 At the moment of attack, however. Barker's heart 
 failed him for an instant. He thought he would 
 make one more attempt to ascertain what position 
 Claudius held towards Margaret. 
 
 "Of course," he said, smiling and looking down, 
 " we all knew about Dr. Claudius on board the Streak. " 
 
 " What did you know about him ? " asked Margaret 
 calmly, but her face flushed for an instant. That 
 might have happened even if she had not cared for 
 Claudius; she was so pro'jd that the idea of being 
 thought to care might well bring the colour to her 
 cheek. Barker hardly noticed the blush, for he was 
 getting into very deep water, and was on the point of 
 losing his head. 
 
 " That he proposed to you, and you refused him, " 
 he said, still smiling. 
 
 "Take care, sir," she said quickly, "when Dr. 
 
 Claudius comes back he " Barker interrupted 
 
 her with a laugh. 
 
 "Claudius coming back?" he answered, "ha! ha! 
 good indeed ! " 
 
 He looked at Margaret. She was very quiet, and 
 she was naturally so dark that, in the shadow of the 
 fan she held carelessly against the light, he could 
 not see how pale she turned. She was intensely 
 
■324 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 angry, and her anger took the form of a preternatural 
 calm of manner, by no means indicative of indifferent 
 reflection. She was simply unable to speak for the 
 moment. Barker, however, whose reason was in 
 abeyance for the moment, merely saw that she did 
 not answer; and, taking her silence for consent to 
 his slighting mention of Claudius, he at once pro- 
 ceeded with his main proposition. At this juncture 
 the other couple slowly left the room, having ar- 
 ranged their own affairs to their satisfaction. 
 
 "That being the case," he said, "and now that I 
 am assured that I have no rivals to dread, will you 
 permit me to offer you my heart and my hand? 
 Countess Margaret, will you marry me, and make 
 me the happiest of men? Oh, do not be silent, do 
 not look as if you did not hear! I have loved you 
 since I first saw you — will you, will you marry me ? " 
 Here Mr. Barker, who was really as much in love as 
 his nature allowed him to be, moved to the very edge 
 of his chair and tried to take her hand. 
 
 "Margaret! " he said, as he touched her fingers. 
 
 At the touch she recovered her self-possession, too 
 long lost for such a case. She had tried to control 
 her anger, had tried to remember whether by any 
 word she could have encouraged him to so much 
 boldness. Now she rose to all her haughty height, 
 and though she tried hard to control herself, there 
 was scorn in her voice. 
 
 "Mr. Barker," she said, dropping her hands before 
 her and standing straight as a statue, "you have 
 made a mistake, and if through any carelessness I 
 have led you into this error I am sorry for it. I can- 
 not listen to you, I cannot marry you. As for Dr. 
 Claudius, I will not permit you to use any slighting 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 325 
 
 words about him. I hold in my possession docu- 
 ments that could prove his identity as well as any he 
 can obtain in Germany. But I need not produce 
 them, for I am sure it will be enough for you to know 
 that I am engaged to be married to him — I am en- 
 gaged to be married to Dr. Claudius," she repeated 
 very distinctly in her deep musical tones ; and before 
 Barker could recover himself, she had passed from 
 the room into the lights and the sound of music 
 beyond. 
 
 What do you think, reader ? Was it not a brave 
 and noble action of hers to vindicate Claudius by 
 taking upon herself the whole responsibility of his 
 love rather than by going home and sending Mr. 
 Barker documentary evidence of the Doctor's person- 
 ality ? Claudius had never asked her to marry him, 
 the very word had never been mentioned. But he 
 had told her he loved her and she had trusted him. 
 
 Start not at the infinity of social crime that such a 
 doubt defines. It is there. It is one thing for a 
 woman to love a man at arm's length conditionally; 
 it is another for her to take him to her heart and 
 trust him. Does every millionaire who makes love 
 to a penniless widow mean to marry her? for Mar- 
 garet was poor on that Tuesday in Newport. Or 
 reverse the case ; if Claudius were an adventurer, as 
 Barker hinted, what were the consequences she as- 
 sumed in declaring herself engaged to marry him ? 
 
 In spite of her excitement, Margaret was far too 
 much a woman of the world to create a sensation by 
 walking through the rooms alone. In a moment or 
 two she saw a man she knew, and calling him to her 
 by a look, took his arm. She chatted pleasantly to 
 this young fellow, as proud as need be of being 
 
326 DOCTOll CLAUDIUS. • . 
 
 selected to conduct the beauty whither she would, 
 and after some searching she discovered Mr. Belling- 
 ham, still asleep behind the swinging door. 
 
 "Thanks," she said to her escort. "I have prom- 
 ised to take Mr. Bellingham home." And she 
 dropped the young man's arm with a nod and a smile. 
 
 "But he is asleep," objected the gallant. 
 
 "I will wake him," she answered. And laying 
 her hand on Mr. Bellingham's, she leaned down and 
 spoke his name. Instantly he awoke, as fresh as 
 from a night's rest, for he had the Napoleonic faculty 
 for catching naps. 
 
 "Winter awaking to greet the spring," he said 
 without the slightest hesitation, as though he had 
 prepared the little speech in Jiis sleep. " Forgive 
 me," he said, "it is a habit of mine learned long 
 ago." He presented his arm and asked her what was 
 her pleasure. 
 
 "I am going home," she said, "and if you like I 
 will drop you at your door." 
 
 Mr. Bellingham glanced at a great enamelled clock, 
 half-hidden among flowers and fans, as they passed, 
 and he noticed that they had not been in the house 
 much more than three quarters of an hour. But he 
 wisely said nothing, and waited patiently while Mar- 
 garet was wrapped in her cloaks, and till the butler 
 had told the footman, and the footman had told the 
 other footman, and the other footman had told the 
 page, and the page had told the policeman to call 
 the Countess Margaret's carriage. After which the 
 carriage appeared, and they drove away. 
 
 Uncle Horace chatted pleasantly about the party, 
 admitting that he had dreamed more than he had 
 seen of it. But Margaret said little, for the reaction 
 
DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 327 
 
 was coming after the excitement she had passed 
 through. Only when they reached Mr. Bellingham's 
 rooms, and he was about to leave her, she held his 
 hand a moment and looked earnestly in his face. 
 
 "Mr. Bellingham," she said suddenly, "I trust 
 you will always be my friend — will you not ? " The 
 old gentleman paused in his descent from the car- 
 riage, and took the hand she offered. 
 
 "Indeed I will, my dear child," he said very seri- 
 ously. Then he bent his knee to the sill of the door 
 and kissed her fingers, and was gone. No one ever 
 resented Mr. Bellingham's familiarity, for it was rare 
 and honest of its kind. Besides, he was old enough 
 to be her grandfather, in spite of his pretty speeches 
 and his gracefm actions. 
 
 Margaret passed a sleepless night. Her anger with 
 Mr. Barker had not been so much the mere result of the 
 words he had spoken, though she would have resented 
 his sneer about Claudius sharply enough under any 
 circumstances. It was rather that to her keen intel- 
 ligence, rendered still more acute by her love for the 
 Doctor, the whole scene constituted a revelation. 
 By that wonderful instinct which guides women in 
 the most critical moments of their lives, she saw at 
 last the meaning of Barker's doings, of his silence 
 concerning Claudius, and of his coolness with the 
 latter before he had got rid of him. She saw Barker 
 at the bottom of the plot to send Claudius to Europe ; 
 she saw him in all the efforts made by the Duke and 
 Barker to keep Claudius and herself apart on board 
 the yacht; she saw his hand in it all, and she under- 
 stood for the first time that this man, whom she had 
 of late permitted to be so much with her, was her 
 worst enemy, while aspiring to be her lover. The 
 
328 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 whole extent of his faithlessness to Claudius came 
 before her, as she remembered that it had doubtless 
 been to serve the Doctor that Barker had obtained an 
 introduction to her at Baden ; that he had done every- 
 thing to throw them together, devoting himself to 
 Miss Skeat, in a manner that drove that ancient vir- 
 gin to the pinnacle of bliss and despair, while leaving 
 Claudius free field to make love to herself. And 
 then he had suddenly turned and made up his mind 
 that he should have her for his own wife. And her 
 anger rose higher and hotter as she thought of it. 
 
 Then she went over the scene of the evening at 
 Mrs. Van Sueindell's house — how she had not lis- 
 tened and not understood, until she was so sud- 
 denly roused to the consciousness of what he was 
 saying — how she had faced him, and, in the inspira- 
 tion of the moment, had boldly told him that she 
 loved his rival.' In that thought she found satisfac- 
 tion, as well she might, for her love had been put to 
 the test, and had not failed her. 
 
 "I am glad I said it," she murmured to herself, 
 and fell asleep. Poor Claudius, far away over the 
 sea, what a leap his heart would have given could he 
 have known what she had done, and that she was 
 glad of it. 
 
