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 BENNO LOEWY LIBRARY 
 
 COLLECTED BY 
 
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 1854-1919 
 BEQUEATHED TO CORNELL UNIVERSITY 
 

 7 
 
 PS 2355.Ml7c2 """™"" "^'"^ 
 * 'iiiiffmi]i»'i95lti?.,I!9.1!S!i6Y "^^ord Flemm 
 
 3 1924 022 498 806 
 
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/cu31924022498806 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT 
 
 A Novel 
 
 HAEFORD FLEMMING 
 
 AUTHOR OP " CUPID AND THE SPHINX " 
 
 Nothing iB there to come, and nothing past ; 
 But an eternal now does always last. 
 
 C0W1.GY, Davideia 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 New York: II East Seventeenth Street 
 
Copyright, 1886, ; 
 Bt HOUGHTON, MIMLIN & CO. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Rvoenide Press, CavOmdge : 
 Electiotyped and Printed by H. 0. Houghton & Co, 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AFTER THE BALL. 
 
 " A mighty maze, but not without a plan." 
 
 Pore. 
 
 The lights were brilliant still, although the flow- 
 ers were fading. The music had ceased, and the 
 hunchbacked violinist was putting his instrument 
 into its case. The flageolet player and the pianist 
 and the two French horns were gone. 
 
 The gay entertainment had come to an end, and 
 the hostess stood meditatively before a tall mirror, 
 at one end of the room, which reflected her white 
 satin dress and all its elaborate embroidery, from 
 the low-cut neck to the point of the train, with un- 
 interrupted accuracy. 
 
 She had been said to resemble Titian's Flora on 
 account of the fashionable color of her hair, and 
 perhaps from an impressive serenity of demeanor. 
 She was a striking-looking woman and dressed to 
 perfection, which can hardly be said of Titian's 
 masterpiece ; but she was no longer young, and al- 
 I 
 
2 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 though her figure and complexion were still fine 
 her small red-brown eyes and a lack of delicacy in 
 the shape and expression of her mouth interfered 
 with her tide to be considered handsome. 
 
 She seemed to be looking at herself, although 
 she was not consciously doing so, any more than 
 she was aware of the ironical smile with which the 
 hunchbacked musician regarded her, as, after hav- 
 ing carefully packed his instrument, he bowed and 
 departed. 
 
 The whole of the ball-room was as perfectly re- 
 produced in the mirror as the lady's toilet, and the 
 gaze of the hostess was fixed on a certain yellow 
 satin sofa, which furnished an alcove on her left, 
 formed by a deep bay window, the opening of which 
 was partly screened by a stand of flowering plants 
 and shaded by heavy curtains. 
 
 The two persons who occupied the sofa were so 
 closed in by their surroundings that it was not to 
 be wondered at that they had not perceived the 
 gradual departure of the company in general, and 
 were yet unaware of the emptiness of the room. 
 
 One, a young girl in a dress of marvelously in- 
 terwoven stripes of blue and gold, was sitting well 
 back in the farther corner. She was slight, with 
 dark hair, a dark skin, and very clearly cut fea- 
 tures. Her head was a little bent, and her eyes 
 were cast down, with an amused smile about the 
 corners of her mouth. She seemed to be submit- 
 ting rather than listening to the somewhat labored 
 speech of her companion, a youth not much older 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 3 
 
 than herself, who was leaning a little towards her, 
 and talking earnestly. The lady of the house could 
 only see the reflection of his back, a fine broad one, 
 and judge by his attitude of the expression of his 
 face ; but she could see enough to satisfy her. 
 
 " He is doing very well," she said to herself. 
 " She may smile now, but she will not smile always. 
 If he only does not change his mind, he will win 
 his way at last. I have known men succeed who 
 were twice as stupid and not half so good-looking, 
 where they were determined. The great thing will 
 be to get her guardian's consent" — She start- 
 ed, for at this moment her interesting study was 
 broken in upon. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Drayton," she said aloud, as she 
 turned to greet a tall, handsome man in evening 
 dress, who approached her without noticing the two 
 whom she was watching. " So you have escaped 
 from Mr. Davering at last, and are ready, I fancy, 
 for a little supper with which to end the evening." 
 
 " No more supper, thank you. I came to look 
 for Julia," said Mr. Drayton. " I had no idea it 
 was so late. Your husband beguiled me into his 
 sanctum, and there we have been smoking and re- 
 calling old college days for the last hour. I hear 
 the ball was delightful, Mrs. Davering. How 
 charmingly your rooms look ! " 
 
 " Yes, I think the party went off fairly well," 
 said Mrs. Davering, not without some of the "pride 
 that apes humility ; " " but you really shall look at 
 nothing until I have shown you your own beautiful 
 
4 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 gift, — these lovely Jacqueminots. Do they not 
 look well in this corner ? I hung them here that 
 every one might see them." 
 
 She drew his attention, as she spoke, to a basket 
 of dark red roses, with green vines of smilax trail- 
 ing from it, which hung on the carved props of an 
 easel, the support of a little landscape in water col- 
 ors, which brightened the corner of the room far- 
 thest from the alcove and its occupants. 
 
 " It seems to me that every one has gone," said 
 Mr. Drayton rather absently. " I must find Julia. 
 I am afraid she will be wondering where I am." 
 
 " Perhaps we shall find her in the library," said 
 Mrs. Davering, slipping her arm through that of 
 her companion. " How well Julia looked this 
 evening ! " she continued, as she led him unsuspect- 
 ingly towards the door through which he had en- 
 tered ; " she has so much ease and charm of man- 
 ner, too, one would not imagine that this was her 
 first ball." 
 
 " Julia has seen some society at home," said Mr. 
 Drayton, smiling, " and then traveling does a great 
 deal in that way for young people, I think." 
 
 As they left the room the young man on the sofa 
 said, " I am really obliged to you for letting me ex- 
 plain it. It is awfully interesting to me, you know, 
 and I can't understand why so many girls don't 
 care a fig for what a fellow takes an interest in." 
 
 " Perhaps they don't take an interest in the fel- 
 low, you know," said the young lady, with a frank 
 smile. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 5 
 
 "Well, no, I did not mean that; that would be 
 natural, of course," said the youth, turning,red. 
 
 " But I mean that I think it would be very un- 
 natural." 
 
 " I wish I could tell what you really do mean, 
 Miss Prescott," he answered bluntly. 
 
 " I really do mean that so far as I can see the 
 people are all gone, and so far as I can hear the 
 music is stopped, and the party must be over ! " 
 
 " By Jove, I believe it is ! " exclaimed her com- 
 panion, springing up. He was a strong, active- 
 looking feUow, with brown curly hair, a ruddy 
 complexion, and a pair of very stolid blue eyes. 
 " What a bore to have it end ! " he said. 
 
 "I do not agree with you, Mr. Hazzard. It 
 was pleasant, but do you not think we might reaUy 
 have been bored if it had kept on forever ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know about that," said Mr. Haz- 
 zard. " I think I could have stood it ; that is, I 
 would not have minded sitting on as we were." 
 
 " For how many years ? " asked the girl, looking 
 up at him gayly as he stood before her. " Imagine 
 my growing old and wrinkled in my ball -dress, 
 and your losing all your teeth, and still sitting on, 
 on this sofa, until you could not get up without a 
 cane." 
 
 " Oh, I only meant if we could remain unchanged, 
 of course," said Mr. Hazzard, with a troubled look. 
 It seemed to him that his conversational ship had 
 sailed into unknown waters, and he was afraid of 
 hidden reefs. 
 
6 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " I really think that would be more of a bore," 
 said Miss Prescott. " To be always sitting on a 
 yellow satin sofa, and always the same, just think ! 
 Now growing old is not cheei-ful, but still it might 
 divert our minds a little." 
 
 She looked very pretty as she said this, and very 
 saucy. Poor Mr. Hazzard, who was evidently a 
 captive to her charms, sighed deeply. 
 
 " I should not want anything to divert my mind," 
 he said, gloomily. 
 
 " Nonsense ! You would be dying to go shoot- 
 ing, or rowing, or skating, or anything that you are 
 fond of doing. But I wonder where Mrs. Davering 
 is. I must go and say good-night. And I thought 
 I heard my guardian's voice a moment ago." 
 
 '' So you did. I think he went into the next 
 room with my mother." 
 
 " Shall we go and find them ? " asked Miss Pres- 
 cott. She appeared, as she stood up, to be of about 
 medium height, lithe and well proportioned, her 
 figure seeming to imply a certain reserved strength, 
 which was also felt to be half hinted in her face. 
 
 " How glad you seem that your first ball is over," 
 said the young fellow, jealously. 
 
 " Until it is over, how can ray second one be- 
 gin ? " she asked, philosophically. 
 
 As Mr. Drayton and his ward were being driven 
 home from Mrs. Davering's ball, he said, — 
 
 " Well, dear, was the party a success ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, it was rather pleasant." 
 
 "IsthataU?" 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 7 
 
 " I know It sounds ungrateful," she said, depre- 
 catingly. 
 
 " You would have enjoyed it more if Philip had 
 been there," said Mr. Drayton. " He could have 
 introduced some of his friends. I was very sorry 
 that he had to go to Washington just at this time, 
 but it was a choice of evils ; either he or I " — 
 
 " And you knew how unhappy. I should be if 
 you went," broke in Julia. " What should I have 
 done ? It would have been rather ungracious to 
 disappoint Mrs. Davering, when she insisted on 
 considering that the party was given for me ; and 
 yet I never could have had the courage to go with- 
 out you to take care of me." 
 
 " I suppose it was hardly a matter of courage," 
 said her guardian. " In fact," he added resignedly, 
 " I fancy that this was one of those occult occa- 
 sions when I was bound to play propriety for your 
 benefit." 
 
 " I suppose so," replied Julia, with equal meek- 
 ness. 
 
 " I confess that I sometimes get a little mixed 
 up between the conflicting duties of the charac- 
 ters I am called upon to assume," said Mr. Dray- 
 •ton^^ " That of a gossiping chaperon, if I may 
 so describe my r81e to-night, suits me admirably ; 
 but I can't help thinking that if I had not been so 
 busy in this capacity I might have been of more 
 use to you as a society man." 
 
 " You might, if you had talked to me," said Julia, 
 " for then we should have entertained one another, 
 
8 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 and there would have been no doubt about my en- 
 joying the evening ; but as for playing master of 
 ceremonies and introduciug other people, I could 
 quite well dispense with your services." 
 
 " Did you have as many people as you wanted, 
 to dance with ? " 
 
 " Oh dear, yes, and to talk to ! — soinetimes two 
 or three at a time; but they were not very interest- 
 ing, or perhaps I was not. And then Charley Haz- 
 zard would insist upon my going to look at the 
 flowers in the bay window ; and when we got there 
 he asked me to sit down, which I did unsuspect- 
 ingly, for I began to thiiik afterwards that we never 
 should get out again." 
 
 " Oh ho ! " cried Mr. Drayton. " So that was 
 where you were, when I could not find you ? It 
 was not so bad, was it, to have to talk to a hand- 
 some young fellow, while you looked at the flowers 
 and listened to the music ? " 
 
 " But I did not have to talk. I had to listen ; 
 and not to the music, either, but to a minute descrip- 
 tion of the Way men train for boat-races." 
 
 " That was very instructive." 
 
 " It was very destructive to one of my bouquets 1 
 I pulled it almost all to pieces out of sheer despera- 
 tion." 
 
 " The form which your desperation took was not 
 very flattering to the sender of the flowers." 
 
 "The sender? Perhaps it might not have seemed 
 so, if he had been there ; but I am almost afraid he 
 would not have cared." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 9 
 
 " Afraid ? " 
 
 " I mean that I suspect he sent them only be- 
 cause he has been asked to the house so often." 
 
 " Why, what a little skeptic you are getting to 
 be ! I wonder there is anything left of the lilies 
 of the valley I gave you," he said, laughing, as he 
 glanced down at a fragrant bunch, which she stUl 
 held in her hand. " They were a direct return, I 
 assure you, for many an evening's entertainment." 
 
 Julia laughed, too. 
 
 " On the contrary," she answered, " I used to be 
 a skeptic, but now I am learning to distinguish." 
 She looked up into his face, which she could see 
 quite plainly by the aid of a street lamp, with a 
 bright, trustful gleam in her dark eyes which con- 
 trasted strongly with their usual self-contained ex- 
 pression. 
 
 " And who is the person whom you have distin- 
 guished so unflatteringly ? " 
 
 " Oh, as for that," said Julia, "he is not here at 
 all. The bouquet which I demolished was sent 
 from Boston, by Philip's friend. Dr. Carey." 
 
 There was a short silence. 
 
 " Julia ! " said Mr. Drayton, suddenly, in a 
 graver tone than he had used before. 
 
 « Well, sir ? " 
 
 " It troubles me that you seem to take so little 
 pleasure in the society of your young friends." 
 
 " I have very few," said Julia. 
 
 " But there is no reason why you should not have 
 many." 
 
10 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " I do not care for most people enough to make 
 friends of them." 
 
 " That does not seem natural at your age." 
 
 " Does it seem unnatural, at yours, that one should 
 not care to tinist every one ? " 
 
 " No, not at mine." 
 
 " Then would you have me stupid, just because 
 I am young ? " 
 
 " No, dear, not stupid, but with more of the 
 freshness of youth, its beautiful faith and happy 
 belief in things at their best." 
 
 " I am sorry," said Julia. " I have no illusions. 
 If I ever had any, they must have been nipped in 
 the bud." 
 
 " And yet there is a great capacity for faith in 
 your nature," said Mr. Drayton, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Do you think so ? " 
 
 " I know it." 
 
 " And if there should be — for I am not sure — 
 would you have me expend it on people whom I 
 know to be shallow and selfish ? " 
 
 " How can you know it, child ? You judge peo- 
 ple too hastily and too harshly." 
 
 " Perhaps I do ; but if I cannot think them nice, 
 how can I want to see much of them ? " 
 
 " Try to be more charitable. You will find that 
 there is some good in every one ; at least, so I think. 
 It may be an old-fashioned doctrine. Meanwhile, 
 is there no one — no young girl of your own age, 
 for instance — whom you do feel attached to, and 
 would like to see more of ? " 
 
- A CARPET KNIGHT. 11 
 
 Julia was silent for a moment. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " there is one, — an old school 
 friend. I would give a great deal to see her 
 again ! " 
 
 " You have only to say the word, my dear. I 
 am delighted that there is a friend whom you would 
 like to have with you." And thus encouraged 
 Julia did say the word. 
 
CHAPTEK II. 
 
 "For Art may err, but Nature cannot miss." 
 
 Drtdbn. 
 
 The face of a young girl, seated in an American 
 drawing-room car, had attracted the attention of a 
 feUow-traveler, who watched her with some interest. 
 It was a sweet, fair face, with wide blue eyes and 
 a very tender little mouth. It did not suggest the 
 idea of any great depth or breadth of intellectual 
 capacity, but it filled one with a certainty that its 
 owner was pure and good. She had, besides this, 
 an air of extreme youth and inexperience, which, 
 together with an evident desire to seem at home in 
 novel circumstances, was almost toucjiing. 
 
 She was, apparently, unused to traveling, and 
 nothing about her eseaiped careful notice, but she 
 was very quiet in the study of her surroundings. 
 It was, perhaps, as much the well-bred reserve of 
 her manner as her face which held the attention of 
 her observer ; but he had a nice eye for effect, al- 
 though not quite equal to understanding the detail 
 of female attire, and he had been struck with the 
 elegant simplicity of her dark green traveling dress, 
 fitted faultlessly to her pretty, slender figure, even 
 before he saw her face. A small plush bonnet, of 
 the same dark color, had at first been a source of 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 13 
 
 intense aggravation to him, as all that he was per- 
 mitted to see beyond the bonnet was a stray lock 
 of curling light brown hair and part of a smooth 
 white cheek. 
 
 Occupying the arm-chair directly behind his fair 
 neighbor, his situation was not a very favorable one 
 for observation, but the revolving liberty allowed 
 to his otherwise fixed position enabled him to turn, 
 presently, so as to face the large window at the side 
 of the car, through which she was looking ; and 
 then it chanced that a swift little backward motion 
 of her head, as her eyes followed some retreating 
 object in the landscape, gave him at length a very 
 complete impression. 
 
 He was himself a gentlemanly-looking young fel- 
 low of about five and twenty. He wore an overcoat 
 of a very light shade, although it was winter, and 
 carried a cane. He had also carefully suspended 
 his black silk hat in a kind of crate overhead, 
 which seemed to be intended for that purpose, and 
 put on a small camel's-hair cap of a pale brown 
 tint, embroidered with silk of the same color. 
 
 The journey, which had been begun at about 
 four o'clock of a December afternoon, happened, 
 as the event proved, to be prolonged much beyond 
 its expected length; for instead of reaching their 
 destination, which chanced to be the same, at a 
 little after six, the two travelers found themselves 
 scarcely one third of the way when that hour ar- 
 rived, in consequence of an accident somewhere on 
 the line of the railroad. 
 
14 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 The news of the disaster was telegraphed along 
 the road, but the conductors were too well drilled 
 to show anxiety in their faces. They passed about 
 cheerfully from car to car, answering all inquiries 
 ■with a calm assumption of ignorance, which, as the 
 minutes grew into hours of waiting, became in- 
 tensely aggravating to uneasy persons, who saw 
 their dinner hour and their journey's end receding 
 farther and farther in opposite directions. 
 
 There was no one who felt the unfitness and 
 impropriety of such a divorce more keenly than 
 the young man in the light overcoat. He got out 
 of his seat and left the car. He came back to it 
 again with an air of forced resignation. He 
 changed his cap for his hat, and his hat for his 
 cap, many times. When the conductor appeared he 
 asked him penetrating questions as to the nature 
 and vicinity of the accident, which he cleverly as- 
 sumed to have occurred, and treated the evasive an- 
 swers which he obtained with the contempt which 
 they deserved. 
 
 It soon grew too dark to see beyond a large red 
 light before the station where they were delayed, 
 and thus the diversion of inspecting the scenery 
 was denied, and he was cut off from all amusement 
 but that of watching the occupant of the arm-chair 
 in front of him. 
 
 The girl had turned away from the window as 
 the shades of evening fell, and, the lamps being 
 lighted within, had drawn a paper-covered volume 
 from her canvas traveling-bag, which she seemed to 
 be perusing with much interest. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 15 
 
 She did not exhibit the least sign of uneasiness, 
 impatience, or alarm. One would have suspected 
 from her manner that she almost enjoyed the delay, 
 since the little incidents to which it gave rise were 
 evidently of as much interest to her as the more 
 active events of the journey. 
 
 She looked up when any one passed through the 
 car. or any of the passengers spoke near her. She 
 listened to all that the conductor had to say, and 
 was very friendly with a little Scotch terrier be- 
 longing to an actress, who was seated just opposite ; 
 but between all her little upward glances, which 
 were as earnest and unconscious as those of a bird, 
 she returned to the novel she was reading, with the 
 air of one whose individuality was quite apart from 
 those of her fellow-travelers. 
 
 After watching her with attention for some time, 
 thinking that she might happen to turn towards 
 him, or that chance might offer him some opening 
 for conversation, — which he intended, be it under- 
 stood, to conduct after the most courteous and re- 
 spectful manner, — her neighbor became hopeless 
 of the attempt. There was something in the young 
 lady's manner which precluded it. 
 
 At last, at nearly ten o'clock, they reached their 
 journey's end. The young lady in the dark green 
 traveling dress collected her book, her shawl, and 
 her bag, and stepped out of the train, in a well- 
 known railway station, in the midst of a very large, 
 very flat city, where almost all the houses were built 
 of red brick, and were approached by white marble 
 
16 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 steps, and where many of them still retained the 
 white painted doors and shutters of a former fash- 
 ion ; where the streets crossed each other at right 
 angles in the most proper manner, and four green 
 squares, at justly measured intervals, planted with 
 solemn rows of trees, bounded the older, more cen- 
 tral, and more intensely respectable portion of the 
 metropolis. 
 
 These stately attractions had not yet dawned 
 upon the young lady, who was a stranger to the 
 city of brotherly love, and was surprised and con- 
 fused at the size and bustle of the huge brick sta- 
 tion in which she found herself. 
 
 She was evidently expecting some one to meet 
 her, — probably an old gentleman, for she glanced 
 anxiously at the face of every elderly man whom 
 she saw, as she walked along the platform, and 
 scanned stiU more wistfully those who were stand- 
 ing outside the raiHng which separated the trains 
 from the waiting-rooms and offices. 
 
 As her fellow-passengers filed slowly through the 
 iron gateway, formed by an opening in this railing, 
 she saw many of them greeted by an expectant 
 friend or group of friends, and eagerly hurried 
 away. Those who were not met by any one ap- 
 peared to be old travelers, accustomed to look out 
 for themselves, or natives returning to their homes, 
 who trudged off with an air of ease and familiar- 
 ity with the surroundings which denoted that they 
 knew just where to go and what to do. 
 
 Unfortunately for the stranger, she belonged to 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 17 
 
 no one of these classes. She was alone, in an un- 
 known city, not at all accustomed to traveling, and 
 everything about her was new and untried. She 
 had been so dertain of being met and welcomed 
 that it had not occurred to her to consider her best 
 course of action in case she were not, and she be- 
 gan to fear that her uncertainty and perplexed ex- 
 pression would attract attention. 
 
 At this moment the young man who had occu- 
 pied the seat behind hers approached and touched 
 his hat. 
 
 " Can I do anything for you ? " he asked. 
 
 " Thank you — no," she said, coldly. " I am 
 expecting my friends to meet me." 
 
 " Perhaps I can find them for you," said the 
 young man, who really wished to be of service. 
 
 " You are very kind, but I think they will be 
 here in a moment." 
 
 He touched his hat again, and was passing on, 
 when a glance at her face arrested him. Its 
 troubled expression quite belied the quiet decision 
 of her words. He hesitated and stood still. 
 
 " I should be very glad to help you," he said, in 
 a tone of embarrassed sincerity, which appealed to 
 the g^rl more successfully than his former more 
 confident address had done. 
 
 " There is nothing you can do," she said, relent- 
 ing a little, " unless," she added shyly, " you could 
 ■ find me a carriage." 
 
 " I will do so with pleasure. Let me take you 
 first to the waiting-room." He led the way as he 
 
18 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 spoke, carrying her bag, which he had taken from 
 her hand. She followed him without a word, and 
 waited in the ladies' room until he reappeared at 
 the door, when she came hastily out. 
 
 " How about your trunks ? " he asked, in a busi- 
 ness-like tone, as he helped her into the carriage he 
 had summoned. 
 
 " I have only one." 
 
 " Would it not be well to give your check to the 
 driver, and take it with you? " 
 
 " I think it would." 
 
 A silence fell between them when the man had 
 gone for the trunk. 
 
 The young lady was seated in the cab. Her ac- 
 cidental protector stood gravely by the open door, 
 until the cabman came back with her trunk, whi(^ 
 was a large one, and lifted it to its place in front. 
 
 " Will you get in, sir ? " he asked, holding the 
 cab-door open. 
 
 " No. Wait a moment. Where shall I tell him 
 to take you ? " the young man inquired. 
 
 "To Mr. Algernon Drayton's, 1822 Meredith 
 iSquare. I am very much obliged to you." 
 
 The young man started. 
 
 " Then you are a friend of Mr. Drayton, or of 
 Miss Prescott ! " he exclaimed,if<)rsaking the con- 
 straint into which her reserve had forced him for 
 his more buoyant natural manner. 
 
 " I am a friend of Miss Prescott's." 
 
 " I am so glad that I chanced to meet.jou. I 
 am Mr. Wilmott, a friend of Miss Prescott's, too, 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 19 
 
 and Mr. Drayton is my uncle. May I not see you 
 safely to the house ? " 
 
 And without waiting for an answer, he gave the 
 number to the driver, jumped into the carriage, and 
 closed the door. 
 
 The young lady was surprised, relieved, and em- 
 barrassed. It was a comfort to know that she had 
 some claim, even the most distant, on the attention 
 and kindness of her escort ; but his suggestion of 
 going with her, and the tSte-d-tSte which it involved, 
 of uncertain duration, in a four-wheeled cab, ap- 
 peared to her extremely awkward. 
 
 If she was impressed with this view of the sub- 
 ject, however, nothing seemed farther from the 
 mind of her companion. He spread her shawl, 
 which he had taken it upon himself to carry, on 
 the front seat, stowed away her traveling-bag un- 
 derneath it, and advised her to put her satchel on 
 top of the shawl. He then suggested that the win- 
 dow on her side had better be open, and, having 
 gained her assent, proceeded to open it. 
 
 " That enables you to see something," he said 
 cheerfully. " Now I can teU you about the streets 
 as we go along. Have you ever been here be- 
 fore? " 
 
 "No, never." 
 
 " Eeally ? That is delightful. Then you have a 
 great deal to see. I suppose you went to school 
 with Miss Prescott? " he added presently. 
 
 "Yes. We were at school together for several 
 years." 
 
20 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 "In New York?" 
 
 " Near New York." 
 
 " I wonder if I have not heard her speak of you ? 
 Do you live in New York ? " 
 
 " I live at New Eochelle." 
 
 " Then you must be Miss Arnold." 
 
 " Yes," she said, smiling, at his persistency. 
 
 " I knew you must be," he rejoined, in a tone of 
 great satisfaction. " Now, Miss Arnold, if you wUl 
 look out, please, you will presently see the buildings 
 for the new city offices." 
 
 She turned in the direction he indicated, and 
 caught a confused glimpse of a white mass of ma- 
 sonry. 
 
 "Why, how large they arel " she remarked, with 
 mild surprise. 
 
 " They are larger of course," replied Mr. Wil- 
 mott complacently, and began giving her some 
 local information with regard to them, of which she 
 did not hear a great deal, as she was gazing rather 
 absently out of the window. 
 
 Suddenly it occurred to her that she had not 
 expressed sufficient gratitude for the spontaneous 
 courtesy of her new acquaintance. 
 
 " I really feel very grateful to you, Mr. Wil- 
 mott, for your kindness," she said, looking into 
 the darkness of the carriage as she spoke, where 
 her companion's face was only faintly visible. " I 
 should have been much at a loss to know what to 
 do with myself, if you had not decided the matter 
 for me." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 21 
 
 " Of course you would," said Mr. Wilmott. 
 
 " Miss Prescott had written that Mr. Drayton 
 would meet me at the station," she continued, " or 
 I should not have been allowed to come." 
 
 " The train was delayed, you know. There was 
 an accident on the road. We were three hours 
 late," said her companion briskly. 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Arnold, " I know we were. 
 They must have given me up. The truth is that I 
 have hardly had enough experience to venture to 
 travel alone." 
 
 " They ought to have been able to find out about 
 the accident. I can't understand how such a clever 
 man as my uncle can have made such a stupid mis- 
 take," said Mr. Wilmott energetically. 
 
 " Perhaps he was prevented from coming, in 
 some unexpected way." 
 
 " I should have thought that in that case Ju- 
 lia — Miss Prescott, I mean — would have tried to 
 meet you herself." 
 
 " She may not have known of his having been 
 prevented." 
 
 " I see you are determined to be chasitable." 
 
 Just then the cabman began to drive faster, and 
 conversation became impossible, owing to the plung- 
 ing and rattling of the cab over the cobble-stones, 
 a form of pavement with which the young lady 
 from New Rochelle was not familiar. 
 
 " It will be better when we get on to the track," 
 called her new friend reassuringly ; and she needed 
 reassurance, for there was an excitement and sense 
 
22 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 of adventure in this strange arrival which made 
 her heart beat faster and faster with expectancy. 
 She distinctly associated the jar and hollow grating 
 sound with which the wheels of the cab sank into 
 the iron grooves of the tramway with her first im- 
 pression of Philadelphia, although she did not 
 learn until afterwards that the careful fitting of 
 the wheels of all carriages to this unyielding road 
 was one of the peculiarities of the Quaker city. 
 
 They stopped at last at the house in Meredith 
 Square, and the cabman asked if he should ring. 
 Miss Arnold looked out anxiously. 
 
 " I suppose so," she said, in a perplexed tone. 
 
 "Yes, ring the bell, of course," said Mr. Wil- 
 mott cheerfully. He was troubled with no agitat- 
 ing doubts. 
 
 The house was dark and silent. The man's foot- 
 steps resounded, as he climbed the steps, with a dis- 
 tinctness characteristic of very cold weather. He 
 struck his hands together impatiently after he had 
 rung, and then buried them in the depths of his 
 coat pockets. He walked back and forth on the 
 top step for a few moments, and then rang again. 
 This time a window of the second story was cau- 
 tiously opened,, and a female head protruded. 
 
 " Wait a moment," said a voice, in a subdued 
 tone. " I will come down," and the head mysteri- 
 ously disappeared. 
 
 " Something must have happened ! " cried Miss 
 Arnold, no longer able to conceal her perturbation 
 at such a strange reception. " What can it be ? " 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 23 
 
 "I will go and find out," said Mr. Wilmott, 
 with a quick appreciation of her distress which was 
 comforting. He went rapidly up the steps, and the 
 cabman came back to his horse. The next moment 
 the door was opened by a slender figure holding a 
 lamp, and a whispered colloquy was held in the 
 entry. Then Mr. Wilmott returned to the car- 
 riage. 
 
 " It is all right," he said. " Julia is there, and 
 she is delighted that you have come ; only my uncle 
 met with an accident." 
 
 " An accident ! " 
 
 " Yes. He was thrown from his horse, it seems, 
 yesterday, in the Park, and fearing the worst Julia 
 wrote to you not to come until she knew how badly 
 he was hiirt ; but Mr. Drayton is doing so well that 
 she had already sent a telegram urging your com- 
 ing to-morrow. It is odd that I knew nothing of 
 all this, but I have been away for several days." 
 
 " How strange that I did not get the letter ! " 
 said Miss Arnold imeasily. 
 
 " Oh dear, no, not the least strange. Letters are 
 delayed or go astray every day. Julia may have 
 misdirected it, in her anxiety, or more probably it 
 reached your home just after you left to-day. WiU 
 you not let me help you out ? She is waiting for 
 you, and greatly pleased that you have come so soon. 
 I have no doubt it wiU be a comfort to her to see 
 
 you." 
 
 " How kind you are ! " said the girl impulsively. 
 He helped her out of the carriage very gently, 
 
24 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 and then followed with her shawl and bags, while 
 she ran up the steps, and was soon folded in the 
 arms of her friend. 
 
 " You are a dear thing," said Miss Prescott, la- 
 conically. " I am delighted to see you ! Bring 
 that trunk in very quietly, please, and pat it down 
 here in the entry," she continued to the cabman, 
 who was advancing with Miss Arnold's trunk on 
 his shoulder. " Oh, he is much better, thank you," 
 she added, in reply to a hurried question about her 
 guardian. 
 
 " Good-night, Julia," said Mr. Wilmott. " Where 
 shall I put these things ? " 
 
 " Anywhere. Don't go, Cecil. Will you not 
 come in and get warm ? " 
 
 " No, not to-night, thank you. I will see you to- 
 morrow. Good-night ; good-night. Miss Arnold." 
 
 Then, when the cabman was paid and had de- 
 parted, the two girls were alone. 
 
CHAPTER HI. 
 
 ** He bad not the method of making a fortune." 
 
 Oeat. 
 
 Mbs. Davekinu was not naturally a clever wo- 
 man, if the word implies intuitive perception of 
 that which may or may not lie beyond the surface 
 of human nature, for she lacked insight ; but the 
 meaning of the epithet has been much questioned, 
 and in its commoner acceptation — that of a person 
 who makes the best of themselves — she deserved 
 it, for her powers of observation were not incon- 
 siderable, and of such cleverness as might be ac- 
 quired by a careful use of them, at the age of forty, 
 she possessed a fair amount. 
 
 She could not judge of other people's motives 
 apart from her own, or form any idea of what parts 
 they would play in entirely new situations ; but tak- 
 ing herself as a model (which she was always 
 ready to do), and coming to the conclusion that the 
 inhabitants of this globe were at bottom much 
 alike, she calculated with a good deal of confidence 
 how they would or would not act in circumstances 
 with which she was familiar, and it chanced suffi- 
 ciently often that her calculations proved correct. 
 
 People thought her extremely weU satisfied with 
 herself and her fortunes, and she chose to appear 
 
26 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 SO, because she reasoned that the more prosperous 
 any one appeared to be the more would that one 
 be sought and admired ; but in reality she was not 
 quite contented with anything. 
 
 What life had so far offered she hardly, deemed 
 worthy of her expectations. It had certainly been 
 more than fell to the share of many people, but 
 that was of course, while it had not been by any 
 means all that she would have been able to enjoy 
 and turn to advantage. 
 
 She had married young for love, and on the death 
 of her first husband had married again for money. 
 She had also secured, in this second venture, an 
 amiable, lackadaisical companion, somewhat younger 
 than herself, who was so rich that he could afford to 
 treat his profession as a mere gentlemanly occupa- 
 tion yet she would have liked him to enjoy the re- 
 spect which belonged to a man of energy and ambi- 
 tion, and never could understand why he failed to 
 do so. 
 
 She was the mother of several sharp little girls, 
 who had inherited her own eagerness in the ad- 
 vancement of their interests, and she would have 
 liked them to be pretty, which she could plainly 
 see that they were not. Above all, she had a hand- 
 some, reckless son, born of her first marriage, who 
 was the joy and the anguish of her existence. He 
 possessed a fine figure and a magnificent develop- 
 ment of muscle, but was a trifle less well endowed 
 with brains. He excelled in all active manly sports, 
 but had never been able to get beyond the simplest 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 27 
 
 studies at school, and when it came to the question 
 of an occupation in life found himself entirely un- 
 able to solve it. Yet he was indebted even for the 
 education which he had wasted to the bounty of his 
 stepfather, and Mrs. Davering knew only too well 
 that some career must be found for him. 
 
 Meanwhile he was amusing himself. Mr. Dav- 
 ering, who, to do him justice, was as generous as 
 he was rich, had made no objection hitherto to 
 meeting his bills, and Charley Hazzard was known 
 far and wide as the best-hearted fellow, the most 
 careless, and the most well meaning in existence. 
 He was a capital shot, a fine oarsman, a cham- 
 pion player at lawn tennis, much to his mother's 
 pride ; but she realized with a bitterness of spirit, in 
 strong contrast to the complacency of her outward 
 aspect, that these talents would never gain him a 
 living. 
 
 What was to be done ? After pondering all the 
 possible ways by which money could be acquired, 
 Mrs. Davering reverted to her own experience. 
 Why should not Charley marry well ? It was thus 
 that the lady expressed it to herself, and then she 
 began to lay her plans. If she could only succeed 
 in finding him a suitable wife, one with sufficient 
 wit and judgment to balance his muscle, and with 
 sufficient wealth to satisfy his rather expensive 
 tastes, what a triumph it would be ! She cast her 
 eyes about her far and wide on every likely maiden 
 of her acquaintance, but of aU whom she noted 
 Julia Prescott found most favor. 
 