 And Mr. Barker? He felt a little crushed when 
 she left him there alone in the Japanese boudoir, for 
 he knew at once that he might as well throw up the 
 game. There was not the least chance for him any 
 longer. He might indeed suspect that the docu- 
 ments Margaret spoke of were a myth, and that her 
 declaration of the engagement was in reality the only 
 weapon she could use in Claudius's defence. But 
 that did not change matters. No woman would 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 329 
 
 "give herself away," as he expressed it, so reck- 
 lessly, unless she were perfectly certain. Therefore 
 Mr. Barker went into -the supper-room, and took a 
 little champagne to steady his nerves ; after which 
 he did his best to amuse himself, talking with un- 
 usual vivacity to any young lady of his acquaintance 
 whom he could allure from her partner for a few 
 minutes. For he had kept himself free of engage- 
 ments that evening on Margaret's account, and now 
 regretted it bitterly. But Mr. Barker was a great 
 match, as has been said before, and he seldom had 
 any difficulty in amusing himself when he felt so 
 inclined. He had not witnessed Margaret's depart- 
 ure, for, not wishing to be seen coming out of the 
 boudoir alone, a sure sign of defeat, and being per- 
 fectly familiar with the house, he had found his way 
 by another door, and through circuitous passages to 
 the pantry, and thence to the supper-room; so that 
 by the time he had refreshed himself Margaret and 
 Mr. Bellingham had gone. 
 
 Do people of Mr. Barker's stamp feel ? Probably 
 not. It requires a strong organisation, either animal 
 or intellectual, to suffer much from any shock to the 
 affections. Englishmen, on those occasions when 
 their passion gets the better of their caution, some- 
 what a rare occurrence nowadays, are capable of 
 loving very strongly, and of suffering severely if 
 thwarted, for they are among the most powerful races 
 in the animal kingdom. Their whole history shows 
 this, moulded as it has generally been by exceptional 
 men, for the most part Irish and Scotch, in whom 
 the highest animal and intellectual characteristics 
 were united. Germans, in whom the intellectual 
 faculties, and especially the imagination, predomi- 
 
330 DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 
 
 nate, are for the most part very love-sick for at least 
 half their lives. But Americans seem to be differ- 
 ently organised; meaning, of course, the small class, 
 who would like to be designated as the " aristocracy " 
 of the country. The faculties are all awake, acute, 
 and ready for use ; but there is a lack of depth, which 
 will rouse the perpetual wonder of future genera- 
 tions. While the mass of the people exhibits the 
 strong characteristics of the Saxon, the Celtic, and 
 the South German races, physical endurance and 
 occasionally intellectual pre-eminence, — for, saving 
 some peculiarities of speech, made defects merely by 
 comparison, there are no such natural orators and 
 statesmen in the world as are to be found in Con- 
 gress ; at the same time, the would-be aristocracy of 
 the country is remarkable for nothing so much as for 
 the very unaristocratic faculty of getting money — 
 rarely mingling in public questions, still more rarely 
 producing anything of merit, literary or artistic. 
 Therefore, being so constituted that the almighty 
 dollar crowns the edifice of their ambitions as with a 
 coronet of milled silver, they are singularly inapt to 
 suffer from such ills as prick the soul, which taketh 
 no thought for the morrow, what it shall eat or what 
 it shall drink. 
 
 Truly, a happy people, these American aristocrats. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 331 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 When Margaret awoke the next morning her first 
 impulse was to go away for a time. She was dis- 
 gusted with New Yorlc, and desired nothing so much 
 as the sensation of being free from Mr. Barker. A 
 moment, however, sufBced to banish any such 
 thoughts. In the first place, if she were away from 
 the metropolis it would take just so many hours 
 longer for the Doctor's letters to reach her. There 
 had been a lacuna in the correspondence of late, 
 and it seemed to her that the letters she had received 
 were always dated some days before the time stamped 
 on the Heidelberg postmark. He spoke always of 
 leaving very soon ; but though he said many loving 
 and tender things, he was silent as to his own doings. 
 She supposed he was occupied with the important 
 matter he described as the "other reason," and so in 
 the two or three short notes she wrote him she 
 abstained from questioning any more. 
 
 Furthermore, she reflected that however much she 
 might wish to be away, it was most emphatically not 
 the thing to do. On the whole, she would stay where 
 she was. 
 
 She was roused from her reverie by Clementine, 
 who entered in a halo of smiles, as though she were 
 the bearer of good news. In the first place she had 
 a telegram, which proved to be from Claudius, dated 
 
332 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 Berlin, and simply announcing the fact that he would 
 sail at once. Margaret could hardly conceal her great 
 satisfaction, and the colour came so quickly to her 
 face as she read the flimsy bit of paper from the cable 
 office, that Clementine made the most desperate 
 efforts to get possession of it, or at least to see the 
 signature. But Margaret kept it under her pillow 
 for half an hour, and then burned it carefully by the 
 taper, to Clementine's inexpressible chagrin. 
 
 Meanwhile, however, there were other news in 
 the wind, and when the artful Frenchwoman had 
 succeeded in opening the window just so that a ray 
 of light should fall on madam's face, she fired her 
 second shot. 
 
 " Monsieur le Due is of return, Madame," she said, 
 suddenly turning towards her mistress. 
 
 " The Duke ? " repeated Margaret innocently. 
 "When did he come?" 
 
 "Ah, Madame," said the maid, disappointed at 
 having produced so little effect, " it is precisely what 
 I do not know. I come from meeting Monsieur 
 Veelees upon the carrefour. He has prayed me to 
 present the compliments of Monsieur le Due and to 
 ask at what hour Madame la Comtesse would be in 
 disposition to see him." 
 
 "Ah, very well," said the Countess. "I will get 
 up, Clementine." 
 
 "Si t6t, Madame? it is yet very morning," argued 
 the girl with a little show of polite surprise. 
 
 "That is indifferent. Go, Clementine, and tell 
 Monsieur le Due I will see him at once." 
 
 "At once, Madame? I run," said Clementine, 
 going slowly to the door. 
 
 "Enfin — when I am dressed. Don't you under- 
 stand?" said Margaret impatiently. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 333 
 
 " Parfaitement, Madame. I will speak with Mon- 
 sieur Veelees." And she vanished. 
 
 It was a bright November morning, and though 
 there had been a slight frost during the night, it was 
 fast vanishing before the sun. Margaret went to the 
 window and breathed the cool air. An indescribable 
 longing seized her to be out, among trees and plants 
 and fresh growing things — to blow away the dark 
 dreams of the night, the visions of Barker and Screw, 
 and of the ballroom, and of that detestable Japanese 
 boudoir. She hurried her toilet in a manner that 
 completely aroused Clementine's vigilant suspicion. 
 
 "H^las," Clementine used to say to Willis the 
 Duke's servant, " Je ne lui ai jamais connu d'amant. 
 I had pourtant much hoped of Monsieur Clodiuse." 
 But she never ventured such remarks when old 
 Vladimir was at hand. 
 
 When the Countess was dressed she went out into 
 her little drawing-room, and found the Duke look- 
 ing more sunburnt and healthy than ever, though a 
 trifle thinner. The rough active Western life al- 
 ways agreed with him. He came forward with a 
 bright smile to meet her. 
 
 " Upon my word, how well you look ! " he ex- 
 claimed as he shook hands ; and indeed she was beau- 
 tiful to see, for if the sleepless night had made her 
 pale, the good news of Claudius's coming had 
 brought the fire to her eyes. 
 
 "Do I?" said she. "I am glad; and you look 
 well too. Your run on the 'prairies has done you 
 good. Come," said she, leading him to the window, 
 "it is a beautiful day. Let us go out." 
 
 " By all means : but first I have some good news 
 for you. Fitzdoggin has telegraphed me that Clau- 
 
334 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 dius — I mean," he said, interrupting himself and 
 blushing awkwardly, "I mean that it is all right, 
 you know. They have arranged all your affairs 
 beautifully." Margaret looked at him curiously a 
 moment while he spoke. Then she recognised that 
 the Duke must have had a hand in the matter, and 
 spoke very gratefully to him, not mentioning that 
 she had received news direct, for she did not wish 
 to spoil his pleasure in being the first to tell her. To 
 tell the truth, the impulsive Englishman was rather 
 in doubt whether he had not betrayed the Doctor's 
 secret, and seemed very little inclined to say any- 
 thing more about it. 
 
 "I wish," she said at last, "that we could ride this 
 morning. I have not been on a horse for ever so 
 long, and I want the air." 
 
 "By Jove," cried the Duke, overjoyed at the pros- 
 pect of breaking an interview which seemed likely 
 to lead him too far, " I should think so. I will send 
 and get some horses directly. The very thing, by 
 Jove ! " . And he went to the door. 
 
 " How are you going to get anything fit to ride in 
 New York, at such short notice ? " asked Margaret, 
 laughing at his impetuosity. 
 
 "There's a fellow here lends me anything in his 
 stable when I am in New York," he answered, half 
 out of the room. "I'll go myself," he called back 
 from the landing, and shut the door behind him. 
 "Upon my word," he said to himself as he lighted a 
 cigarette in the cab, and drove away to his friend's 
 stable, " she is the most beautiful thing I ever saw. 
 I almost let the cat out of the bag, just to please her. 
 I don't wonder Claudius is crazy about her. I 
 will talk about the West when we are riding, and 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 335 
 
 avoid the subjeqt." With which sage resolution his 
 Grace seemed well satisfied. When he returned, he 
 found Margaret clad in a marvellous habit, that 
 reminded him of home. 
 
 " The horses will be at the Park by the time we 
 have driven there," he said. "We will drive up." 
 He made no toilet himself, for being English and to 
 the saddle born, he cared not a jot how he looked on 
 horseback. In half an hour they were mounted, and 
 walking their horses down the broad bend of the road 
 where it enters the Central Park. Margaret asked 
 about Lady Victoria, and the Duke, to make sure of 
 not getting off the track, immediately began talking 
 about the journey they had just made, feut Mar- 
 garet was not listening. 
 
 "Do you know?" she said, "it is very pleasant to 
 feel I am not poor any longer. I suppose it is a very 
 low sentiment." 
 
 "Of course," said the Duke. " Beastly thing to 
 have no money." 
 