28 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 Julia was an orphan. That is to say, her father 
 was dead, and she lived with her guardian, at the 
 head of whose table she had been allowed to pre- 
 side from the time that she was quite a little girl. 
 Chance had first thrown her in Mrs. Davering's 
 way. In fact, they had met abroad under rather 
 peculiar circumstances. 
 
 It happened that Mr. Drayton was passing the 
 summer in Europe with his ward, during one of her 
 long vacations, when she was overtaken, at Flor- 
 ence, by a malarial fever, in consequence, it was 
 supposed, of having imprudently gone to Eome 
 rather late in the season. 
 
 When the girl fell ill Mr. Drayton was at his 
 wits' end to decide what to do for her, but some 
 kind English ladies came to the rescue. They sent 
 him a physician and engaged a nurse for Julia, 
 whose united efforts, with his own devotion, brought 
 her through. 
 
 Just as he was congratulating himself on her re- 
 covery, however, and they were preparing to set 
 out for Switzerland by way of the Italian lakes, 
 letters reached him from America which made it 
 necessary that he should return immediately. The 
 question what to do with Julia again perplexed 
 him sorely, and at this critical moment Mrs. Dav- 
 ering glided upon the scene. 
 
 She, too, had been belated in Italy, and was 
 hurrying, northward. She had met Mr. Drayton, 
 who was a widower, more than ten years before 
 and hastened to recall herself to him, although she 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 29 
 
 had not seen him since the death of his wife. He 
 was a man whom women were apt to remember, 
 and as his chief charm consisted in a certain loveli- 
 ness of nature time did not impair it. 
 
 Mrs. Davering suggested that Julia should be 
 left with her while Mr. Drayton returned, and of- 
 fered to bring her safely back to America in the 
 autumn, when it was her own intention to fly home- 
 ward. She promised to take her journey in easy 
 stages, such as would suit the invalid, and as her 
 husband and her son, with whom she was traveling, 
 were submissive in all things to her she commanded 
 the situation. 
 
 The party of four were thrown very constantly 
 together until they reached the Tyrol, but here 
 Charley Hazzard, who was barely sixteen, fell in 
 with a congenial set of English boys, fresh from 
 Eton, and fond, like himself, of making a labor 
 of pleasure. He accordingly went off on long 
 mountain excursions with his new friends, leaving 
 Mr. Davering to smoke and talk politics in the 
 hotel, and his mother and Julia together. 
 
 On these occasions the older lady would congrat- 
 ulate herself upon having secured so pleasant a 
 companion, and one who could suit herself quite 
 easily to the society of a person so much older 
 than herself ; for Miss Prescott, at the early age of 
 fifteen, was acquainted with a great many grown-up 
 gentlemen and ladies who were also well known to 
 Mrs. Davering, and her powers of observation were 
 quite as keen as those of her new friend, who en- 
 
30 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 joyed drawing out the girl's opinions on account of 
 their freshness, and was surprised at the quickness 
 with which she saw into people and estimated them 
 for what they were worth. She often wondered 
 how one so young had come to be so wise ; but 
 Julia had not attained her precocious development 
 without paying for it. There had been an event 
 in her life which had given painful impetus to her 
 perception of human failings, and had made her 
 sadly skeptical of sincerity and disinterested good- 
 ness. 
 
 She enjoyed Mrs. Davering's easy temperament, 
 appreciated her good nature, and found a charm 
 in her manner which many others had felt. She 
 never talked of herself to her new acquaintance, 
 and would have found little encouragement if she 
 had attempted to do so; but there grew between 
 them a cordial companionship which answered many 
 of the purposes of friendship, and, on the whole, it 
 had worn well. In truth, Mrs. Davering took good 
 care that it should. 
 
 At last it appeared to the older lady that the 
 time had come for action. Julia Prescott was nine- 
 teen years old, she would soon be twenty, and Mrs. 
 Davering's son admired his mother's young friend 
 as much as even his mother could desire. Accord- 
 ingly she intimated to Mr. Drayton that it was 
 quite time for his ward to enter society, and then 
 proceeded to suggest that she herself should give a 
 ball for the purpose of introducing her. 
 
 He consented very readily, glad of so pleasant a 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 31 
 
 plan for Julia's presentation to the world, and to 
 be himself saved an effort to which he hardly felt 
 equal. 
 
 Mrs. Davering was delighted. She flew off to 
 break the news to Julia, who would be happy, she 
 felt sure, at the prospect of becoming a young lady 
 of fashion. Perhaps the girl did not meet her proj- 
 ect with as much enthusiasm as its projector hoped 
 for, but if so her opposition was passive, and was 
 overcome by amusement when Mrs. Davering pro- 
 ceeded to explain that " coming out " with a ball 
 was no longer a commonplace affair ; for most of 
 the young ladies who found their way into society 
 nowadays were like the unfortunate " Maria " dis- 
 cussed in " Punch," whose attractions were thought 
 only worthy of an afternoon tea. 
 
CHAPTEK IV. 
 
 " Oh, Mirth and Innocence ! Oh, MUt and Water I 
 Ye happy mixtures of more happy days ! " 
 
 Bthon. 
 
 There was a great deal to be said between the 
 two girls on the evening of Edith Arnold's arrival, 
 when they were safely closeted in Julia's room. 
 Miss Prescott had to reassure her friend a hundred 
 times as to the nature of her guardian's accident,, 
 which proved to be so much less serious than she 
 feared at first. 
 
 " There is no danger now, the doctor tells me. 
 Indeed, there never was any but in my imagination. 
 But tell me how you fell in with Cecil Wilmott," 
 she continued. " You must have thought it very 
 strange that neither Mr. Drayton nor Philip were 
 at the station to meet you." 
 
 " I expected Mr. Drayton," said Edith. 
 
 " I would not have had it happen so for the 
 world ! " cried Julia. " You know I telegraphed 
 to-day that all was well, and urged your coming 
 through to-morrow, and I had told Philip to be 
 sure to meet you at the train to-morrow evening." 
 
 " Philip is a son of Mr. Drayton ? " asked Edith 
 doubtfully. 
 
 " Why, yes, of course. Have you never heard 
 me speak of him ? " 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 33 
 
 " Not that I can remember. I was thinking as 
 we drove along that I had never heard you sp^ak 
 of any one but your guardian." 
 
 " That is odd," said Julia, giving a speculative 
 poke to the sea coals in the grate, in front of which 
 the two girls were sitting, while a tray containing 
 several empty plates before Miss Arnold showed 
 that she had done justice to her supper. 
 
 " Philip was away a great deal when we were 
 younger," resumed Julia after a short silence ; " and 
 then he is rather a reserved fellow. I do not 
 know him very well, although he is as good to me 
 as if he were my brother. The family here con- 
 sists of Mr. Drayton and Philip and myself, and 
 then there is Miss Kuthven, Mr. Drayton's aunt, 
 who has come lately to take care of us all ; but I 
 am afraid she is almost in despair of ever making 
 me respectable. You know I always was some- 
 thing of a Bohemian, Edith." 
 
 " I know that you never were very fond of obey- 
 ing the powers that be," said Edith, " but I should 
 not think you required any one to make you respec- 
 table. As for being respectful, that is another 
 matter." 
 
 " Oh, I try very hard to be respectful to Miss 
 Euthven. I could never hold up my head again if 
 I were not, she is so dignified ; but I sometimes 
 sigh for the old days when I did just as I pleased, 
 without stopping to wonder what she would think 
 of me." 
 
 " She is a sort of Mrs. Grundy, then ? " 
 
 3 
 
34 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " To me she is, for I have a feeling that she does 
 not approve of me ; but she has the highest respect 
 for Mr. Drayton, persisting in looking up to him, 
 although he is her own nephew, and she loves and 
 admires Philip more than any of us: so you see 
 their difficulty consists not in making her think 
 well of them, but in so conducting themselves as to 
 be worthy of the high esteem which they inspire. 
 It is quite different with me." 
 
 " Why do you think she does not approve of 
 you?" 
 
 " It would be hard to say. It is as if she knew 
 something which made her very hopeless of my 
 ever proving to be worth much, one way or another ; 
 but she is the least obtrusive person in the world. 
 She has come, of course at my guardian's request, 
 to be a nominal duenna for me, but only calls it 
 a visit, which she must always be persuaded to 
 prolong or renew. She will have nothing to do 
 with the housekeeping, which devolves upon me by 
 common consent, and goes home in the spring to 
 her old house in Germantown very gladly, I think. 
 On the whole, I do not doubt that she is a neces- 
 sary institution. Now, Edith, tell me something 
 about yourself. How are your mother and sister ? 
 Was it very hard for them to let you come away? " 
 
 " They are both quite well, thank you. Ger- 
 trude is always interested in her painting. Her 
 last picture was much admired in the exhibition to 
 which she sent it. I thought it was too lovely for 
 anything, but then I am prejudiced." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 35 
 
 " And is she painting another one ? " 
 
 " Yes, she is hard at work. I so wished to see 
 her finish it ! " 
 
 " Then it.was you who found it hard to come ? " 
 
 " Ah, no, I wanted to come, too. I was wild 
 with delight, when your letter reached me, at the 
 thought of seeing you and seeing something of the 
 world, besides. I think it was rather hard for them 
 to let me come away, but they will get over that." 
 
 " Which do you care for most," asked Julia, 
 " your mother or your sister ? " 
 
 " What a strange question I " 
 
 " Tell me," persisted Julia, in an eager tone. 
 
 " I cannot tell you," answered Edith, and then 
 added very gravely, " I think perhaps it is my 
 mother." 
 
 " How I envy you for having a mother ! " said 
 Julia ; " and a sister, too, for that matter." 
 
 Edith looked up quickly as though surprised, but 
 the words which she was about to utter were ar- 
 rested by the expression of her friend's face. She 
 knew that Jidia's mother was not dead, althoug'h 
 her daughter did not live with her ; she knew very 
 little more, but she judiciously refrained from ask- 
 ing any questions. 
 
 In the pause which followed Julia rose, and be- 
 gan walking impatiently up and down the room. • 
 
 " How handsome she is ! " thought Edith ; but 
 her beauty might not have excited the admiration 
 of an unprejudiced observer, although she formed 
 a striking picture as she paced to and fro, in a long 
 
36 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 maroon-colored dressing-gown, with her black hair 
 hanging loose over her shoulders. 
 
 Her eyes were large and dark and brilliant, 
 ready to express anger or amusement, most effec- 
 tively ; but they were not melting eyes, and rarely 
 tender. They almost seemed to rebel against the 
 softer emotions, as though their owner, young as 
 she was, had had some hard experience of the world, 
 and was determined to be even with it. Her mouth 
 was large, also, with beautifully shaped lips, over 
 which there played too often a touch of scorn, and 
 her manner of moving was abrupt rather than 
 graceful, but her friend watched her with a keen 
 inward stirring of sympathy. 
 
 " You do not know what it is, Edith," said Julia 
 presently, " to belong to no one ! " 
 
 Edith was silent for a moment. 
 
 "Have you not a happy home," she asked at 
 last, " and all that money or Jihe world can offer, to 
 satisfy your tastes ? Can you not study what you 
 please, and have you not traveled almost every- 
 where ? " 
 
 Julia smiled sadly. " Hardly ; but if I had," she 
 said, stopping suddenly in front of Edith, " would 
 you change your mother's love for all these things ? " 
 
 " Of course not." 
 
 •" And yet you are a sensible little body," said 
 Julia, touching Edith's hair softly as she spoke, 
 " and you have had to deny yourself some of these 
 advantages, which leads one often more fuUy to 
 appreciate them." 
 
A CAEPET KNIGHT. 37 
 
 " That is quite true," assented Edith. " But, 
 Julia, you have your guardian. I am sure he must 
 love you, from all you have told me of him." 
 
 " Mr. Drayton ? Ah, yes ; no one knows what 
 he has been to me, Edith ! " she cried impetuously. 
 " Without him, I could have kiUed myself more 
 than once, I believe, for very misery and want of 
 patience." 
 
 " It is strange," said Edith dreamily, " but your 
 face reminded mcj just then, of the way you looked 
 when I first saw you." 
 
 " When you first saw me ? Why, that was when 
 we were children, at school." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " How can you remember what I looked like 
 then ? " 
 
 " It seems to me," said Edith, " as if I had for- 
 gotten nothing connected with our school -days. 
 They are always coming back to me. I often wish 
 that I could live them over again." 
 
 " Do you, really ? " asked Julia wonderingly. 
 " I suppose your life has been very quiet at New 
 Eochelle." 
 
 " I suppose it has," said Edith simply. 
 
 " And do you actually look back with pleasure 
 to the routine of school? " inquired Julia. 
 
 " Not so much to that as to the companionship," 
 replied Edith. "The life which we led in com- 
 mon ; our jokes and our scrapes, are aU pleasant 
 to recall." 
 
 " I remember the priory, too, of course," said 
 
38 .A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 Julia. " What a picturesque old humbug it was, 
 with its make-believe Elizabethan gables and its 
 stately trees ! But I cannot remember the time 
 when you and I were not friends." 
 
 " We began as soon as we could," said Edith, 
 laughing, " for I had just come to school when I 
 first saw you. It chanced to be a rainy day, and 
 the girls were sitting about the room rather de- 
 jectedly, or romping in a noisy way, during the 
 hour for recess. I felt a little strange among them 
 all, and I noticed you standing with your back to 
 the others, looking out of the window. I can see 
 you now in my fancy as if it had been yesterday." 
 
 JuHa laughed. " Well," she said, " you are wel- 
 come to the charming vision. I was an ugly child, 
 I know." 
 
 " Not as I remember you," cried Edith earnestly. 
 " You were slight and dark, with a broad, low fore- 
 head, from which the hair was drawn away and 
 braided in two long plaits which hung down your 
 back. I liked your looks, but you were quite alone, 
 and I fancied from something in the expression of 
 your face that you had been crying." 
 
 "What was the matter?" asked Julia care- 
 lessly. " I did not often cry." 
 
 " I know it, and I recollect thinking that per- 
 haps you had had some bad news, for I noticed that 
 you held a letter crumpled up in your hand." 
 
 " I don't know who the letter could have been 
 from. There were very few people who took the 
 trouble to write to me, at that time." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT.. . 39 
 
 " I did not know, either, and I should not have 
 dared to ask you any questions, for there was an 
 air about you which seemed to proclaim that you 
 wished to be left to yourself ; but you told me after- 
 wards, when I knew you well, that you had had a 
 letter to tell you that you must pass your summer 
 holidays at the school, and I always fancied that 
 this was the one." 
 
 " That was deep tragedy to a school-girl, and if 
 so the letter was from my mother," said Julia, with 
 a sudden frown. " She was going to stay with 
 some friend, I believe, who did not like children," 
 she added, in an explanatory tone. " Of course to 
 spend one's holidays at the school seemed to you 
 the most terrible of misfortunes," she continued, 
 attempting to return to her former tone of banter. 
 
 " I thought it was very hard indeed," said Edith 
 warmly, " and I remember some of the other girls 
 told me that you had passed several vacations 
 there." 
 
 " And so you took pity on me." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Why, have you forgotten how you and your 
 sister came and insisted on my spending my holi- 
 days with you ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, I have not ; or what trouble we had 
 to induce you to come to us. I think, mamma had 
 to get one of the teachers to write to your mother 
 about it." 
 
 " Did she ? I dare say. I suppose I did not like 
 being an object of charity." 
 
40 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Charity ! O Julia, it was the happiest sum- 
 mer of my life ! " 
 
 " Well, so it was of mine," said Julia. " At least 
 it was the first happy summer I had ever known. 
 I have not forgotten your pretty home, or how good 
 you all were to me." 
 
 " Do you remember how we planned and hoped 
 to be together at Christmas ? " asked Edith ; " and 
 then " — she suddenly paused, and added, " you 
 went away, I think about a month before the 
 Christmas of that year." 
 
 " Yes," said Julia, quietly. " I went because 
 my mother was married again." 
 
 Edith made no answer. The recollection had 
 suddenly flashed on her of how the school-girls 
 had whispered about mysteriously that Julia's 
 mother had married an Italian, and perhaps she 
 would go abroad to live. 
 
 " I was so much afraid that you might not come 
 back," she said at last, shyly. 
 
 " But I came," returned Julia, in the same quiet 
 tone. 
 
 " Yes, you came, but you were different." 
 
 "How different?" 
 
 " I do not know ; you looked older, and you 
 were very reserved and grave. I remember you 
 told me quite coldly that for the future you were 
 to live with your guardian, Mr. Drayton, and that 
 was all you would say." 
 
 " Ah, yes," said Julia, with a touch of bitterness 
 in her tone, which was evidently not intended for 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 41 
 
 her friend. " I think I was not allowed after that 
 to spend my vacations at the school." 
 
 " No, or with us, either, I am sorry to say," re- 
 sponded Edith, smiling. 
 
 After this some one looked at a watch, and de- 
 clared that she had " had no idea that it was so 
 late," and after a little more- talking the two girls 
 parted for the .night. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 ** A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays 
 And confident to-morrows." 
 
 WOEDSWOETH. 
 
 Cecil Wilmott was a young man of moderate 
 means, who had studied a profession by way of 
 having a nominal occupation, but was more often 
 found at his club than his office. 
 
 He was not handsome, but well made and easy 
 in his movements, of medium height, an excellent 
 dancer, a ready talker, with a genial manner and 
 a pleasant smile, He was a favorite in society, 
 where, although still young, he had been known for 
 some years, at the time when he befriended Miss 
 Arnold at the railway station. 
 
 He was at breakfast with his mother and sister 
 on the morning after this adventure, when a letter 
 was brought him which evidently caused him much 
 annoyance. 
 
 " What the dickens am I to do about it ? " he 
 said to himself impatiently, as he perused the page 
 with clouded brow, and added aloud, " I don't see 
 what the fellow writes to me for ! " 
 
 " What is the matter, Ceei ? " asked his anxious 
 mother, from behind the tea-urn. 
 
 " Oh, nothing ; a stupid trouble which a man. 
 has got into about a dog," said Wilmott. " Give 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 43 
 
 me a good strong cup of coffee, so that I may for- 
 get about it." 
 
 "What does the man want of you?" asked his 
 sister, curiously. 
 
 " He wants me to help him out of it," said Cecil, 
 " so far as he can be helped. I suppose that I shall 
 have to do it;" 
 
 " I hope you wiU not get into any trouble your- 
 self, dear," said his mother. 
 
 " Not on this occasion, I fancy. By the bye, 
 Charlotte, I should like you to go some time to-day 
 to call on a Miss Arnold, who is staying with Julia 
 Prescott. She is a nice girl. I think you will like 
 her." 
 
 " I did not know any one was staying with Julia," 
 said Charlotte. " I was there only yesterday to in- 
 quire after uncle Algernon." 
 
 " Oh, Miss Arnold was not there then," said her 
 brother, carelessly. " She only arrived last evening. 
 I chanced to be in the same train with her coming 
 from New York." 
 
 "Is she pretty?" asked Miss Wilmott suspi- 
 ciously. 
 
 " Yes, rather. She has a sweet, fair face and a 
 pretty figure. How did that accident happen to 
 my uncle ? I thought he was too good a rider to 
 be thrown." 
 
 " He was not thrown," answered Charlotte. 
 " His horse fell with him." 
 
 " A distinction without a difference," said her 
 brother, with an aggravating smUe. 
 
44 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Oh, no, Ceci.. Charlotte is right. There is a 
 great deal of difference," asserted Mrs. Wilmott. 
 
 " As for that," said Charlotte, " I have heard 
 Philip say that the best riders are not unfrequently 
 , those who are thrown the oftenest." 
 
 " That sounds like him," cried Cecil ; " but it is 
 a proof of excellence which I should ■omit, and so 
 far as I know it is one which Philip has not given 
 himself." 
 
 " True, Ceci," said his mother, "and yet there is 
 no doubt of Philip's horsemanship ; but my broth- 
 er, too, rides well. It was he who taught Philip, 
 and the accident might have happened to any 
 one." 
 
 " I am glad it did not happen to me. Why did 
 he undertake to ride in this very slippery weather ? " 
 asked Cecil. 
 
 "Because Philip was away," explained Char- 
 lotte. " He had gone to Washington on business, 
 and the groom told uncle Algernon that his horse 
 was kicking everything to pieces, for want of exer- 
 cise in his master's absence." 
 
 " I should have let him kick," said Cecil. 
 
 " I believe you would," replied Charlotte. 
 
 "I forgot to ask you, Ceci," said his mother, 
 "how you left the Pembertons. Was William 
 very much shaken ? I fear he must be." 
 
 " Well, he could not be expected to be very joUy 
 under the circumstances," answered Cecil, " but he 
 bears up pretty well. They have persuaded him to 
 drive out lately." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 45 
 
 "And how is your cousin Emily? Eedwood's 
 death must have been a teifrible shock to her." 
 
 " I thought she seemed very much as usual. She 
 gave me a long rigmarole of a message to you, 
 mother, about something or other, Heaven knows 
 what it was." 
 
 " I hope you recollected my message to her about 
 the breakfast caps, my dear ? " 
 
 " I am afraid I forgot it. I am very bad about 
 messages, you know. I gave her your love. Won't 
 that do ? " 
 
 "I suppose it will have to do, but I am very 
 sorry about the caps, for she particularly wanted 
 one. They are so appropriate for mourning." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, mamma ! " cried Charlotte im- 
 patiently. " As if cousin Emily could not get all 
 the caps she wants in New York, without sending 
 here for them ! " 
 
 The truth was that Miss Emily Pemberton, who 
 was known as a rather sour old maid, was no fa- 
 vorite with Charlotte ; and as the uncle William re- 
 ferred to, who had just lost his only son, was worth 
 untold wealth, she thought he could provide his 
 daughter with caps in or out of mourning. 
 
 " She could not get this special kind of cap, my 
 dear," said Mrs. Wilmott, with quiet persistency. 
 " There is only one woman who makes them." 
 
 " Do not worry about it, mother, dear," said 
 Cecil. "I will write to uncle Will, and confess 
 my sins, and ask him to explain to her that it was 
 all my fault." 
 
46 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 "My dear child, I did not mean that it was a 
 fault at all," said his mother. " I was only thinking 
 about the loss of time. If I write to Emily at 
 once I have no doubt that it will all be right." 
 She rose as she spoke, making some excuse to cross 
 the room, and paused, in passing, beside Cecil's 
 chair. 
 
 He put up h"is hand and patted hers as it rested 
 on his shoulder for a moment, and Charlotte took 
 up the newspaper and began to read. It was easy 
 to see that Cecil was his mother's idol, and Char- 
 lotte was a little tired of seeing it, although she 
 was fond of him, too, in her way. 
 
 Charlotte was not an ill-natured girl, but a very 
 practical one, to whom all forms of sentiment were 
 highly distasteful. She liked comfort, and hand- 
 some dresses, and plenty of money to spend ; and 
 it must be confessed that her life was a hard one 
 in that she had none of these things, nor had she 
 the fatal gift of beauty. 
 
 Mrs. Wilmott was a widow, who had been left 
 in very moderate circumstances after her husband's 
 death, and had always striven so successfully to 
 put the best foot foremost that few persons, except 
 Charlotte, knew of the existence of the holes in the 
 other shoe. 
 
 Charlotte, who was always with her mother, who 
 had no regular hours for leaving the house and 
 returning to it, as Cecil had, and, above all, was 
 not of the same careless, easy-going temperament 
 as her brother, knew all about the holes, just how 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 47 
 
 many there were, and how large, and how difficult 
 to patch ; and yet, in spite of the trouble she had 
 in assisting the process of patching, she was as 
 anxious as her mother to conceal her occupation 
 even from Cecil, and did, after a different fashion, 
 quite as much as Mrs. "Wilmott to spoil her brother, 
 for whom the two women seemed to have formed a 
 plot to bear, or soften, all the troubles of life. 
 
 Cecil accepted their devotion very graciously. 
 He was not exactly selfish, for he was always doing 
 things for other people ; but the things he did it 
 suited him to do, because he thought them good- 
 natured, and it was rather a hobby of his to be 
 good-natured. He was very self-centred, and from 
 this habit of mind was almost obtuse to much that 
 passed directly under his eyes. 
 
 He did not notice that Charlotte's hands were 
 red and roughened with the cold, because in the 
 room in which she slept, in the third story, there 
 was no fire, and the furnace heat was confined to 
 the story below, where he had a room, next his 
 ■ mother's, on pretext that Mrs. Wilmott was timid 
 about possible house-breakers, while Charlotte, as 
 every one knew, was strong-minded, and not sub- 
 ject to imaginary fears. It never occurred to him 
 to suspect the reason why Mrs. "Wilmott and Char- 
 lotte persistently refused broiled oysters, and break- 
 fasted on cold mutton, although there certainly 
 were not more oysters than he could enjoy. And 
 yet, as he went down the street to his office, he 
 was meditating how to do a kindness which had 
 
48 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 been asked of him by the man whose request had 
 been so unwelcome as preferred in the letter which 
 he had received at breakfast. 
 
 The profession to which Cecil had chosen to ded- 
 icate himself was that of the law. He shared an 
 ofSce with his cousin, Philip Drayton, as they had 
 both been recently admitted to the bar, and it was 
 to break some unpleasant tidings to Philip that 
 Wilmott had been chosen by a madcap of a fellow 
 whom they both knew, both laughed at, and both 
 liked, although he was a constant trouble to his 
 friends, and seldom did them any good in return 
 for the trouble. 
 
 This was no other than Charley Hazzard, whose 
 stepfather owned a country-seat near Mr. Dray- 
 ton's, and who was, of course, intimate with all the 
 family, being the sort of man whom one must know 
 well or not know at all. He was, however, an old 
 friend of Cecil's, and they had been in so many 
 scrapes together that it was not unnatural that he 
 should have called upon Wilmott to help him out 
 of this one. 
 
 "I got a letter this morning from Charley Haz- 
 zard," said Cecil, plunging in medias res as soon 
 as he had said good-morning to his cousin. 
 
 Philip looked up a little absently from a paper 
 with which his attention was evidently still occu- 
 pied. 
 
 "Yes?" he said interrogatively. "Oh, good- 
 morning, Cecil. I want to have a talk with you 
 about this deed which Mr? Turner has sent for." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 49 
 
 "With all my heart," said Wilmott, "but I 
 must tell you about Hazzard's letter first." 
 
 " Well, what about it ? Where is Hazzard? " 
 
 " He is at Wymbleton. It seems that your old 
 chum, Carey, has just come on from Boston to 
 make him a visit, and he has taken him out to 
 Wymbleton for a little shooting." 
 
 " Indeed," said Philip, with growing interest. 
 " I must look up Carey. I knew he expected to be 
 here some time this winter." 
 
 " Hazzard wrote to me about a dog of yours. 
 Did you say that he might have one of your dogs 
 at any time he wanted him, to shoot over ? " asked 
 Cecil. 
 
 " Yes. Larry, my red setter. What is the mat- 
 ter? Is the dog lost?" 
 
 " No, but his leg is broken." 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " In the woods back of Heronsford." 
 
 " What has Hazzard done with him ? " 
 
 " He left him under Murphy's care, at the 
 house." 
 
 " When did it happen ? " 
 
 " Early yesterday morning. He says he was run 
 over by the dog-cart, and what he feels most badly 
 about is that he had taken the cart without your 
 permission." 
 
 " Let me see the letter." 
 
 " Charley seems to be very much cut up about 
 it," said Wilmott, reluctantly. " He wants to know 
 whether you think the dog had better be shot." 
 
60 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Shot ? " repeated Philip angrily. " What does 
 he want to shoot him for ? I should think it was 
 enough to break his leg." 
 
 " You had better read the letter," said Wilmott, 
 seeing that he could do nothing farther in the way 
 of interposition. 
 
 Philip took the hasty scrawl, in which Mr. Haz- 
 zard had narrated the misfortune and the manner 
 of it, as laconically as possible. 
 
 " He did not mean to do it, of course," said Ce- 
 cil. 
 
 " When did Charley Hazzard ever mean to do- 
 anything that he did do, or mean not to do any- 
 thing that he did n't ? " asked Philip angrily. He 
 got up as he spoke, and began hastily stuffing some 
 papers into the drawers of his table. 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " asked Cecil. 
 
 " I am going down to Heronsford." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, Philip ! It 's not worth while to 
 do that." 
 
 " I think so," said Philip, quietly. He looked 
 at his watch. " I shall just have time to catch the 
 eleven o'clock train," he continued. " Will you 
 see Julia for me, and tell her that I shall probably 
 not be back to dinner ? " 
 
 " Certainly. I will see her and give her your 
 message," assented Cecil, with alacrity. 
 
 Philip crossed the room, and took his coat from 
 a corner closet. Suddenly he paused in the act of 
 putting it on. "There is that deed, Wilmott. 
 Can I depend on you to see that it is prepared ? " 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 61 
 
 " Oh, depend on me to any extent," answered 
 Cecil, installing himself in a comfortable leather 
 arm-chair near the window, and lighting a fresh 
 cigar. 
 
 "That deed must be sent off to-day," said Philip. 
 
 " All right, I will attend to it." 
 
 " There are one or two changes of boundaries to 
 be made," pursued Philip. " I will show you what 
 they are." 
 
 " Are not the changes indicated on the plot ? " 
 asked Cecil, with an impatient frown. 
 
 " Yes, but they are a little intricate," replied 
 Philip, anxiously, taking the deed from the table 
 as he spoke. " I had better point them out." 
 
 "You had better go," said Wilmott, "if you 
 have any idea of catching your train." 
 
 " You are right," said Philip, looking again at 
 his watch. " I have no time to lose." He replaced 
 the paper on the table reluctantly, with a troubled 
 glance at Cecil, who had taken up the " Times," 
 and seemed lost in its depths. "Good-by, Wil- 
 mott." 
 
 " Good-by, old fellow," answered Cecil cheerfully 
 from behind the newspaper, while a huge cloud of 
 smoke passed over the top as he spoke. " I hope 
 you will have good luck with your dog." 
 
 By and by, having read the city news, dear to 
 the heart of all Philadelphians, and finished his 
 cigar, he rose and stretched himself, and settled 
 down with a very much bored expression to the 
 task Philip had set, of copying the deed. Many 
 
62 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 were his impatient shrugs and vigoroug ejaculations 
 at the disagreeable necessity of going without his 
 luncheon, in order to accomplish it and be able to 
 leave the office early, as he was especially anxious 
 to do ; but at last, at a little after four, he folded 
 it up and addressed it to Theodore Turner, Esq., 
 with an unusually virtuous sensation, and then pro- 
 ceeded to refresh himself with a glass of ale and 
 some biscuit, as the hour was long passed when 
 luncheon could be found in any sort of comfort at 
 the " Lunch Olub," ef which Mr. Wilmott was a 
 very popular member. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 '* Whate'er he did was done with so much ease, 
 In him alone, 't was natural to please." 
 
 At luncheon the day after her arrival, Miss Ar- 
 nold was introduced to Mr. Drayton, who made a 
 special effort to appear, leaving his chamber for 
 the first time since his accident. 
 
 He was a tall man, with slightly aquiline fea- 
 tures, and dark hair not yet touched with gray. 
 He rose from a chair near the fire when the girls 
 entered, and as he came forward to greet her 
 Edith stood still with astonishment. He was so 
 much younger than she expected to see him that 
 she looked about her for a moment, doubtful 
 whether this were not the reserved Philip, of whom 
 her friend had spoken ; but a glance at Julia's 
 face showed that it could be no other than her 
 guardian. 
 
 Edith was impressed with the natural dignity of 
 his bearing, perhaps all the more for the pleasant 
 mixture of ease and courtesy in his manner. He 
 appeared to her young, not only in years, but in a 
 certain §parkle of vitality in his dark eyes and the 
 unimpaired elasticity of his step ; and she was pro- 
 voked with herself that, in rallying from her sur- 
 
64 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 prise, she was overcome with an untimely fit of 
 shyness. 
 
 She felt her stupidity so much that it was quite 
 a relief when Julia presented her to an old lady, 
 dressed in dark gray silk, with white muslin crossed 
 over the bosom, and a tall white cap. This was 
 Miss Euthven. 
 
 " So she is a Quaker ! " said Edith to herself, 
 with some excitement, wondering how Julia had 
 failed to mention so interesting a fact. 
 
 " I am very glad to meet thee, my child," said 
 the old lady, extending a delicate, withered hand. 
 
 She was small and slight, but there was some- 
 thing stately in the way she held herself and a 
 tone of authority in her voice, not naturally a soft 
 one, which accounted to Edith for the awe with 
 which Julia had spoken of her. Strange to say, 
 her own spirit slightly revived. She felt on her 
 mettle. It was evident that persons outside the 
 family were not taken on trust by Miss Euthven. 
 They must prove their claim to her regard. Her 
 small gray eyes met Edith's startled ones kindly, 
 it is true, but questioningly. Perhaps she was im- 
 pressed, as Wilmott had been, by her air of ex- 
 treme inexperience. 
 
 "Didst thou not find it difficult, my dear, to 
 travel so far alone ? " she asked. 
 
 "Not very difBcult," said Edith, smiling and 
 blushing a little as she spoke. "Not until I 
 reached my journey's end." 
 
 " Ah, then it was difficult," said Mr. Drayton, 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 55 
 
 " SO difficult that you must have been inclined to 
 cry with Dr. Johnston, ' Would to God it were 
 impossible ! ' I am very regretful," he proceeded 
 more seriously, " of the accident which prevented 
 me from meeting you at the station. It was a 
 mere tumble and a scratch or two, but Julia was 
 foolishly alarmed about it." 
 
 " You know that it was a great shock to you," 
 cried Julia. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I was a little stunned ; but it was not 
 worth while to send letters and telegrams all over 
 the country on that account." 
 
 "You may say that now, Mr. Drayton," said 
 Julia earnestly, " but if you could have seen your- 
 self, when you were brought home on Tuesday, you 
 would have thought my anxiety very natural." 
 
 " Happily that is a gift the gods deny us," he 
 answered. " But I am really very sorry that by my 
 inconsiderate appearance on that occasion I should 
 have caused Miss Arnold real annoyance and 
 placed her in so painful a position." 
 
 " I am so glad you are willing to admit your 
 want of judgment in looking as if you had been 
 killed," said Julia, demurely. " I will confess in 
 return that I was unfortunate in writing to Edith 
 not to. come, and taking it for granted that she had 
 received my letter." 
 
 Miss Ruthven looked at Miss Prescott, as she 
 made this speech, with dignified amazement, but 
 Mr. Drayton only answered by an amused smile. 
 