 " Do you know " she began again, but stopped. . 
 
 "Well," said the Duke, following her first train 
 of thought, " it always seems to me that I have no 
 money myself. I don't suppose I am exactly poor, 
 though." 
 
 " No, " laughed Margaret, " I was not thinking of 
 that." 
 
 "What is it?" he asked. 
 
 " I think I will confide in you a little, for you have 
 always been such a good friend to" me. What do 
 you know of Mr. Barker?" 
 
 "I am sure I don't know," said the Englishman, 
 taken off his guard by the question. " I have known 
 him some time — in this sort of way," he added 
 vaguely. 
 
336 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "I believe," said the Countess bluntly, "that it 
 was Mr. Barker who made all this trouble for Dr. 
 Claudius." 
 
 "I believe you are right," answered the Duke, 
 suddenly turning in his saddle and facing her. " I 
 wonder how he could be such a brute ? " 
 
 Margaret was silent. She was astonished at the 
 readiness with which her companion assented to her 
 proposition. He must have known it all along, she 
 thought. 
 
 " What makes you think so ? " he asked presently. 
 
 "What are your reasons for believing it?" she 
 asked, with a smile. 
 
 "Really," he began; then shortly, "I believe I 
 don't like his eyes." 
 
 "Last night," said Margaret, "I was talking with 
 him at a party. I chanced to speak of the Doctor's 
 coming back, and Mr. Barker laughed and sneered, 
 and said it was ridiculous." 
 
 The Duke moved angrily in his saddle, making the 
 horse he rode shake his head and plunge a little. 
 
 " He is a brute, " he said at last. 
 
 " Your horse ? " inquired Margaret sweetly. 
 
 "No — Barker. And pray what did you answer 
 him? I hope you gave him a lesson for his imper- 
 tinence." 
 
 "I told him," said she, "that I had documents in 
 my possession that would establish his right as well 
 as any he could get in Germany." 
 
 "Barker must have been rather taken aback," said 
 the other in high glee. "I am glad you said that." 
 
 " So am I. I do not imagine I shall see much of 
 Mr. Barker in future," she added demurely. 
 
 "Um! As bad as that?" The Duke was begin- 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS, 337 
 
 ning to catch the drift of what Margaret was saying. 
 She had no intention of telling him any more, how- 
 ever. Bitterly as she felt towards Barker, she would 
 not allow herself the triumph of telling her friend 
 she had refused to marry him. 
 
 "I know it is a very womanly fancy," she said, 
 "but I want to ride fast, please. I want exercise." 
 
 "All right," said the Duke, and they put their 
 horses into a canter. The Countess felt safe now 
 that her friends had returned and that Claudius had 
 telegraphed he was about to sail. She felt as though 
 her troubles were over, and as if the world were 
 again at her feet. And as they galloped along the 
 roads, soft in the warm sun to the horses' feet, 
 breathing in great draughts of good clean air, the 
 past two months seemed to dwindle away to a mere 
 speck in the far distance of her life, instead of being 
 entangled with all the yesterdays of the dark season 
 just over. 
 
 And Claudius — the man who made all this change 
 in her life, who had opened a new future for her — 
 how had he passed these months, she wondered ? To 
 tell the truth, Claudius had been so desperately busy 
 that the time had not seemed so long. If he had 
 been labouring in any other cause than hers it would 
 have been insupportable. But the constant feeling 
 that all he did was for her, and to her advantage, and 
 that at the same time she was ignorant of it all, gave 
 him strength and courage. He had been obliged to 
 think much, to travel far, and to act promptly ; and 
 for his own satisfaction he had kept up the illusion 
 that he was in Heidelberg by a cunning device. He 
 wrote constantly, and enclosed the letters to the old 
 notary at the University, who, with Teutonic regu- 
 
 2ji 
 
S38 DOCTOIJ CLAUDIUS. 
 
 larity, stamped and posted them. And so it was 
 that the date of the letter, written in St. Petersburg, 
 was always two or three days older than that of the 
 postmark. For Claudius would not put a false date 
 at the head of what he wrote, any more than, if Mar- 
 garet had written to ask him whether he were really 
 in Heidelberg or not, he would have deceived her in 
 his answer. Probably he would not have answered 
 the question at all. The letters were merely posted 
 in Heidelberg ; and Margaret had trusted him enough 
 not to notice or be willing to comment upon the dis- 
 crepancy. 
 
 And, by dint of activity and the assistance of the 
 persons to whom he had letters, he had succeeded in 
 bringing the Countess's business to a satisfactory 
 conclusion. He found it just as Mr. Bellingham 
 had told him. In an autocratic country, if you are 
 to have justice at all, you will have it quickly. 
 
 Moreover, it was evident to the authorities that a 
 man coming all the way from America, and present- 
 ing such credentials as Claudius brought, deserved 
 to be attended to at once — the more so when his 
 whole appearance and manner were such as to create 
 a small furore in the Embassy circles. Claudius 
 went everywhere, saw every one, and used every par- 
 ticle of influence he could obtain to further the object 
 of his visit. And so it was that, at the end of a 
 month or so, a special ukase provided for the pay- 
 ment in perpetuity to herself and her heirs for ever 
 of the jointure-money first decreed to the Countess 
 Margaret for life only from the estates of her late 
 husband. Count Alexis of the Guards. This was 
 even more than Claudius had hoped for — certainly 
 more than Margaret had dreamt of. As for Nicholas, 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 339 
 
 Claudius cared, nothing what became of him, for he 
 probably thought him a foolish Nihilist, and he knew 
 enough of the Countess's character to be sure she 
 would never let her brother suffer want, whatever 
 his faults. 
 
 So when he had concluded the affair he hastened 
 to Berlin, telegraphing from thence the news of his 
 immediate return. In less than a fortnight, at all 
 events, he ought to be in New York. The thought 
 gave him infinite relief; for, since he had finished 
 his business in Petersburg, the reaction which in 
 strong natures is very sure to follow a great effort, for 
 the very reason that strong natures tax their powers 
 to the utmost, recklessly, began to make itself felt. 
 It seemed to him, as he looked back, that he had 
 heard so little from her. Not that he complained ; 
 for he was fully sensible of her goodness in writing 
 at all, and he treasured her letters as things sacred, 
 even to the envelopes and whatsoever had touched 
 her hand. But he felt keenly that he was in total 
 ignorance of her doings ; and one or two references 
 to Barker troubled him. He too had his suspicions 
 that the scheming American had been concerned in 
 the sudden fit of caution developed by Messrs. Screw 
 and Scratch. He too had suspected that his quon- 
 dam friend had been insincere, and that ever3rthing 
 was not as it should be. But he was neither so wise 
 as Margaret, who would have told him not to soil his 
 hands with pitch, nor so supremely indifferent as the 
 Duke, who would have said that since he had got 
 the money it didn't matter in the least if Barker 
 were a brute or not. On the contrary, Claudius 
 promised himself to sift the evidence; and if he dis- 
 covered that Barker was guilty of any double-dealing, 
 
340 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 he would simply break' his neck. And as Claudius 
 thought of it, his teeth set, and he looked capable of 
 breaking any number of necks, then and there. 
 
 But for all his wrath and his suspicions, the real 
 cause of Barker's strange behaviour never presented 
 itself to his mind. It never struck him that Barker 
 could aspire to Margaret's hand ; and he merely con- 
 cluded that the young man had laid a plot for getting 
 his money. If any one had related to Claudius the 
 scene which took place at Mrs. Van Sueindell's the 
 very night when he sent his telegram, he would have 
 laughed the story to scorn in perfect good faith, for 
 he could not have believed it possible. Nor, believ- 
 ing it, would he have cared. And so he rushed across 
 Europe, and never paused till he had locked himself 
 into his stateroom on board the steamer, and had 
 begun a long letter to Margaret. He knew that he 
 would see her as soon as a letter could reach her, but 
 that made no difference. He felt impelled to write, 
 and he wrote — a letter so tender and loving and re- 
 joicing that were it to appear in these pages no lover 
 would e'ver dare write to his lady again, lest she 
 chide him for being less eloquent than Claudius, 
 Phil.D. of Heidelberg. And he wrote on and on 
 for many days, spending most of his time in that 
 way. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Duke and Margaret cantered in 
 the Park, and talked of all kinds of things ; or rather, 
 the Duke talked, and Margaret thought of Claudius. 
 Before they returned, however, she had managed to 
 let the Duke know that the Doctor was on his way 
 back; whereat the Englishman rejoiced loudly. 
 Perhaps he would have given a great deal to know 
 whether they were engaged to be married: but still 
 
DOCTOR CLATTDIUS. 341 
 
 Margaret gave no sign. It wa"s far from her thoughts ; 
 and the fact had only presented itself in that form 
 to her on the spur of the moment, the preceding even- 
 ing, as likely to prove a crushing blow at once to 
 Mr. Barker's plotting and Mr. Barker's matrimonial 
 views. But while the Duke talked, she was think- 
 ing. And as the situation slowly unfolded its well- 
 known pictures to her mind, she suddenly saw it all 
 in a different light. 
 
 "I must be mad," she thought. "Barker will 
 tell every one ; and the Duke ought not to know it 
 except from me ! " 
 
 " Speaking of Dr. Claudius " she began ; the 
 
 Duke was at that moment talking earnestly about 
 the Pueblo Indians, but that was of no importance. 
 " Speaking of the Doctor, you ought to know — I 
 would rather that no one else told you — we are 
 going to be married." 
 