 " I do not know whether to consider myself • for- 
 
56 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 tunate or unfortunate that the letter did not reach 
 me," said Edith. " I am certainly very glad to be 
 here, although I was a little frightened last night." 
 
 " It would have been quite impossible for thee 
 not to be frightened," said Miss Euthven, who had 
 seated herself with her knitting near the window, 
 where Edith had noticed her when she first entered 
 the room. 
 
 Miss Arnold fancied that there was a faint shade 
 of approval in her tone, and perceived with satisr 
 faction that she was engaged in the construction of 
 a baby's sock, which made her seem less formi- 
 dable. 
 
 " I hope I did not disturb you by my late ar- 
 rival," she said, taking heart of grace and sitting 
 down beside the old lady. 
 
 "Thy safe arrival would have given me pleas- 
 ure," replied Miss Euthven graciously, a placid 
 smile momentarily relaxing the rather stern ex- 
 pression of her features, " but," she added, turning 
 to Miss Prescott, in her more lofty manner, " I was 
 not informed that thy friend had come, Julia, until 
 I learned it from thy guardian a few moments ago, 
 and Philip, who breakfasted with me, was equally 
 ignorant." 
 
 " I am sorry," answered Julia carelessly, " that 
 Edith and I felt a little too tired to get up for 
 breakfast." 
 
 " We wiU begin to-morrow morning," said Mr. 
 Drayton pleasantly. " I hope to be able to get up, 
 too, if I meet with no new accident." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 57 
 
 Glancing about her after they sat down to table, 
 Miss Arnold noticed that the general aspect of the 
 long dining-room was careless and cheerful. It 
 was in the back-building, as is usual in old-fash- 
 ioned Philadelphia houses, with another smaller 
 rtfom at one end, which opened out on a veranda. 
 The walls were hung with small pictures, many of 
 them water-Colors. There were a few engravings 
 and several plaques of brass or painted porcelain, 
 to say nothing of a cabinet filled with fine old 
 china ; one or two easy-chairs, and some small 
 tables covered with books and papers, stood about 
 temptingly near the open fire. 
 
 Luncheon was usually an informal meal, and one 
 of which Mr. Drayton himself rarely partook, but 
 on this occasion the repast was served with some 
 ceremony by an aged gray-headed negro, who kept 
 his eye constantly fixed upon his master, ready to 
 obey his slightest gesture, but in no way allowed 
 this fact to interfere with the solemn routine of his 
 duty. When it was over Mr. Drayton returned to 
 his library, a large, lofty room, opening with fold- 
 ing doors into the drawing-room, which was also 
 very large, with a high ceiling, and looked out on 
 the square, in front of the house, through two long 
 windows, between which hung an old-fashioned 
 mirror with a curiously wrought frame, formed by 
 a vine of gilded flowers and leaves. 
 
 The two girls betook themselves to the drawing- 
 room, from whence they could see Mr. Drayton 
 seated by the library fire gravely smoking his after- 
 
58 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 noon cigar. His face was a sad one in repose, and 
 looked almost stern, seen thus in profile, while the 
 smoke of the cigar curled up and faded in the dim 
 vista overhead. 
 
 " WiU you not play something for me, Julia ? " 
 asked her friend. " I have not heard you play for 
 so long." 
 
 Julia nodded, and softly closed the two massive 
 doors of dark mahogany which separated the rooms. 
 
 " Does not Mr. Drayton like music ? " inquired 
 Edith. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; when he is well, he is very fond of 
 hearing me play, especially in the evening, but he 
 likes to be quiet when he is in the library, and, not 
 feeling very strong, we might disturb him." 
 
 She opened the piano, and ran her fingers softly 
 over the keys until her fancy took a definite shape, 
 and then she wandered into one of Schumann's 
 melodies, with such a clear, light touch that the 
 music hardly went beyond the room they were in. 
 
 There was a young man at that moment on the 
 front doorstep, who fancied that he heard it, but 
 then he knew that it was a habit of Miss Prescott's 
 to seek to draw out the lovely possibilities of the 
 piano at about this hour of an afternoon. 
 
 Yes, the ladies were at home, the old butler said. 
 " They is jist amusing of theirselves in the front 
 parlor ; " and knowing that Mr. Wilmott was ac- 
 customed to the ways of the house, he left him to 
 announce his own coming. 
 
 Cecil paused on the threshold of the drawing- 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 59 
 
 room, half in doubt how best to do so, and took in 
 the scene before him as an accompaniment to the 
 softly modulated music. Julia's was a grand piano, 
 and stood rather awkwardly across one corner of 
 the room, so that the player could sit with her back 
 to the window. 
 
 There was a sofa in the opposite corner, near the 
 other window, on which Miss Arnold had seated 
 herself. She was leaning back a little, her pretty 
 head resting against a dark purple velvet cushion, 
 which threw the fine outline of her features into 
 distinct relief, and made a perfect background for 
 her fair curly hair and delicate complexion. Her 
 eyes had grown dreamy as she listened. 
 
 The sun gleaming from beneath the heavy win- 
 dow curtain crossed her lap in a long shaft of light, 
 just where her hands were lying, bringing out the 
 faint red tints between the fingers, and making a 
 small sapphire set in a slender ring on one of them 
 shine like a star, while the rest of the room was 
 thrown by contrast into deeper shadow. 
 
 Presently Wilmott advanced a step . or two. 
 Edith started at the sound, and rose in some con- 
 fusion before she saw him. Julia only glanced to- 
 wards him, and recognizing Cecil smiled and nodded 
 to her Adsitor, without lifting her hands from the 
 piano. Mr. Wilmott bowed in return, and then 
 crossed the room to Edith. 
 
 She had resumed her seat, and received him very 
 quietly, but with a slight restraint in her manner, 
 caused by her shyness. Perhaps he thought that 
 
60 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 she did not show a sufficiently cordial remembrance 
 of his kindness to her, or he may have been him- 
 self infected with her want of ease, for after talk- 
 ing a few moments he turned to the piano, where 
 Julia was still playing, but had fallen upon a more 
 stirring air, and was rendering it with much spirit. 
 
 " I have a message for you, Julia," he said, when 
 she had ended, leaning over the piano and speak- 
 ing low, so that Edith did not catch what he was 
 saying, while Julia played on more softly, and lis- 
 tened with the lids of her eyes down, and his eyes 
 followed hers, watching her small brown hands as 
 they coquetted among the keys. 
 
 Edith Arnold felt a sudden sense of loneliness 
 and exclusion. She knew it was not intentional, 
 but for the moment she seemed to be entirely for- 
 gotten. She was prompted to leave the room, but 
 checked herself with the fear that this would show 
 what she was feeling, which she was particularly 
 anxious not to do. 
 
 She gazed out of the window drearily enough, 
 until her attention came really to be distracted by 
 the frolics of some children who were playing in 
 the square opposite. 
 
 "Who are you looking at, Edith?" asked 
 Julia's voice at last, as the low conversation and 
 the music ceased together. 
 
 Edith did not answer at first. She was standing 
 shaking her head vigorously at some one outside 
 the window. Prompted by curiosity, Miss Pres- 
 cott left the piano and drew near the window. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 61 
 
 " What in the world are you doing ? " she cried, 
 
 " I am shaking my head at a naughty little boy 
 in the street," said Edith excitedly. " He is threat- 
 ening to snowball me, and I am afraid he wUl 
 break the window." 
 
 " Where is the little boy ? " asked Julia, coming 
 behind her and looking over Edith's shoulder. Mr. 
 Wilmott did not follow her. He took up a book 
 which lay half open on the centre table, and began 
 looking it carelessly over. 
 
 At this moment an old fashioned coup^ stopped 
 before the house, and the coachman, dismounting, 
 opened the door for an old lady wrapped in a fur 
 mantle. 
 
 " Oh, there is Miss Euthven come back from 
 her afternoon drive," said Julia. " I must go and 
 help her ; " and so saying hurried from the room, 
 leaving Miss* Arnold and Wilmott together. Cecil 
 continued to turn over the pages of the book he 
 had taken up. Edith remained at the window. 
 
 The little boy who had attracted her attention, 
 had come across from the square with a small 
 painted wheelbarrow fiUed with snowballs, and, 
 catching sight of her wistful face, had looked up 
 with a mischievous smile, then, growing bolder, 
 threatened to pelt her; but having now been di- 
 verted by two fat little girls walking sedately with 
 their nurse, he had begun to snowball them most 
 unmercifully. Edith disapproved very much of the 
 want of gallantry of this proceeding, but she felt 
 powerless to interfere. 
 
62 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 There was a silence after Julia went away, which 
 lasted for some moments. Then Cecil Wilmott 
 closed the book, and sauntered over to where Edith 
 was standing. 
 
 " Is that your wonderful little boy ? " he asked, 
 seeing that she was stUl watching an active little 
 fellow in knickerbockers and bright red stockings, 
 who was making off in the direction of the square, 
 apparently bent on replenishing his wasted ammu- 
 nition. 
 
 "He is a very bad little boy," said Edith de- 
 cidedly. 
 
 "I am afraid you are a stern moralist, Miss 
 Arnold." 
 
 " I don't know about that," answered Edith, smil- 
 ing. " I see the faults of people I do not like, very 
 plainly." 
 
 " You can hardly have formed a rooted dislike, 
 in this case, to the culprit." 
 
 " No, I confess that he is interesting, though 
 wicked." 
 
 " Although he threatened to snowball you ? " 
 
 "I thought him a good little boy until then." 
 
 Cecil laughed. " I see you are a bad enemy; are 
 you an equally good friend ? " 
 
 " I think I am a fairly good friend," said Edith. 
 " Are you ? " They sat down on the sofa as she 
 spoke. ■ 
 
 " To be frank with you, I am not. I am a very 
 worthless sort of fellow. I always like people 
 either too much or too little." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 63 
 
 « Oh ! " 
 
 " I see you have been reading ' Ayala's Angel,' 
 Miss Arnold. Is not that your book, on the table, 
 which I was looking over ? " 
 
 " It is. How did you know it ? " ' 
 
 "I fancied it was the same you were reading 
 yesterday in the railway train. Are you fond of 
 TroUope ? " 
 
 " Very." 
 
 "And which do you like best, Ayala or the 
 Angel ? " 
 
 " I like Ayala the best." 
 
 " Do you not like the Angel ? " 
 
 " I think Ayala was too good to him." 
 
 " Too good ! How ? In refusing him twice be- 
 fore she accepted him, or in accepting him at all?" 
 
 " That was, very kind of her, of course," said 
 Edith, smiling; "but I meant after she had ac- 
 cepted him. I do not see why, because the man 
 was ugly, she should have been continually telling 
 him that she adored him." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Wilmott, and as his eyes met hers 
 he smiled a smile of the most intense amusement. 
 
 Edith blushed hotly and became dumb. The truth 
 was that she had happened to look at Mr. Wilmott 
 in pronouncing the word ugly, and it -suddenly 
 occurred to her that he was anything but hand- 
 some. At no time during their varied experiences 
 of the evening before had she seen him except 
 in a faint light ; but now, as he sat at the other end 
 of the sofa, that from the window fell full upon him. 
 
64 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 and she saw that his complexion was sallow, his eyes 
 were light and small, and his features irregular. 
 
 He certainly was ugly, and he evidently knew it, 
 for his face conveyed the keenest and most cordial 
 enjoyment of her discomfiture ; yet, though in no 
 mood to be charitable, justice compelled her to ac- 
 knowledge a certain charm in his ugliness. His 
 eyes were not wanting in life and intelligence. His 
 hair, although a dull brown, approaching too nearly 
 the color of his skin, curled in a jaunty sort of way, 
 and in spite of his mouth being large, she thought 
 it attractive on account of the unconscious play of 
 expression of which it was capable, while when it 
 opened it disclosed a row of very white teeth. His 
 smile at this very moment was delightful, although 
 the joke was at his own expense. 
 
 " You naturally think that an ugly man should 
 be continually adoring other people," said Cecil, 
 
 " I have never thought much about them," she 
 answered dryly. 
 
 " Perhaps you never met one before," said Wil- 
 mott. He was still so full of mischief that she did 
 not know what he might say next, and was heartily 
 glad that Julia's return to the room at this moment 
 gave a new turn to the conversation. 
 
 " What are you two persons laughing about ? " 
 she asked curiously. 
 
 " We cannot possibly tell you," said Cecil 
 gravely. " I have bound Miss Arnold to secrecy." 
 
 "Then it is a plot?" 
 
 " A very dangerous plot." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ..." Men only disagree 
 Of creatures rational." 
 
 Milton. 
 
 Perhaps there is nothing harder to account for 
 than degrees of intimacy between men. They may 
 be united in the closest ties of relationship or inter- 
 est, they may be sincerely and strongly attached 
 to one another, they may live together for years 
 under the same roof, and yet not be friends. 
 
 The reserve which seems to hedge them round 
 and keep them estranged, in spite of an effort on 
 both sides to draw together, appears often quite 
 mysterious, for one honest man ought to be able to 
 understand another, however different. But search- 
 ing for the cause, one usually comes upon the un- 
 fortunate woman, who has borne the sins of man 
 since the time of the creation. She may be very 
 far removed, this woman, but she is generally in 
 the case, although neither man may be conscious of 
 her influence. 
 
 As Mr. Drayton and his son sat talking and sip- 
 ping their sherry, after dinner, on the day follow- 
 ing that of Philip's visit to Heronsford, an ob- 
 server would have been impressed with the con- 
 sideration shown by each towards the other ; with 
 
 5 
 
66 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 the great respect of the son for the father, and 
 the ready acquiescence of the father in all the son's 
 practical suggestions, although not in those opin- 
 ions which were based upon theory, for in these 
 they differed widely, but even these were treated 
 with forbearance. 
 
 Mr. Drayton seemed to wish to be most kind, 
 and Philip most responsive, and yet the very care 
 which both took showed the absence of real ease or 
 warmth of sympathy. In truth, in a certain prac- 
 tical habit of mind, a love of thoroughness and 
 method, an absence of imagination, Philip resem- 
 bled his mother too much ever to be entirely con- 
 genial to his father, and, unfortunately, Mr. Dray- 
 ton knew it. 
 
 Philip did not. He was, naturally, unaware of 
 the fact that his mother, who had died when he 
 was quite a child, had not proved companionable 
 to his father. This minor misery had been lost 
 sight of even by those who suspected it, and tem- 
 porarily by Mr. Drayton himself, in the greater 
 misfortune of her early death. Her husband had 
 had a sincere affection for her, and in the midst of 
 the desolation of the first few years of widowhood 
 he quite forgot the many lonely hours, the misun- 
 derstandings, the estrangement, which had grown 
 between them since their marriage, and remem- 
 bered his wife only as the handsome, winning girl 
 whom he had first met when on a journey among 
 the mountains of New England. He had sought 
 them for rest and change of air after hard work in 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 67 
 
 a hot city. In his own estimation he was no longer 
 a young man even then, for although barely twenty- 
 three he had outlived what he believed to be the 
 one passion of his life, having given his early de- 
 votion to a very beautiful, very heartless woman, 
 who had played with it most unmercifully. He did 
 not think himself likely to fall in love again, nor 
 could what took place between him and Miss Ly- 
 man be described as so precipitate a proceeding. 
 They were thrown together by circumstances, and 
 they drifted into a friendship, enhanced by the 
 bracing air and the pleasant companionship about 
 them. They talked together, and although their 
 talk was almost entirely of what they were doing 
 and seeing, of people and things, it was a refresh- 
 ment to him from its very simplicity, because he 
 was weary of his own thoughts. In an evil mo- 
 ment he was prompted to take the fatal step which 
 bound them both; for it may be seen that such 
 an acquaintance was not thorough enough to decide 
 their destiny, and yet on the engagement which 
 grew from it they were warmly congratulated by 
 mutual friends. 
 
 Miss Lyman belonged to an excellent Boston 
 family. Her father was wealthy, and made a lib- 
 eral settlement on her. 
 
 Algernon Drayton bore a name which had stood 
 high in the legal profession for generations, and he 
 had not failed to do it honor. In Philadelphia, 
 where this kind of reputation was much valued, he 
 was therefore highly esteemed, and as he had in- 
 
68 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 herited aud acquired some means he was able to 
 support his position in a manner which seemed 
 most satisfactory to his bride. But she was unfor- 
 tunate in bringing some prejudices with her from 
 her native city, and in exciting others in his. 
 
 Mrs. Drayton thus failed to become popular. It 
 was said of her that she dressed badly and was 
 conceited ; that she had an undue estimation of her 
 own importance, and lacked the consideration for 
 others required by courtesy ; that she was over- 
 confident in herself, and had too little confidence 
 in her neighbors. In short, her every fault was 
 noted, while her virtues were unsung ; and although 
 Mr. Drayton never heard what was said, he knew 
 that his wife was not liked, and it pained him for 
 her sake, even while he suffered himself from her 
 want of adaptability. 
 
 But these troubles were long past. Mr. Drayton 
 had been a widower now for eighteen years. His 
 wife had died of diphtheria after a few days' ill- 
 ness, when Philip was only five years old, and her 
 sudden death had silenced all evil tongues. 
 
 It had, in truth, been remembered that she was 
 very good-tempered; that she was loyal to her 
 friends; that she was an excellent housekeeper, 
 and a most energetic member of such philanthropic 
 societies as succeeded in engaging her interest. It 
 was, perhaps, never understood how, coming from 
 Boston, she failed to be intellectual, but in this 
 respect she was set down as one of the exceptions 
 that proved the rule. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 69 
 
 Philip only remembered his mother as a shadowy 
 presence in his childhood, more felt than seen, but 
 it is quite certain that he missed her. What moth- 
 erless child does not? 
 
 He was a sturdy little chap, and his father was 
 very fond of him in an abstract way, but his fond- 
 ness was not quite personal in the sense that he 
 felt more tenderly towards the boy when they were 
 separated than when they were together. For the 
 rest, Algernon Drayton's heart was an exquisitely 
 sensitive piece of mechanism, which its owner had 
 long given up the hope of understanding ; but its 
 intricate action was not impeded by this, and al- 
 though he did not let it govern him he did not at- 
 tempt to govern it. The fact of Philip's existence, 
 as his son and heir, was a constant stay and com- 
 fort, of which he was quite conscious, but the fact 
 was all sufficient. He did not require his son's 
 presence, or depend on his society, nor had he ever 
 made much attempt at parental guidance of his 
 early thoughts and aspirations, except such moral 
 suasion as might result from the example which 
 he himself set of an upright, honorable career. 
 
 Philip admired his father all the more, perhaps, 
 for the difEerence between them. He considered 
 him quite unprejudicedly the cleverest man he had 
 ever known, and it gave him sincere pleasure to 
 hear him talk, especially when there were others 
 present to lead him to do so ; for Philip was per- 
 fectly aware that he himself had not that happy 
 faculty. 
 
70 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 In the matter of self-confidence Philip certainly 
 did not resemble his mother. He thought himself, 
 indeed, rather a stupid fellow. He knew he could 
 learn things, if he set himself to do so, but that 
 was because he had a strong will and great powers 
 of application. 
 
 He felt quite sure that he would never originate 
 anything, and yet in spite of his keen admiration 
 for his father he held, as has been said, opinions 
 which were widely different. He did not consider 
 himself responsible for these opinions. They seemed 
 to him necessities, because they were the result of 
 careful reasoning, and could be logically explained 
 whenever there was time enough to explain them. 
 
 Mr. Drayton had never found time to listen to 
 the explanation. He thought Philip's opinions as 
 uninteresting, from an intellectual point of view, as 
 poor Philip himself, but others who knew him were 
 more appreciative. His judgment was much valued 
 by other men, and his thoroughness and consis- 
 tency gained their respect as much as his manli- 
 ness, which was very pleasantly prominent in aU 
 he did and left undone. 
 
 Such were the father and son. Their talk, after 
 the ladies had left them, had been of a famous case 
 which had at one time occupied the attention of 
 the good citizens of their town. It was nearly for- 
 gotten by the public now, but some chance allu- 
 sion had brought it up, and the younger and the 
 older lawyer had instinctively taken sides against 
 each other. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 71 
 
 They both remembered the case quite well, for 
 it was one in which the power of the law had been 
 enlisted against the prerogative of the church. 
 
 A certain church — or rather the bells of a cer- 
 tain church — had been indicted as a nuisance, and 
 haK the town was filled with indignation, while 
 the other half sympathized with the indicters, the 
 unfortunate residents within too close proximity to 
 the chimes, of which the reiterated ringing was, as 
 they averred, so distressing to their nerves and try- 
 ing to their tempers that they found neither peace 
 by day nor sleep by night. 
 
 Mr. Drayton had always felt a sincere venerar 
 tion for the Church, and was rather a rare instance 
 of a man the breadth of whose views made him 
 more firm on those points where he had formed 
 conclusions. Whether there might not be a form 
 of worship evolved for the acceptance of future 
 generations, which should be less trammeled with 
 objections to the thinking mind than that of the 
 Church of England, he was not prepared to say, 
 but for the present he accepted it, and was jealous 
 of every fragment of traditionary dignity which be- 
 longed to it. 
 
 He cited the many instances of persistently ring- 
 ing bells in the cathedral towns of England, and 
 declared that if it had been the discordant whistle 
 of locomotives emanating from some engine depot, 
 protected by one of the great railway companies, in- 
 stead of the tintinnabulation of church bells, which 
 the rebellious neighborhood had had to complain 
 
72 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 of, they would have found little sympathy for their 
 outcry, and no redress for their injury. 
 
 Philip was not so stout a Churchman as his fa- 
 ther, but it was on no theory of disrespect to the 
 Church, as he strove to explain, only on that of per- 
 sonal liberty, that he maintained the right of the 
 outraged neighbors to their protest. He said that 
 the court might grant their suit or not, as it saw 
 fit, but there was no reason why they should sub- 
 mit in silence to hourly discomfort and annoyance. 
 They certainly had a right to object, and their ob- 
 jections should be listened to. 
 
 " On the same ground," answered his father, 
 " all the servants in a household might indict their 
 mistress' baby for a nuisance, because it cried at 
 night." 
 
 " Oh, no," returned Philip, " for their complain- 
 ing of it would not make it cease to cry." 
 
 " But they would have a right to protest," said 
 Mr. Drayton sarcastically. " Should they bear sftch 
 inconvenience in silence?" 
 
 "The servants could leave the situation if they 
 did not like the noiae," replied Philip gravely. 
 
 " That is exactly what the inhabitants of the 
 houses near the church might have done, if they 
 were seriously inconvenienced," said his father. 
 
 "They would be doubly injured in that case," 
 answered Philip, " for the value of their property 
 would be depreciated if they left for such a cause." 
 
 " My dear fellow, the servants' characters would 
 go with them, I assure you, if they left for such a 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 73 
 
 cause. The mother of the baby would see to that. 
 Do you suppose she would not tell every one that 
 she believed their minds were deranged and they 
 had no hearts ? " 
 
 " Ah ! I see, sir, that you are joking." 
 
 It was quite natural to Mr. Drayton to give a 
 humorous turn to an argument which seemed in 
 danger of becoming tedious, but Philip always con- 
 tinued to argue seriously after his father had ceased 
 to do so, and felt rather discomfited when he dis- 
 covered that he had been wasting his force. 
 
 It was no deliberate device on the part of Mr. 
 Drayton. He did not intend to end the discus- 
 sion, only to make it more amusing, and expected 
 Philip to catch the spirit of fun as he himself 
 would have done, but Philip was too intensely in 
 earnest. His father's lightness of tone annoyed 
 him, not for his own sake, but for the sake of the 
 subject, in which for the time being he had become 
 absorbed ; and when Mr. Drayton found that they 
 were thus at cross-purposes, he would grow very 
 weary. He often was weary in Philip's society. 
 
 " You must not misunderstand me, my dear boy," 
 he said now, in a tone which itself deprecated any 
 intention of wounding his son's feelings ; but the 
 spirit of mischief got the better of him, and he 
 added, " The truth is that I was not engaged in 
 the case, and that accounts entirely for my non-ap- 
 proval of the indictment." 
 
 "Not to me, sir," rejoined Philip stoutly, "or 
 to any one who knows you." 
 
CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 " For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, 
 Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, 
 More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won, 
 Than women's are." 
 
 As the next day was very fine, with a touch of 
 that softness in the air too apt to degenerate into 
 dampness in the climate of the Quaker City, a 
 drive was planned to show Miss Arnold the Park. 
 
 Mr. Drayton, entering the library, found all the 
 party assembled except Miss Ruthven. Philip had 
 returned early ifrom his office, and brought with 
 him his friend Dr. Carey, of Boston, who was 
 standing on the hearth-rug talking to Julia. She 
 looked full of fun and spirit and was ready equipped 
 for her drive. 
 
 " Philip said that he thought of taking Miss Ar- 
 nold to the Park," said Dr. Carey, " but I have not 
 the faintest idea who Miss Arnold is." 
 
 " She happens to be my most intimate friend, 
 but for an introduction I must refer you to Philip, 
 who is talking to her in the other room," replied 
 Julia. " Are you sure you are warm enough, Mr. 
 Drayton?" she asked, turning to her guardian. 
 
 " I am sure I am a great deal too warm, which I 
 suppose is as it should be," he answered resignedly: 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 75 
 
 " And you know you^ promised to go in the close 
 carriage," said Julia. " It is a great deal safer, 
 and I am going with you." 
 
 " I am sure it will not be at aU safe for Mis^ 
 Ruthven to drive in an open carriage at this season 
 of the year," remarked Dr. Carey gravely. " You 
 had better let her take your place with Mr. Dray- 
 ton, and come in the T cart with us." 
 
 Julia smiled, but shook her head. " I am afraid 
 you need Miss Euthven to keep you in order." 
 
 " I wish you would come with us," said Dr. 
 Carey. 
 
 " So she will," said Mr. Drayton. " She only 
 wants to be persuaded a little." 
 
 " No, I want to enjoy my drive." 
 
 " Perhaps I am the person who would be unfor- 
 tunate enough to interfere with your enjoyment," 
 returned Dr. Carey stiffly. 
 
 " How can you, if I am not in the same carriage 
 with you?" 
 
 " If I were you, Carey, I should pay her back 
 by being exceedingly disagreeable all the after- 
 noon," said Mr. Drayton. 
 
 " It may not be easy for Dr. Carey to make him- 
 self disagreeable," remarked Julia. 
 
 Mr. Drayton began to laugh. 
 
 " If that is a hit at me," he said, " I think it 
 is time this party were in motion. Where is 
 Philip ? Why do not you young people get off ? " 
 
 " Shall I look up Philip? " suggested Dr. Carey. 
 " J believe he is in the drawing-room." 
 
76 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Edith is there, too," said Julia. " They will 
 be ready to start in a moment. They are only 
 waiting for Miss Ruthven." 
 
 ' " Pray who do you consider young people, be- 
 sides Philip's great-aunt, my dear ? " 
 
 " I think you are rather inclined to be juvenile," 
 replied Julia ; and then they both laughed, as they 
 often did, at nothing. 
 
 " Seriously," said Mr. Drayton, " I do not in- 
 tend to let you go with me, so you may make up 
 your mind to be stupid." 
 
 " Who are you going to take ? " asked Julia, in 
 a tone of genuine disappointment. 
 
 "Suppose that I prefer Miss Arnold's com- 
 pany ? " 
 
 " But you don't." 
 
 " I may prefer it, but I am too generous to mo- 
 nopolize her. I shall ask aunt Margaretta to go 
 with me. That will be next best." 
 
 " Ah ! I see what you mean," said Julia, linking 
 her arm loTingly through his, " but I would really 
 rather go with you." 
 
 " Stupid child ! " cried Mr. Drayton. " It is 
 kinder that you should go with your friend," he 
 added more gravely. " She will Snjoy her drive 
 more, and it is better for you to be with compan- 
 ions of your own age." He stooped as he spoke, 
 and kissed her gently on the forehead. 
 
 This little scene was not noticed by Dr. Carey, 
 who was talking to Edith Arnold in the drawing- 
 room, between which and the library the folding 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. . 77 
 
 doors were open. Edith had found her old place 
 by the front window, for everything that happened 
 was a pleasure to her just now, from its novelty, 
 and she was brimful of expectancy at the mere 
 prospect of the drive. The carriage, for which she 
 was looking with some eagerness, had not yet ap- 
 peared, and Philip had gone to inquire into the 
 cause of the delay. 
 
 Meanwhile, Lawrence Carey had been introduced 
 to her, and was making himself amiably stupid, as 
 we all feel it our duty to do on such occasions. He 
 was struck, as Cecil Wilmott had been, with the 
 fact that she was very pretty. 
 
 " Is this your first visit to Philadelphia, Miss 
 Arnold?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes," said Edith. " It is my first, but I. hope 
 it may not be my last. I think it such a delightful 
 place ! " 
 
 "You must find it quiet, though, after New 
 York," Dr. Carey remarked. 
 
 Edith sniiled to herself. Philip Drayton had 
 introduced her to his friend as " Miss Arnold, from 
 New York." 
 
 "I do find it quiet," she answered wickedly, 
 "but perhaps I enjoy it all the more for that." 
 She wanted to hear what he would say next. 
 
 "You like the contrast," rejoined Dr. Carey 
 sympathetically. " I have heard that there is a 
 great deal going on in New York this winter." 
 
 Edith laughed outright. It was not much of a 
 jdse, but it seemed to her infinitely funny that the 
 
78 • A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 visit to Philadelphia, which was by far the greatest 
 event of her hitherto uneventful life, should be 
 looked on in this light. 
 
 " Yes, I like the contrast," she said, with a com- 
 placent little nod of her head. 
 
 Just then Miss Ruthven appeared, followed by 
 Philip, and the party began to move. Mr. Dray- 
 ton helped his aunt into the coup^ first, and then 
 asked her to wait until he had seen the other ladies 
 seated in the open carriage. 
 
 " Where shall Edith sit ? " asked Miss Prescott. 
 
 " I think she will have the best view in front," 
 said Mr. Drayton. 
 
 "Will you not sit beside me. Miss Arnold?" 
 asked Philip, who was drawing on a pair of dog- 
 skin -gloves, and was evidently to drive. 
 
 " I will, with pleasure," she answered, smiling. 
 It seemed to her that any seat in such a pretty car- 
 riage would be delightful. She looked at Philip 
 as she answered. They had just stepped out upon 
 the pavement, and the glow of the afternoon sun- 
 shine fell warmly upon his face, which was full of 
 strength and energy. 
 
 His hair was straight hair, thick and dark ; his 
 eyes gray. His skin seemed to have been browned 
 by exposure. His nose arid mouth were well 
 shaped, and the more strongly marked for the ab- 
 sence of beard, whiskers, or mustache. He re- 
 turned her glance in an open, manly way which 
 prejudiced Edith in his favor. 
 
 " Then, Julia, you must get in first," said Mr. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 79 
 
 Drayton, helping her into the back seat ; and when 
 the others were ready Dr. Carey took the seat be- 
 side her with evident satisfaction. The horses were 
 so impatient that the groom could scarcely hold 
 them, but once off they became quite amenable to 
 control, evidently recognizing Philip's hand as that 
 of their master. In spite of the spirited horses, 
 however, the sunshine, and the pleasant compan- 
 ionship. Miss Arnold was not very favorably im- 
 pressed with the drive until they entered the pre- 
 cincts of the Park, and rounded the hill by ven- 
 erable Fairmont, when she was delighted with the 
 varied, animated scene which opened out before 
 her. They were not long in gaining a road beside 
 the river, on which they bowled along among a 
 crowd of other dashing vehicles, past trees and- 
 pretty boat-houses, to where their way was cut for 
 them out of a solid mass of rock, which formed a 
 rugged archway overhead, and the road curved 
 close to the water's edge. Here Philip stopped 
 for a moment that they might enjoy the view of 
 the blue river winding away in the distance, with a 
 high wooded bank seen aU in shadow opposite, and 
 a pale winter sky above flecked with cirrous clouds. 
 
 " Oh, how charming this is ! " cried Edith. " The 
 natural scenery is so beautiful ! Where did you 
 ■get such a wonderful park ? " 
 
 " Do you really like it ? " asked Philip. 
 
 " Of course I like it. Is the other side of the 
 river as beautiful as this ? " she asked. 
 '" Not quite," he answered. " It is different, but 
 
80 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 many of tho prettiest parts on either side cannot 
 be seen from the carriage road. One can only ap- 
 proach them through the bridle paths. I know 
 them well, I ride so often." 
 
 " Central Park is a nice place for riding," said 
 Dr. Carey. " Are you fond of riding. Miss Ar- 
 nold ? " 
 
 " Very fond." 
 
 " Then you will perhaps like to ride with me 
 somejday, if we can find you a good horse ? " asked 
 Philip. 
 
 " I should, indeed ! " cried Edith. " I think it 
 the most delightful thing in the world to ride a 
 spirited horse through a pretty country, — although 
 I have never ridden in Central Park," she added, 
 with a glance at Dr. Carey. 
 
 " It is very pleasant to ask you to do anything," 
 said Philip. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " You respond so heartily." 
 
 " That is because you ask me to do such pleas- 
 ant things." 
 
 " I can see that you think them pleasant," he ad- 
 mitted. " It is the sincerity-of your manner which 
 is so satisfactory. I think you would say just as 
 frankly that you did not like a thing, if one asked 
 you to do what was not to your taste." 
 
 " But it would not be polite to express myself 
 quite so strongly in that case, would it ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Philip. » I am not much 
 of a judge of politeness. I hate it." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 81 
 
 " What ! " 
 
 " I suppose that shocks you very much." 
 
 "No, it surprises me. Do you not like to be 
 treated with civility ? " 
 
 " Of course, but that is another thing. I hate 
 people to be full of airs and compliments, or else 
 so stuck up and formal that there is no knowing 
 what they really think about anything." 
 
 Edith laughed. " I dislike that kind of person, 
 too," she admitted : " but as for being fuU of airs 
 and compliments, I do not know that I object to 
 them so much." 
 
 " Do you mean that you like people who flatter 
 you ? " asked Philip, in a grieved tone. 
 
 " Oh, no," she answered, blushing. "Flattery is 
 different, and there are all sorts of ways of compli- 
 menting, too, I suppose ; but a compliment may be 
 given in an honest manner, which makes it pleas- 
 ant to receive, I think." 
 
 Philip looked thoughtful. 
 
 " It had not occurred to me to make that distinc- 
 tion, but I do not know but that you may be right," 
 he said. 
 
 " It is rather windy here, Philip," remarked 
 Julia, drawing her fur -lined cloak more closely 
 about her. 
 
 " It is a trifle bleak," said Lawrence Carey. 
 " Those fellows, by the bye, must be having a. 
 rather chilly time of it in that wherry." He in- 
 dicated, as he spoke, two oarsmen, with bare arms 
 and bodies stripped to the waist save for their 
 
82 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 boating-shirts, who were pulling rapidly by, with* 
 long, swift strokes. 
 