 The Duke was so much surprised -^ not so much 
 at the information as at her manner of imparting it 
 — that he pulled up short. Seeing him stop, she 
 stopped also. 
 
 "Are you very much astonished?" she asked, 
 pushing the gray veil up to her hat, and looking at 
 him smilingly out of her deep, dark eyes. The Duke 
 spoke no word, but leapt from his horse, which he 
 left standing in the middle of the path, surprised 
 into docility by the sudden desertion. There were a 
 few wild flowers growing by the road, which here led 
 through a wooded glade of the Park ; they were the 
 flowers called Michaelmas daisies, which bloom until 
 Ifovember in America. He picked a great handful 
 of them, and came running back. 
 
 " Let me be the first to congratulate you, my dear 
 
842 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 friend," he said, standing bareheaded at her stirrup, 
 and offering the flowers with a half-bashful smile 
 that sat straiigely on a man of .his years. It was a 
 quick, impulsive action, such as no one could have 
 expected from him who did not know him intimately 
 well — and few could boast that they did. Margaret 
 was touched by his look and manner. 
 
 "Thanks," she said, bending over her saddle-bow, 
 and taking the daisies as he held them up to her. 
 "Yes, you are the first — to congratulate me," which 
 was true. He still stood looking at her, and his 
 hand would hardly let go the flowers where his fingers 
 touched hers. His face grew pale, then ashy-white, 
 and he steadied himself against her horse's neck. 
 
 "What is the matter? are you ill? have you hurt 
 yourself?" asked Margaret in real alarm, for he 
 looked as though he were going to faint, and it was 
 a full minute since he had come back to her from the 
 roadside. Then he made a great effort and collected 
 himself, and the next instant he had dashed after his 
 horse, which was wandering away towards the trees. 
 
 "I did feel queer for a minute," he said when he 
 was once more in the saddle and by her side. " I 
 dare say it is the heat. It's a very hot day, now I 
 think of it. Would you allow me a cigarette ? I hate 
 to smoke in public, you know, but it will make me 
 all right again." Margaret assented of course to the 
 request ; it was morning, in the recesses of the Park, 
 and nobody would see. But she looked strangely at 
 him for a minute, wondering what could have pro- 
 duced his sudden dizziness. 
 
 They rode more slowly towards the entrance of the 
 Park, and the Countess's thoughts did not wander 
 again. She talked to her companion on every sub- 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 343 
 
 ject he broached, showing interest in all he said, and 
 asking questions that she knew would please him. 
 But the latter part of the ride seemed long, and the 
 drive home interminable, for Margaret was in haste 
 to be alone. She was not sure that the Duke's man- 
 ner had changed since he had turned so strangely 
 pale, but she fancied he spoke as if making an effort. 
 However, they reached the hotel at last, and separated. 
 
 "Thanks, so much," she said; "it has been such a 
 delightful morning." 
 
 " It has indeed, " said he, " and — let me congratu- 
 late you once more. Claudius is a gentleman in 
 every way, and — I suppose he is as worthy of you 
 as any one could be," he added quickly, in a discon- 
 tented voice, and turned away, hat in hand. She 
 stood looking after him a moment. 
 
 "I wonder," she said to herself as she entered her 
 room and closed the door. "Poor man! it is not 
 possible, though. I must be dreaming. Ah me ! I 
 am always dreaming now, it seems to me ; " and she 
 sank down in a chair to wait for Clementine. 
 
 And so it is that some women go through life mak- 
 ing far more victims than they know of. There are 
 some honest men who will not speak, unless they 
 have a right to, and who are noble enough to help 
 those who have a right. The Duke had known Mar- 
 garet ever since she had married Alexis, as has been 
 said. Whether he had loved her or not is a question 
 not so easily answered. Certain it is that when she 
 told him she was going to be married to Claudius he 
 turned very pale, and did not recover the entire use 
 of his mind for a whole day. 
 
 Nevertheless, during the succeeding fortnight he 
 devoted himself sedulously to Margaret's amusement, 
 
344 DOCTOE CLATTDIUS. 
 
 and many were the things that he and she and Lady 
 Victoria, and the incomparable Miss Skeat, who al- 
 ways enjoyed everything, planned and carried out 
 together. Margaret did not shun society or shut her- 
 self up, and more than once she saw Barker in the 
 street and in the crowds at parties. The houses in 
 America are so small that parties are always crowded. 
 But he had the good sense to avoid her, and she 
 was not troubled by any communication from him. 
 Clementine, indeed, wondered that so few flowers 
 came, for a day or two, and old Vladimir pondered on 
 the probable fate of Mr. Barker, who, he supposed, 
 had been sent to Canada in chains for some political 
 offence, seeing that he called no longer. But these 
 faithful servitors could not ask questions, and sources 
 of information they had none. Barker, however, as 
 Margaret had anticipated, had been active in spread- 
 ing the news of her engagement; for, before very 
 long, callers were plenty, and flowers too, and many 
 were the congratulations that poured in. Then she 
 saw the wisdom of having informed the Duke of her 
 position before any officious acquaintance could do 
 it for her. 
 
 The Duke, indeed, saw very few people in New 
 York, for he hated to be " entertained, " but he knew 
 a great many men slightly, and some one of them 
 would probably have obliged him with the informa- 
 tion. 
 
 One morning as he and the Countess were about to 
 drive up to the Park for their daily ride, which had 
 become an institution, the servant presented a card, 
 saying the gentleman was anxious to see her lady- 
 ship at once, if possible. The card was that of Mr. 
 Screw, of Screw and Scratch. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 345 
 
 "Very well," said the Countess, who was pulling 
 on her gloves, and holding her riding-stick under one 
 arm as she did so. "Ask him to come up." The 
 Duke moved to withdraw. 
 
 "Don't go, please," said Margaret; and so he re- 
 mained. A moment later Mr. Screw's yellow head 
 and small eyes appeared at the door. 
 
 " The Countess Margaret? "he inquired deferen- 
 tially. 
 
 "Yes. Mr. Screw, I believe?" 
 
 " The same, Madam. A — pardon me, but — I 
 desired to speak with you alone," stammered the law- 
 yer, seeing that the Duke did not move. 
 
 "I have asked the — this gentleman, who is my 
 friend, to remain," said Margaret calmly. " You may 
 speak freely. What is your business with me, sir?" 
 She motioned him to a chair, and he sat down oppo- 
 site her, hat in hand. He would have liked to hook 
 his legs into each other and put his hands into his 
 pockets, but he was too well bred for that. At last 
 he took courage. 
 
 "Frankly, Madam, I have come to discharge a 
 moral duty, and I will speak plainly. I am in- 
 formed on credible authority that jou are engaged 
 to marry a gentleman, calling himself Dr. Claudius 
 — a — a tall man — fair beard ? " 
 
 "Your information is correct, Mr. Screw," said 
 Margaret haughtily, " I am engaged to be married to 
 Dr. Claudius." 
 
 " As one of the executors of the late Mr. Gustavus 
 Lindstrand, deceased," proceeded Mr. Screw slowly, 
 " I feel it my duty, as an honest man, to inform you 
 that there are serious doubts as to whether the gentle- 
 man who calls himself Dr. Claudius is Dr. Claudius 
 
346 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 at all. The person in question disappeared two 
 months ago, and has not been heard of since, as far 
 as I can make out. I have no interest in the matter 
 as far as it concerns yourself, as you may well 
 imagine, but I have thought it right to warn you 
 that the gentleman whom you have honoured with 
 a promise of marriage has not established his claim 
 to be the person he represents himself." 
 
 Margaret, who, after the first words, had foreseen 
 what Mr. Screw had come to say, and who believed 
 that very respectable and honest man to be concerned 
 in the plot against Claudius, was naturally angry, 
 but she had the good sense to do the right thing. 
 
 "Mr. Screw," she said in her commanding voice, 
 icily, " I am deeply indebted to you for your inter- 
 ference. Nevertheless, I am persuaded that the 
 gentleman to whom I am engaged is very really and 
 truly the person he represents himself to be. A fact 
 of which my friend here will probably be able to per- 
 suade you without difficulty." And she forthwith 
 left the room. The Duke turned upon the lawyer. 
 "Look here, Mr. Screw," he said sharply, "I am the 
 — well, never mind my name, you can find out from 
 the people downstairs. I am an English gentleman, 
 and I know who Dr. Claudius is. I knew his father; 
 I brought him to this country in my yacht. I am pre- 
 pared to go into court this minute and swear to the 
 identity of the gentleman you are slandering. Slan- 
 dering, sir! Do you hear me?" The ducal anger 
 was hot. "And except for the fact that Dr. Clau- 
 dius will be here to speak for himself the day after 
 to-morrow morning, I would take you into court now 
 by main force and make you hear me swear to him. 
 Do you hear me, sir?" 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDItJS. 347 
 
 *' My dear sir, " began Mr. Screw, who was some- 
 what taken aback by this burst of wrath. 
 
 "Don't call me 'your dear sir,' "said the noble- 
 man, moving towards Screw. 
 
 "Sir, then," continued the other, who had not an 
 idea to whom he was speaking, and perhaps would 
 not have cared had h6 known, being such an honest 
 man, "I cannot conceive why, if you are so certain, 
 you have not come forward before, instead of allowing 
 your friend to go to Europe in order to procure evi- 
 dence he might have obtained here." 
 
 "I am not going to argue with you," said the 
 Duke. "Dr. Claudius would have gone to Europe 
 in any case, if that is any satisfaction to you. What 
 did you come here for?" 
 
 " Because I thought it right to warn an unsuspect- 
 ing lady of her danger," answered Mr. Screw boldly. 
 