 " They are working so hard," replied Philip. 
 " they probably scarcely feel the cold. By Jove ! " 
 he exclaimed presently, '^do you see who the stroke 
 is?" 
 
 " To be sure ! " cried Dr. Carey. " It is Charley 
 Hazzard ! " 
 
 Edith looked after the boat, and caught an indis- 
 tinct impression of a handsome head, with dark 
 curly hair closely clipped and rather a massive 
 forehead. Both the rowers had gained a brilliant 
 color from the exercise. She had somehow man- 
 aged to contract a dislike of what she heard about 
 Mr. Hazzard, and this view of him surprised her. 
 It was different from what she expected, although 
 what she did expect it would have been difficult to 
 say. 
 
 " What a mad fellow he is ! " said Philip. 
 
 " He is a very good fellow," said Miss Prescott. 
 
 " Oh ! I forgot that you always take up the 
 cudgels for him," returned Philip. 
 
 " I never take them up first," rejoined the young 
 lady. 
 
 "I think you do. I had no idea of attacking 
 Mm." 
 
 " Nor I of defending him. I was simply doing 
 him justice." 
 
 " So was I ! " said Philip, at which Edith laughed, 
 and the laugh was so contagious that Julia joined 
 in spite of herself. They were now climbing a bill, 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 83 
 
 partly covered by a wood. The carriage passed be- 
 tween tall trees, the branches of which nearly met 
 overhead, and emerged from thence upon a broad 
 level road at the top. As it did so they came in 
 sight of the coup6, which had distanced them while 
 they enjoyed the view, like the tortoise in his race 
 with the hare. 
 
 " I hope it will not tire your father, Philip," said 
 Julia seriously. 
 
 " I believe you would really rather have gone in 
 the other carriage," said Dr. Carey. 
 
 "It seems hard for you to believe that," an- 
 swered Miss Prescott serenely. 
 
 At which Dr. Carey was mute with surprise. He 
 glanced uneasily at his companion to see whether 
 she really intended to be rude, and perceived that 
 she was smiling the most amiable of smiles. 
 
 " I hope you brought your flute with you. Dr. 
 Carey," she remarked presently. 
 
 " My flute ? " he repeated. 
 
 " Yes. I remember how beautifully you played 
 it on that Class Day evening which I spent in 
 Philip's room. Do you not recollect? Mrs. Dav- 
 ering went with me on to Class Day, and we took 
 tea with you, and you and Philip showed us some 
 wonderful programmes of the Hasty Pudding, and 
 photographs of some of the fellows dressed as 
 heroines for the different plays." 
 
 "Certainly I recollect," answered Dr. Carey. 
 " It was a very pleasant evening — for us ; but I 
 do not remember playing on the flute." 
 
84 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you did," said Julia. " Philip insisted 
 upon it, and Mrs. Davering and I sat in one of 
 those deep, delieiously cushioned window-seats and 
 listened, and it was a moonlight night. Surely 
 you have pot forgotten about the flute ? ' 
 
 " Ah, no ; I remember now," said Lawrence 
 Carey, blushing a little at the recollection. " I be- 
 lieve I did play for you. It was in old Holworthy, 
 before we changed our room." 
 
 " But do you never play on the flute now ? " 
 
 " No, never. I do not know what has become of 
 my flute." 
 
 " I should think you would sometimes wish your- 
 self back at college," said Miss Prescott. " Life 
 there seemed so happy." 
 
 " Most men like it," he answered ; " but I think 
 I am rather glad that it is over. I can hardly im- 
 agine wanting to live again any part of my life. 
 It is such an unreasonable thing to wish ! " 
 
 " So it is," assented Julia ; " but do you never 
 want anjrfching which is unreasonable ? " 
 
 "I should be quite content," replied Dr. Carey, 
 " if I could have all the things which I have a rea- 
 sonable right to expect." 
 
 " I think that you are very fortunate. The mere 
 fact that I have a reasonable right to expect a thing 
 often prevents me from caring about it." 
 
 " But you would be very sorry not to have it, for 
 aU that," said Lawrence Carey. 
 
 " Do you think that I should ? I am not certain. 
 I am not very tenacious of my rights." 
 
A CARPET knight: 85 
 
 " Few women are." 
 
 " 1 thought that it was very much the fashion in 
 Boston for women to insist upon their rights," said 
 Julia. 
 
 " Not as much as it is supposed elsewhere," re- 
 plied Dr. Carey, " among the women one meets 
 in society ; but granting that they are more anxious 
 to make good their claims than they once were, it 
 is the rights of women in general, not any par- 
 ticular woman's rights, which they advocate. In- 
 dividually they will almost all of them allow them- 
 selves, if you will pardon the coarseness of the 
 expression, to be bullied to any extent." 
 
 " It is rather a rough use of words," said Julia, 
 " and I for one should not allow myself to be 
 bullied. That is a very different thing from yield- 
 ing one's rights." 
 
 " You lose them, all the same." 
 
 " All, yes, but in one case you keep your self- 
 respect." 
 
 " I prefer to keep both." 
 
 " If you are so determined to have your due," 
 said Miss Prescott, " it would be very awkward to 
 make a mistake about it." 
 
 " How do you mean ? What kind of a mistake 
 could one make ? " asked Dr. Carey blandly. 
 
 " Might it not be possible to fancy it a little 
 larger than it was ? " she responded significantly. 
 
 " Ah ! in that case," said Lawrence Carey cool- 
 ly, " one would be obliged to make good one's 
 claim." 
 
86 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " How could that be done without the where- 
 withal?" 
 
 " If one had claimed more than one deserved," 
 said Carey, " one could simply set to work to de- 
 serve what one had claimed." 
 
 " Ah ! I see," cried Julia ; " and if one failed ? " 
 
 "I can only refer you to Lady Macbeth for 
 comfort in that contingency." ' 
 
 " But I am not talking of myself," said Julia, 
 with a light laugh. " I would always rather claim 
 less than more than my desert, for I should not 
 enjoy making good my claim, as you caU it. My 
 experience of that process is that it generally in- 
 volves the sacrifice of the rights of some one else, 
 as in the case of Macbeth for instance." 
 
 " He did deserve what he claimed, only chance 
 deprived him of it," said Dr. Carey; "but the stakes 
 are not so high as his were, usually. Unless for a 
 kingdom it would hardly pay to commit murder." 
 
 " Who talks of committing murder ? " inquired 
 Philip. 
 
 " Who, indeed ? " asked Julia. " Dr. Carey and 
 I are just resolving to resist the temptation." 
 
 Every one laughed, and the conversation became 
 general. 
 
 They had made the round of the Park, and were 
 returning from their drive a little early by the 
 same road, Edith having begged particularly to 
 have another glimpse of the river ; when she no- 
 ticed a figure a long way off which she fancied 
 that she recognized, and on nearer view it proved 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 87 
 
 to be Cecil Wilmott, walking towards them on the 
 foot-path beside the road. 
 
 " I hoped I should meet you," he said, as Philip 
 drew up in response to an imperative sign to stop 
 and parley. " I found Charley Hazzard, at the 
 boat-house below here, about half an hour ago, with 
 a sprained ankle. He slipped and twisted it as he 
 was helping Freeman to carry up the boat they had 
 been rowing in, and is in a great deal of pain. I 
 heard you were out driving, and that Dr. Carey 
 was with you, so I took the chance of intercept- 
 ing him, as Hazzard is sorely in need of his pro- 
 fessional aid." 
 
 " Thank you, Wilmott, for coming for me," said 
 Dr. Carey gravely. " I almost wish I had stayed 
 with Hazzard," he added half to himself, as he 
 jumped out of the carriage. 
 
 " It is too bad about Charley," said Philip, " but 
 I don't see how you could have prevented the acci- 
 dent, although one always feels as if he ought to 
 have some one with him to look after him. We are 
 sorry to lose your company, old fellow." 
 
 " I am sorry, too, but will stay, of course, and 
 help to get Charley safely home." 
 
 At this moment Mr. Freeman drove up with a 
 cab which he had gone to summon for his disabled 
 comrade, and Philip turning to Cecil suggested that 
 he should take Dr. Carey's seat in the carriage, so 
 that they were once more off, at a rapid rate. 
 
 " Is Miss Arnold to make you a long visit ? " 
 Cecil asked of Julia presently, in a low voice. 
 
88 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 "I hope SO. Why?" 
 
 " I hope so, too." 
 
 " I am glad you like her," said Julia. " I do 
 not see myself how any one can help it, but then 
 women and men do not always have .the same 
 favorites." 
 
 " My sister was sorry not to see her yesterday." 
 
 " I was very sorry to miss Charlotte ; and that 
 reminds me that Mr. Drayton wants you both to 
 dine with us to-morrow. I sent a note to Charlotte 
 this morning." 
 
 " So she told me." 
 
 " I hope you have no other engagement ? " 
 
 " I think not. Not if you are sure you want me. 
 If I come, will you put me beside Miss Arnold ? " 
 
 "Of course I wiU, if you would like it," said 
 Julia, kindly. 
 
 They were passing a colossal bronze image of 
 President Lincoln in a sitting attitude, which bore 
 an unfortunate resemblance to that of a negro min- 
 strel. He looked very solemnly grotesque in the 
 gathering twilight, with his long plume pen ex- 
 tended above their heads like a warning finger. 
 
 Here the river road was crossed by another, 
 that turned inward and passed round a hill which 
 Philip was carefully explaining to Miss Arnold 
 had once comprised the limits of the Park, and 
 they thus came in sight of two persons riding rap- 
 idly along the converging road, to meet them. The 
 lady, who was a little in advance of her cavalier, 
 was evidently very lively and unmistakably hand- 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. , 89 
 
 some. She had a brilliant complexion, flashing 
 dark eyes, and a beautifully roimded figure. 
 
 As the carriage came nearer she perceived its 
 inmates, and began to smile, displaying two lovely 
 dimples, and bestowing a mischievous little nod on 
 Cecil Wilmott as she passed. ' 
 
 "Oh! who is that?" cried Edith, turning impul- 
 sively to Cecil, who blushed a little as he answered, 
 
 " That is Mrs. Percy." 
 
 " An old flame of yours, Wilmott, is she not ? " 
 asked Philip. 
 
 "Ah, yes," said Cecil indifferently, "very old. 
 I knew her before she was married, and now she is 
 a widow." 
 
 " How pretty she is ! " exclaimed Edith. ♦' She 
 does not seem very sad for a widow." 
 
CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 " One science onlj will one genius fit ; 
 So vast is art, so narrow human wit." 
 PoFB. 
 
 It chanced that Miss Arnold, happening to be 
 dressed for dinner, on the following Friday, a little 
 before dinner-time, found her way to the library, 
 which was usually unoccupied at this hour, intend- 
 ing to await Julia's appearance before venturing to 
 the drawing-room. On opening the door, however, 
 she was startled to find Mr. Drayton and Philip 
 in close conversation. She was about to close it 
 hastily and withdraw, when Mr. Drayton, catching 
 sight of her, called out to her to enter. 
 
 " Come in, my dear, I beg of you," he said, with 
 a parental air, which pleased her, as it seemed to 
 claim her as belonging to the household. 
 
 " I am afraid I shaU disturb you," she answered, 
 stUl hesitating. 
 
 "Not at all," replied Mr. Drayton, drawing a 
 chair in front of the fire for her as he spoke. 
 " Philip was telling me about some improvements 
 which he is ordering at Heronsford, — that was 
 aU; and I was simply wasting the time in which I 
 should be dressing for dinner." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, for delaying you," said 
 Philip quickly. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 91 
 
 " I hardly know whether to pardon you or not," 
 answered his father, laying his hand affectionately 
 on his shoulder. "A young feUow like you, who 
 travels home before me as though walking for a 
 wager, puts on his dress-coat in no time, and meets 
 me as I enter my house, stupid and tired, with a 
 long and interesting letter from a carpenter and 
 builder, every detail of which he is eager to sift. 
 Do you think that such an offense as that should 
 be permitted or forgiven, Miss Arnold, on the first 
 day of my return to the duties of my profession ? " 
 
 He looked anything but stupid or tired, but 
 quite eager and boyish, Edith thought, as he stood 
 beside his son upon the hearth-rug. Glancing 
 from him to Philip, she was surprised by the look 
 of real pain in the face of the latter. It seemed so 
 disproportioned to the occasion. 
 
 " Truly it should not," said Philip seriously. 
 
 " But perhaps the letter from the carpenter was 
 very important," suggested Edith shyly, with an 
 appealing look at Mr. Drayton. 
 
 " Of course it was very important," he answered 
 good-humoredly, " and so is my being ready to re- 
 ceive my guests. Therefore, if you young people 
 will excuse me, I will be off to my toilet." 
 
 Philip turned toward the fire when his father 
 was gone, and stood silent for a moment, with his 
 back to Edith; then seeming suddenly to realize 
 that this was not very civil, he drew a chair beside 
 her and sat down. She had taken a magazine from 
 the table and opened it, not wishing to appear to 
 
92 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 notice Mm too critically. It chanced to be a num- 
 ber of the " Century," beginning with a humorous 
 paper describing the adventures of an erratic band 
 of artists styling themselves the " Tile Club." She 
 glanced up to see him still looking despondently 
 into the fire. 
 
 " Are you fond of decorative art, Mr. Drayton? " 
 she asked, not choosing her topic, in her desire to 
 change the current of his thoughts. 
 
 "I am, indeed," said Philip, "but it is as an 
 artisan." 
 
 " What do you mean by that? " 
 
 " I mean that I look at it, perhaps, too much 
 from its practical side." 
 
 " Then you must be an artist yourself ? " 
 
 " Hardly. I am a painter, a carver,- an experi- 
 menter." 
 
 " I did not know that," she said. In truth she 
 was very much surprised. 
 
 " I know you did not, but if I were an artist I 
 think you might have guessed it." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because there is something in the look of a 
 man who has devoted himself to art which I think 
 is unmistakable. Just think for a moment of all 
 the artists you have ever known. Have they not 
 looked like artists ? " 
 
 "They are not always very clean," said Edith 
 reflectively; and then, suiting her humor to the 
 more serious tone of her companion, answered de- 
 murely, " I think they have." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 93 
 
 "Why do not you?" she asked presently, with 
 an amused smile. 
 
 " Because I have only turned to the arts I prac- 
 tice as pleasant occupations. I have taken them up 
 as a diversion from, my more prosaic profession." 
 
 " I thought you loved your profession." 
 
 " Not as I ought to do." 
 
 Edith hesitated a moment. "If you love art 
 better, may you not have mistaken your profes- 
 sion?" she asked. 
 
 " I have just told you that I am a mere laborer 
 in art," he said impatiently. " Excuse me," he 
 added suddenly, with a change of tone. " I did not 
 mean to speak like that, but my choice of a pro- 
 fession has always been a sore point with me." 
 
 " Then there was a reason why you were not 
 what you would like to have been ? " she asked 
 quickly. 
 
 It was Philip's turn to smile at her earnestness. 
 
 " Several," he said. " Are you fond of draw- 
 ing ? " he asked, after a pause, by way of carry- 
 ing the war into the enemy's country. 
 
 " I ? Oh, no, I know nothing about it, but I 
 always feel at home with people who do, because I 
 have a sister who is quite an artist." 
 
 " Have you, indeed ? " said Philip, in a tone of 
 warm interest. " What does she like best to 
 paint?" 
 
 " She is fondest of figures — portraits, but she 
 paints landscapes too." 
 
 " Has she ever painted a picture of you ? " 
 
94 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 * 
 
 " Why do you ask ? " she answered, with a faint 
 blush. " I believe she made a portrait of me once, 
 sitting on the steps of our piazza." 
 
 " Is it a good picture ? " 
 
 " It would have been if it had happened to' be of 
 somebody else. The view of Long Island Sound 
 in the distance is lovely." 
 
 " Why if it had been of somebody else ? Is it 
 not a good likeness ? " 
 
 " My mother thinks so, but I do not like it. It 
 looks sentimental, which I am not, and the dress is 
 ugly. Altogether, I think I spoil it." 
 
 " I should like to see it, and judge for myself." 
 
 " You must come to New Rochelle," she answered 
 playfuUy. 
 
 " Perhaps I shall come ; do not forget that you 
 asked me. Meanwhile, would you care some day to 
 see a few things which I have gotten together in a 
 sort of sanctum of mine at Heronsford ? " 
 
 " I should like to see them of all things. You 
 vrill not forget either ? " she asked, glancing at him 
 brightly. 
 
 " No, I will not forget," he said, folding a large 
 piece of yellowish-white paper, as he spoke, which 
 had been lying outspread on the table. 
 
 Her eye was caught by a little sketch in pen and 
 ink upon the border, representing a picturesque 
 house, surrounded by trees. 
 
 " Is that a picture of your country seat ? " she 
 
 " Yes, that is Heronsford." 
 
A CARPET KNIGST. 95 
 
 " How pretty it is ! " 
 
 " Do you really think so ? I am very glad." 
 
 " I should think the house must be lovely, is it 
 not ? " 
 
 " Perhaps I am hardly a fair judge," he an- 
 swered. " It is the first I ever planned, and I am 
 rather foolishly fond of the whole place." 
 
 " Do you mean that you made the plan your- 
 self ? " she asked in surprise. 
 
 " Yes. I made it, and my father was good enough 
 to allow me to carry it out." 
 
 " Oh, will you not let me see the plan ? " 
 
 " Certainly," he answered, flushing with pleasure. 
 " If you wiU come here I will explain it to you." 
 He spread out the paper once more, and made room 
 for her at the table as he spoke, standing behind 
 her chair, and pointing out with a pencil "the 
 ground floor — the second story — and here is the 
 room of which I told you," he said. 
 
 " Your little den ? " 
 
 " My little den!" 
 
 " I like the inside of the house, too," said Edith. 
 
 " It has its defects of course," said Philip, with 
 an attempt to speak impartially, " although at one 
 time I thought it perfection," 
 
 " "Was that long ago ? " 
 
 "Not very. It has only been built two years. 
 That was when I hoped it would serve as an opening 
 to future orders," he said, with a smile and a sigh. 
 
 " Ah, I know now what you would rather have 
 been," said Edith, " an architect, and I see what 
 
96 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 you meant about art. Of course you only care for 
 it in its relation to architecture." 
 
 " That is quite true," said Philip. 
 
 " What a pity that you could not have been what 
 you wanted to be," she said earnestly. 
 
 Philip looked at her keenly. " Do you really 
 think it to be regretted ? " he asked, and his face 
 was quite a study for its complexity of expression. 
 
 "Of course I do." 
 
 " But many persons would think the legal pro- 
 fession much higher." 
 
 Edith hesitated for a moment. Her sympathies 
 were awakened by Philip's manner more than by 
 anything which he had said, but she wished to be 
 honest. " I can understand their thinking that," 
 she said, " but I meant that it was a pity to give 
 up what you most cared for." She noticed that 
 his face fell. " Do you not think that architecture 
 could be made a great deal higher than it is ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " That is exactly the ambition that I had," cried 
 Philip. He was radiant. She could not have said 
 anything to please him more. 
 
 " And why did you give it up ? " 
 
 " It was my father's wish. He did not think as 
 I did, but desired, not unnaturally, to have his son 
 follow him in the profession he most honored." 
 
 " But he must have encouraged your taste if he 
 allowed you to build this house." 
 
 " He knew that I studied architecture abroad. 
 He had recommended it to me himself as an in- 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 97 
 
 teresting subject, a means of general cultivation, 
 and so he was quite willing to indulge my fancy in 
 the house at Heronsford ; but when I suggested tak- 
 ing up architecture seriously as a profession, he 
 looked upon it as a mere boyish whim." 
 
 " I don't see why he should have," said Edith 
 impulsively. 
 
 " He was convinced, to do him justice," Philip 
 answered, " that if I did not study law I should 
 regret it all my life, — as he would have done him- 
 self, — and believed he was acting most kindly. 
 Curiously enough," he added, half to himself, " it is 
 the only instance in which he has ever attempted 
 to influence me in thought or action. But there 
 is Eodgers to call us to dinner, and you must be 
 heartUy tired of hearing me talk about myself." 
 
 The guests whom they found assembled were Mr. 
 and Mrs. Davering, Miss and Mr. Wilmott, and 
 Dr. Lawrence Carey. Miss Ruthven was helping 
 Julia to do the honors of the house, in the absence 
 of her nephew, who had not yet made his appear- 
 ance. They welcomed the advent of Philip and 
 Edith with no small satisfaction. 
 
 " I could not think where you were," whispered 
 Julia. " Come here and let me introduce you to 
 my friend Mrs. Davering." And then followed sev- 
 eral other introductions, and Mr. Drayton coming 
 in a moment afterwards, dinner was announced. 
 7 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 " Where be your gibes now ? your gambols ? your songs ? your flashes of 
 merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar ? " — Shakespeabe. 
 
 It is a mistake for the lady of the house, at a 
 dinner party, to place a silent man on her right 
 hand, even though in so doing she may be actuated 
 by the most disinterested of motives ; and the bet- 
 ter hostess she is the more of a mistake she makes, 
 for the unresponsive person acts as a sort of pad, 
 through vfhich whatever effect her own efforts to 
 enliven the rest of the company might have is 
 deadened. Miss Prescott realized this a little too 
 late to profit by the knowledge, her guests being 
 seated and dinner begun. Her unremunerative 
 neighbor happened to be Mr. Davering, and this 
 was aU the more aggravating that his position at 
 table had been a subject of grave doubt. 
 
 He was a light-bearded, sleepy-looking man, with 
 mild blue eyes, and what might be described as a 
 stylish slouch ; his profile would have been hand- 
 some, but that it in some unaccountable way sug- 
 gested the head of a sheep. When he was amused 
 by anything he laughed very hard, and showed a 
 row of very strong white teeth. When he was 
 angry, which happened seldom, he went away and 
 sulked ; but most of the time he was amicably un- 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 99 
 
 conscious of what was going on about him, not be- 
 cause his thoughts were otherwise engaged, but 
 because there was a thick skin, as it were, over his 
 powers of perception which things must be very- 
 pointed to penetrate. It had first been suggested 
 that he should take in Charlotte Wilmott, and sit 
 on Julia's left. Perhaps it was thought that there 
 was some congeniality of spirit between Charlotte 
 and himself, but it had been realized that in this 
 case. Miss Wilmott and her brother would be 
 brought side by side, and Miss Euthven would be 
 obliged to go in with her grand-nephew, which was 
 hardly in accordance with the fitness of things, al- 
 though there could be little doubt that the old lady 
 preferred Philip to any of the rest of the company. 
 Accordingly Julia had pronounced that Mr. 
 Davering must take down Miss Ruthven, and that 
 Philip would have to take Charlotte Wilmott, and 
 place her beside Mr. Drayton. Her uncle, with 
 whom Charlotte was not a great favorite, made a 
 mental wry face when he saw this aryangeraent, 
 but swallowed it, as he did his raw oysters, in sub- 
 missive silence, deferring to justice in Julia's dicta. 
 She certainly had not done better for herself, for 
 although Dr. Carey, who had taken her to dinner, 
 was a clever man, she had placed beside him Mrs. 
 Davering, much too energetic a person to allow 
 him to converse with any one else for more than 
 five minutes at a time. Julia had intentionally 
 given this lady a central position, for she knew 
 that she loved to command the conversation as far 
 
100 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 in all directions as her faculties permitted, and that 
 on the whole her effect upon a dinner was bene- 
 ficial. 
 
 Cecil Wilmott had found himself between Mrs, 
 Davering and the young lady to whom the dinner 
 was given, in the close vicinity of his host, and the 
 happy necessity of lending an ear to Mr. Drayton 
 gave him an excellent opportunity of observing his 
 nearer neighbor. 
 
 Miss Arnold was very simply dressed this even- 
 ing in a pale blue Roman silk, the scarf-like trim- 
 ming of which lent here and there a touch of 
 brighter coloring. The faint shade of blue was be- 
 coming, and it was one of those dresses which are 
 always in fashion ; a fortunate fact for Edith, since 
 it had belonged to her mother before it had been 
 "made over" for herself. She looked younger 
 than ever, a mere child, Cecil thought, as she sat, 
 with her eyes cast down, listening to Mr. Drayton, 
 and he wondered what it was about her which so 
 attracted him. Whatever it was he could see that 
 other people felt the charm. It was evident that 
 Mr. Drayton really liked her. Cecil had seldom 
 seen him take so much trouble for a young girl, 
 and as for Philip, his eyes were almost constantly 
 turned in this direction. "Wilmott was not slow to 
 seize the first moment when his uncle turned to say 
 something polite to Charlotte to address Edith. 
 
 " Did you enjoy your drive yesterday ? " he 
 
 " Very much." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 101 
 
 " Were you not rather surprised to meet me ? " 
 
 " I think I was," said Edith doubtfully. 
 
 " You think you were ? " 
 
 " Yes. I mean that that seemed a very unlikely 
 place for you to be." 
 
 "And yet you are not sure that you were sur- 
 prised to see me ? " 
 
 " No, not altogether, because I have almost al- 
 ways seen you in places where I did not expect 
 •you to be," said Edith, looking at him seriously ; 
 and then seeing that he had begun to laugh she 
 colored, as she had a way of doing when his eyes 
 met hers. 
 
 " Shall I tell you a secret ? " asked Cecil. 
 
 " Must I keep it ? " 
 
 " That shall be as you please. It is that I walked 
 all the way out to the Park hoping that I should 
 see you." 
 
 She started a little. " Did you really ? " she 
 exclaimed, with a look of simple wonder. 
 
 Cecil smiled. " Were you glad to see me ? " he 
 asked, in a low voice. 
 
 Her manner suddenly changed. She dropped 
 her eyelids and raised her head a little. 
 
 " I am sure we were aU glad to see you," she an- 
 swered. " Will you not teU me, by the bye, who 
 that gentleman is, on Julia's right ? I think he was 
 not presented to me." 
 
 " That is Mr. Davering," said Cecil, speaking in 
 a guarded tone. " He is the husband of the lady 
 on my other side, so be careful what you say." 
 
102 A. CARPET KNIGET. 
 
 " There is not much to say about him," replied 
 Edith, " except that he seems to enjoy his dinner." 
 
 " He does not say much himself, certainly," as- 
 sented Cecil. " He is one of those men who, if he 
 does not feel in a humor for conversation, sees no 
 reason why he should talk. Now it is different 
 with my neighbor. You see how persistently she is 
 drawing out Philip Drayton, not because she cares 
 a rap what he is saying, but because she likes to 
 make conversation general, and to hear the sound 
 of her own voice in return." 
 
 " Mrs. Davering is a great friend of Julia's," 
 said Miss Arnold. "I have never seen her be- 
 fore." 
 
 " What is the proper day to visit Girard College, 
 Cecil?" asked Mr. Drayton. "Charlotte is ask- 
 ing me, and I confess I have forgotten, if I ever 
 knew." 
 
 " I was saying, Cecil," said Miss Wilmott, speak- 
 ing deprecatingly to her brother across the table, 
 " that I should be so glad if Miss Arnold would 
 lunch with us some day, and we could take her af- 
 terwards to see the College. You know it has al- 
 ways been considered one of the sights, and there 
 are several others which we might see at the same 
 time." 
 
 " Such as the Eastern Penitentiary ? " asked 
 Wilmott, wickedly. " I have no objection, if Miss 
 Arnold would like to go." 
 
 " I should like to go very much," said Edith, 
 disregarding his tone of mockery. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 103 
 
 " Then I will speak to Julia about it," said Miss 
 Charlotte Wilmott, with an important air, " and 
 Cecil must find out which day it is that visitors are 
 admitted." 
 
 She was evidently greatly pleased, and Edith felt 
 a touch of kindly compassion for the unattractive 
 girl whose pleasures, as she guessed, were not fre- 
 quent. 
 
 " I must tell you the last achievement of Oscar 
 Wilde," said Mrs. Davering, turning to Cecil with 
 an air of confident possession. She had been the 
 round of the table and was in a happy mood. Only 
 her husband had escaped unchallenged, and he 
 seemed quite to revel in his immunity. Julia had 
 tried every conceivable topic with him and had 
 given up in despair. She was not sorry, therefore, 
 to find that Mrs. Davering had left Dr. Carey 
 once more at liberty. 
 
 " How is Mr. Hazzard to-day? " she asked. " My 
 uncle was so sorry that his accident would prevent 
 us from seeing him." 
 
 " Oh, he is bietter. He is really doing very well, 
 only he must ba quiet, and that you know is espe- 
 cially difficult for him." 
 
 " It is very fortunate that you happen to be with 
 him to take care of him." 
 
 " He says he is glad to have me, and is always 
 urging me to prolong my visit, but what possible 
 good I do him, I fail to see. He is a very bad pa- 
 tient, and as a friend, one of the hardest men to 
 amuse I ever saw. He hates to be read aloud to, 
 
104 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 and does not care a snap about any of the ordinary 
 games which I have ever heard of being used to 
 divert invalids." 
 
 " He likes to talk, I suppose." 
 
 " Yes, he likes to talk and smoke, and is very 
 fond of poker, but one cannot play poker forever." 
 
 " Why do you not send for your flute ? " ex- 
 claimed Julia. " It would be just the thing ! " 
 
 Dr. Carey laughed. " That flute seems to have 
 made an unfortunate impression on your mind, 
 Miss Prescott. To be frank with you, I fancy that 
 if I did send for it, Mr. Hazzard would cease to 
 urge my neglecting my lucrative practice at home. 
 How very charmingly, by the bye, your little New 
 York friend looks this evening." 
 
 " Miss Arnold ? Yes, she does look very lovely, 
 does she not ? " said Julia, glancing down the table. 
 " And Mr. Drayton, too, looks wonderfully well," 
 she added, proudly. " 1 do not think any one would 
 guess that he had been ill so lately." 
 
 " Are you speaking of Mr. Drayton ? " asked 
 Mrs. Davering, catching the last words. "I was 
 saying just now to Mr. Wilmott, tljat I had never 
 seen him looking better, but then he is really a 
 comparatively young man, as I happen to know. 
 He and Buchanan were classmates, and I believe 
 Mr. Drayton is barely forty-eight. It is really 
 rather hard on him to have such a sedate-looking 
 person as Philip to present as his son, for of the 
 two, I sometimes think that Mr. Drayton looks the 
 younger." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 105 
 
 Julia laughed. " Philip is certainly rather 
 gravev looking than his years," she said. " I can 
 hardly believe that he is only four years older than 
 I am." 
 
 " Nor I," said Dr. Carey, looking steadily away 
 from Miss Prescott as he spoke, by way of render- 
 ing the remark impersonal. "Philip was always 
 a little old for his age," he added," " even at col- 
 lege." 
 
 " Speaking of college," cried Mrs. Davering, 
 "you must tell me all about the Greek play at 
 Harvard. What was it like? Could one really 
 sit through it with any comfort, or were you bored 
 to death?" 
 
 " I individually was not," said Lawrence Carey, 
 and being further questioned by the lady, gave 
 quite a fine description of the manner in which the 
 QEdipus of ^schylus had been brought out by stu- 
 dents and graduates in Cambridge that winter. 
 They thus all three talked on until the last course 
 had been served, for Mrs. Davering perceived with 
 uneasiness, that Dr. Carey was inclined to admire 
 Miss Prescott, and it was her object to prevent the 
 conversation from relapsing into a tSte-d-tSte be- 
 tween them. 
 
 It seemed to her a hard stroke of fortune, which 
 had not only rendered her own son unfit for the 
 combat, but detained this dangerous Bostonian on 
 the scene just at a moment when Charley's loss 
 was his gain. That Charley himself should be the 
 only person to blame for the whole situation was 
 
106 , A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 natural, his mother admitted to herself, but all the 
 more aggravating. 
 
 When the ices appeared it occurred to her that 
 she would like to hear Mr. Drayton's opinion of 
 the last attempted assassination of the queen, not 
 an old topic then, as now, but one which had been 
 very thoroughly canvassed. Julia had suggested 
 it in desperation to Mr. Davering d propos des 
 bottes, and that worthy gentleman had disposed of 
 the whole matter in the one word " outrageous." 
 
 His wife's mind was not so easily set at rest. 
 She felt sure that Mr. Drayton could throw new 
 light upon the motives of the assassin. 
 
 " Did he think he had been a nihilist, or an Irish 
 leaguer ? " she asked, with interest, " or did he be- 
 lieve that story about the man's being hungry ? 
 What possible good could Queen Victoria's life be 
 to a hungry man ? He had better have stolen her 
 dinner." 
 
 " My dear lady, all is quite well known about 
 the fellow," said her host, proceeding to give a 
 short account of MacLean. 
 
 " Do you know, I felt very sorry for that man," 
 said Miss Arnold, in a tone which only reached one 
 of her neighbors. 
 
 " Why did you feel sorry for him ? " asked Cecil. 
 
 " Because, as Mrs. Davering says, there was 
 nothing to be gained by what he did, and I think 
 he must have been so terribly at odds with all the 
 world, before he was driven to such an act of mad- 
 ness." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 107 
 
 " Do you not think it was rather cowardly to at- 
 tempt the life of a woman ? " 
 
 " Of course, such attempts are always cowardly, 
 when considered, whether on the life of a man or 
 a woman, but I do not believe that this poor wretch 
 gave himself time to consider, or that he thought 
 of the queen as a woman, but only as a queen." 
 
 She did not notice that Mrs. Davering and Mr. 
 Drayton had paused to listen to what she was say- 
 ing. 
 
 " You would make an able advocate, Miss Ar- 
 nold," said Mr. Drayton. " I never heard a bad 
 cause better defended." 
 
 " Would you consider that you had done very 
 well for your cause," she asked shyly, " if when 
 you ended people still thought it bad ? " 
 
 " I will answer you like the clown in ' Hamlet,' " 
 he said, mischievously. " ' The gallows does well 
 for those who do ill.' " 
 
 " That reminds me, Mr. Drayton, of what a 
 friend of mine was telling me the other day about 
 your acting. She said she remembered seeing you 
 act Malvolio in ' Twelfth Night,' in some private 
 theatricals, a great many years ago, and that it 
 was inimitable." 
 
 " Your friend must be a very old lady," said Mr. 
 Drayton, " but pray do not tell her that I said so." 
 
 " Oh, she is quite beyond caring what people 
 say about her age," said Mrs. Davering, "provided 
 they defer to her opinion, which they almost al- 
 ways do," 
 
108 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 "I wonder. if I do not know about whom you 
 are talking ? " asked Cecil. 
 
 " I fancy you do," said Mrs. Davering, laughing. 
 " I went to consult your mother with regard to 
 some private theatricals which I was thinking of 
 getting up myself. You know she has so much 
 judgment about everything, and she advised me by 
 aU means to try to persuade your uncle to help 
 me." 
 