 " Is that true ? Do you really believe Claudius is 
 not Claudius ? " asked the Duke, coming close to the 
 lawyer and looking him in the eyes. 
 
 "Certainly, I believe him to be an impostor," said 
 the other, returning his gaze fearlessly. 
 
 "I suppose you do," said the Duke, tolerably satis- 
 fied. "Now then, who sent you here?" 
 
 "No one sent me," answered Screw with some 
 pride. " I am not in the habit of being sent, as you 
 call it. It was in the course of a conversation I 
 had with Mr. Barker, the other day " 
 
 "I thought so," interrupted the Englishman. "I 
 thought Mr. Barker was at the bottom of it. Will 
 you please to deliver a message to Mr. Barker, with 
 my compliments ? " Screw nodded solemnly, as un- 
 der protest. 
 
 " Then be kind enough to tell him from me that 
 
348 DOCTOK CLATJDItrS. 
 
 he is a most infernal blackguard. That if he at- 
 tempts to carry this abominable plot any further I 
 will post him at every one of his clubs as a liar and 
 
 a cheat, and and that he had better keep out of 
 
 my way. As for you, sir, I would advise you to 
 look into his character, for I perceive that you are an 
 honest man." 
 
 "I am obliged to you, sir," said Mr. Screw, with 
 something of a sneer. "But who are you, pray, 
 that ventures to call my clients by such ugly names ? " 
 
 " There is my card — you can see for yourself," said 
 the Duke. Screw read it. His anger was well 
 roused by this time. 
 
 " We have small respect for titles in this country, 
 my Lord Duke," said he stiffly. "The best thing I 
 can say is what you said to me, that you impress me 
 as being an honest man. Nevertheless you may be 
 mistaken." 
 
 " That is a matter which will be decided the day 
 after to-morrow," said the other. "Meanwhile, in 
 pursuance of what I said, 1 thank you very sincerely 
 indeed " — Mr. Screw smiled grimly — "no, I am in 
 earnest, I really thank you, on behalf of the Countess 
 Margaret, for the honourable part you have en- 
 deavoured to perform towards her; and I beg your 
 pardon for having mistaken you, and supposed you 
 were in the plot. But give my message to Mr. Bar- 
 ker — it is actionable, of course, and he may take 
 action upon it, if he likes. Good-morning, sir." 
 
 "Good-morning," said Screw shortly, somewhat 
 pacified by the Duke's frank apology. 
 
 "I think I settled him," said the peer to Margaret, 
 as they got into the cab that was to drive them to 
 the Park. And they cantered away in royal spirits. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 349 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Whatever reason may say, whatever certainty 
 we may feel, the last hours of waiting for an ocean 
 steamer are anxious ones. The people at the office 
 may assure us twenty times that they feel "no 
 anxiety whatever" — that is their stock phrase; our 
 friends who have crossed the ocean twice a year for 
 a score of years may tell us that any vessel may be a 
 few hours, nay, a few days, behind her reckoning ; it 
 may seem madness to entertain the least shadow of a 
 doubt — and yet, until the feet we love are on the 
 wharf and the dear glad hands in ours, the shadow 
 of an awful possibility is over us, the dreadful con- 
 sciousness of the capacity of the sea. 
 
 The Duke, who, but for his anxiety to see the end, 
 would have long since been on his way tfo England, 
 had taken every precaution to ascertain the date of 
 the ship's arrival. He took it for granted that Clau- 
 dius would sail in the Cunard steamer, and he found 
 out the vessel which sailed next after the Doctor had 
 telegraphed. Then he made arrangements to be in- 
 formed as soon as she was sighted, determined to go 
 down in the Custom-House tug and board her at the 
 Quarantine, that he might have the satisfaction of 
 being first to tell Claudius all there was to be told. 
 
 "The day after to-morrow," he had said to Mar- 
 garet, " we may safely expect him, " and he watched, 
 
350 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 with a sort of dull pleasure, the light that came into 
 her eyes when she heard the time was so near. 
 
 The first disappointment — alas, it was only the 
 first — came on the evening before the appointed day. 
 The Duke received a note from the office to the effect 
 that late arrivals having reported very heavy weather, 
 it was feared that the steamer might be delayed some 
 hours. He at once inquired for the Countess, but 
 found to his annoyance that both she and his sister 
 had gone to the theatre. He had been out when 
 they went, and so they had taken Miss Skeat as a 
 sort of escort, and were doubtless enjoying them- 
 selves mightily. It was necessary, however, that 
 Margaret should know the news of the delay before 
 she went to bed, for it would have been cruel to 
 allow her to wake in the morning with the assurance 
 that Claudius might arrive at any moment. 
 
 "If I wait for them, and make a fuss, she will 
 think it is something serious," reflected the Duke 
 with more than usual tact. So he wrote a note, 
 simply stating that he had news of a delay in the 
 arrival of some hours, — perhaps a whole day, he 
 added, wishing to be on the safe side. He gave the 
 note to Vladimir, and went away to his rooms. 
 
 Margaret and Lady Victoria came home together 
 in great spirits, laughing and rustling in their silk 
 cloaks as they entered the little drawing-room, and 
 sat down by the fire for a chat. Then Vladimir 
 brought the Duke's note. Margaret read it by the 
 firelight, and her face fell suddenly. 
 
 "What is it, dear?" asked Lady Victoria affec- 
 tionately, as she noticed her companion's distressed 
 look. 
 
 "Nothing — I suppose I ought not to be anxious. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 351 
 
 The steamer is delayed, that is all," and she gave 
 the English girl her brother's note. 
 
 " Oh, if it had been anything serious he would have 
 sat up for us. It will probably be in in the after- 
 noon instead of in the morning." But Margaret's 
 eyes were heavy and her gladness was gone from 
 her. 
 
 "Do you ever have presentiments?" she asked, 
 as they separated half an hour later. 
 
 "Never," answered Lady Victoria cheerily, "and 
 if I ever do they never come true." 
 
 "I do," said Margaret, "I have a feeling that I 
 shall never see him again." Poor Countess! She 
 looked very miserable, with her white face and weary 
 eyes. 
 
 Early the next morning Lady Victoria told her 
 brother what had been the effect of his note. He 
 was very angry with himself for not having put it 
 into better shape, and he determined to repair his 
 error by devoting himself entirely to watching for 
 the steamer. "With this object, he went down to 
 the Cunard office and established himself with a 
 novel and a box of cigarettes, to pass the day. He 
 refused to move, and sent out in the afternoon for 
 something to eat. The people in the office did not 
 know him, and he felt free to be as Bohemian as he 
 pleased. Once in the course of the day he was told 
 that a French steamer had come in and had met with 
 very heavy weather, losing a boat or two. It was 
 possible, they said, that the Cunarder, which had 
 sailed on the day following this vessel's departure, 
 though from a nearer point, might be delayed another 
 twenty-four hours. For his part, he felt no fear of 
 the safe arrival of the ship, in due time. The odds 
 
352 DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 
 
 are a thousand to one that a company which has never 
 lost a vessel at sea will not lose any particular one 
 you name. Nevertheless, he arranged to be called 
 up in the night, if her lights were sighted, and he 
 returned somewhat disconsolately to the hotel. 
 Again he bethought him that if he told the Countess 
 he had passed the day in the steamer office she would 
 overrate his anxiety and so increase her own. 
 
 Margaret was really very unreasonable. There 
 was not the slightest doubt that the steamer was 
 safe, but she had become possessed, as Lady Victoria 
 expressed it, by this unaccountable presentiment, 
 that her fair-haired lover was gone from her for ever. 
 Hideous things came up before her, poor drowned 
 faces in the green swirl of the waves, men dead, and 
 dying men grasping frantically at the white water- 
 crests breaking over them, as though the rushing 
 foam were a firm thing and could save them. She 
 heard the wild thin wind screeching across the ocean 
 furrows, breathless in his race with death. And 
 then all seemed quiet, and she could see a grand 
 form of a man, stiff-limbed and stark, the yellow 
 hair all hanging down and the broad white throat 
 turned up in death, floating solemnly through the 
 deep green water, and seaweed, and ooze, far down 
 below the angry waves. 
 
 She struggled hard against these dark thoughts; 
 but it was no use. They would come back, and all 
 through the evening she sat by her fire, with eyes 
 wide, and parted lips, staring at the embers and 
 straining her hearing to catch the sound of some one 
 coming to the door — some one bearing the welcome 
 news that the good ship was sighted at last. But 
 no sound came, all through that weary evening, nor 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 353 
 
 any message of comfort. Lady Victoria sat with her, 
 and Miss Skeat, pretending not to notice her dis- 
 tressed mood ; and once or twice the Duke came in 
 and spoke cheerfully of what they would do " when 
 Claudius came back." But Margaret went to her 
 room at last with a heavy heart, and would not be 
 comforted. 
 
 To tell the truth, the Duke firmly expected to re- 
 ceive the news of the ship's arrival during the night, 
 and so great was his anxiety to relieve Margaret that 
 he insisted upon Willis and Vladimir sitting up all 
 night, so as to be sure of having the message de- 
 livered the moment it arrived. The Russian and the 
 English servants hated each other, and he was certain 
 they would not give each other any rest. But the 
 Duke slept soundly, and waking at daybreak yelled 
 viciously for Willis. 
 
 "Well?" he said, "I suppose you went to sleep. 
 Where is the telegram?" 
 
 "There's no telegraph been yet, your Grace," said 
 the gray man-servant, who looked as though he had 
 been up several nights instead of one. 
 