 " I should never have suspected my sister of 
 that," said Mr. Drayton ; and just then Julia gave 
 the sign and they all rose from dinner. 
 
 " You were very silent during dinner," said 
 Edith softly to Philip, who was holding the door 
 open for the ladies to pass out of the room. 
 
 He smiled at her kindly. " Did I seem silent ? " 
 he asked. " I was really trying to talk." 
 
 " Dearest Gertrude " (wrote Miss Arnold that 
 night, in a burst of sisterly enthusiasm) — " if you 
 could but have seen Julia this evening, there would 
 be one more beautiful picture in the world I 
 Whereas, now, it only lives in my memory. Im- 
 agine her in an ^cru- colored brocade, with any 
 amount of soft, creamy lace about the throat, front, 
 sleeves, etc., and you will confess that it was just 
 the contrast to bring out the brown tints of her 
 complexion and the magnificent depths of her dark 
 eyes. She is such a spirited-looking girl, so full 
 of fire and repartee, and so perfectly at her ease in 
 society, that I confess, in this last respect, I envied 
 her. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. . 109 
 
 " For my part, it was so new a sensation to be at 
 a dinner party, that I felt as if nothing that I could 
 think of was important enough to be worth men- 
 tioning on such an occasion, especially to Mr. Dray- 
 ton. Was it not very nice of him to take me in to 
 dinner ? He talked delightfully, but I was dumb. 
 Mrs. Davering, Julia's great friend, seemed to find 
 plenty to say to him, yet I may as well acknowledge 
 at once that I do not like Mrs. Davering. She is 
 what is called a fine looking woman ; but there is 
 something about her, a sort of observant imperti- 
 nence in the expression of her eyes, which makes 
 me sure that I never shall like her. It is ungrate- 
 ful perhaps, for she asked us both to receive with 
 her on New Year's day, and Julia says that she 
 has offered to take me to the Assembly, which is 
 certainly very kind." 
 
 Later she wrote : "I had almost forgotten to 
 tell you about Dr. Carey. He is from Boston, 
 and I rather expected to find him a ' little tin God 
 on wheels,' but he is not. I think him decidedly 
 odd, but agreeable. Fancy a tall, thin, angular per- 
 son, who stoops a little and wears eyeglasses, with 
 black hair and a brown moustache, rather thick 
 and long, and a face full of intelligence, although 
 the nose is a trifle long for beauty. I wish he did 
 not use quite so much slang, but he has a great 
 deal of general information, and talks unassmn- 
 ingly, as if he expected, of course, to find other peo- 
 ple as weU posted as himself. I like that, for even 
 if I do not know a great deal about a subject, I 
 
110 • A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 would rather .confess my ignorance than have it 
 presupposed. Would not you ? Perhaps I am in- 
 clined to think well of Dr. Carey at any rate, for 
 he is a great friend of Mr. Philip Drayton, whose 
 judgment I feel almost sure is good in the choice 
 of his friends. I had a long talk with him to-day, 
 and such a pleasant one ! He has the same way 
 which Dr. Carey has, of becoming interested in his 
 subject for its own sake, whereas Mr, Wilmott 
 seems to care much more who says a thing than 
 what is said." 
 
 Here the young lady, who had apparently gone 
 rambling on with her letter quite unrestrainedly, 
 seemed suddenly to have checked the flow of her 
 pen. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " Much like a subtile spider which doth sit 
 In middle of her web, which spreadeth wide, 
 If aught do touch the utmost thread of it 
 She feels it instantly on every side." 
 
 Sis John Daties. 
 
 New Yeae's Day proved to be very raw and 
 disagreeable. 
 
 Mrs. Davering had intended to receive in what 
 she called "the old-fashioned style," no effect be- 
 ing striven after, except that of making the aspect 
 of things ideally homelike ; but the cheerlessness of 
 the day led her to change her plan, and when Edith 
 and Julia arrived, at a little after twelve, they 
 found the blinds closed and all the gas lighted, as 
 for an evening entertainment. 
 
 Miss Charlotte Wilmott was there before them, 
 and there were three or four other young ladies, to 
 whom the honor had been extended of easting their 
 fortunes for the day with those of Mrs. Daver- 
 ing. 
 
 The reception rooms in her house were very 
 large and luxurious, with numei-ous sofas and 
 divans and several curtained alcoves tempting to 
 quiet chats, and they opened from one another in 
 unexpected ways, which lent an added charm of 
 mystery, Edith thought. The reader has already 
 
112 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 been introduced to the largest of the rooms and may 
 feel a moment's passing interest in the unfortunate 
 scion of the house, who was reclining in a smaller 
 one which was temporarily shut o£E from the others, 
 and had been devoted to his special use since his 
 accident. 
 
 His ankle was slowly improving, much more 
 slowly than seemed to him in any way just or bear- 
 able, and his constant attempts to use it before it 
 was ready for use resulted in fresh delay. 
 
 While the young ladies were taking off their 
 cloaks in the dressing-room, Mrs. Davering drew 
 Julia aside. 
 
 " I should like you to see Charles for a moment," 
 she said. " He is so tired of his confinement." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! I should like to see him." 
 
 " Oh ! how do you do. Miss Prescott ? Upon 
 my honor this is very kind," cried Mr. Hazzard, as 
 Julia entered with his mother. 
 
 " If you get up, Charles," said Mrs. Davering 
 severely, "I shall take Miss Prescott away at 
 once." 
 
 " I won't indeed, mother. I had no idea of get- 
 ting up, except to shake hands," he answered with 
 submission. 
 
 "Mahomet will come to the mountain," said 
 Julia, laughing as she approached. 
 
 "Will you excuse my leaving you for one mo- 
 ment, Julia ? " said Mrs. Davering. " I want to 
 see what the other girls are about." 
 
 Julia, who had seated herself in a basket chair 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 113 
 
 beside Mr. Hazzard's sofa, looked gravely at his 
 mother, with an expression of slight surprise. 
 
 "I wiU excuse you for a moment, certainly," she 
 said. 
 
 " I win return in two seconds," said Mrs. Daver- 
 ing hurriedly, coloring a little, and avoiding Julia's 
 direct gaze, as she left the room. 
 
 " It is awfully good of you to come and cheer 
 me up," said Charley, with a grateful look, after 
 she was gone. 
 
 " Yes, I think it is," said Julia, in a tone of con- 
 scious virtue. 
 
 " I heard you were driving in the Park the very 
 day it happened." 
 
 " So we were, and we saw you and Mr. Freeman 
 in the wherry. What induced you to go out on 
 such a cold day ? " 
 
 " It was n't so cold in the morning, and we 
 wanted exercise, you know ; besides, don't you re- 
 member what I told you about the importance of 
 practice ? " 
 
 " Distinctly. ' 'T is in my memory locked, and 
 thou thyself shalt keep the key of it,' " said Julia, 
 with a wave of her hand. 
 
 "That sounds very well," said Charley phleg- 
 matically, "and it seems to me I have heard it 
 before, but I don't see what it has to do with 
 training." 
 
 "Everything," said Julia. "It is the result of 
 training upon me." 
 
 " I 'U tell you what it is ! " exclaimed Mr. Haz- 
 
114 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 zard, as though struck with a brilliant idea. " Did 
 not my mother say that you had a young lady from 
 New York staying with you? " 
 
 " Yes, I fancy so. I have one certainly. Is that 
 it?" 
 
 " No ; but I was thinking that as soon as I am a 
 little better of this stupid trouble with my ankle I 
 might take you both to row. Do you think she 
 would like it?" 
 
 " She might when the weather is warmer." 
 
 "Should you?" 
 
 " It seems to me delightful." 
 
 "Eeally?" 
 
 " I really think you are very kind to suggest it ; 
 and here comes Mrs. Davering." 
 
 " Then we will go some time," said Charley, with 
 a gratified expression. 
 
 " Yes ; some time towards spring." 
 
 "Where is that that you wiU go, Charley?" 
 asked his mother playfuUy. 
 
 " Nowhere at present," said Julia. " I think 
 Mr. Hazzard is going to be very good now, and 
 take care of his injured ankle, in order to do what 
 he pleases in the future." 
 
 She spoke kindly and looked persuasively at the 
 young man, as one might do at a child which was 
 blind to its true interest. Not unfrequently people 
 fell into this tone with him, but he was not a child 
 in all his feelings, and "the kind look did some 
 damage, of which its bestower was quite uncon- 
 scious. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 115 
 
 Edith meanwhile had been taken in hand by 
 Charlotte WUmott, and introduced to the other 
 young ladies with whom they were to receive. She 
 was much surprised to find that three out of five 
 of them were named Davering, and yet the three 
 did not appear to be sisters, but rather distantly 
 related, if at aU. 
 
 When she expressed her astonishment to Julia, 
 as she found an opportunity of doing later, Miss 
 Prescott explained- that among the most influential 
 families in Philadelphia there were one or two 
 names which were very conspicuous, and that gen- 
 eration after generation having succeeded each 
 other in these families, the present representatives 
 were, naturally,- not so nearly allied as their ances- 
 tors had been. 
 
 " But I should think that in that case they would 
 have no reason to lead them to seek each other's 
 society," said Edith. "Does Mrs. Davering feel 
 obliged to invite all her husband's third and fourth 
 cousins to receive with her ? " 
 
 " Certainly not. They seek each other's society 
 from choice, not necessity, having a confident belief 
 that there is none pleasanter," said Julia, with an 
 amused smile. 
 
 Little as Edith liked Mrs. Davering, she was 
 forced to acknowledge that her rooms were fur- 
 nished with exquisite taste, and in matters of this 
 kind she was a better critique than it might be 
 presumed that a young lady of her opportunities 
 would be. She was not so good a judge, perhaps, 
 
116 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 but equally observant, of the generalship which her 
 hostess displayed in the disposal of her forces so as 
 best to sustain the coming attack. 
 
 She had chosen one of the Misses Davering, the 
 prettiest, to pour out coffee, which was served on a 
 little table in the room adjoining the larger one, 
 in which she herself remained. Opposite to this 
 young lady, at the same table. Miss Charlotte Wil- 
 mott had been requested to preside over a pot of 
 chocolate. 
 
 There were still two of the Daverings left in the 
 main body, so to speak, besides Miss Arnold, Miss 
 Prescott, and a Miss Louisa Mortimer, who struck 
 Edith as rather a wishy-washy kind of person, not 
 unlike the heroine of an old-fashioned novel, and 
 whom she was sorry to find near her on a distant 
 sofa, Mrs. Davering having decoyed them thither 
 to look at some photographs, and basely deserted. 
 
 Edith's companion was pale, with straight light 
 hair and watery-looking eyes. She had an ex- 
 tremely small waist, was dressed in gen d'arme 
 blue, a color which Edith happened particularly to 
 dislike, and began to talk about the weather in 
 a monotonous tone, which was quite depressing. 
 Edith looked about her in all directions for some 
 means of escape. 
 
 She saw that Mrs. Davering, after detailing 
 Miss Isabella and Miss Mildred Davering to seats 
 on the centre divan, had evidently decided to re- 
 tain Julia close to her own person, in the part of 
 the room nearest the door, and she resolved that 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 117 
 
 she would find her way to Julia's side as soon as 
 possible ; but the room was so large that she felt 
 shy about crossing it, and she was soon prevented 
 from carrying out her intention by the arrival of 
 the first visitors. They were heralded by a cold 
 draft of wind from the front door, which preceded 
 them even to the drawing-room. They made some 
 noise, too, coming upstairs, which was explained 
 when they appeared, for there were four of them 
 hurrying forward in hot haste. They had taken a 
 carriage for the day, and were anxious to make as 
 many visits as possible. Mrs. Davering surprised 
 Edith by bringing over two of these first-comers to 
 introduce to her and Miss Mortimer. They were 
 very young gentlemen, and a good deal frightened 
 lest they should get out of conversation. Edith 
 felt sorry for them, they wriggled about and talked 
 so fast, and was just beginning to say something 
 herself, in order to give them a moment's rest, 
 when they suddenly declared that they must go, 
 and forthwith departed as they had come. 
 
 The next arrival proved to be that of a middle- 
 aged bachelor^ from the country. He was stout 
 and rather red in the face. He insisted upon being 
 introduced to each one of the young ladies in turn, 
 made gallant speeches to all of them, and hailed 
 the suggestion that he should take a cup of coffee 
 or chocolate with delight, choosing the chocolate 
 and following it up with the coffee. 
 
 Miss Arnold was not able to pursue his achieve- 
 ments further, although they interested her on ac- 
 
118 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 count of their thorougliness. Her attention was 
 again required by her hostess, who had come to 
 present to her a delicate little man with eyeglasses 
 and red whiskers. He had just appeared, accom- 
 panied by a taU, elegant looking person, of whom 
 he apparently stood in great awe. Indeed, his au- 
 gust companion seemed to look down upon him 
 from a lofty eminence of supreme fashion, to which 
 the smaller gentleman could not pretend. The 
 name of the latter proved to be Foxall, and Edith 
 rather liked him. In fact, they got on so well that 
 she was quite sorry when, one or two other visitors 
 having entered, his grand associate took it into his 
 head to be introduced to her, and broke up the 
 conversation. 
 
 ^This stylish person was a Mr. Drum Kettleby. 
 In Philadelphia, where origin was a matter of in- 
 terest, he was said to be of a New York family, 
 but when he went to New York, as he very often 
 did, or among the persons whom he met at summer 
 watering-places, he was only known as " Mr. Drum 
 Kettleby, from Philadelphia." 
 
 This simple appellation was, however, no mean 
 distinction, for it was acknowledged -to designate 
 an eminently successful society man, whose value 
 and desirability in the world of fashion seemed 
 somehow to be estimated by an inverse ratio of his 
 value and desirability elsewhere. 
 
 No one knew how he had gained his preemi- 
 nence, for he had neither fortune nor family ; but 
 it was remembered that he had first been intro- 
 
A: CARPET KNIGHT. 119 
 
 dueed by one of tlie Capulets, a chance friendship 
 with whom had given him the entrS of people's 
 houses. He had done everything else for himself, 
 and, strange to say, the manner in which he had 
 done it had been by doing nothing. He had sim- 
 ply let himself alone, accepting affably the hands 
 held out to him, but being especially careful not to 
 move a finger for his own advancement. 
 
 No one could ever say that Mr. Drum Kettleby 
 was pushing, or that he was anxious to please. It 
 may not have been in his nature to be either. It 
 may have been only a part of his art not to seem 
 to be, but as the fame of Eaphael to that of Peru- 
 gino, or of Leonardo da Vinci to Verrocchio, had 
 been his strides in the favor of society, compared to 
 those of his master. The Capulet, who had become 
 engaged to be married, was actually nowhere, and 
 Mr. Drum Kettleby was everywhere. 
 
 Considering aU. this, or perhaps because she did 
 not know it. Miss Arnold found his conversation 
 uncommonly slow, and she was all the more glad 
 to see Cecil Wilmott enter the room, which was 
 now beginning to fill with black coats. Cecil came 
 in with Dr. Carey, and she saw him cast a hasty 
 glance about him as he advanced to greet his host- 
 ess. 
 
 Whether his eye had fallen on her in her distant 
 corner she could not tell, but his presence lent a 
 certain interest and excitement to her efforts to en- 
 tertain Mr, Drum Kettleby which her previous 
 manner towards that gentleman had rather lacked. 
 
120 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 She noticed that after paying their respects to 
 Mrs. Davering, Cecil Wihnott and Dr. Carey 
 passed through a curtained doorway from the 
 larger drawing-room to a smaller one beyond, and 
 as from where she sat she commanded a complete 
 view of this room and of the library which opened 
 from it in a long vista, she could plainly distin- 
 guish Cecil's slight figure as he stood talking with 
 the pretty Miss Davering, whom he had evidently 
 persuaded to give him a cup of cofEee. 
 
 The group round the little tea-table formed an 
 attractive picture in the middle distance, Edith 
 thought, and she suddenly experienced a feeling of 
 regret that Mrs. Davering had not assigned to her 
 the pleasing task of pouring out the coffee. From 
 these thoughts she suddenly awoke to the gracious 
 attention which her distinguished visitor was be- 
 stowing on her. Since she had ceased to know 
 exactly what she was saying, and had begun to 
 talk merely for the sake of seeming to be talking, 
 Mr. Drum Kettleby had pricked up his ears, meta- 
 phorically speaking, and was smiling in a manner 
 which he evidently intended to be encouraging. 
 
 She did not yet know enough of society to un- 
 derstand why he was pleased with her ; but later 
 she discovered that the kind of conversation with 
 which she was then favoring him was that to which 
 he was most accustomed, and that nothing confused 
 Mr. Drum Kettleby so much as the display of any 
 keen interest in a subject, or to be asked his opin- 
 *ion of anything. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. . 121 
 
 Being at her wits' end to think what further to 
 say to him, she proposed to introduce him to Miss 
 Louisa Mortimer, and suited the action to the word. 
 
 Since the departure of the first visitors Miss 
 Mortimer had sat somewhat apart, apparently ab- 
 sorbed in the portfolio of photographs, so that 
 Edith was obliged to rise to perform the introduc- 
 tion, and as she stood talking with her back to- 
 ward the rest of the room, she suddenly heard 
 Cecil's voice at her elbow. 
 
 " How do you do. Miss Arnold ? I have been 
 trying in vain to get to you. "Will you not come 
 and sit down with me ? I am commissioned 4his 
 moment by Charlotte to arrange a time, if possible, 
 when your numerous engagements will allow you 
 to lunch with us, and go to visit the sights of the 
 town." 
 
 " What are the sights of the town ? " asked 
 Edith. 
 
 " Come back to your sofa, and I will teU you aU 
 about them," said Cecil. 
 
 As Miss Mortimer moved away just then with 
 Mr. Drum Kettleby, Edith yielded to his request. 
 
 " How did you know that I had been sitting here 
 before ? " she asked. 
 
 " I saw you when I first came in. You were 
 talking to Drum Kettleby. I think you have made 
 quite an impression upon him. He seemed to be 
 very attentive." 
 
 " What nonsense I " 
 
 " He did, indeed. I had intended to make a ' 
 
122 . A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 good many visits to-day," he said presently, " but 
 the weather is so bad, that I am strongly inclined 
 to give up, and Stay where I am." 
 
 "Here?" 
 
 " Here, exactly. I rather like it," replied Wil- 
 mott. 
 
 Edith laughed. "I meant at Mrs. Davering's 
 house," she said. 
 
 "I know what you meant," he answered, "and 
 what I mean. The only load on my conscience is 
 Lawrence Carey. I don't know whether I ought 
 to go anywhere else on his account. Philip had 
 promised to take him about to-day, and was unex- 
 pectedly prevented." 
 
 " Do you think Dr. Carey wants to go else- 
 where ? " 
 
 " I am not sure that he does," said Cecil. " I 
 see that he has found Julia, and seems to be very 
 comfortable." 
 
 " They look as if they were having a pleasant 
 talk," said Miss Arnold, following the direction of 
 his eyes to the recess of the bay window, where 
 Miss Prescott and Dr. Carey had fomid a seat. 
 It was the same one which Julia had occupied on 
 the night of the ball, but Mrs. Davering was much 
 too wise a woman to leave her so long undisturbed, 
 with her present companion. 
 
 " Our hostess is going to make mince meat out 
 of that arrangement," said CecU, with an amused 
 smile, as they saw Mrs. Davering bearing down 
 upon the unconscious pair, with Mr. William Free- 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 123 
 
 man, the companion of her son's imfortunate boat- 
 ing excursion. " Carey will soon be adrift." 
 
 " Why could not Mr. Philip Drayton come to 
 look after his friend ? " asked Edith. 
 
 " He had to go to Heronsford again," said Ce- 
 cil. " Some stupid mistake had occurred about the 
 improvements which he is making there. It was 
 hard luck certainly, instead of coming to wish you 
 a happy New Year." 
 
 " Do you know that nobody yet has wished me 
 a happy New Year ? That funny little Mr. FoxaU 
 told me that he had made a firm resolution, before 
 he left home this morning, not to wish it to any 
 one." 
 
 Cecil laughed. " I have no doubt he thinks it 
 a very wicked expression," he said. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Edith. " He told me his objec- 
 tion. He has a great dread of saying exactly 
 what every one else says." 
 
 "And with reason," said Wilmott. "May I 
 wish you a happy New Year ? " He held out his 
 hand for hers. 
 
 Edith hesitated, before she took it. 
 " I wish you many happy years," said Cecil. 
 " Thank you," she answered, drawing her hand 
 from his, with a half smile at his earnestness. 
 
 " For myself, I wish I could believe that when 
 the next New Year's- day comes you will remember 
 this one," he continued more lightly. 
 
 " Why not ? " she asked. " A year is not long 
 to remember." 
 
124 A CARPET KNIGET. 
 
 " But you may be thinking of other things." 
 
 " I suppose I shall, of course," said Edith, practi- 
 cally, " but the association of ideas might recall the 
 day very naturally, I should think." 
 
 " Shall I be a pleasant association with it ? " 
 asked Cecil, taking her fan, which happened to be 
 near him, as he spoke. 
 
 Edith could hardly help laughing at the dis- 
 crepancy between his words and manner, which 
 was rather playful than sentimental throughout ; 
 but it had a charm for her, in spite of her amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 " I think all the associations of the day wiU. be 
 pleasant," she answered demurely. 
 
 " They will for me," said "Wilmott. " Where did 
 you get this artistic fan. Miss Arnold ? " 
 
 "Do you think it pretty?" she asked, with a 
 childlike, eager air, which she had when she was in- 
 terested. 
 
 " I think it is beautiful." 
 
 " I am so glad. It was painted by my sister, and 
 is her own design. Wait, I will show you the 
 story ; " she took it from him impulsively, as she 
 spoke. " See here," she continued, holding it with 
 one hand and pointing with the small, gloved finger 
 of the other to the pictures which were delicately 
 sketched in water colors on the ivory slats of the 
 fan. " This first scene represents a court fool, who 
 has followed a fair lady into the woods, where she 
 wishes to wander, being inclined to be a little pen- . 
 sive, you know, and the fool is to warn her of any 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 125 
 
 danger, which might approach. You see she .has 
 seated herself beneath the shade of a tree, and has 
 fallen asleep, and meanwhile he watches her, and 
 grows very sad — because — because" — repeated 
 Edith, suddenly pausing, and looking rather shy. 
 
 " Because what ? " asked Cecil. 
 
 " Oh, because he is in love with her, of course," 
 said Edith, in a tone of great impatience. These 
 things were so taken for granted in fairy stories 
 that it had not occurred to her that they might be 
 awkward to explain, in a drawing-room, where the 
 most natural ideas seem suddenly conventionalized. 
 
 " In love, is he ? " asked Cecil. " Poor fool ! 
 Let me have another look at him. And what does 
 this next picture represent? It appears to be a 
 change of subject." 
 
 " Why, that is a knight returning from the war," 
 said Miss Arnold. " Is not his armor weU painted, 
 and his horse ? They must have been so hard to 
 do." 
 
 " Yes, it is a very pretty picture," answered Ce- 
 cil. " But what has the knight to do with the 
 lady ? Is he in love with her, too ? " 
 
 " I suppose he is, for she has been hoping that 
 he would come home — and — he has come." 
 
 " Ah, I see ; and here are the knight and the 
 lady together," said Cecil, who had taken the fan 
 from her again. 
 
 " Yes," replied Edith ; " and there, on the other 
 side, is the fool, alone." 
 
 " Poor fellow," said Cecil ; " he looks very dis- 
 
126 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 eonsolate. He has taken to a willow tree, has he 
 not?" 
 
 " Yes ; the verse describes him as throwing him- 
 self down beneath a willow tree," she answered. 
 
 " The verse ? Is there a poem about it ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, not a poem. There are a few verses 
 which a friend of ours once wrote, in imitation of 
 an old ballad. They are not much in themselves, 
 but suggested to my sister the idea of the pictures 
 on the fan." 
 
 " Have you got the verses ? " asked Wilmott. 
 "I should like to read them." 
 
 " I have them, but only in a scrap-book, with a 
 number of other odds and ends. I could copy 
 them, if you really care to see them, though." 
 
 " Of course I do. Why should you doubt it ? " 
 
 " Perhaps you only say so because you think it 
 wiU please me." 
 
 " I think it does please you," said Cecil, " but I 
 can't imagine why. It is so natural that I should 
 want to see the verses, after looking at the fan, that 
 I shall think you very kind if you take the trouble 
 to copy them for me." 
 
 At this moment Julia approached, accompanied 
 by Dr. Carey. He had refused to be driven away 
 by Mrs. Davering, but the conversation of three 
 which had followed upon the introduction of Mr. 
 Freeman appeared not to have been very satisfac- 
 tory. 
 
 " Dr. Carey is actually so rash as to believe that 
 he has made all his New Year's calls, Cecil," said 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 127 
 
 Julia. " Now, I am quite sure that tMs is impossi- 
 ble." 
 
 " I don't think we had anywhere else to go, Wil- 
 mott, had we ? " asked Dr. Carey, carelessly. 
 
 " I think not," replied CeciL " Nowhere of any 
 account." 
 
 "I do not believe that Dr. Carey has been to 
 half the places he ought to have been taken to," 
 persisted Julia. " In Philip's absence, I really feel 
 responsible for him." 
 
 " If you wish me to go," said Lawrence Carey, 
 in a nettled tone, " I can do so, of course." A 
 gleam of amusemisnt shot from Julia's eyes. It 
 was very unusual for him to display so much feel- 
 ing, of any kind, and his doing so could only be 
 accounted for by the fact that, besides the contra- 
 riety of circumstances, Miss Prescott had been in 
 a most provoking mood all the afternoon. 
 
 " How unjust you are ! " she said now, in an in- 
 jured tone. " It would not be necessary for me to 
 talk to you, if you stayed. I wish you could believe 
 me disinterested." 
 
 " We certainly shall not believe you in earnest, 
 in wishing to drive us forth on this inclement day," 
 said Cecil, coming to the rescue, but Julia was in 
 a dangerous humor. 
 
 " I was only going to suggest a few visits," she 
 said. " There is your friend Mrs. Percy, Cecil, who 
 lives so near. You surely will not think of omit- 
 ting your New Year's visit there, and as a stran- 
 ger Dr. Carey ought to meet her. I have been 
 
128 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 telling him about her. Mrs. Percy is considered 
 one of our beauties," she continued, turning to the 
 Bostonian, " and Mr. Wilmott can tell you that as 
 long as he has known her, ->- and that is a long 
 while, — and as well as he has known her, although 
 he has known her very well, she has always been 
 the same. Has she not, Cecil ? She is said to be 
 as charming now as she was ten years ago." 
 
 It is doubtful whether Cecil Wilmott would not 
 have left Dr. Carey to fight his own battle, if he 
 had known what he was about to elicit. To his 
 surprise, it was Miss Arnold who answered. 
 
 "If Mrs. Percy looks as lovely always as she 
 did when I saw her the other day in the Park, I 
 should think that might be true for ten years to 
 come," she said ; " but for all that I do not see why 
 Df. Carey should go to see her, Julia, unless he 
 cares to do so. And I am very hungry, besides, and 
 would give the world for a sandwich and a cup of 
 cofEee." 
 
 Both gentlemen started forward to supply her 
 wants, but as Dr. Carey was a little in advance 
 Cecil turned back and stood beside her a moment, 
 as though waiting for her to look up. Edith did 
 so at last, with an air of surprise, and smiled a 
 little, for, as her eyes met his, she thought she un- 
 derstood him. 
 
 " You were very kind," he murmured, and then 
 he passed on to Julia, who had seated herself on 
 the sofa beside her friend, but did not look repen- 
 tant. " You must let me get you something, too, 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 129 
 
 Miss Prescott," he said, with mock formality. " I 
 am sure you require refreshment," and rather to 
 the disgust of Dr. Carey he devoted himseK to 
 Julia for the rest of their visit. 
 9 
 
CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 " O Memory, thou art but a sigh 
 
 For friendships dead and loves forgot, 
 And many a cold and altered eye 
 That once did say Forget me not." 
 
 Attouit. 
 
 Edith complained of a headache that evening, 
 and retired early ; but after reaching her room she 
 felt restless and adverse to repose. She took down 
 her hair slowly, looking lingeringly at her reflection 
 in the mirror, from time to time, in a dreamy sort 
 of way. Then she put on a long white flannel 
 dressing-gown, which feU about her in soft folds, 
 and lighting a lamp, that stood on a little red- 
 covered table beside the fire, opened a worn mo- 
 rocco scrap-book, and began to copy the verses 
 promised to Cecil WUmott. 
 
 As she turned the pages of the scrap-book her 
 attention was attracted by a flat leather pocket on 
 the inside of one of the covers, which she had quite 
 forgotten. Unclosing this she saw a thin old letter, 
 which she drew from its hiding-place, and was sur- 
 prised to perceive that it was addressed to Julia 
 Prescott, in a handwriting which she did not know. 
 The envelope had been cut across the top in order 
 to get at the contents, and as she held it Edith no- 
 ticed that it contained a photograph. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 131 
 
 Her curiosity was a good deal excited as to whose 
 it could be, but she remembered that she had no 
 right to look, and thrusting the letter hastily into a 
 square envelope, which lay on the table beside some 
 note-paper, wrote a few words in pencil, which she 
 inclosed with it, and rang the bell. 
 
 " Is Miss Prescott still down stairs ? " she asked 
 of the maid who answered her ring. 
 
 " Yes, miss. She is in the library." 
 
 " Give her this from me, please." 
 
 The maid disappeared. 
 
 Edith's chamber was a large one in the fourth 
 story of the house. The furniture was fine old 
 carved mahogany, vdth claw feet and brass handles 
 to the drawers, which shone in the light of a wood 
 fire ; and only the fanciful French curtains of the 
 windows, a creton-covered arm-chair of the pres- 
 ent day, and a few bits of modern adornment here 
 and there upon the walls were out of keeping with 
 the revolutionary period of which the huge four- 
 posted bedstead remiuded the little lady, who at 
 last la,y down in it to dream out her dream, and 
 awake again to the realities of life. 
 
 It seemed to her, long afterwards, in looking 
 back upon her first visit to Philadelphia, that it 
 had been made up of odd contrasts like this, — of 
 old historic memories, crossed by light tokens of 
 the frivolous, ever-interesting present. It was as if 
 she had stepped at once into a knowledge of by- 
 gone times and of her own. 
 
 The group which Edith had left behind her in 
 
132 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 the library hardly seemed disturbed by her defec- 
 tion, although its members had grown to look upon 
 her as one of themselves. It consisted of three 
 persons, as Philip Drayton had gone again to 
 Washington on business. Julia had seated her- 
 self near Mr. Drayton at the table, and they were 
 both absorbed in reading. Perhaps Miss Euthven, 
 who had grown fond of Edith, rather missed the 
 gentle chit-chat in which they usually indulged of 
 an evening, especially as Philip, her great crony, 
 was away. She soon grew sleepy, without any one 
 to talk to, and proposed going to bed. 
 
 " Art thou not coming, Julia ? " 
 
 " Yes, Miss Euthven, in a little while." 
 
 The other two read on in silence for some time 
 after she was gone, until Julia came to the end of 
 her magazine article, and softly laid the pamphlet 
 down. She sat for a few moments watching Mr. 
 Drayton, thinking how long it was since they had 
 spent an evening thus quietly in each other's com- 
 pany, and how much she enjoyed the sense of com- 
 munity with him which always came to her at times 
 like this. 
 
 " What are you reading ? " she asked at last. 
 
 " I am reading Taine's ' Voyage en Italic,' " 
 said Mr. Drayton, without lifting his eyes from his 
 book. 
 
 " I fancied that you had read it." 
 
 " So I have, — fifteen years ago." 
 
 " I thought I had heard you speak of it. Why 
 do you read it again? " 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 133 
 
 " Why, indeed ? I remember it quite well, but 
 the truth is. Monsieur Taine is a delightful com- 
 panion to me ; and then I may have to go to Italy 
 this spring." 
 
 " I did not know you thought of it." 
 
 " Only as the dimmest of possibilities. I am 
 likely to be engaged in a case which may take me 
 to London, and once there might think it wise to 
 go on the Continent for a few weeks. It would 
 enable me to -do some business more thoroughly, 
 which must otherwise be done by letter." 
 
 " Something connected with me f " asked Julia. 
 
 " Something connected with your coming of 
 age." 
 
 " Then you wiU take me with you ? " 
 
 " We will see, dear. It is all uncertain." 
 
 " I, too, have felt the charm of Taine's style," 
 said Julia, resuming the former subject. 
 
 " Every one has who is capable of appreciating 
 it," answered her guardian. 
 
 " I am not sure that I should care to re-read his 
 book, though, merely for the sake of his society," 
 said Julia, smiling. 
 
 " I do not suppose many persons would," rejoined 
 Mr. Drayton. "It is sad to think that so much 
 talent may be so soon forgotten." 
 
 " I should not think any -writer of the day was 
 more widely knowa," said Julia. 
 
 " True, and yet it seems as if the first effect both 
 of this book and the ' English Literature ' were pass- 
 ing away without leaviag a very decided mark be- 
 
134 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 hind. Unfortunately, they contain nothing original 
 except the author's way of looking at things, and 
 that hardly belongs more to himself than to his 
 century." 
 
 " I should have said that there was a great deal 
 of thought in them." 
 
 " So there is. They may almost be said to rep- 
 resent contemporary thought and feeling, just as 
 they reflect contemporary doubt ; and this, besides 
 their beauty of expression, constitutes their chief 
 attraction to contemporaries like myself, but I am 
 not sure that they will continue to be read when 
 the time is past." 
 
 " I. should thinik that the more completely they 
 embodied the spirit of the century in which they 
 were written, the more valuable they would be here- 
 after as a picture of the time," said Julia. 
 
 " To students of history, yes," replied Mr. Dray- 
 ton ; " but they are not, I think, books to be re-read 
 hereafter for the ideas which they contain, because 
 these ideas will be superseded by fresh ones." 
 
 " The fact that they are fresh now ought to make 
 them keep longer than if they were stale," remarked 
 Julia. 
 
 Mr. Drayton laughed. " That sounds unanswer- 
 able," he said, " but I am not sure that it is true. 
 There is so infinitely little added to the great stock 
 of human knowledge in each generation, and it has 
 to be picked out of so much rubbish, that the rub- 
 bish of twenty-five or thirty years ago, like the fash- 
 ion of the period in dress, often seems to us more 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 135 
 
 jejune than do the exploded theories of the time of 
 Queen Elizabeth." 
 
 " Surely Monsieur Taiue's criticism and experi- 
 ences are not rubbish," said Julia ; " or if so, they 
 are such sparkling rubbish that I should be more 
 apt to compare them to gold-dust." 
 