 " Oh ! " said the Duke with a change of voice. He 
 was not given to bullying his servants, and always 
 regretted being hasty with them, but his conviction 
 had been strong that the message ought to have come 
 in the night. 
 
 Having spent the day previous in the office, he 
 felt in duty bound not to relinquish his post until 
 the Countess's doubts were set at rest. So he got 
 into a cab; for, like many foreigners, he hated the 
 Elevated Road, and was driven down town to the 
 Bowling-Green. 
 
 It rained heavily all the morning, and the Duke, 
 2o 
 
864 DOCTOR CLAUDItrS. 
 
 who, as may be imagined, was not generally given 
 to spending his days in steamboat offices, was won- 
 derfully and horribly bored. He smoked and kicked 
 the chairs and read his novel, and was generally ex- 
 tremely uneasy, so that the clerks began to find him 
 a nuisance, not having any idea that he was a real 
 living swell. And still it rained, and the news- 
 paper vendors looked in, all drizzly and wet, and the 
 gay feathers of New York business seeined draggled. 
 
 Suddenly — it might have been at two o'clock — 
 there was a stir in the office, a rattling of feet on the 
 board floor, and a sort of general revival. 
 
 "She's in sight," a clerk called out to the Duke. 
 His Grace stretched himself and departed. He had 
 ascertained that the Custom-House tug did not start 
 for two hours after the ship was sighted. So he sent 
 a telegram to Margaret to announce that her waiting 
 was over, and then, to pass the time, he went and 
 got something to eat. In due season he was seated 
 in the single cabin of the little high-pressure boat, 
 as it ploughed its way bravely through the waves 
 and the rain to meet the great ocean monster. The 
 Custom-House officials, cheery well-fed men, who 
 know the green side of a XX, ^ and are seldom 
 troubled with gloomy forebodings, chatted and chaffed 
 merrily together. One of them v{3i.s very bald, and 
 appeared to be a perpetual laughing-stock for the 
 rest. 
 
 "Well, Ike," shouted one of his companions be- 
 tween two pulls of a small black bottle, " you hev got 
 a ^atin' rink on to the top of your head, and no 
 mistake." The other grinned, and retorted to the 
 effect that it was better to have the outside smooth 
 than the inside soft. 
 
 1 Twenty dollars. 
 
bOCfOE CLAUDItJ^S. S66 
 
 "Well, I guess you got both, like a water-melon," 
 returned the first speaker. 
 
 There are seldom more than one or two passengers 
 on the Custom-House tug, and on this occasion the 
 Duke was alone. He could not stand the atmosphere 
 of tobacco and whiskey in the cabin, and made his 
 way along the side to the engine-room, leaving the 
 Custom-House men to their smoke and their repartee. 
 
 It was almost five o'clock, and already nearly dark, 
 when they came up with the great steamer. In five 
 minutes the Duke was over the side, hurrying down 
 to find his friend. Not seeing him anywhere, he 
 found the bursar and inquired for Dr. Claudius. 
 The officer replied that he had not made his acquaint- 
 ance on the voyage, but offered the Duke a list of 
 the passengers, remarking that the ship was unusually 
 crowded for the time of year. 
 
 The Duke ran his finger down the list, then think- 
 ing he had missed the name he sought, he held the 
 paper close to the lamp. But there was no "Dr. 
 Claudius " there. His face fell and his heart beat 
 fast, for he had been so positively certain. Poor 
 Margaret! What would she do? How foolish of 
 Claudius not to telegraph the day he sailed ! 
 
 "You are quite sure there are no omissions here?" 
 asked the Duke of the bursar. 
 
 " Quite sure, sir," answered he. " Wait a minute, 
 though, " he said, as the Duke dropped the list, " there 
 was a passenger taken ashore at Queenstown very ill. 
 A tall man, I should say, though they carried him. 
 He had not registered on board, and he was so ill^he 
 gave up the passage. I could not tell you his name." 
 
 "Had he a light beard?" asked the Duke in great 
 alarm. 
 
356 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 " Um! yes ; a large beard at all events. I remem- 
 ber how he looked as they carried him past. He was 
 awfully pale, and his eyes were closed." 
 
 "My God!" exclaimed the Duke; "it must have 
 been he! Does no one know his name?" 
 
 " The captain may. He would not see you now, 
 just going into port, but I will go and ask him, " 
 added the officer kindly, seeing how much distressed 
 the other seemed to be. 
 
 " Do — thanks — please ask him — yes I " he ejacu- 
 lated, and sank into a chair. The bursar returned 
 in a quarter of an hour. 
 
 "I am sorry to say, sir," he said, "that no one 
 seems to have known his name. It sometimes hap- 
 pens. I am very sorry." 
 
 The Duke saw there was nothing to be done. It 
 was clear that Claudius was not on board ; but it was 
 by no means clear that Claudius was not lying ill, 
 perhaps dead, in Queenstown. The poor English- 
 man bit his lips in despair, and was silent. He 
 could not decide how much he ought to tell Mar- 
 garet, and how much he ought to keep to himself. 
 The sick passenger seemed to answer the description, 
 and yet he might not have been the Doctor for all 
 that. Tall man — pale — he would be pale anyhow 
 if he were ill — fair beard — yes, it sounded like him. 
 
 " I wish Vick were here, " said the Duke to him- 
 self; "she has so much sense." Immediately the 
 idea of. consulting with his sister developed itself 
 in his mind. "How can I get ashore?" he asked 
 suddenly. 
 
 " I am afraid you will have to wait till we are in, " 
 said the friendly officer. " It will not be more than 
 an hour now." 
 
DOCTOE CLAUDIUS. 357 
 
 Impelled by some faint hope that the Doctor's 
 name might have been omitted by some accident, the 
 Duke rose and threaded his way among the crowd- 
 ing passengers, as they got their traps together and 
 moved about the great saloons. He pursued every 
 tall man he saw, till he could catch a glimpse of his 
 face. At last he met a towering figure in a darkened 
 passage way. 
 
 "My dear Claudius!" he cried, holding out his 
 hand. But the stranger only paused, muttered 
 something about a "mistake" and passed on. The 
 excitement grew on the Duke, as it became certain 
 that Claudius was not on board, and never in the 
 whole of his very high and mighty life had he been 
 in such a state of mind. Some of the passengers 
 noted his uneasy movements and exchanged remarks 
 in an undertone, as he passed and repassed. 
 
 "He is probably crazy," said an Englishman. 
 
 "He is probably drunk," said an American. 
 
 " He is probably a defaulting bank cashier, " said 
 a Scotchman. 
 
 "He looks very wild," said a New York mamma. 
 
 "He looks very unhappy," said her daughter. 
 
 " He is very well dressed, " said her son, who got 
 his clothes half yearly from Smallpage. 
 
 But the time passed at last, and the great thing 
 came up to her pier, and opened her jaws and dis- 
 gorged her living freight down a steep plank on to 
 dry earth again ; and the Duke, with a final look at 
 the stream of descending passengers, forced his way 
 ashore, and jumped into the first cab he saw. 
 
 "Drive to the nearest Elevated station," he 
 shouted. 
 
 " Which avenue ? " inquired the driver with that 
 
868 DoctoB Claudius. 
 
 placidity which cabmen assume whenever one is in 
 a hurry. 
 
 " Oh, any avenue — damn the avenue — Sixth 
 Avenue of course ! " cried the Duke in a stew. 
 
 "Very good, sir — Sixth Avenue Elevated, did 
 you say?" and he deliberately closed the door and 
 mounted to his box. 
 
 "What shall I tell her — what shall I say?" were 
 the questions that repeated themselves with stun- 
 ning force in his ear as he rattled through the streets, 
 and slid over the smooth Elevated Road, swiftly 
 towards his hotel. He had still some few hundred 
 yards to walk from the station when he got out. His 
 courage failed him, and he walked slowly, with bent 
 head and heavy heart, the bearer of bad news. 
 
 Leisurely he climbed the steps, and the few stairs 
 to his room. There stood Lady Victoria under the 
 gaslight, by the fire, looking at the clock. 
 
 "At last," she cried, "how did you miss him?" 
 
 "Whom?" asked her brother dejectedly. 
 
 "Why, Claudius, of course!" 
 
 "Claudius is not come," he said in a low voice. 
 
 "Not come?" cried Lady Victoria, "not come? 
 Why he has been here these two hours, with Mar- 
 garet! " 
 
 The Duke was fairly overpowered and worn-out 
 with excitement, and he. fell back into a chair. 
 
 " How the — — " he began, but checked the exple- 
 tive, which found vent elsewhere, as expletives will. 
 "Where the devil did he come from?" 
 
 "From Europe, I believe," said she. "Don't 
 swear about it." 
 
 " Excuse me, Vick, I am bowled out ; I was never 
 so taken aback in my life. Tell me all about it, 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 359 
 
 Vick." And he slowly recovered his senses enough 
 to appreciate that Claudius had really arrived, and 
 that he, the friend who had taken so much trouble, 
 had somehow missed him after all. But he was 
 honestly glad. 
 
 " I only saw him a moment, and I came into your 
 room to wait. Of course I let him go in there 
 alone." 
 
 "Of course," assented her brother gravely. 
 
 " Margaret was waiting for him, for she got your 
 telegram that the ship was in sight at three o'clock, 
 and he got here at five; I thought it was very 
 quick." 
 
 "Devilish quick, indeed," said her profane brother 
 under his breath. "Tell me all about it," he added 
 aloud. 
 