 "I accept the correction," said Mr. Drayton. 
 " Let us think of them as gold-dust, which has 
 been sifted from the sands of time ; precious, bril- 
 liant, volatile, but not cohesive, suited to no end on 
 which to build a lasting reputation." 
 
 " Might they not be smelted over again, and 
 fashioned to some future end ? " 
 
 " They certainly might, and very possibly may ; 
 but if so, it wiU be the work of genius, and they 
 will no longer belong to Monsieur Taine. Analyzed, 
 without undergoing any such change, their absence 
 of defect is a negative quality, and I am inclined 
 to think that the nice taste and fine power of dis- 
 tinction which are left, whether they find expres- 
 sion in art or literature, or even in scientific re- 
 search, will only be successful to the author's own 
 standard, and are only likely to be admired by his 
 own generation. It even seems just that it should 
 be so, as a proof of the old saying, ' Little venture, 
 little win,' " 
 
 " But what should a man strive to fulfill," asked 
 Julia, "if not his own standard? What other 
 standard can he have ? " 
 
 " My dear," said her guardian, " he should have 
 an ideal. If he have not, he is a mere clog." 
 
136 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " That is, you require him to have an ideal stan- 
 dard. You are not satisfied with his striving to do 
 well what he undertakes ? " 
 
 " ITe should not be satisfied with it, lest it lead 
 him to undertake only what he is sure of doing 
 weU, if he wish to become immortal — even on 
 earth." 
 
 " But if he be a commonplace person," persisted 
 Julia, " what is the use of his struggling forever 
 after the unattainable ? " 
 
 " Did he do that, he would probably not be a 
 commonplace person ; but we did not begin to talk 
 about commonplace persons, but about men of ex- 
 ceptional talent, and we were not speaking of the 
 satisfaction which they might find in their own 
 lives, — that is, I suppose, the meaning of the word 
 ' use ' as you employ it, rather of the durability of 
 their effect on mankind." 
 
 " That is quite true," said Julia, with a puzzled 
 expression, " but 1 cannot help feeling as if things 
 which are done well ought to have a more lasting 
 effect than things which are merely attempted." 
 
 " It depends entirely upon the magnitude of the 
 attempt." 
 
 " But you surely do not object to an artist, for 
 instance, who succeeds in his endeavor, that there- 
 fore he cannot be great ? " 
 
 " I say that unless he have a great endeavor he 
 cannot be great, and the mightier the ambition the 
 less hope of fulfilling it." 
 
 " Yet there must be a certain proportion of sue- 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 137 
 
 cess," protested Julia. " He should be able at least 
 to make us see what he has attempted." 
 
 " He certainly should, or he has failed, and the 
 world has no use for him. What the world wants, 
 however, is not a perfect painter, like Andrea del 
 Sarto, but the strength and grandeur of a Michael 
 Angelo, whose struggle after sublimity is forever 
 recorded in his clumsy marbles. It does not treas- 
 ure the memory of a Leigh Hunt, but it does that 
 of a Thackeray, less for his fine insight into mo- 
 tives than for his large contempt for what is mean 
 and petty, his faith in the true and beautiful al- 
 ways peeping out between his sarcasms, and the sad 
 requiem which he is too often singing over pros- 
 trate human nature." 
 
 " I think the world is more in sympathy with 
 science just now than with art of any kind," said 
 Julia. 
 
 " I think so, too," rejoined Mr. Drayton, " and it 
 has substituted speculation for religion. But if 
 it must suffer aU. its old hopes and feelings to be 
 knocked on the head, let it not be done by Mr. 
 Herbert Spencer, with his deftly spun web of in- 
 quiry and careful avoidance of conclusions, but give 
 us a Darwin to do it, who will venture to offer a 
 new theory, on. which the startled world may at least 
 rebuild when he destroys its ancient edifice." 
 
 " Philip would tell you that you do Herbert 
 Spencer great injustice. He says that he is not 
 afraid of conclusions, only very slow in reaching 
 them because he is afraid of making mistakes." 
 
138 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Oh, if Philip were here I should be wary of 
 mentioning the name of his paragon," said Mr. 
 Drayton, smiling. " But do me the justice to re- 
 member that I did not say that he was afraid of con- 
 clusions, only that he avoided them. He certainly is 
 not afraid of leading other people to form conclu- 
 sions, or, if he is, he must quake in his shoes at the 
 amount of unbelief which he has scattered broad- 
 cast." 
 
 " Philip makes a distinction between unbelief and 
 doubt." 
 
 " You may call it what you please. I only know 
 that Mr. Spencer shuts the door upon divine truth," 
 replied Mr. Drayton hotly. 
 
 " I heard Philip declaring the other day," con- 
 tinued Julia, with provoking coolness, "that Mr. 
 Spencer was no atheist, only an agnostic." 
 
 " I remember, too," said Mr. Drayton dryly, "he 
 remarked at the same time that Mr. Spencer was 
 seeking to find divine truth by the process of exdvn 
 sion. I recall the expression quite distinctly." He 
 smiled in spite of himself as his eyes met Julia's, at 
 which she laughed from sympathy. 
 
 " "Was that not too delightful ? " she asked. " It 
 ought to have been recorded." 
 
 At this moment her maid entered. ■ 
 
 " Here is a note. Miss Julia," she said, " which 
 Miss Arnold asked me to give you." 
 
 " Thank you, Annie. I shall not want you to- 
 night." 
 
 Julia broke the envelope, which was addressed 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 139 
 
 to her in pencil, and took out Edith's note, as the 
 servant left the room. 
 
 " I have just found this old letter of yours, dear 
 Julia, in my scrap-book," the note said. " How it 
 got there I cannot imagine, but it must have been 
 hidden away in it ever since that summer which 
 you spent with us at New Roehelle. I have a fancy 
 that it may be the very letter which we were talk- 
 ing of not long ago. Do you not remember my 
 telling you that you were reading a letter when I 
 first saw you ? It is odd that I never happened to 
 light on it before. Affectionately, Edith." 
 
 Julia looked gravely at the letter for a moment. 
 It was directed to her in characters which she 
 knew quite well as those of her mother. She drew 
 ofE the envelope with a touch of the awe we feel 
 in opening something last seen by eyes which see 
 no more. Then she perceived the photograph, 
 which she remembered, too, although the face was 
 younger and more beautiful than she had known 
 her mother's. It represented a handsome woman, 
 dressed in the extreme of the fashion of about 
 twenty-five years earlier, — the very period of which 
 Mr. Drayton had chanced to condemn the probable 
 styles in illustrating his comparison, a half an hour 
 before. He looked up now, as it happened, from 
 the book, in which he had become absorbed again. 
 
 " What have you got there ? " he asked. 
 
 " An old photograph, sir, of my mother. It is 
 one which she sent me in a letter many years ago, 
 and I thought that it was lost." 
 
140 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 Julia handed hini the picture, as she spoke, and, 
 opening the letter, glanced over the faintly-written 
 pages until her eye was caught by a sentence which 
 referred to the photograph. 
 
 " You ask me for my likeness," it said, " but I 
 have only a very old one to send you, child, with 
 some stupid nonsense written on the back of it. I 
 wish I had known you wanted one, but I have 
 given all the last I had taken away." 
 
 " Of course ! " said Julia to herself, speaking just 
 below her breath. Then she glanced at Mr. Dray- 
 ton, and noticed that he was gazing at the picture 
 with an expression of deep sadness. 
 
 As she looked he turned it over, and read what 
 was on the other side. There were two verses. 
 Julia remembered puzzling over their meaning 
 years before, and wondering, when a child, who 
 had written them. Now, as she watched her guard- 
 ian and re-read the lines, a sudden thought came to 
 her. She noticed for the first time, with bewilder- 
 ment, that the handwriting was like Mr. Drayton's 
 own. 
 
 The verses ran as follows, seeming anything but 
 a finished production : — 
 
 " I have loved thee so that I could die for thee, 
 And thou hast brought me ceaseless pain ; 
 Lost are the tears I shed for thee, 
 And the sighs were sighed in vain ! 
 
 " Oh, give me back the faith thou 'st taken from me ! 
 Oh, give me back my youth's high aims ! . 
 Let me live, if I must live without thee. 
 Without thy chains ! " 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 141 
 
 As she came to the end of the last verse, invol- 
 untarily Julia's eyes sought Mr. Drayton's with a 
 look of wonder, and she saw that they had followed 
 and were resting upon hers. 
 
 " I wrote that," he said, with a bitter smile. " Of 
 course I did not expect any one ever to see it, not 
 supposing that the portrait would pass into other 
 hands than mine. I was very young at the time, 
 and very foolish," he added, in reply to her startled 
 look. 
 
 " And was — the picture — yours ? " 
 
 " It was then. It had been given to me, but I 
 afterwards thought it right to return it with every- 
 thing else which was no longer mine." 
 
 " I do not understand," said Julia, in a fright- 
 ened tone. 
 
 "Because you do not know, Julia, that I was 
 once engaged to be married to your mother." 
 
 This idea was so surprising that Julia could 
 hardly take it in. There was a long pause. Her 
 brain seemed in a whirl. She had a confused idea 
 that she should defend her mother, if possible, for 
 some great fault, although quite conscious that she 
 had not been accused. 
 
 " Was not she, too, very young ? " she faltered 
 at last. 
 
 "She was about my age," said Mr. Drayton, 
 " but years older in experience, for she had lived 
 in society from her childhood. She liked my devo- 
 tion for a while, and then it tired her, and — we 
 parted." 
 
142 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 "And my father?" 
 
 " This was all before your father knew her ; nor 
 did he ever know what I have told you. He met 
 her five years later, in Europe, and you know they 
 were married abroad." 
 
 " I supposed — I thought my father was your 
 friend." 
 
 " He was my dear friend, then and always," 
 said Mr. Drayton, earnestly, — "a true-hearted, 
 noble man ; but, as it happened, I had not told 
 him th& name of the woman whom I had hoped to 
 marry, and when he wrote me of his engagement 
 I determined that he should not know, through 
 me, what would only have given useless pain." 
 
 " How hard it was for you ! " 
 
 " Not so very hard, my child. You must not 
 make a hero of me. I had outlived my youthful 
 passion, and was married then myself ; but I did 
 feel the separation from my friend, and was all the 
 more deeply touched by the trust your father put 
 in me, when he left you to my care." He rose as 
 he spoke, and, stooping, kissed her on the forehead. 
 " Good-night, my Julia," he said. " I think I will 
 go out for a little stroll before I go to bed." 
 
 Julia sat quite still when she was alone, stunned 
 by the shock of all that she had heard. She took 
 up the photograph again, and looked at it long and 
 thoughtfully, noting the strangely hard expression 
 about the corners of the mouth, and the triumph- 
 ant light in the dark, defiant eyes which were not 
 unlike her own. Then, by some odd link of asso- 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 143 
 
 elation, her memory traveled back to a scene long 
 past, which had happened in her childhood, and be- 
 came once more vivid in her imagination as if it 
 vrere happening then, while its full meaning was 
 now first revealed to her in the light of what she 
 had just been told. 
 
 She seemed to be standing as a little girl in the 
 deep embrasure of a window, the curtain half 
 drawn behind her. She was listlessly looking out 
 upon the eager bustle of a dusty New York street, 
 when she heard footsteps in the room behind her, 
 and a voice, her mother's voice, — she recognized it 
 perfectly, — said in a fretful tone, " But if you will 
 not take the child, what shall I do with her, Al- 
 gernon ? " 
 
 "I did not say that I would not take Julia," an- 
 swered a deep voice which she did not know, then. 
 
 " But you say that you will only take her on 
 certain conditions. I hate conditions." 
 
 " I say that I shall require you to sign a paper 
 giving her to me." 
 
 " If I tell you that I will give her to you, why is 
 not that enough ? " 
 
 " I wish you to resign all future authority over 
 her." 
 
 "Oh, if that is all, I do it now, with all my 
 heart." 
 
 There was something so peculiarly cold and care- 
 less in the tone of this answer that the chUd who 
 heard it felt the hot tears starting from her eyes, 
 but she held her very breath with a fierce determi- 
 
144 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 nation to make no sign of her presence. It seemed 
 tkat the tone had shocked the other listener also. 
 
 " Do you not care at all for your little girl, Jose- 
 phine ? " he asked, in a strange, bewildered way. 
 
 " I like you to call me that," she answered, with 
 a softer intonation in her voice. " It reminds me 
 of a time long past. So you care for Julia for my 
 sake ? " 
 
 There was a pause, but when the man's voice 
 was heard again it was charged with such controlled 
 anger, such concentrated scorn, that it seemed as 
 if the woman whom he addressed must have with- 
 ered with the sound. "You forget that Julia's 
 father was my dear friend. If you think that it is 
 for your sake that I would shelter your child, you 
 are mistaken." 
 
 What followed had been so unintelligible to the 
 little girl who was concealed behind the curtain 
 that Julia could not unravel it now distinctly. 
 There had been more angry words, and then a fit 
 of weeping. Julia recollected that something had 
 been said about a broken engagement, a hasty mar- 
 riage, and Julia's being so like her father. Then 
 there had been a word or two of reference to the 
 new tie which her mother was about to form. She 
 said she wanted to forget aU about the old one, of 
 which Julia was a constant reminder. 
 
 To this the answer had been given calmly and 
 coldly. Algernon Drayton had promised to take 
 the child, and to send certain papers in a day or 
 two to be signed. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 145 
 
 All that Julia gleaned was the fact that there 
 was some one who had known her father and cared 
 for her for his sake, and that this might constitute 
 a claim upon his protection, perhaps his love. 
 
 A few days later she had been sent for to the 
 drawing-room, and formally presented to her guard- 
 ian. 
 
 She remembered him quite distinctly, sitting on 
 a sofa, and how he had risen and come forward 
 and taken her little hand in his. She remembered 
 the .first coming home to the house in Meredith 
 Square, and how amused she had been at Philip, 
 whom she found a chubby little" boy, in a round- 
 about jacket, and what good friends they had soon 
 become. But what she remembered most, and most 
 distinctly, through everything, was Mr. Drayton's 
 kindness ; his unfailing charity to her shortcom- 
 ings, which did not seem to vex him as other per- 
 sons' did ; his tender sympathy when she was ill 
 or suffering, although often shown in an odd, haK- 
 humorous way ; and his real pleasure in her happi- 
 ness when she had reason to rejoice. 
 
 10 
 
CHAPTER XIII, 
 
 " Hope tells a flattering tale, 
 Delusive, vain, and hollow, 
 Ah, let not hope prevail, 
 Lest disappoiutmeut follow." 
 
 "Wrothek. 
 
 It was two days after this that Miss Arnold ^st 
 made the acquaintance of the unfortunate Mr. 
 Hazzard, of whose misadventures she had heard so 
 much. The manner of his introduction was rather 
 abrupt, — as unexpected, in fact, to the celebrity as 
 to herself. It happened thus : — 
 
 Mr. Hazzard had a buU-dog. He was about mid- 
 dle height among .bull-dogs, stout and white, with 
 a black patch over one eye, red eyelids, cropped 
 ears, and bandy legs. His under jaw was tremen- 
 dous, and his grip said to be terrible ; but he was 
 as amiable and amenable to Charley Hazzard's be- 
 hests as a bull-dog should be to those of his lawful 
 master. 
 
 Mrs. Davering kept two men-servants, one of 
 whose chief occupations in life had hitherto been to 
 exercise the bull-dog. With this object the man 
 had been in the habit of leading him forth daily, 
 by a heavy steel chain attached to a massive leather 
 collar, on which was inscribed in Roman letters the 
 euphonious name of " Jig." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 147 
 
 . Now, however, that from the most active, inde- 
 pendent, and amiable of beings, Mr. Hazzard had 
 been transformed into a helpless, rebellious, irasci- 
 ble invalid. Jig's servant, Peter, was kept so busy 
 waiting on his master that he had no time to de- 
 vote to Jig, who felt the injustice sorely. 
 
 He missed his morning walk, day after day, 
 and his temper exhibited as unfavorable a change 
 as that of Mr. Hazzard, with even more cause : for 
 one daily source of aggravation to Jig was the be- 
 havior of a large mongrel terrier belonging to the 
 baker's boy, who came in the way of business 
 every morning to the yard gate, and the moment 
 that he beheld the nose and fore-paws of the im- 
 prisoned Jig peeping from beneath it would begin 
 to bark and snuff and jeer at him, in the most 
 offensive of dog language, as who should say, — 
 " Ha, ha ! Don't you wish you could get out ? I'm 
 not afraid of you ! " and wagging his taU the 
 while, with a motion which seemed to express, 
 " Look here, how free I am ! I go everywhere I 
 please. I am not fastened with a chain." 
 
 It is not necessary to rehearse the deep growls of 
 suppressed wrath, outraged dignity, and finally of 
 menace, with which these taunts were received ; 
 enough be it to say that repeated interviews of this 
 excited nature having taken place, while the 
 baker's boy was in the act of choosing the rolls 
 from his covered cart, designed for Mr. Hazzard' s 
 breakfast, and passing them to the expectant cook 
 through a square opening in the gate, Jig's feelings 
 
148 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 towards the baker's dog passed beyond his own 
 control. 
 
 It happened one day, while Dr. Carey, who had 
 gone with Philip to Washington, was away, that 
 Mr. Hazzard declared that he must have some fresh 
 air. 
 
 " This sort of thing," as he expressed it, could 
 not "go on any longer," and in defiance of his 
 friend's orders, he had himself assisted down stairs, 
 and placed in an open barouche in which he sat 
 with one leg stretched out, and his lame foot rest- 
 ing on the cushions of the seat opposite. Then, as 
 he really entertained a deep aifection for Jig, he 
 invited that worthy dog to take the seat beside him, 
 which Jig did, sitting upright upon his haunches, 
 with his bowed front legs planted stiffly immova- 
 ble before him. 
 
 All would have been well but that, as ill luck 
 would have it, the time chosen by Mr. Hazzard for 
 his first drive was a Saturday afternoon, when it 
 is a well-known habit with bakers to send their 
 bread about, a second time in the day, preparatory 
 for Sunday. 
 
 It also chanced that just as the carriage reached 
 Meredith Square, and was passing Mr. Drayton's 
 house, the baker's boy was seeking admission at a 
 side gate which opened upon a narrow passage- 
 way leading to the back yard, while the uncon- 
 scious terrier was waiting at his master's heels, 
 when Jig's piercing gaze detected him. 
 
 Uttering a low growl of rage. Jig sprang from 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 149 
 
 his high place of honor, miles downward in the 
 estimation of all who knew him. In reality he was 
 on the pavement with an easy boimd, and would in 
 another moment have fastened upon his enemy, if 
 an unlooked-for obstacle had not come in his way. 
 
 This unforeseen occurrence was Miss Edith Ar- 
 nold. She had just descended the steps of the 
 house, in a costume appropriate for an afternoon 
 walk, followed by Miss Prescott, when she received 
 a sudden shock from behind. Before the unex- 
 pected force of it she tottered, and would have fallen, 
 if Julia had not rendered her timely assistance. 
 
 At the same instant the baker's dog recognized 
 his liberated foe, and with a howl of dismay sought 
 shelter in the yard, the gate of which had just been 
 opened. The baker's boy dro|}ped his basket and 
 made ofE down the street as fast as he could go, 
 shouting, "Mad dog!" And Peter, dismounting 
 from the box, where he had been seated beside the 
 coachman, captured the discomfited Jig. 
 
 "Are you hurt, dear?" asked Julia, anxiously. 
 
 " I think not," answered Edith, still pale from 
 the effect of the fright. "The dog did not try to 
 bite me. I do not know what he wanted, but I 
 was evidently in his way." 
 
 "That is one fashion of putting it," replied 
 Julia. " I thought he seemed a good deal more in 
 yours." 
 
 " My head feels rather queer." 
 
 " Come into the house and rest for a moment." 
 
 " Oh, it is nothing," said Edith. But after try- 
 
150 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 ing to walk a step or two, she confessed that she 
 thought she might be better for keeping quiet. 
 
 " I think you had better give up the walk alto- 
 gether," said Julia decidedly. 
 
 During this conversation, Mr. Hazzard had been 
 insisting that the reluctant Peter should help him 
 out of the carriage, and now appeared at the door 
 supported on a crutch, with anxious looks, which, 
 to do him justice, were but a faint expression of 
 the regret and mortification which he experienced. 
 
 " O Mr. Hazzard ! " cried Julia. " How can 
 you be so imprudent as to bear your weight on 
 that ankle!" 
 
 " I can't help it," said Charley. " I had to get 
 out. I was feeling so badly about Jig's behavior. 
 I can't think what "got into the dog, to fly at your 
 friend. Miss Arnold, is it not ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Julia, smiling, in spite of her dis- 
 tress, at the absurdity of the situation. " Let me 
 present Mr. Hazzard, Edith," she continued. " He 
 is anxious to apologize for the conduct of his dog." 
 
 " I hope you are not seriously hurt, Miss Ar- 
 nold?" asked Charley. "I should never forgive 
 myself, if you were." 
 
 " Not at all," answered Edith. " I was only 
 startled. I shall be all right in a few moments." 
 
 They went into the house. 
 
 " Sit down here, Edith," said Julia, helping her 
 into an easy chair in the drawing-room ; " and Mr. 
 Hazzard, you sit down too, please, and wait until I 
 get Miss Arnold a glass of wine." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 15l 
 
 The two invalids did as directed and were left 
 sitting face to face, in a manner which rendered it 
 essential to say something ; but Charley was strug- 
 gling with the disadvantage of not knowing what 
 to say, and Edith with an untimely inclination to 
 laugh, which, if indulged, she feared might be mis- 
 interpreted to the further confusion of the unlucky 
 young man. 
 
 The awkwardness of the situation was suddenly 
 relieved by the unexpected appearance of Jig. He 
 had managed to elude Peter during his master's 
 difficult descent from the carriage, and had slunk 
 into the house at his heels, taking refuge under Mr. 
 _Hazzard's chair. He now ventured to thrust his 
 nose forth, and snuff in a penitent manner, follow- 
 ing this advance by rearing himself up and placing 
 a deprecatory paw on his master's knee. 
 
 " Down Jig ! Are n't you ashamed of yourself ! 
 Bad dog ! " exclaimed said Mr. Hazzard severely. 
 "I can't imagine what possessed you to behave 
 so rudely ! " 
 
 " Poor dog ! " said Edith, touched by the evident 
 shame of the recreant under this stern rebuke. " I 
 assure you that he did not really do any harm, 
 Mr. Hazzard. It is not worth while to be too 
 hard upon him." 
 
 Jig's expression while she was speaking was 
 worth study. He certainly understood that some 
 one had taken his part, for he blinked hopefully at 
 his master from the crouching attitude which he 
 had assumed ; but did he comprehend enough to 
 
152 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 realize the injustice of his position, without any 
 means of human explanation to account for his er- 
 ratic conduct, by revealing the deep sense of wrong 
 in his canine heart, which had smouldered there 
 and prompted it ? 
 
 Partly from affection, partly from sympathy, 
 Mr. Hazzard seemed to divine something of Jig's 
 unhappy plight. 
 
 " He is a good dog, generally, Miss Arnold," he 
 said relentingly. 
 
 " I am sure he is," responded Edith, " and it 
 would be very unfair to blame him for this ebulli- 
 tion of energy, for nobody knows what he had it in 
 his mind to do. It may have been some act of 
 benevolence." Jig turned up his eyes at this mo- 
 ment, and looked actually saintly. 
 
 " It is partly my fault," said Charley. " I ought 
 not to have taken him without a chain. He has 
 been shut up for a long while, you see, Miss Pres- 
 cott," he added, turning to Julia, who returned at 
 this moment, " and he has got unruly." 
 
 " Ah ! I know what you are afraid of, Mr. Haz- 
 zard," said Julia, laughing. "You do not mind 
 Miss Arnold's thinking ill of you, but you are in 
 great dread of her forming an evil opinion of Jig." 
 
 " I think your friend is very kind about it," 
 answered Charley, "and it is fortunate that the 
 dog did not knock her down." 
 
 " I am sure that he did not mean to knock me 
 down," said Edith. 
 
 " I am sure of another thing," said Mr. Hazzard : 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 153 
 
 " that lie must have given you an awful shock, and 
 there are not many people who would take it so 
 good-naturedly, Miss Arnold. Will you let me 
 shake hands with you for good-by, — and you too, 
 Miss Prescott ? " 
 
 They both, smiling, granted his request, and he 
 and Jig departed. 
 
 He was such a handsome fellow that it is possi- 
 ble that his looks said more than he did to soften 
 the hearts of the two ladies ; but however this may 
 have been, they gazed after the retreating carriage, 
 containing Jig and his master, not unkindly, con- 
 sidering the annoyance he had caused them. 
 
 Julia made Edith drink the wine which she had 
 brought her, and insisted upon her lying down on 
 the sofa in the drawing-room. 
 
 " You must rest here for a while," she said, " be- 
 fore you go up-stairs. No one will disturb you, for 
 everybody is out, and you have the house to your- 
 self. I will go and buy your gloves and the other 
 little things we wanted for this evening." 
 
 Edith smiled and thanked her. " I feel better 
 already," she said, " but I will promise to do as you 
 prescribe." 
 
 When Julia was gone, she lay stUl for some time, 
 with her eyes closed. The silence of the house and 
 the dim light in the drawing-room, which was al- 
 ways half in shadow from the heavy curtains at the 
 windows, conspired to render her a little drowsy, 
 and without expecting it she f eU asleep. 
 
 The front door bell was rung once or twice with- 
 
154 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 out awakening her ; nor was she conscious of the 
 entrance of a person who came in through the half- 
 closed doors of the library, with a book in his hand, 
 while the person, who chanced to be Cecil Wilmott, 
 was equally unaware of her vicinity. He had been 
 told that every one was out, and having gone into 
 the library to get a late number of the "Atlan- 
 tic," which Mr. Drayton had promised to send his 
 mother, was passing out through the drawing-room, 
 when he was surprised to see some one on the sofa, 
 and approaching a step or two nearer perceived 
 that it was Miss Arnold. One arm had been used 
 to prop herself against the back of the sofa, and 
 her head rested upon it, with its soft light hair in 
 some disorder. Julia had thrown an afghan over 
 her, and placed her hat, which had been removed, 
 with her little muff, on a chair beside her. 
 
 Cecil was so astonished that he stood still for a 
 moment, wondering how she happened to be there. 
 Then, instead of going away, as he was perfectly 
 conscious that he should have done, he cautiously 
 took up her little muff and laid his cheek against 
 the soft fur, while his eyes dwelt upon her face. 
 How sweet it looked in its repose ! How delicate 
 the color in the fair round cheek ! What a lovely 
 memory of a smile lingered about the corners of 
 the pretty childlike mouth, and yet how much de- 
 cision there was in the lines of the soft little chin ! 
 
 " Her mouth is her best feature. It is exquisite," 
 said Cecil to himself ; but at that moment her eye- 
 lids trembled and unclosed, and her startled eyes 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 155 
 
 met Hs. " On the whole, I 'm not sure that it is," 
 he thought, as he lost himself in the limpid depths 
 of her wondering gaze. 
 
 " Mr. Wilmott ! How did you come here ? " she 
 asked, sitting up and looking about her with be- 
 wilderment. 
 
 " I came in through the library," said Cecil, 
 blushing. " I was looking for a book for my 
 moither." 
 
 « Oh ! Did you find it ? " 
 
 " I found it, and I found you."> 
 
 " But how did I come to be asleep in the draw- 
 ing-room ? " asked Edith, with a puzzled look. 
 
 " I cannot imagine." 
 
 "Oh! I remember," she proceeded, in a more 
 satisfied tone. " It was the bull-dog." 
 
 « The bull-dog ! " repeated Cecil. 
 
 "Yes, — Mr. Hazzard's bull -dog. He nearly 
 knocked me down, and I felt a little faint." 
 
 " I see," said Wilmott. " You really must for- 
 give me for my intrusion." 
 
 " Of course." Edith smiled. " How strange you 
 must have thought it to find me asleep ! " 
 
 She rose from the sofa as she spoke, and seated 
 herself in a chair, passing her hand lightly over 
 her hair as she did so. 
 
 Cecil followed the gesture appreciatively. 
 
 " It is all right,"- he said, nodding. " Shall I 
 tell you of what you reminded me when I found 
 you first ? " 
 
 " Of what ? " she asked. 
 
156 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 "Of that little picture on your fan which you 
 showed me the other day. I thought you were like 
 the sleeping lady, and I was like the fool." 
 
 " Were you here long ? " she asked. 
 
 " Not very. I was just going away when you 
 woke up." 
 
 " I am glad that I woke up," said Edith. 
 
 " Why are you glad ? " 
 
 " Because the idea is very disagreeable to me of 
 some one's being near without my knowing it. I 
 would much rather have seen you." 
 
 " You think that is the less disagreeable of the 
 two, then ? " asked CecU, laughing. 
 
 " I did not say that it was disagreeable at all," 
 she said defiantly. 
 
 " When are you going to let me have the copy 
 of verses which you promised ? " 
 
 " I will get them for you now, if you like. I 
 made it, as I said I would, the other evening." 
 
 She was glad of the opportunity to slip away to 
 her own room and rearrange her somewhat disor- 
 dered toilet. 
 
 Cecil read the " Atlantic " while she was gone, 
 and waited very patiently. He made her take the 
 most comfortable chair in the room on her return, 
 having placed it so that the fading light fell full 
 upon her face. 
 
 " Here it is," she said, opening a dainty little 
 card-case, which she kept in a satchel at her side. 
 
 CecU. took the folded sheet of note-paper on 
 which she had copied the verses, in a fair round 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 157 
 
 hand, and she watched him while he read them, 
 fancying that his manner was rather critical, but 
 he smiled and thanked her. 
 
 THE SLEEPING LADY AND THE FOOL. 
 
 " bride of sleep ! of waking gladness heir, 
 Framed in thy luring wealth of golden hair, 
 How nature joins with art to make thee fair 
 And fatal to mankind ! 
 
 " Why should each breath drawn simply for life's need. 
 Enhance the beauty of thy form to feed 
 The longing eyes of all poor fools who lead 
 Their lives too near to thine ? 
 
 " Why should unconscious movements in thy sleep, 
 Thy head turned, to thy cheek the sudden leap 
 Of color, with a sigh gentle, yet deep, 
 Stir all a poor fool's soul ? 
 
 " Such charm has nature given to thy dreams. 
 That, when in waking hours thy bright smile gleams 
 On some adorer who has won, it seems, 
 This passing sign of grace, 
 
 " The maiden arts which hedge about that smile 
 March dignity and courtesy in file. 
 Lest its receiver should grow bold the while 
 Thou deftly steal'st his heart. 
 
 " Such arts cease to be dangerous, grow faint, 
 Beside the living picture of a saint, 
 Which makes me only long that I could paint 
 Thee sleeping — I, thy fool." 
 
 Thus mused a motley fellow in a wood. 
 Where he had come to sing, as he best could. 
 Because his lady willed that he should. 
 Or guard her if she slept. 
 
158 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 Trembled the oak leaves in the morning breeze, 
 The sunlight glancing through them played at ease 
 About the massive trunks, and humming bees 
 Filled all the air with life, 
 
 When faintly there was heard a bugle blast. 
 Distant at first, but drawing nearer fast. 
 The lady started up, " He comes at last ! " 
 She cried with ecstasy. 
 
 And now was echoed on the forest road 
 The sound of horse's feet, as on they strode. 
 And fleetly bore a knight, who proudly rode. 
 With mien gentle, yet brave. 
 
 The lady, filled with sudden consciousness, 
 Cast down her eyes, fearing they would confess 
 What, more she strove to hide she hid the less. 
 Her burning blushes' cause. 
 
 The knight had reined his steed in a heart beat. 
 One bound had brought him to the lady's feet. 
 Kneeling to worship there with protest sweet 
 And ardent vows of love. 
 
 '■ And art thou really come 1 " she questioned low, 
 " Back from the fight where honor bade thee go. 
 
 To her who loved and missed and mourned thee so 
 
 She almost longed to die ? " 
 
 The poor fool listened not nor lingered more. 
 Much had he learned by sight of lover's lore, 
 And e'en too truly, as too sadly saw, 
 What such discourse foretold. 
 
 He sought a distant, lonely, forest glade, 
 And cast him down in a willow's shade. 
 He did not weep nor laugh, but gravely said, 
 "I am a fool indeed." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 159 
 
 " Unfortunate young man ! " said Wilmott, as lie 
 refolded the paper and put it in his pocket. " My 
 comparing myself to him seems to have been quite 
 prophetic. I wonder whether the rest of the poem 
 will come true ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing. I was only wondering who wrote 
 this ballad for you." 
 
 " I told you that it was written by a friend of 
 ours, a long while ago." 
 
 "A friend of yours, or of your sister's ? " 
 
 " A friend of both ; we are very proud of his 
 friendship." 
 
 " Indeed. May I ask why ? " 
 
 " Certainly. We admire him because he is a 
 man, we think, of great ability, and his life has 
 been one of the most patient scientific research." 
 
 "For which of you does he make verses? " 
 
 " For neither. He makes them for his own amuse- 
 ment, I fancy ; but he was always laughing at Ger- 
 trude and calling her romantic because she believes 
 in a great many things which he calls ' exploded 
 fallacies,' and one day she found this which he had 
 written, and so she has laughed at him ever since." 
 
 " Does he call you romantic ? " asked Cecil. 
 
 " Oh, dear, no ! " she answered, laughing. " He 
 knows very well that I am not. My sister tells me 
 that I have not an atom of romance in my compo- 
 sition." 
 
 " I don't believe that," said Wilmott. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
160 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " I think you have made quite a hero of romance 
 in your imagination of this very individual, who- 
 ever he may be." 
 
 Edith laughed again, more heartily than before. 
 
 " That is too funny ! If you could only see him, 
 you would understand how impossible it would be 
 to make a hero of him. Why, he wears green eye- 
 glasses, and he is a professor of chemistry at Ho- 
 boken ! He would be capable of reducing any ideal 
 which might be presented to him to its original el- 
 ements in five minutes." 
 
 " But he must be inclined to be sentimental at 
 times, you know, to do this sort of thing," said 
 Cecil. 
 
 " Oh, yes, he is human,"- she responded, with a 
 merry smile, " but very unheroic." 
 
 " He is not like the knight on the fan then ? " 
 
 " Not in the least. Will you teU me what time 
 it is, Mr. Wilmott ? I am afraid I must go up 
 and dress for dinner." 
 
 " Why should you do that ? " 
 
 " I do not want to be late." 
 
 " It wants an hour of dinner time." 
 
 " Julia will be coming home," she said uneasily, 
 " and she will expect me to be resting, as she asked 
 me to do." 
 
 " Is Julia such a tyrant ? " 
 
 " Of course not, but she did not want me to be 
 tired, because we are to go to the opera this even- 
 ing." 
 
 " That is a polite way of telling me to go." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 161 
 
 " I did not mean to tell you to go," said Edith, 
 blushing. 
 
 " I am glad of that, for it is so pleasant to sit 
 here and talk that unless you insist I would rather 
 stay." 
 
 " But, perhaps, if you came to get a book for 
 your mother she will be expecting it." 
 
 " Was that the only reason that you wanted to 
 send me away ? " He had risen and was leaning 
 lightly on the back of her chair. She noticed that 
 his manner had a certain fervor, unlike its usual 
 carelessness of tone. 
 
 " No — yes — I do not know," she said, looking 
 straight before her so that he could not see her 
 face. 
 
 " Tell me one thing," said Cecil seriously, " and 
 then I will go if you wish it." 
 
 "I did not say that I wished it. What is the 
 thing?" 
 
 " Why do you think that I likened myself to the 
 fool in the ballad?" 
 
 " Was it because you wanted me to tell you that 
 you were not at all like him ? " she asked, glancing 
 up with a shy smile. 
 
 " On the contrary, it was because I felt very 
 much in sympathy with him, having compared you 
 to the lady." 
 
 " I suppose that was due to your having found 
 me asleep." 
 
 " There did seem an unusual resemblance be- 
 tween our inward and our outward situations. Do 
 11 
 
162 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 you remember the reason you said the fool had 
 to render him foolish — or sad, was it you called 
 him ? " 
 
 " I do not remember anything about it." 
 
 " WiU you answer one other question ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell, until you ask it." 
 
 " It is not much. I only want to know whether 
 there is any knight in this case ? " He seated him- 
 self on a low footstool beside her chair, and turned 
 and looked up as he spoke." 
 
 "In what case?" 
 
 "In your case? Are you expecting some one 
 else ? " he asked earnestly. 
 
 She was quite taken by surprise, and there was 
 so much magnetism in the devoted expression of 
 his face as he raised it to hers that for a moment 
 she could not speak. Her eyes answered his, say- 
 ing she knew not what, and it was with a great 
 effort that she withdrew them and rose from her 
 seat. 
 
 " I am expecting nothing," she said. 
 
 " You might give me a fair answer ! " cried Ce- 
 cil, who had risen also. " I simply ask you whether 
 some one has been before me, some one who cared 
 for you ; will you not tell me ? " 
 
 She was leaning against the piano, and he was 
 leaning beside her with his arm upon it. 
 
 " I do not think that any one has ever cared for 
 me," she said, " if that is what you want to know." 
 
 "And you?" he asked quickly. "Have you 
 ever cared for any one ? " 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 163 
 
 "You have no right to ask," she said indig- 
 nantly. 
 
 " Then there has been some one ? " 
 
 " How simply absurd ! " she exclaimed, trying to 
 laugh. " Of course there has not." She fancied 
 as she spoke that she heard Julia's voice at the 
 front door. 
 
 " It was a foolish question," said Cecil, " but I 
 feel better, since you answered it." 
 
 They were both silent for a moment. Edith half 
 regretted Julia's entrance at the end of it, in a 
 vague, unreasonable way which she could not under- 
 stand, and she felt quite sure that Cecil did. He 
 went forward to greet Miss Prescott with his usual 
 easy manner, but it was as though a speU had been 
 broken. 
 
 " I am glad to see you," said Julia cordially, to 
 Cecil. « Is that Edith ? How are- you dear ? It 
 is growing so dark that I did not see you at first." 
 
 " I feel better, thank you," answered Edith 
 faintly. 
 
 " I do not think Miss Arnold is quite herself 
 yet," said Cecil. "What a fright that bull-dog 
 must have given her. It is too bad of me to 
 have detained you all this time ! " he added, turn- 
 ing again to Edith, who had risen and was evi- 
 dently about to leave the room. He held out his 
 hand as though to say good-night, but she slipped 
 by without noticing it and escaped to her own 
 chamber. 
 
 " How long have you been here ? " asked Julia 
 in a very quiet tone, after she had gone. 
 
164 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 "I hardly know," said Cecil carelessly ; "about 
 an hour, I think." 
 
 " Did you find Edith in the drawing-room ? " 
 
 " She was asleep on the sofa." 
 
 " Asleep ! Did you wake her ? " 
 
 " Not intentionally of course. The noise of my 
 entrance may have done so." 
 
 " Cecil," said Julia, " there is something about 
 which I should like to speak to you. May I do so 
 now ? " 
 
 " With all my heart," replied Cecil, " but do you 
 not think it is getting a trifle dark here? It 
 might be well to ring for lights." 
 
 " So it is," responded Julia, crossing the room to- 
 wards the bell, " and it is late, too. I am afraid 
 I shall hardly be ready in time for dinner." 
 
 " I am very sure that I shall not," said Cecil, 
 " and I am to dine out. I can come to see you to- 
 morrow at any time you like." 
 
 " Perhaps that would be better," assented Julia, 
 - " or it will do any time next week. Is it not next 
 week that we promised to lunch with Charlotte ? " 
 
 " To be sure," said Cecil cheerfully. " You can 
 talk to me then as much as you please." 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " But optics sharp it needs I mean, 
 To see what is not to be seen." 
 
 JOHK TbDHBULIi. 
 
 " There is your friend Miss Prescott, my dear," 
 said Mr. Davering, in the middle of the second act 
 of the opera that evening, pointing to a proscenium 
 box which was very plainly in view from the stock- 
 holders' seats, among which he and Mrs. Davering 
 were sitting. 
 
 " Is it possible that you have only just feund her 
 out, Buchanan ? " asked his wife, with a look of 
 amusement. " Why, we interchanged nods before 
 the opera began ! " 
 
 " She has her pretty friend with her," said Mr. 
 Davering, pursuing his investigations with the aid 
 of an opera glass, undisturbed by Mrs. Davering's 
 animadversions. " And there is that friend of 
 Charley's from Boston. He is talking to her. I 
 think, my dear, that Dr. Carey is inclined to admire 
 Miss Prescott. I thought he seemed quite atten- 
 tive the other night at dinner." * 
 
 "Did you indeed?" said Mrs. Davering un- 
 easily, but with more respect, since this had been 
 the result of her own reluctant observation. " I 
 don't think Julia fancies him. He is too much of 
 
166 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 a prig," she continued half to herself by way of re- 
 assurance, " but he will keep me from having her 
 at the house now that he has returned from Wash- 
 ington, and altogether I wish he would go back to 
 Boston." 
 
 "We must not be inhospitable, my dear," said 
 Mr. Davering, with good-humored malice. 
 
 His wife colored and was silent. She had hardly 
 noticed that she was speaking her thoughts aloud, 
 but had learned by experience that, obtuse as her 
 husband appeared, he had a perverse way of seeing 
 into things when least expected to do so. 
 
 " I noticed another thing the other evening," said 
 Mr. Davering sagely, pleased at the attention with 
 which his last discovery had been received. 
 
 "What was that?" 
 
 " I noticed that Drayton was unusually devoted 
 to this little Miss Arnold, and I see he is talking 
 to her again to-night. Julia Prescott had better 
 look out for her friend unless she is ready to abdi- 
 cate in her favor." 
 
 " My dear Buchanan, who are you talking 
 about ? " exclaimed his wife, in profound amaze- 
 ment. " Do you mean Philip, or his father ? " 
 
 " I mean Algernon Drayton, of course. Who 
 ever thought of making love to Philip ? " 
 
 " I do not know, I am sure," said Mrs. Daver- 
 ing helplessly. " Miss Arnold was near me at 
 dinner, and I should not have suspected her of 
 making love to any one." 
 
 " Look at her now, then," returned Mr. Davering 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 167 
 
 triumphantly. " I do not say that she is doing it 
 all, of course." 
 
 " The idea of Algernon Drayton's troubling him- 
 self about a shy little girl like that 1 " answered his 
 ■wife, iacredulously, but she was impressed with the 
 originality of the idea at first, and then with the con- 
 venience with which such a discovery, if it proved 
 to be true, would harmonize with her own plans. 
 
 She had already perceived that the task of mar- 
 rying Julia to her son was beset with growing diffi- 
 culties, of which Dr. Carey's admiration for the 
 heiress was not the greatest. The chief trouble 
 which she had to contend with was Julia's perfect 
 contentment with her present surroundings. The 
 girl was too happy to wish for any change. If her 
 home were a little less to her liking she might 
 more easily be induced to leave it, and the benevo- 
 lent fairy, who busied herself so disinterestedly in 
 her welfare, began to wonder whether she might 
 not assist Fate a little in bringing this about. She 
 • turned her eyes as she did so towards the box at 
 which her husband was stiU gazing, but saw little 
 to support his assertion. 
 
 Mr. Drayton was, indeed, seated beside Miss 
 Arnold, talking to her, apparently, with some ear- 
 nestness. Dr. Carey, who had returned that even- 
 ing "from his visit to Washington, in company with 
 Philip, seemed also to be making himself very 
 agreeable to Julia, while Philip himself stood just 
 behind him, and appeared to be the only person in 
 the box who took any interest in the opera. He 
 
168 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 evidently was enjoying the singing, but just tben 
 the curtain fell, and the situation was altered. Mr. 
 Drum Kettleby made his entrance at the back of 
 the box, in a mood, as it seemed, to be very conde- 
 scendingly gracious. He conversed for a moment 
 or two with Miss Prescott, and then proceeded to 
 address himself to her friend in a manner which 
 proclaimed that she had found favor in his eyes. 
 Mr. Drayton yielded his seat with great urbanity 
 to the new-comer, and, after standing up and look- 
 ing about him with an amiable but rather bored 
 expression, left the box. He was a stockholder, and 
 Mrs. Davering was presently pleased to see him 
 making his way to where she was sitting, just as 
 her husband had left her side. 
 
 "Good evening, Mrs. Davering. I thought I 
 should find you here. Did not you tell me last 
 winter that ' Carmen ' was your favorite opera ? " 
 
 " Did I ? I had forgotten." 
 
 " You may possibly only have said that the hero- 
 ine was your favorite character." 
 
 " I am quite sure that I never told you that." 
 
 " I can hardly be mistaken. You said that, or 
 something like it, apropos of Mrs. Percy's having 
 chosen to represent ' Carmen ' at the fancy ball." 
 
 " Oh, I remember now. You were surprised at 
 her having chosen the character of ' Carmen,' and 
 I was not. I thought that in her the choice was 
 quite natural." 
 
 " "Why, yes," said Mr. Drayton. " I rather gath- 
 ered that ' Carmen ' was your ideal." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 169 
 
 " I did not say that it was a character I should 
 have chosen for myself." 
 
 " Ah, I see. It was your ideal for Mrs. Percy." 
 
 Mrs. Davering laughed rather nervously. 
 
 " What a satirical man you are," she said. 
 
 " To be fair with you," continued Mr. Drayton, 
 " I will confess that ft suited Mrs. Percy's style to 
 perfection. She looked charmingly, and she is 
 looking very well to-night. Seeing her here re- 
 minded me of the incident." 
 
 He bowed as he spoke to a lady who occupied 
 the proscenium box in the second tier, opposite to 
 the one which Philip had taken for their own 
 party. She was surrounded by quite a gay circle, 
 in which there were more gentlemen than ladies, 
 and was herself a very brilliant centre to the 
 group, as she was strikingly handsome, and arrayed 
 in some white material in which threads of gold 
 seemed so woven that they caught the light as she 
 moved. 
 
 " I did not know that you had such an admira- 
 tion for Mrs. Percy," remarked Mrs. Davering. 
 
 " I am very apt to admire what is beautiful," 
 said Mr. Drayton wickedly, for he knew that 
 there was no love lost between Mrs. Davering and 
 Mrs. Percy, although there was the semblance of a 
 good understanding, as often happens with rival 
 leaders of fashion. 
 
 The older lady, who had been courted for many 
 years for her position and her husband's wealth, 
 although she had never received so much personal 
 
170 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 attention as the other, was jealous of the ascend- 
 ency which the younger one was attaining just as 
 her own star began to wane. 
 
 " I was just saying to Buchanan," she ventured, 
 " what a pretty girl Miss Arnold is." 
 
 " So she is," said Mr. Drayton heartily ; " and 
 a very good little girl, too, I think." He glanced 
 up at the box as he spoke, and smiled at Julia, who 
 happened to catch his eye. 
 
 " I see she is in a style you admire also," said 
 Mrs. Davering, scoring one ; " but to my thinking 
 there is no one as handsome as Julia." 
 
 " I am not sure that every one would consider 
 Julia handsome," said Mr. Drayton, looking away 
 towards the drop-curtain, with a shade of reserve 
 in his tone. 
 
 " I am quite sure that Dr. Carey does," said 
 Mrs. Davering. 
 
 Mr. Drayton turned again towards the box. 
 
 " Yes," he answered. " I think that Dr. Carey 
 admires Julia; but they are old friends, you know." 
 
 " Do not put too much faith in their friendship," 
 said the lady. 
 
 " What do yon mean ? " asked Mr. Drayton, 
 with an odd note of emotion in his tone which was 
 otherwise carefully guarded. 
 
 " I do not know, of course," said she ; " but I 
 am inclined to think him serious about Julia. Mrs. 
 Wilmott was saying the other day what a pity it is 
 that he is a Unitarian, when you have such a strong 
 objection to all forms of dissent." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 171 
 
 " If Lawrence Carey has been making Hmself 
 agreeable to Charlotte it is quite natural, as a 
 woman and Charlotte's mother, that my sister 
 should interest herself in his religious faith." 
 
 " You mistake me," said Mrs. Davering, with a 
 puzzled look. " I did not say that he was inter- 
 ested in Charlotte Wilmott, but in Julia." 
 
 " So I understood," returned Mr. Drayton impen- 
 etrably, " and in that ease he would only have me 
 to deal with. I should be much more anxious on 
 some other points. Whether he were a good man, 
 for instance, one calculated to make my ward 
 happy, and had gained her entire affection." 
 
 " Oh, but I did not say that Julia was thinking 
 of marrying him," cried Mrs. Davering hastily, " or 
 that she is in love with him, or anything else." 
 
 " You will forgive me for confessing that even 
 your having said so would hardly establish so un- 
 demonstrable an assertion in my mind beyond the 
 chance of misinterpretation." 
 
 " Oh, dear, no ! Of course not. AU I meant 
 was that I suppose Julia will fancy some one some 
 day." 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 " Then you will encourage her marrying?" asked 
 the lady eagerly. 
 
 " I shall have no control over Julia's actions at 
 the expiration of another year," replied Mr. Dray- 
 ton coldly. 
 
 " It is not so much a question of control as of 
 influence," said Mrs. Davering. " Julia is a girl 
 
172 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 whom it is so difficult to make see her true inter- 
 ests." 
 
 *" Pray what do you take them to be ? " asked 
 Mr. Drayton dryly. 
 
 " Why, those of every girl. To make hay while 
 the sun shines. I wish she would learn to do that." 
 
 " Julia has known how to make hay from the 
 beginning, I fancy," said her guardian, " if she 
 wished to make it, and she has wit enough to serve 
 for sunshine on the dullest day." 
 
 " Yes, she has wit enough, but she is so unim- 
 pressionable, and what is the use of knowing how 
 to take advantage of circumstances if she does not 
 take the advantage ? Her life cannot go on for- 
 ever as it is doing now." 
 
 " That is equally true of the rest of us," said Mr. 
 Drayton, with a sigh, and then he left Mrs. Dav- 
 ering, little dreaming the construction which she 
 would put on this innocent remark. 
 
 Miss Arnold, meanwhile, was already wearying of 
 Mr. Drimi Kettleby's elegant attentions, and gladly 
 acceded to Philip's suggestion of going with him 
 to the front of the house, so as to have a full view 
 of the stage when the curtain rose. She had quite 
 missed Philip during his absence, and he seemed 
 equally glad to see her again, for since their con- 
 versation on the day of the dinner a pleasant 
 friendly confidence had been established between 
 them, and she would have been glad now to be 
 able to ask him a few questions about his visit to 
 the capitol, but although she had accepted his arm 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 173 
 
 to walk through the corridor, this might not be, 
 for Mr. Drum Kettleby insisted on walking at her 
 other side, much to Philip's displeasure. He 
 chanced to have no liking for this favorite of for- 
 tune. 
 
 " The Academy is really worth seeing, you 
 know," said Mr. Drum Kettleby. " It is a very 
 respectable size, as opera houses go, but it is noth- 
 ing this evening compared to what it is at an as- 
 - sembly. You will be at the Assembly, of course, 
 Miss Arnold?" 
 
 Edith acknowledged that she should. 
 
 " That is delightful ! " exclaimed Mr. Drum Ket- 
 tleby, on learning that she was to appear under the 
 wing of Mrs. Davering. " I speak for the cotil- 
 lon. I trust you have not already promised the 
 cotillon ? " 
 
 " I have not, indeed, or thought of it." 
 
 " Then I may have it ? " 
 
 " The Assembly is nearly a week off. Is it not 
 a long while ahead to make an engagement ? " she 
 asked innocently 
 
 " A long while ! " cried Mr. Drum Kettleby. 
 " Why, I am astonished to find you still free to 
 give me a dance, I do assure you." 
 
 " I had intended to ask you to dance the Ger- 
 man with me, Miss Arnold," said PhUip, in an un- 
 usually haughty tone. 
 
 " I am your guest, you know," said Edith sweetly, 
 " and quite at your disposal." 
 
 " Oh, but I do protest. Miss Arnold," broke in 
 
174 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 Mr. Drum Kettleby, " that that is the most un- 
 heard-of partiality, to dance with Mr. Drayton, 
 when I was the first to ask you." 
 
 "Perhaps you had better revoke your decision, 
 Miss Arnold," said Philip. " It is quite unheard- 
 of partiality to prefer any one as a partner to Mr. 
 Drum Kettleby." 
 
 "I really do not know what I ought to do," 
 answered Edith, opening her large blue eyes and 
 looking from one to the other in much perplex- - 
 ity. 
 
 " Oh, but there is no doubt about it at all, you 
 know," cried Mr. Drum Kettleby. " It is not a 
 question of whom you prefer as a partner, of 
 course," he conceded, with an air of modesty, " but 
 simply of who asked you first." 
 
 " Is that really the rule ? " asked Edith, looking 
 to Philip for counsel. 
 
 He was touched by the trust implied in her ap- 
 peal to him, and by a certain half-confessed assur- 
 ance which it contained that she preferred him. 
 Indeed, so natural did the preference seem to 
 Edith, that she was at little pains to conceal it, ex- 
 cept so far as civility to Mr. Drum Kettleby de- 
 manded, and Mr. Drum Kettleby was by no means 
 thin-skinned. Philip was mollified, and made an 
 effort to conquer his ill humor. 
 
 " I will tell you how we can arrange it," he said. 
 "You shall dance the German with Mr. Drum 
 Kettleby and give me the pleasure of taking you 
 to supper." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 175 
 
 " I will do so gladly," she answered, with a grate- 
 ful smile. 
 
 " Come now, that is fecellent ! " cried Mr. Drum 
 Kettleby. " That will be grand," and with this 
 pleasure in prospect, he bade them good evening, 
 and proceeded to pay his respects to Mrs. Percy. 
 
 The whole of this weighty conversation had not 
 taken more than five minutes, but Edith saw him 
 depart with a sense of relief. 
 
 " You look pale to-night," said Philip kindly. 
 « Do you not feel well ? " 
 
 " I am a little tired," she admitted, " but what 
 a pretty sight it is ! Ah, there goes the curtain ! 
 I had no idea the stage was so deep." 
 
 They were standing at the opening of one of the 
 passageways which led into the auditorium between 
 the small boxes, exactly in the centre of the house. 
 Looking downward over all the gay toilets in the 
 curving rows of the dress circle, and across the 
 crowded parquet, they were greeted by the Gipsy 
 Scene in " Carmen." The motley groups of idlers, 
 some playing cards, some drinking, the camp in the 
 middle distance, and the mountains and blue valleys 
 represented against a pale blue sky by the farthest 
 scenery, lent so much illusion as to make the view 
 seem to stretch away with the indefiniteness of a 
 real landscape. 
 
 Compared with the marvels of scenic effect so 
 often produced in the great continental theatres, 
 there was not so much to admire perhaps as to crit- 
 icise, but to the inexperienced young person from 
 
176 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 New Rochelle, the whole' thing was complete, and 
 the music and the scene together wrought upon her 
 fancy with almost the forc*^ of reality. " Do you 
 know I never saw and heard a whole opera be- 
 fore ? " she said to her companion, with a solemnity 
 which amused him. 
 
 When they returned to the box Dr. Carey had 
 gone and Mr. Drayton and Julia were there alone. 
 
 " We were thinking of coming to look for you," 
 said Julia. 
 
 " Speak for yourself, my dear. I was not," said 
 Mr. Drayton. " I was resolved upon the let-alone 
 policy which Bo-peep originated, and which has be- 
 come so popular in our day. The event proves 
 that it would have worked well." 
 
 " Oh, the stage was so beautiful, Julia, from 
 where we were standing ! " cried Edith. " I wish 
 you could have seen the gipsy camp as we did." 
 
 " I have been enjoying a very pretty scene my- 
 self," said Julia, " and am inclined to think that it 
 is a mistake to roam abroad in search of distant 
 views. Nearer ones are more to my taste, but 
 Philip is always a roUing stone." 
 
 " Let us see some of the moss you have been 
 gathering," said Philip. 
 
 " Look in the box opposite. Is that not an an- 
 imated picture ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Percy, you mean ? She is hardly as good 
 as an opera." 
 
 " She is worth fifty operas," said Mr. Drayton, 
 " if one is near enough to hear the music." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 177 
 
 " Perhaps she is," replied Edith, thoughtfully, 
 " although I had not noticed her before." 
 
 " There, you see, Philip, I have the majority on 
 my side," cried Julia triumphantly. 
 
 " You are apt to do so in espousing one so popu- 
 lar. There is Lawrence Carey, I see, and Cecil 
 Wilmott. I thought, by the bye, that Cecil was 
 due at the University supper to-night." 
 
 " He told me that he was to dine out, too," said 
 Julia. " I suspected that it was with Mrs. Percy." 
 
 " Cecil is a young gentleman of multifarious en- 
 gagements," said Mr. Drayton ; but Edith said 
 nothing. She turned her eyes determinately to- 
 wards the stage, yet she saw Cecil Wilmott all the 
 time, seated in an easy attitude beside Mrs. Percy, 
 and talking, as. he sometimes talked to her. Mean- 
 while the opera advanced. The last thrilling scene 
 was begun. 
 
 " Who is that pretty girl opposite ? " asked Mrs. 
 Percy. " Her face is new to me." 
 
 " What girl ? " returned Cecil carelessly, " there 
 are so many." 
 
 " I mean in the box with the Draytons. You 
 are looking in the parquet. Do you not see the 
 one on the left, who seems to be so much interested 
 in the fate of Carmen ? " 
 
 Edith had become intensely excited during the 
 struggle for life which was taking place at that 
 moment between the faithless Carmen and her 
 forsaken lover, and was leaning slightly forward, 
 with her eyes fixed on the stage. 
 
 12 
 
178 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I see," said Wilmott. "You mean 
 Miss Arnold. She is a friend of Miss Prescott's 
 from New York." 
 
 " Then you know her ? " asked Mrs. Percy, 
 catching a conscious note in his voice. 
 
 " I have met her several times." 
 
 Mrs. Percy looked more critically at the eager 
 young face. 
 
 " Does she look as pretty as that always ? " she 
 asked. " I should hardly think so." 
 
 Wilmott smiled. " Ah ! that I cannot say," he 
 replied, "I can only answer for the occasions 
 when I have seen her." 
 
CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 ** GuU, Good my loTd, vouchsafe me a word with you. 
 Ham. Six, a whole history." 
 
 Shakesfeabe. 
 
 Julia was engaged in making tea, a day or two 
 later, and Miss Ruthven in making a pocket pin- 
 cushion, when Edith entered, all in a glow from 
 walking in the clear, cold air of a January after- 
 noon. 
 
 " How did you get on, when I left you ? You 
 had no trouble in finding your way home, dear ? " 
 asked Julia. 
 
 " ITone whatever. Mr. WUmott came with me." 
 
 "Oh! I see." 
 
 "Will you not give me a cup of tea, Julia?" 
 asked Edith, with a perceptible deepening of the 
 roses in her cheeks. 
 
 Old Rogers appeared at this moment to an- 
 nounce a friend of Miss Kuthven's, who was wait- 
 ing to see her in the library. 
 
 " Come now, Edith," said Julia, when they were 
 alone. " Confess that Cecil Wilmott improved the 
 occasion by asking you to walk with him." 
 
 Edith laughed. 
 
 " We walked a few squares farther than the 
 house, but not far. Was it a wrong thing to do ? " 
 she asked. 
 
180 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 " I was not quite sure about the etiquette of the 
 matter," said Edith shyly, " whether it was the 
 custom to walk with any one who asked yon." 
 
 " People are very apt to do it if they want to," 
 replied Julia, " but if they do not, it never seems 
 to them the right thing to do." 
 
 " There is no use in trying to talk to you about 
 anything seriously, I suppose," said Edith, with 
 resignation. 
 
 " Yes, you maj' tell me seriously what you think 
 of Cecil Wilmott." 
 
 Edith was silMit for a moment. 
 
 " If I knew, myself," she said, after a pause, " I 
 should be quite willing to tell you, but I change 
 my mind about him almost every time I see him." 
 She glanced at Julia over the top of her tearcup 
 and < added carelessly, "It seems to me that Dr. 
 Carey admires you very much, and that you are 
 rather hard on him." 
 
 Miss Prescott quite understood that this was a 
 direct attempt to carry the war into the enemy's 
 country. The device was so innocent that it 
 amused her. 
 
 " I do not know whether Dr. Carey admires me 
 or not," she .said coolly, "but I know that I 
 honestly like him." 
 
 " Then why do you behave so to him ? " 
 
 " I simply behave to him in a manner calculated 
 to retain his regard. You know I am not jiaturaUy 
 gushing." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 181 
 
 "No, but your manner is usually playful and 
 rather responsive, whereas you are always snub- 
 bing Dr. Carey." 
 
 " The course of wise repression which I have 
 pursued with Dr. Carey deserves a different desig- 
 nation," said Julia gravely. 
 
 " But why do you pursue this course of re- 
 pression, as you call it, with him especially ? " 
 
 " Because he comes from Boston," replied Julia, 
 dropping a lump of sugar into Edith's second cup 
 of tea. " A Boston man," she proceeded solemnly, 
 "has to be repressed. If you give him the 
 slightest encouragement, he misunderstands it." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Edith, opening her large 
 blue eyes. " Do they advance too rapidly ? " 
 
 " Mercy no ! " exclaimed Miss Prescott in her 
 impatience ; " they recede." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Edith, " I understand. Of course 
 that is very disagreeable." 
 
 " Of course," returned Julia, " one does not wish 
 for the attention of a man unless he desires to be- 
 stow it, but it is very disagreeable, as you naively 
 remark, to perceive from his manner that he thinks 
 you are paying attention to him." 
 
 A luncheon at which ladies only should be pres- 
 ent being considered " the thing " in the way of 
 an entertainment by Miss Charlotte Wilmott, she 
 was much pleased with the idea of giving one to 
 Miss Arnold, and it would have been difficult to 
 imagine a more interested and excited person' than 
 Mrs. Wilinott on the morning after the conversa- 
 
182 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 tion last recorded. Not the Earl of Leicester, when 
 he was to be honored with the sojourn of Queen 
 Elizabeth at Kenilworth, not Caleb Balderstone, 
 when occupied in concealing his master's poverty 
 from the retainers of Sir William Ashton, were 
 more impressed with the importance of the occar 
 sion or more determined to spare no pains to make 
 the most of their advantages ; and no one who saw 
 the elegant little repast to which the ladies sat 
 down a few hours later would have imagined the 
 anxiety it had caused the smiling hostess. 
 
 Cecil Wilmott had been urged by his sister to 
 tear himself away from the professional cares which 
 beset him at his office at the early hour of four, in 
 order to escort the three younger ladies of the party 
 to the State House, and thence on a round of 
 sight-seeing, with which Cecil declared that he 
 should be intensely bored, but still yielded to her 
 persistence, and they had just taken coffee after 
 luncheon,, when he appeared with Philip Drayton. 
 
 On the way to Independence HaU, Cecil walked 
 with Julia, while Edith followed with his sister, ac- 
 companied by Philip. As soon as they were fairly 
 out of earshot of the others, Julia said, " You sug- 
 gested that I should wait until to-day, Cecil, to say 
 what I had to say to you, and I think I had better 
 say it now." 
 
 " As you please," replied Cecil, tapping the pave- 
 ment with his cane in a slightly irritated manner, 
 " that is if you are quite sure that you had better 
 say it at aU." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 183 
 
 " Oh ! I am quite clear on that point," said Julia, 
 quietly, " and all the more so that 1 fancy I can see 
 by your manner that you know what I want to 
 speak about." 
 
 " It would be as well to tell me, at any rate," 
 returned Cecil. 
 
 " It is of Edith," said Miss Prescott, dropping 
 her voice and her eyes for a moment. " Was that 
 what you thought ? " 
 
 " It does not much matter what I thought," said 
 Wilmott. " What is it that you think ? " 
 
 " I think it not at aU safe for your peace of mind 
 or hers, that you should pay her such marked at- 
 tention." 
 
 " I do not think I have paid her any marked at- 
 tention." 
 
 " Not iaarked, perhaps, in the sense of being 
 very noticeable before the world, but decidedly ac- 
 cented to any one near enough like myself to notice 
 the emphasis," said Julia. 
 
 " I think you are rather inclined to exaggerate," 
 responded Wilmott, with a suppressed smile. 
 
 " You have not thought so before, Cecil, — only 
 that I saw things as they were. Have you not often 
 told me that I pointed out something in you before 
 you had recognized it in yourself? " 
 
 « Yes," said Wihnott. 
 
 " And has it not usually been some foUy which 
 you were on the point of committing ? " 
 
 " I believe it has." 
 
 " Now, Cecil, in this case it is not for you alone, 
 
184 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 that I speak, but for my friend. She has a formed 
 manner and a natural power of self-control which 
 are deceptive, but she is very young and quite a 
 child in experience." 
 
 " I know that." 
 
 " Yes, but you do not know, or do not stop to 
 think, how much responsibility I feel about her." 
 
 " I don't see what I have to do with it," said 
 Cecil. 
 
 " Her mother and sister, for her sake," continued 
 Julia seriously, " befriended me when I was most 
 in need of friends, and now they have trusted her 
 to me, and I cannot see her happiness endangered 
 without trying to save it from mishap." 
 
 " Pray, what mishap do you fear ? " asked Wil- 
 mott, with heightened color. 
 
 " I hardly know," she answered, faltering a little 
 for the first time since the beginning of the conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " I do not, I 'm sure." 
 
 " Yes you do," cried Julia. " We both know. 
 It is false delicacy to pretend that we do not. There 
 can be no doubt that it would be an unmixed mis- 
 fortune for Edith if yon should succeed in making 
 her like you — better than other people." 
 
 " Why do you assume that I am trying to make 
 her like me better than other people ? " 
 
 " Because I can see that you have quite lost your 
 head about her." 
 
 " But if I keep my heart ? " asked Cecil laugh- 
 ing, " is not that the important matter ? " 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 185 
 
 " I am not troubled about tbat," replied Julia. 
 " My experience is that you are much more apt to 
 lose your head than your heart." 
 
 " Is it Miss Arnold^s head that you are troubled 
 about then ? If you will excuse the slang I wiU 
 confess that it seems to me to be a remarkably 
 level one." 
 
 " So it is," said Julia proudly; " it is as clever 
 a little head as one often meets, and I cannot help 
 feeling as if I were doing something disloyal in dar- 
 ing to question its decisions, but I should never 
 forgive myself if I let things go on without trying 
 to stop them." 
 
 " Do you mean that you think that she — that 
 she might care ? " asked Wilmott, with a kind of 
 gasp. 
 
 " I do not know," said Julia quietly. " I fear lest 
 she might care, and that would cause much misery." 
 
 " If she cared for me, I should care for her," 
 said Cecil, in a very low tone. 
 
 " Oh ! Cecil, and if you did what good could 
 come of it ? What but misery for both ? " 
 
 " I don't know," answered Wilmott, " that it is 
 worth while to consider so curiously in advance." 
 
 " That is exactly what it is worth whUe to do," 
 said Julia earnestly. " I want you to consider her 
 circumstances and yours before it is too late. Re- 
 member what you owe to your mother and sister — 
 and — and Cecil, do not be angry with me for re- 
 minding you that this is not the first time that you 
 have believed that you might care for some one." 
 
186 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " How do you know that ? " 
 
 " I know more. I know that at this very mo- 
 ment there is another woman who " — 
 
 " Stop Julia ! " interrupted Cecil sharply. 
 
 " I knew you would tell me that I had no right 
 to speak of it." 
 
 " I think you- are not inclined to curtail your 
 right." 
 
 " I have done now. I am so much in earnest that 
 I thank you for letting me speak as I have. You 
 don't know how I love my little friend." 
 
 " Yes I do," said Cecil, and he stretched out his 
 hand and took Julia's and then turned away, leav- 
 ing her in front of the State House, which they 
 had just reached. She saw him stand for a mo- 
 ment looking up at the statue of Washington, then 
 he entered the building, and was lost to view. 
 
 " I think 1 did right," she said to herself, "but 
 it was very hard to do." 
 
 At that moment, Edith and Charlotte Wihnott 
 came up, with Philip. 
 
 " What has become of Cecil ? " asked Charlotte. 
 " I saw him take the most touching farewell of 
 you. One would have thought you had parted for 
 life." 
 
 " One would have been mistaken," replied Julia 
 lightly, " for here comes your brother with Dr. Ca- 
 rey; I suppose he went to find him." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I remember Cecil did suggest that Dr. 
 Carey should meet us here," responded Charlotte. 
 
 " It was I who asked if he might be included in 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 187 
 
 your party, Charlotte," said Philip, " as he had 
 never been properly put through the sights." 
 
 " I don't wonder you felt a twinge of conscience 
 when he has stayed with you so often," remarked 
 Charlotte. 
 
 "As for that matter," said Julia, "I don't be- 
 lieve that Edith would have been made to do half 
 of her duty as a stranger in Philadelphia if you 
 had not taken her in hand, Charlotte. Philip and 
 I make very poor hosts. We are inclined to let our 
 guests do as they please, which is the most un- 
 principled thing in the world." 
 
 " I certainly think that any one returning»from 
 here, would regret not having seen Independence 
 Hall," said Charlotte stiffly. 
 
 " Why of course I should regret not seeing it," 
 cried Edith; " I am so much obliged to you for 
 bringing me here." 
 