 It was easily enough explained, and before they 
 went to bed that night every one understood it all. 
 It was simply this — Claudius had come by another 
 steamer, one of the German line, and had chanced 
 to arrive a couple of hours before the Cunarder. 
 Margaret had received the Duke's message, as Lady 
 Victoria had said, and, as Claudius appeared soon 
 afterwards, she saw no discrepancy. 
 
 The tall Doctor left his slender luggage to the 
 mercy of the Custom-House, and, hailing a cab, paid 
 the man double fare in advance to hurry to the hotel. 
 He could hardly wait while the servant went through 
 the formality of taking up his name to the Countess, 
 and when the message came back that he would 
 "please to step upstairs," as the stereotyped Ameri- 
 can hotel phrase has it, he seemed indeed to make of 
 the stairway but a single step. 
 
 One moment more, and he was kneeling at her feet, 
 
360 DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 trembling in every limb and speechless, but kissing 
 the fair white hands again and again, while she bent 
 down her flushed dark cheek till it touched his yellow 
 hair. Then he stood up to his height and kissed her 
 forehead and clasped his fingers about her waist and 
 held her up to the length of his mighty arms before 
 him, unconscious, in his overmastering happiness, 
 of the strength he was exerting. But she laughed 
 happily, and her eyes flashed in pride of such a man. 
 
 "Forgive me, my beloved," he said at last. "I 
 am beside myself with joy." She hid her face on his 
 breast as they stood together. 
 
 " Are you very glad to come back ? " she asked at 
 last, looking up to him with a smile that told the 
 answer. 
 
 " Glad is too poor a word, my dear, dear lady, " he 
 said simply. 
 
 Two hours later they were still seated side by side 
 on the deep sofa. Claudius had told her everything, 
 for, now that he had accomplished his mission, there 
 were to be no more secrets ; and there were tears in 
 Margaret's dark eyes as she heard, for she knew 
 what it had cost him to leave her, knowing how he 
 loved. And then they talked on. 
 
 "If it is to be so soon, dear," she said, "let it be 
 on Christmas Day." 
 
 "So be it. And, beloved, where shall we go?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " Oh, away — away from New York and — and Mr. 
 Barker and Mr. Screw and all these horrid people," 
 she cried; for she too had confessed and told him all. 
 
 "Yes," he said; and was silent for a moment. 
 
DOCTOR CLAUDIUS. 361 
 
 "Dear one," he began again, "there is one thing 
 more that you ought to know " he stopped. 
 
 " Yes ? " she said interrogatively. 
 
 " My blessed lady, I have told you the story of my 
 birth for the first time to-day. I thought you ought 
 to know it." 
 
 "That would never have made any difference, 
 Claudius," she answered half reproachfully. 
 
 "My uncle — my father's brother — died a week 
 before I sailed." 
 
 "I am sorry, dear," said she in ready sympathy ; 
 "were you fond of him?" She did not realise what 
 he meant. 
 
 "I never remember to have seen him," he replied; 
 " but — he died childless. And I — I am no longer a 
 privat-docent." Margaret turned quickly to him, 
 comprehending suddenly. 
 
 "Then you are the heir?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes, darling," he said softly. "It is a great 
 name, and you must help me to be worthy of it. I 
 am no longer Dr. Claudius." He added the last sen- 
 tence with a shade of regret. 
 
 " And you need never have taken any trouble about 
 this stupid money, after all? You are independent 
 of all these people ? " 
 
 "Yes," he answered, with a smile, " entirely so. " 
 
 "I am so glad, — so glad, you do not know," said 
 she, clasping her hands on his shoulder. "You 
 know I hated to feel you were wrangling with those 
 lawyers for money; " and she laughed a little scorn- 
 fully. 
 
 "We will have it, all the same," said Claudius, 
 smiling, "and you shall do as you like with it, be- 
 loved. It was honestly got, and will bring no ill 
 
362 DOCTOK CLAUDIUS. 
 
 luck with it. And now I have told you, I say, let 
 us go to my father's house and make it ours." He 
 spoke proudly and fondly. "Let me welcome my 
 dear lady where her match was never welcomed 
 before." 
 
 "Yes, dear, we will go there." 
 
 "Perhaps the Duke will lend us the yacht?" said 
 Claudius. 
 
 "Yes," said Margaret, and there was a tinge of 
 sadliess in her voice, "yes, perhaps the Duke will 
 lend us the yacht." 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Typography by J. S. Gushing & Co., Boston, U.S.A. 
 Presswork by Berwick & Smith, Boston, U.S.A. 
 
THE SARACINESCA SERIES. 
 
 DON ORSINO. 
 
 A Continuation of "Saracinesca" and "Sant' Ilario." 
 
 "The third in a rather remarkable series of novels dealing with 
 three generations of the Saracinesca family, entitled respectively 
 ' Saracinesca, ' ' Sant' Ilario ' and ' Don Orsino, ' and these novels present 
 an important study of Italian life, customs, and conditions during the 
 present century. Each one of these novels is worthy of very careful 
 reading and offers exceptional enjoyment in many ways, in the 
 fascinating absorption of good fiction, in interest of faithful historic 
 accuracy, and in charm of style. The ' new Italy ' is strikingly 
 revealed in ' Don Orsino. ' " — Boston Budget. 
 
 " We are inclined to regard the book as the most ingenious of all 
 Mr. Crawford's fictions. Certainly it is the best novel of the season." 
 — Evening Bulletin. 
 
 SANT' ILARIO. A Sequel to "Saracinesca." 
 
 " The author shows steady and constant improvement in his art. 
 ' Sant' Ilario ' is a continuation of the chronicles of the Saracinesca 
 family. ... A singularly powerful and beautiful story. . . . Ad- 
 mirably developed, with a naturalness beyond praise. ... It must 
 rank with ' Greifenstein ' as the best work the author has produced. 
 It fulfils every requirement of artistic fiction. It brings out what is 
 most impressive in human action, without owing any of its effective- 
 ness to sensationalism or artifice. It is natural, fluent in evolution, 
 accordant with experience, graphic in description, penetrating in 
 analysis, and absorbing in interest." — New York Tribune. 
 
 SARACINESCA. 
 
 ' ' His highest achievement, as yet, in the realms of fiction. The 
 work has two distinct merits, either of which would serve to make 
 it great, — that of telling a perfect story in a perfect way, and of giv- 
 ing a graphic picture of Roman society in the last days of the Pope's 
 temporal power. . . . The story is exquisitely told." — Boston 
 Trcmeller. 
 
 "One of the most engrossing novels we have ever read." — Boston 
 Times. 
 
 The three volumes in a box, $3.00. 
 Half morocco, $8.00. Half calf, $7.50. 
 2 
 
THE THREE FATES. 
 
 " The strength of the story lies in its portrayal of the aspirations, 
 disciplinary efforts, trials and triumphs of the man who is a born 
 writer, and who, by long and painful experiences, leams the good 
 that is in him and the way in which to give it effectual expression. 
 The analytical quality of the book is excellent, and the individuality 
 of each one of the very dissjmilar three fates is set forth in an entirely 
 satisfactory manner. . . . Mr. Crawford has manifestly brought his 
 best qualities as a student of human nature and his finest resources 
 as a master of an original and picturesque style to bear upon this 
 story. Taken for all in all it is one of the most pleasing of all his 
 productions in fiction, and it aflEords a view of certain phases of Amer- 
 ican, or perhaps we should say of New York, life that have not 
 hitherto been treated with anything like the same adequacy and 
 felicity." — Boston Beacon. 
 
 THE WITCH OF PRAGUE. 
 
 A Fantastic Tale. 
 Illustrated by W. J. Hbnnbssy. 
 
 " ' The Witch of Prague' is so remarkable a book as to be certain 
 of as wide a popularity as any of its predecessors. The keenest inter- 
 est for most readers will lie in its demonstration of the latest revela- 
 tions of hypnotic science. . . . But ' The Witch of Prague ' is not 
 merely a striking exposition of the far-reaching possibilities of a new 
 science ; it is a romance of singular daring and power. " — London 
 Academy. 
 
 " Mr. Crawford has written in many keys, but never in so strange 
 a one as that which dominates 'The Witch of Prague.' . . . The 
 artistic skill with which this extraordinary story is constructed and 
 carried out is admirable and delightful. . . . Mr. Crawford has 
 scored a decided triumph, for the interest of the tale is sustained, 
 throughout. ... A very remarkable, powerful, and interesting 
 story." — N'ew York Tribune. 
 
 " But Mr. Crawford has not lost his oft-proved skill in holding 
 his readers' attention, and there are single scenes and passages in this 
 book that rival in intensity anything he has ever written." — Christian 
 Union. 
 
A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S ROMANCE. 
 
 "It is a touching romance, filled with scenes of great dramatic 
 power.'' — Boston Commercial Bulletin. 
 
 " It is full of life and movement, and is one of the best of Mr. 
 Crawford's books." — Boston Saturday JE/eening Gazette. 
 
 "The interest is unflagging throughout. Never has Mr. Craw- 
 ford done more brilliant realLstic work than here. But his realism 
 is only the case and cover for those intense feelings which, placed 
 under no matter what humble conditions, produce the most dramatic 
 and the most tragic situations. . . . This is a secret of genius, to 
 take the most coarse and common material, the meanest surround- 
 ings, the most sordid material prospects, and out of the vehement 
 passions which sometimes dominate all human beings to build up 
 with these poor elements scenes and passages, the dramatic and emo- 
 tional power of which at once enforce attention and awaken the pro- 
 foundest interest." — I^ew York Tribune. 
 
 " In the ' Cigarette-maker's Eomance ' Mr. Crawford may be said 
 to have given new evidence of the novel-maker's art. . . . It is to be 
 hoped that every one who reads Mr. Crawford's tale will heed of the 
 rare finish of his literary work, a model in its kind." — The Critic. 
 
 GREIFENSTEIN, 
 
 " ' Qreifenstein \is a remarkable novel, and while it illustrates 
 once more the author's unusual versatility, it also shows that he has 
 not been tempted into careless writing by the vogue of his earlier 
 books. . . . 'There is nothing weak or small or frivolous in the story. 
 The author deals with tremendous passions working at the height of 
 their energy. His characters are stern, rugged, determined men and 
 women, governed by powerful prejudices and iron conventions, types 
 of a military people, in whom the sense of duty has been cultivated 
 untU it dominates all other motives, and in whom the principle of 
 ' noblesse oblige ' is, so far as the aristocratic class is concerned, the 
 fundamental rule of conduct. What such people may be capable of 
 is startlingly shown." — New Tork Tribune. 
 
 "... Another notable contribution to the literature of the day. It 
 possesses originality in its conception and is a work of unusual abil- 
 ity. Its interest is sustained to the close, and it is an advance even 
 on the previous work of this talented author. Like all Mr. Craw- 
 ford's work this novel is crisp, clear, and vigorous, and will be read 
 with a great deal of interest."— iV«M York Evening Telegram. 
 
 4 
 
MR. ISAACS. 
 
 A Tale of Modern India. 
 
 " Tlie writer first shows the hero in relation with the people of 
 the East and then skilfully brings into connection the Anglo-Saxon 
 race. It is in this showing of the different effects which the two 
 classes of minds have upon the central figure of the story that one of 
 its chief merits lies. The characters are original and one does not 
 recognize any of the hackneyed personages who are so apt to he con- 
 sidered indispensable to novelists, and which, dressed in one guise or 
 another, are but the marionettes, which are all dominated by the 
 same mind, moved by the same motive force. The men are all 
 endowed with individualism and independent life and thought. . . . 
 There is a strong tinge of mysticism about the book which is one of 
 its greatest charms." — Boston Transcript. 
 
 " No story of human experience that we have met with since 
 ■ John Inglesant ' has such an effect of transporting the reader into 
 regions differing from his own. ' Mr. Isaacs ' is the best novel that 
 has ever laid its scenes in our Indian dominions." — Tlie Daily News, 
 London. 
 
 " This is a fine and noble story. It has freshness like a new and 
 striking scene on which one has never looked -before. It has character 
 and individuality. It has meaning. It is lofty and uplifting, It is 
 strongly, sweetly, tenderly written. It is in all respects an uncommon 
 novel. ... In fine, ' Mr. Isaacs ' is an acquaintance to be made." 
 
 — The Liter a/ry World. 
 
 DR. CLAUDIUS. 
 
 A True Story. 
 
 "There is a suggestion of strength, of a mastery of facts, of a 
 fund of knowledge, that speaks well for future production. ... To 
 be thoroughly enjoyed, however, this book must be read, as no mere 
 cursory notice can give an adequate idea of its many interesting 
 points and excellences, for without a doubt 'Dr. Claudius' is the 
 most interesting book that has been published for many months, and 
 richly deserves a high place in the public favor. "St. Louis Spectator. 
 
 '"Dr. Claudius' is surprisingly good, coming after a story of so 
 much merit as 'Mr. Isaacs.' The hero is a magnificent specimen of 
 humanity, and sympathetic readers will be fascinated by his chival- 
 rous wooing of the beautiful American countess. " — Boston Traveller. 
 
 ' ' To our mind it by no means belies the promises of its predecessor. 
 The story, an exceedingly improbable and romantic one, is told with 
 much skill ; the characters are strongly marked without any suspi- 
 cion of caricature, and the author's ideas on social and political sub- 
 jects are often brilliant and always striking. It is no exaggeration to 
 say that there is not a dull page in the book, which is peculiarly adapted 
 for the recreation of student or thinkei. "—Liviiig Church. 
 
 5 
 
WITH THE IMMORTALS. 
 
 " Altogetlier an admirable piece of art worked in the spirit of a 
 thorough artist. Every reader of cultivated tastes will find it a book 
 prolific in entertainment of the most refined description, and to al) 
 such we commend it hesntily."— Boston Saturday Biiening Gazette. 
 
 "The strange central idea of the story could have occurred only 
 to a writer whose mind was very sensitive to the current of modern 
 thought and progress, while its execution, the setting it forth in 
 proper literary clothing, could be successfully attempted only by one 
 whose active literary ability should be fully equalled by his power of 
 assimilative knowledge both literary and scientific, and no less by 
 his courage and capacity for hard work. The book will be found to 
 have a fascination entirely new for the habitual reader of novels. 
 Indeed Mr. Crawford has succeeded in taking his readers quite above 
 the ordinary plane of novel interest." — Boston Advertiser. 
 
 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX. 
 
 " We take the liberty of saying that this work belongs to the 
 highest department of character-painting in words." — Ghurchman. 
 
 " 'Marzio's Crucifix' is another of those tales of modern Rome 
 which show the author so much at his ease. A subtle compound of 
 artistic feeling, avarice, malice, and criminal frenzy is this carver of 
 silver chalices and crucifixes." — The limes. 
 
 " We have repeatedly had occasion to say that Mr. Crawford pos- 
 sesses in an extraordinary degree the art of constructing a story. His 
 sense of proportion is just, and his narrative flows along with ease 
 and perspicuity. It is as if it could not have been written otherwise, 
 so naturally does the story unfold itself, and so logical and consistent 
 is the sequence of incident after incident. As a story ' Marzio's Cru- 
 cifix' is perfectly constructed." — New York Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 KHALED. 
 
 A Story of Arabia. 
 
 "Throughout the fascinating story runs the subtlest analysis, 
 suggested rather than elaborately worked out, of human passion and 
 motive, the building out and development of the character of the 
 woman who becomes the hero's wife and whose love he finally wins 
 being an especially acute and highly-finished example of the story- 
 teller's art. . . . That it is beautifully written and holds the interest 
 of the reader, fanciful as it all is, to the very end, none who know 
 the depth and artistic finish of Mr. Crawford's work need be told. 
 
 — The Chicago Times. 
 
 "It abounds in stirring incidents and barbaric picturesqueness ; 
 and the love struggle of the unloved Khaled is manly in its simplicity 
 and noble in its ending. Mr. Crawford has done nothing better than, 
 if he has done anything as good as, ' Khaled.' " — The MaM and Ex- 
 
 i; 
 
ZOROASTER, 
 
 " The novel opens with a magnificent description of the marc-i -tf 
 the Babylonian court to Belshazzar's feast, with the sudden an tl awl i, i 
 ending of the latter by the marvellous writing on the wall which 
 Daniel is called to interpret. From that point the story moves on in a 
 series of grand and dramatic scenes and incidents which will not fail 
 to hold the reader fascinated and spell-bound t6 the end." — Christian 
 at Work. 
 
 "The field of Mr. Crawford's imagination appears to be un- 
 bounded. ... In ' Zoroaster 'Mr. Crawford's winged fancy ventures 
 a daring flight. . . . Yet ' Zoroaster ' is a novel rather than a drama. 
 It is a drama in the force of its situations and in the poetry and 
 dignity of its language ; but its men and women are not men and 
 women of a play. By the naturalness of their conversation and be- 
 havior they seem to live and lay hold of our human sympathy more 
 than the same characters on a stage could possibly do." — The 
 Times. 
 
 " As a matter of literary art solely, we doubt if Mr. Crawford has 
 ever before given us better work than the description of Belshazzar's 
 feast with which the story begins, or the death-scene with which it 
 closes." — The Ohristian Union. 
 
 A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH. 
 
 "It is a pleasure to have anything so perfect of its kind as this 
 brief and vivid story. ... It is doubly a success, being full of human 
 sympathy, as well as thoroughly artistic in its nice balancing of the 
 unusual with the commonplace, the clever juxtaposition of innocence 
 and guilt, comedy and tragedy, simplicity and intrigue. " — Critic. 
 
 ' ' Of all the stories Mr. Crawford has written, it is the most dra- 
 matic, the most finished, the most compact. . . . The taste which is 
 left in one's mind after the story is finished is exactly what the fine 
 reader desires and the novelist intends. ... It has no defects. It is 
 neither trifling nor trivial. It is a work of art. It is perfect." 
 
 —Boston Beacon. 
 
 " The plot is unfolded and the character-drawing given with the 
 well-known artistic skill of Mr. Crawford, and to those who have not 
 before read it this story will furnish a rare literary treat." 
 
 — Home Jorwrnal 
 
 7 
 
. Macmillan & Co. take pleasure in announcing tliat tliey 
 iiave made arrangements to add tiie following volumes 
 (with the author's latest revisions) to their uniform edition 
 of the Works of Mr. F. Marion Crawford, thereby en- 
 abling them to issue a complete edition of all his writings. 
 
 TO LEEWARD. (January, 1893.) 
 
 New Edition, revised. 
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. {February.) 
 
 New Edition, revised and corrected. 
 
 PAUL PATOFF. {March.) 
 
 New Edition, revised. 
 
 AN AMERICAN POLITICIAN. {Aprils, 
 
 New Edition, revised and partly rewritten. 
 
 , IN THE PRESS: 
 
 CHILDREN OF THE KING. {February 
 A Tale of Southern Italy. 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO., 
 
 112 FOURTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 
 
¥3:-j;:2.,. 
 
 
 
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