 Nevertheless, she was conscious of a certain vague 
 feeling of disappointment when they entered the 
 square, white-plastered room, in which she was told 
 that the Declaration had been signed. She began 
 to realize that in hearing of Independence Hall she 
 must have imagined something like the hall of a 
 baronial castle, — not that she had ever seen such 
 a thing, but she had seen pictures of dim, lofty 
 chambers, with carved ceilings and massive walls 
 which were suggested by the name, and now they 
 all vanished in the broad sunlight which streamed 
 through the half-drawn faded curtains of the wide 
 windows and lay on the tiled floor of the cheerful 
 
188 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 apartment in which she stood. She gazed with 
 some dismay at the ring of stiff-looking armchairs, 
 with covers of Tarious materials, among which 
 leather and horsehair predominated, and read with 
 bewilderment the placards placed on the seats of 
 some of them proclaiming in large letters that they 
 had been restored to their original position by this 
 or that family of distinction. Some of these fami- 
 lies were so munificent as to have re-covered their 
 chair. She was interested in the portraits of the 
 various signers which were ranged overhead, al- 
 though it occurred to her that the artists might have 
 been»more liberal with their canvas. 
 
 " You forget that it was an economical age," said 
 Philip, with a grim smile. 
 
 " Do look at this mosaic, presented in memory 
 of the Centennial! " exclaimed Miss Wilmott en- 
 thusiastically, pausing before a massive picture in an 
 ebony frame, representing Washington, or rather 
 misrepresenting him, like so many of the worthy 
 General's portraits. 
 
 " Is it not beautiful ? " cried Charlotte. " It is a 
 gift of the Italian government." 
 
 " It is very elaborate," said Edith, to whom she 
 seemed to look for a reply. 
 
 " Elaborate ! I should think it was. Just think 
 of the time it must have taken to make it, and what 
 it must have cost." 
 
 Philip laughed. " I am afraid that is the prin- 
 cipal thing one does think of in looking at it," he 
 said. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 189 
 
 " Very true," responcled Cecil, " and as one 
 should not look a gift horse in the mouth, we had 
 better pass on." 
 
 Dr, Carey, who was talking to Julia, now led the 
 way into the room opposite, which contained quite 
 an interesting collection of curiosities and relics. 
 There they remained for some time examining the 
 vestiges of a highly respectable but much dilapi- 
 dated past. 
 
 Philip found Edith in front of a glass case, con- 
 taining an enormous silver-laced waistcoat ticketed 
 as having been worn at the Republican Court and 
 one would say at many a patriotic feast, exhibited 
 side by side with the baby-clothes made for John 
 Quincy Adams by Mrs. John Adams his illustrious 
 mamma, the tiniest things imaginable. She could 
 not help smiling at the contrast. 
 
 " What do you think of aU this ? " asked Philip. 
 
 " I like it. I feel as if I were beginning to catch 
 the spirit of the place." 
 
 " So am I," said Philip. " I have been wonder- 
 ing whether the Republican simplicity and quaint 
 sincerity of our forefathers, which it is so easy to 
 ridicule, may not have been a necessary medium for 
 reducing liberty from an ideal to a practical experi- 
 ment." 
 
 " I think it must have been," she answered 
 eagerly, " for I- was struggling with such a fancy, 
 too, but I should not have known how to express 
 it as well as that." 
 
 Philip smiled. " You always know how to say 
 
190 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 something kind," he responded, with a pleased light 
 in his eyes. 
 
 " Do come and look at this absurd little wooden 
 image of the Marquis de Lafayette, Philip ! " ex- 
 claimed Julia, and he turned to where she stood 
 just as Cecil approached. 
 
 "Would you like to see the cracked bell," he 
 asked, " which rang in independence ? " 
 
 Edith assented, and followed him from the room, 
 across the hall, and up the staircase, to where the 
 huge bronze beU hung, silent and solemn, beneath 
 the steeple of the State House., 
 
 " How did it get up there ? " she asked, tipping 
 back her head to look at it, with a wondering ex- 
 pression, like a child. 
 
 " It is not known," said WUmott. " For a long 
 while it was displayed to visitors in a sort of 
 wooden cage, formed of the original beams and 
 timbers on which it had once swung so freely when 
 on duty in the steeple." 
 
 " Perhaps, being cracked, the people were afraid 
 it might do something desperate," suggested Edith. 
 
 " It may have been something of that sort," re- 
 plied Cecil, " and perhaps it was the bell itself 
 which burst through these restraints and flew up 
 here. All I know is that one fine day, at about the 
 beginning of the centennial year, I saw it hanging 
 where you see it now." 
 
 " You are an excellent ciceroni ; " said Edith, 
 " you seem quite fertile in invention." She turned 
 to him gayly as she spoke, and was surprised at 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 191 
 
 the grave expression of his face. It was so out of 
 keeping with the easy, light tone in which he had 
 been speaking. " Are you not feeling well ? " she 
 asked impulsively. 
 
 "Very well indeed, thank you," he answered 
 coldly. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," she returned in an equally 
 distant manner. " I thought you looked unusually 
 grave." 
 
 " I feel grave," he said, in a weary way, unlike 
 his usual one, " but I am not Ul. I almost wish I 
 were." 
 
 She would not question him again, and they de- 
 scended the steps in silence. 
 
 " Come and look at the square," Philip proposed, 
 joining them with Charlotte. 
 
 They all stepped out on the sunny expanse of 
 Independence Square, and from here Edith thought 
 the vie^ of the State House was much more im- 
 pressive than from the other side. Dr. Lawrence 
 Carey was delighted with it. He said there was a 
 great deal of " tone " in the old bricks, but Edith 
 caught very few of his remarks, as they were di- 
 rected almost entirely to Julia. 
 
 She grew dispirited herself. Somehow the life 
 had gone out of her enjoyment, and she kept with 
 Philip and Charlotte, who talked together very 
 pleasantly, only interrupted by an occasional re- 
 mark from Cecil. After all, but a few of the sights 
 planned for her benefit were seen, and yet, at the 
 end of the day, she felt depressed and over-tired. 
 
CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 " A child of our grandmother Eve, a female ; 
 Or^ for thy more sweet understanding, a woman." 
 
 Shakxsfeabe. 
 
 Thet did not see Wilmott again for several 
 days. There were one or two small parties to 
 which Edith refused to go on the plea of a " head- 
 ache " and being " tired." Julia was surprised 
 and puzzled, but tried, without success, to change 
 her friend's decision. Edith had her way and 
 stayed at home, talking to Miss Euthven, who was 
 initiating her into the mysteries of a new stitch, or 
 listening to Mr. Drayton, who was fond of reading 
 aloud, and could thus entertain them both. <► 
 
 There was a weary look in her blue eyes at times, 
 and a perplexed sadness in her face, as though re- 
 gretfully admitting a fact to her consciousness of 
 the existence of which she had not dreamed; but 
 Julia, who was very busy just then with her own 
 affairs, did not see the look, and so could not inter- 
 pret it. Everywhere that Miss Prescott went she 
 met Dr. Carey, and she was beginning to realize 
 that there was something in his manner a little dif- 
 ferent from what there formerly had been. Peo- 
 ple wondered that he was making quite so long a 
 visit to Philadelphia, and the care of Mr. Hajzzard, 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 193 
 
 who was now able to get about by means of a 
 crutch, did not seem quite a sufficient retaining 
 cause. 
 
 " I imagine he is staying for the Assembly. I 
 think Philip said he had not been to one m Phila- 
 delphia," said Julia, in answer to a question from 
 Mrs. Davering as to what she "thought" of the 
 matter. 
 
 Mrs. Davering, indeed, was much disturbed by 
 Dr. Carey's lengthened stay, but her sense of pro- 
 priety as a hostess, and fear that the cause of her 
 annoyance might be suspected, prevented her from 
 expressing herself freely on the subject even in 
 confidence. 
 
 As for Charley, he was, as usual, fighting against 
 his own interests with a blindness which was quite 
 incomprehensible to his politic mother. He felt 
 sincerely attached to Dr. Carey, and grateful to 
 him, in his off-hand way, for the care he had taken 
 of him, and would urge him to stay from day to 
 day, — now for this thing, now for that, — so that 
 his blustering cordiality quite drowned any lack of 
 heartiness which Mrs. Davering may have shown 
 in seconding the invitation. Besides, there was one 
 point on which she did show equal eagerness of 
 insistence. She would not hear of Dr. Carey's ac- 
 cepting Philip's invitation to make him a visit, and 
 going from her house to Mr. Drayton's, any more 
 than Charley would. It was bad enough to have 
 him in the same city with Julia, she thought, but 
 it would be worse to have him under the same roof. 
 
 13 
 
194 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Davering had to keep all her discon- 
 tent to herself therefore, but on the occasion just 
 referred to she ventured a question to Julia, by 
 way of sounding that impenetrable young person, 
 and alsofunder the painful conviction that she was 
 apt to know more of Dr. Carey's plans and motives 
 than most people. 
 
 They had met in the supper-room at a little 
 party at Mrs. Percy's. It was a very small affair, 
 such as she was fond of giving, only ten or fifteen 
 ladies, and the larger proportion of gentlemen, 
 which was always noticeable at Mrs. Percy's enter- 
 tainments. 
 
 " I suppose, of course, then, that he is to dance 
 the cotillon with you," said Mrs. Davering, by 
 way of rejoinder to Julia's supposition that Dr. 
 Carey was staying for the Assembly. 
 
 "I do not know that it is quite a matter of 
 course," replied Julia carelessly, " but he is, and I 
 am glad, for I think him an agreeable partner." 
 
 "It is hard for Charley that he cannot hope to 
 use his feet in that way again this winter," said his 
 mother. " He is so fond of dancing ! " 
 
 " Yes, and he dances so well," responded Julia, 
 who, though far from guessing all Mrs. Davering's 
 secrets, knew how dearly she loved to hear her first- 
 bom praised, and had besides an honest liking for 
 the simple-hearted fellow. 
 
 " He is here to-night, you know," said the older 
 lady, with a smile, " and he is to take me to the 
 Assembly. You must not forget to meet me in the 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 195 
 
 dressing-room, you and Miss Arnold, at ten o'clock. 
 By the bye, why is not your little friend here this 
 evening?" 
 
 " I do not know. I did my best to persuade her 
 to come," said Julia, " but she would not, although 
 Mrs. Percy very courteously inclosed a card and a 
 special invitation ; she says she is waiting for the 
 Assembly." 
 
 "Mr. Drayton does not seem to be here this 
 evening, either. Is he also waiting for the Assem- 
 bly?" 
 
 " I fancy so," answered Julia laughing. " He 
 has been rather lazy since his accident, and looked 
 very comfortable when I left him, in his arm-chair, 
 in the library. Philip was the only person whom 
 I could induce to come with me." 
 
 " I suppose you left Miss Arnold ia the library, 
 too?" 
 
 " Yes. Edith and Miss Euthven were both there. 
 They are getting to be great cronies." 
 
 " Some one else is getting to be a great crony 
 of Miss Arnold, it seems." 
 
 " Who do you mean ? " 
 
 " Why, Mr. Drayton. Do you not think he 
 is?" 
 
 "Yes," said Julia, opening her eyes a little. 
 " He likes Edith very much, I think." 
 
 "I never should have expected it," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Davering. "If any one had asked me I 
 should have said it was the most unlikely thing 
 in the world ! " 
 
196 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 "I do not see why any one should not like 
 Edith," said Julia. 
 
 " Oh ! of course, she is a very nice girl, but I 
 should have thought him so much more likely to 
 fancy a person of a difPerent style. Some one 
 older, and " — 
 
 " And what ? " asked Julia haughtily. 
 
 " And — well — to be frank with you, rather 
 cleverer, but there is no accounting for tastes. 
 The times are certainly changed when such a so- 
 ciety man as your guardian wUl let you go with 
 Philip to a party and spend the evening quietly at 
 home." 
 
 " It is not a subject which I care to discuss," said 
 Julia ; " but although my guardian has had some 
 social duties to perform which have encroached 
 upon his evenings, I can truly say that he has 
 passed a part of every one, which he could pass, 
 at home for many years, and I believe happily." 
 
 " Quite right, quite right, my dear. I am sure 
 that he has done his duty by you very thoroughly, 
 and it is natural that you shoidd not fancy the idea 
 of any change, but changes will come, as Mr. Dray- 
 ton said himself to me the other evening." 
 
 " What did Mr. Drayton say ? " 
 
 " Why we had been talking of you, and he said 
 that of course his life could not go on forever as it 
 was going now." 
 
 "He said that?" 
 
 " Words to that effect. He certainly spoke of 
 himself in connection with the idea of coming 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 197 
 
 change, and I associated the remark, not unreason- 
 ably, with the possibility of his marrying again." 
 
 " Such an association may not seem unreason- 
 able to you," retorted Julia, with flashing eyes, 
 " but to me it seems very disrespectful." 
 
 Mrs. Davering looked at her pityingly. 
 
 " It is foolish to get so excited about it, Julia," 
 she said, " for it is certainly well to face the possi- 
 biliiy. Of course it would be disagreeable for 
 you if your guardian were to marry at any time," 
 she continued, in a patronizing tone which was par- 
 ticularly galling. " More so for you, I think, than 
 for Philip, because your position in the household 
 would be so much altered ; but if he could have 
 chosen a suitable person, of a proper age, I cannot 
 say that the step might not have had its advantar 
 geous side in affording you a protection which you 
 have never had." 
 
 " Mrs. Davering," replied Julia, rising from her 
 seat, " you have said much more than I should 
 have allowed any one else to say, but even old 
 friendship does not give the liberty you are tak- 
 ing." 
 
 Decidedly the victory was not with Mrs. Daver- 
 ing, in spite of her well-turned phrases. As she 
 saw Miss Prescott leave the supper room on the 
 arm of Dr. Lawrence Carey, she experienced a 
 twipge of regret most uncommon with her, for she 
 feared that she had gone too far in the very direc- 
 tion in which she intended not to go. What if 
 the girl should not only resent her interference, as 
 
198 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 it was evident she did, but believing all that she 
 pretended to discredit, should be stung by the idea 
 into accepting the wrong man? It never occurred 
 to Mrs. Davering that Julia could be in earnest in 
 disavowing the bare possibility of her guardian's 
 thinking of mar;?iage, for Algernon Drayton was a 
 man so young for his years, and so attractive to 
 women, that she had heard such a chance discussed 
 again and again, and it seemed absurd to her to 
 be asked to believe that it had never entered the 
 mind of so acute and intelligent a person as Miss 
 Prescott. 
 
 " It was all very fine," she said to herself, " to 
 get so indignant with me, but it was done for effect, 
 of course. She knows as well as I do, that many 
 and many a cap has been set to catch him, and it 
 is a wonder he has not been caught before." 
 
 Julia meanwhile was floating away on Dr. 
 Carey's arm to the dreamy music of a waltz. 
 
 " What a very handsome girl Miss Prescott is ! " 
 exclaimed Charley Hazzard admiringly to Cecil 
 Wilmott, who had just come in and was looking 
 rather cross. 
 
 " Yes," said Cecil, following the direction of his 
 eyes, " she is very handsome, if one admires that 
 style." 
 
 " I do not see how any one can help admiring 
 it," said Mr. Hazzard. 
 
 " I know you do not," replied Cecil, for it was 
 well known among his friends how " hopelessly 
 gone " — as he himself expressed it — Mr. Haz- 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 199 
 
 zard had been with regard to Miss Preseott for 
 several years. 
 
 " I am glad to see you about again, old fellow," 
 Cecil added kindly. " How is your ankle ? — bet- 
 ter?" 
 
 " Oh, my ankle is all right," said Mr. Hazzard, 
 " if Carey would only take this confounded plaster 
 dressing off. You have no idea how imcomfortable 
 it makes a fellow." 
 
 " I rather think Carey knows what he is about," 
 said Cecil. " You would probably be worse off 
 without it. There is Mrs. Davering, I must go 
 and speak to her." 
 
 Cecil liked to win his reputation for good na- 
 ture easily. It cost very little to ask after a friend, 
 but to listen to his complaints was a more serious 
 matter, and he saw no reason why he should be 
 bored with those of this stalwart young fellow, whose 
 present position represented the height of worldly 
 prosperity, whatever the future might have in store 
 for him in the way of reverses. He had a rich 
 mother to surround him with every luxury, a rich 
 stepfather to indulge his every taste, a beautiful 
 country seat to spend his summers in, the hand- 
 somest of city homes ia which to entertain his 
 friends, and a yearly allowance with which to sat- 
 isfy his every whim, whUe with Cecil things were 
 different. In spite of the anxious effort at home 
 to save him from the groveling cares which beset 
 the women of his family, he often felt the need of 
 money, and realized without acknowledging it, the 
 
200 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 inconsistency of this sensation with the butterfly 
 life which he chose to lead ; for it took all his in- 
 genuity to dress himself in the latest fashion, to 
 frequent the most elegant club, to provide himself 
 with cigars and his lady friends with bouquets, and 
 yet avoid contracting biUs which he could not pay. 
 That he did not contract bills was somewhat to his 
 credit. He certainly did not, but in the constant 
 effort to live as others did on twice the money, he 
 expended energy worthy of a better cause. He 
 knew, in fact, that it was his duty to have turned 
 this energy to the support of his mother and sister, 
 for whom he was bound to work, and yet he hated 
 work, and whenever he thought of it all the zeal 
 with which he was always ready to throw himself 
 into any scheme for pleasure or diversion seemed 
 to leave him entirely. He was thinking of it a 
 great deal to-night, which was one reason for his 
 dullness of mood. 
 
 Cecil turned away, and Mr. Hazzard, who was 
 left leaning by himself across the doorway, looked 
 again for the cynosure of his eyes, but she had 
 vanished. Only the pretty Miss Davering was to 
 be seen, dancing with Mr. Drum Kettleby. He 
 took refuge with his hostess, who invited him to 
 accompany her to a small room opening from the 
 one where they were dancing, in search of claret 
 punch. Here they came upon Miss Prescott, rest- 
 ing a moment apparently from the fatigue of the 
 waltz, while Dr. Carey stood in front of her talk- 
 ing very earnestly. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 201 
 
 Mr. Hazzard provided Mrs. Percy with some 
 claret, keeping his eye all the time on the couple 
 at the other side of the room. She sat down on 
 the sofa and sipped it slowly, and just then Cecil 
 Wilmott came to speak to her. 
 
 Cecil had been flitting about everywhere, like an 
 uneasy spirit. Mr. Hazzard took advantage of his 
 advent to desert to Julia's side, in spite of the dis- 
 couraging expression of Dr. Carey's back. 
 
 "Sit down, Mr. Wilmott," said Mrs. Percy, 
 "you look tired." Her tones were very soft, al- 
 most caressing. 
 
 He yielded silently. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, nothing. I am a little out of sorts," said 
 Cecil. 
 
 " I thought you were not feeling well the other 
 evening," rejoined Mrs. Percy. " Did not Char- 
 lotte tell me that you had been sightseeing or some- 
 thing of the kind, much against your wiU ? " 
 
 "I don't know," answered Cecil, "what Char- 
 lotte said, but that sort of thing is always a bore." 
 
 " Of course it is," said Mrs. Percy, with a posi- 
 tive little nod of her head. " I met Charlotte at 
 Homer's the next morning, and she told me all 
 about it. What did you do it for ? " 
 
 " To please her." 
 
 " But whom did you take to see the sights ? " 
 
 " Dr. Carey for one, and Miss Prescott and her 
 friend' Miss Arnold," said Cecil. 
 
 " Ah ! yes, the young lady whom I saw at the 
 
202 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 opera last week ? I was so sorry that she did not 
 come this evening. I wonder why it was. Do you 
 know?" 
 
 " I ? Of course not. How should I ? " an- 
 swered Cecil uneasily. 
 
 " Look at me," commanded Mrs. Percy softly. 
 He turned slowly towards her as though compelled 
 by some unseen force, until he met her beautifid 
 dark eyes. They seemed to be burning into his. 
 
 " You are a foolish fellow," she said, " to try 
 to hide your fancies from me. This one will 
 
 He watched her red lips playing over her white 
 teeth, as she spoke, and hardly knew what she was 
 saying. 
 
 " I think I will go away," he said. 
 
 " When ? " 
 
 " After the Assembly," 
 
 She laughed. " You will ' treat ' your resolu- 
 tion." 
 
 " Am I not engaged to dance the cotillon with 
 you?" 
 
 " Are you ? I had forgotten it." 
 
 " Have you promised to dance with any one 
 else ? " 
 
 " No, but I can, you know, if you would rather 
 not stay." 
 
 " I would much rather stay, and I expect you to 
 dance with me." 
 
 A ray of triumph shot from her eyes. 
 
 " How do you manage it ? " she asked. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 203 
 
 "Manage what?"" 
 
 " Being in love with two persons at the same 
 time." 
 
 " I am not in love with two persons." 
 
 " Then which is it? " She was still looking into 
 his eyes, with a mocking smile. It showed aU the 
 pretty dimples round her chin, as she knew full 
 well. 
 
 " Ah ! which has it always been ? " cried Cecil, 
 just above his breath. 
 
 " It would be better worth while to ask which it 
 is to be ? " she said. 
 
 " That is a question which I cannot answer," 
 returned Cecil pointedly. 
 
 " Can I?" asked Mrs. Percy. 
 
 " You could have once," he answered. 
 
 " Ah ! " she exclaimed, and her eyes &ished. 
 
 " Decidedly you had better go away," she added 
 in a moment, rising with an indifferent air to re- 
 turn to her other guests, and Cecil happening to 
 glance across the room noticed that Miss Prescott 
 was looking at him. It was an abstracted gaze, but 
 Cecil did not know it. He would not seem to avoid 
 the meeting, although he was in no mood to talk 
 to her just then, and so strolled over to where she 
 sat surrounded by Dr. Carey, Mr. Hazzard, and 
 Mr. FoxaU who had lately joined the group. 
 
 " Oh, do tell me. Miss Prescott," Mr. Hazzard 
 was saying, " what have you done with that pretty 
 little friend of yours who was so frightened the 
 other day by Jig? Is she still staying with you? 
 
204 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 I haTe been intending to come'to see you again, if 
 you will allow me to do so." 
 
 " Do come, by all means," said Julia. " Miss 
 Arnold is stUl with me, and we shall be delighted 
 to see you." 
 
 " Why did she not come to the party this even- 
 ing?" asked Mr. Hazzard. 
 
 " She has not been feeling very well. I am afraid 
 Jig was too much for her." 
 
 " Seriously, Miss Prescott," said Mr. Foxall, 
 " why did you not bring Miss Arnold with you ? I 
 have been looking about for her everywhere, for 
 she promised me a dance the next time we met at 
 a party." 
 
 " I wanted to bring her, of course," replied Julia, 
 " but she would not come. I cannot give you any 
 better reason for her absence than that." 
 
 " Certainly not," said Dr. Carey. " From a lady 
 it is unanswerable." 
 
 " I wonder if he has heard that dreadful report," 
 thought Julia. If Cecil had known how her brain 
 was in a whirl of strange fancies, and new ideas, 
 and she was wearied with the effort to conceal her 
 troubled mind, he would not have feared her so 
 much. As it was, it was the greatest relief when 
 she turned to him with her usual friendly smile. 
 " I am glad to see you, Cecil," she said, " for I am 
 sure it is time to go home. WiU you not see if you 
 can find Philip, and ask him to call the carriage? " 
 
 " I will, certainly," responded Cecil, grateful for 
 the excuse to get away. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " High instinctS} before which our mortal nature 
 Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised.*' 
 
 WOEDSWOBTH. 
 
 On the drive home Julia's mind reverted to her 
 discussion with Mrs. Davering, and dwelt on the 
 extraordinary report which she had retailed with a 
 sort of startled fascination. 
 
 " I believe she invented the whole thing," she 
 said to herself indignantly ; but the more she re- 
 flected upon the matter the less likely she thought 
 it that Mrs. Davering, who was quite devoid of 
 imagination, could have achieved such a bold 
 stroke of fancy. 
 
 " I was dreadfully bored this evening," remarked 
 Philip, with a suppressed yawn. " I don't know 
 when I have felt so dull at a party." 
 
 " It must have been something in the air. I 
 too was longing to get home." 
 
 " That is not very complimentary to Carey." 
 
 " I do not feel especially called upon to compli- 
 ment Dr. Carey." 
 
 " Why are you always so savage about him ? " 
 asked Philip, in a vexed tone. " He is certainly 
 very good to you, and you know that he is one of 
 my best friends." 
 
206 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " I am not savage, as you call it, about Ms friend- 
 ship for you." 
 
 " But why won't you treat him fairly ? There is 
 that hair-brained donkey, Charley Hazzard, whom 
 you let hang about you, and are as gracious to, as 
 he pleases." 
 
 " Mr. Hazzard's hanging abou^ me for the last 
 three weeks has amounted to his sending me a 
 New Year's card," said Julia laughing. 
 
 " That is because he has been confined to his own 
 house." 
 
 " Well, here we are at ours," said Julia, and as 
 she spoke the carriage stopped. 
 
 Philip let her in with his dead-latch key. The 
 lights were all out in the drawing-room. They 
 passed along the entry to the library, of which 
 Philip was just going to open the door, when 
 Julia placed a detaining hand on his, already on 
 the handle. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " asked Philip. 
 
 " Stop a moment," she said. 
 
 He took his hand away, and looked at her in sur- 
 prise. She dropped her eyes and drew a long 
 breath. 
 
 " Now open it." 
 
 Philip did so wonderingly. 
 
 The room was quite empty. The gas was lit, but 
 turned down low. Only the fire was burning 
 brightly. Some large sheets of paper, closely writ- 
 ten in part, but some untouched, lay with a pen 
 and inkstand near a low lamp on the table, attest- 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 207 
 
 ing that some one had been interrupted in writ- 
 ing. 
 
 Julia looked about her, with an odd, startled air. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " asked Philip again. 
 " One would think you expected to see a ghost." 
 
 " Oh ! no," said Julia, " not a ghost." She sat 
 down in a chair, and began slowly drawing off her 
 gloves. 
 
 " I suppose every one has gone to bed, it is the 
 most sensible thing Ihey could have done," said 
 Philip. " I will go and shut up the house," and he 
 started on his nightly round to see that everything 
 was secure before retiring himself. This tour of 
 inspection was always very thorough and usually 
 began with the cellar, before descending to which 
 Plutonic region he lighted a candle which stood 
 ready on a table in the entry. 
 
 Julia heard his footsteps die away on the cellar 
 stairs, and the next moment one of the large doors 
 of the drawing-room was swung slowly open and 
 a man's figure was half visible in the firelight 
 against the blackness of the space beyond. 
 
 She started to her feet. " Who is that ? " she 
 asked sharply. 
 
 "Who indeed," said a voice, — one she knew 
 and loved so weU that her heart was stirred at the 
 unexpected sound. 
 
 " I am truly ashamed of myself," said Mr. Dray- 
 ton, emerging from the darkness. " Do you know, 
 my dear, that I sat up after the ladies had gone to 
 bed, on the plea that I had some important writing 
 
208 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 to do, with the unacknowledged intention of sweet- 
 ening my task by a little chat with you and hear- 
 ing the first news of the party, and suddenly I be- 
 came so sleepy that I felt that I must go and lie 
 down- — why, what has happened? Are you not 
 weU, my child ? " 
 
 " You startled me so," said Julia, pressing her 
 hand to her heart. 
 
 He had come close beside her now, and noticed, 
 as the light from the shaded 'lamp fell full upon 
 her, the unusual paleness of her face. 
 
 " Sit down," he said, affectionately. " I am 
 sorry. I should have remembered that you prob- 
 ably thought yourself alone, but I have been fast 
 asleep and only just waked up." 
 
 "It is not your fault at all," said Julia, " but my 
 own stupidity. I do not know why I am so ner- 
 vous to-night." 
 
 " You are a little over-tired," said her guardian 
 tenderly, drawing her head to his shoulder as he 
 stood beside her chair. 
 
 Suddenly she burst into tears, and flung her 
 arms round him, clinging to him like a hurt child. 
 
 " What is it ? Why, what is it, my dear girl ? 
 What has happened to give you pain ? " 
 
 " Nothing, oh ! nothing. Do not ask me," she 
 sobbed, hiding her face against his arm. 
 
 " Something must have happened, Julia," said 
 Mr. Drayton, in a moved tone. " I know you too 
 well not to be sure of that." 
 
 *' Yes, there was something," she admitted, " but 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 209 
 
 it was only what some one said. It was not worth 
 listening to. I am over-tired, as you say, and fool- 
 ish." 
 
 "Was it something which Dr. Carey said?" 
 asked her guardian, very gravely. 
 
 Julia hastily raised her head. " No," she an- 
 swered, " it certainly was not." 
 
 " What was it about ? " 
 
 " About you." 
 
 " Then you must tell me what it was." 
 
 " Oh ! do not ask me," she cried. 
 
 "I think I ought to know." 
 
 " But it was mere nonsense — mere idle gos- 
 sip ! " 
 
 " It must have had some importance, to have 
 moved you so." 
 
 "It seemed to me profane," said Julia, with 
 flashing eyes. 
 
 " Tell me what it was." 
 
 " I don't know how I can. I was told that — 
 that there was a report — that you " — 
 
 " That I what ? " 
 
 " Were thinking of being married," said Julia, 
 too loyal to her friend to breathe her name in such 
 connection. 
 
 " It was profane," said Mr. Drayton solemnly. 
 
 Julia smiled a happy smile, looking up into his 
 face. 
 
 " Oh, I could n't bear it," she whispered. 
 
 The playful light returned to his eyes. " SUly 
 little woman," he said, and smoothed the hair ten- 
 U 
 
210 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 derly away from her forehead as he spoke. Then 
 he stooped and kissed her. He intended the caress 
 to be as parental as every other that he had ever be- 
 stowed, but as their lips met something happened. 
 A sudden wave of feeling seemed to sweep them 
 together. His arms tightened around her for a 
 moment, and then dropped to his sides. He hardly 
 knew where he was. She had half turned away. 
 Then in a moment he took one of her little slender 
 hands in his, and raised it to his lips with a deep- 
 drawn sigh. 
 
 " Good-night, my child," he said, and led her to 
 the door, where she slipped- by Philip, returning 
 from his inspection, like a phantom, and ran has- 
 tily up stairs. 
 
 If great works necessarily grow slowly this is 
 not true of great events. The unconscious prepa- 
 ration for them may often be gradual, but they 
 seem to shoot into existence at the last, and before 
 we conceive that they are possible confront us in 
 their entirety as accomplished facts. 
 
 If any one will take -the trouble to recall the 
 period of his or her life which has been the most 
 decisive, and to count out the days or weeks which 
 went to make it, he will hardly believe that last 
 summer, or the week before last, was really quite 
 as long as that other time which meant so much 
 and had such far-stretching consequences. 
 
 To Julia all the night which, followed was one 
 strange, fevered dream. She seemed to see Law- 
 rence Carey, Mrs. Davering, Cecil Wilmott, Edith, 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 211 
 
 and her guardian, masquerading in varied groups 
 and unfamiliar scenes. The world was topsy-turvy 
 and all her thoughts gone mad, while all sensation 
 was centred about one little action which was for- 
 ever recurring to her memory with its first inten- 
 sity of meaning. No other kiss which her guar- 
 dian had ever given her had been like this one. 
 He had not kissed her often, but when he had done 
 so it had been as the tender protector who took the 
 place of a father, and who always acted as if he 
 were one. She had believed before this that she 
 loved him as an affectionate daughter might have 
 loved a father, who had been all in all to her lonely 
 childhood, giving her a home and warm regard, and 
 even a certain right over his life, by placing her at 
 the head of his household, but she never 'dreamed 
 of wishing to be more to him than this, or of ever 
 being less, until to-night. She had been surprised 
 and shocked at the wild pang of jealousy which 
 shot through her at Mrs. Davering's suggestion of 
 the possibility of Mr. Drayton's marrying again, 
 but even that had not inspired any doubt in her 
 of the nature of her affection for him. She was 
 ashamed of the anger and hatred which were in 
 her heart when the idea was conjured up of a pos- 
 sible wife, — a somebody who should stand between 
 herself and him, but she little guessed their cause. 
 She was perfectly contented. She had all she 
 wanted. She wished for no change, and even now 
 she desired nothing so much as that things should 
 remain as they 'always had been. 
 
212 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 If she could only live on as slie had done, hold- 
 ing the same happy, honored place in Mr. Dray- 
 ton's heart and home, it would be enough ; but she 
 had an uneasy sense that this was not to be. There 
 was something in the rapture of that kiss, which 
 left a haunting fear behind. Could they live on, 
 in the old way, since that had been ? She wished 
 to persuade herself that they could, and yet she al- 
 most feared the light of day lest it should show 
 her that the disc, in which she had seen reflected 
 all the pageant of her life, was cracked in a thou- 
 sand fragments, like the magic mirror of the Lady 
 of Shalott. 
 
 Morning came at last and brought with it no 
 sudden change. She rose and dressed early, and 
 slipped down to the breakfast room, where the first 
 person whom she saw was Mr. Drajrton, seated at 
 a little table near the window, writing. He looked 
 up as she entered, and smiled at her with his kind, 
 familiar smile. 
 
 " Good morning, my dear," he said pleasantly. 
 " I have had to pay for my laziness, you see, by 
 getting up early to accomplish my work." 
 
 Julia only answered his greeting with a word. 
 Her tongue, which was usually so glib, seemed un- 
 accountably stiff, and strive as she would to speak 
 and look as usual, her voice sounded strange to 
 herself. 
 
 Mr. Prayton did not seem to notice that she 
 made none of her ordinary inquiries as to how he 
 was feeling, or how he had slept.' He went on 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 213 
 
 ■writing steadUy, while she moved about the room 
 after her wonted fashion, drawing the curtain of a 
 window, where she thought the light too strong, 
 arranging some flowers in a low glass dish on the 
 breakfast table, opening a new review, cutting the 
 leaves of a number of " Punch " which had just 
 come. She would often take advantage of a quiet 
 moment like this, if she saw that he was finishing 
 his work, to ask his opinion of some topic of the 
 day, in which she chanced to be interested ; but she 
 saw him fold up his papers in silence this morn- 
 ing, and handed him the letters she had just sorted 
 out for him, from a pile brought in by Eogers, 
 without a word. He thanked her in his usual 
 tone ; but it was a relief to her when Miss Euth- 
 ven came down, and soon after Philip and Edith. 
 
 She went forward and greeted her friend with 
 peculiar warmth. 
 
 " I am perfectly weU to-day, thank you," said 
 Edith, in answer to her affectionate inquiries. 
 
 She looked indeed the picture of health, as fresh 
 and as delicate as a pink rose in spring. 
 
 " We missed you so much at the party last 
 night," said Julia. " Every one was asking after 
 you." 
 
 " Every one ! " repeated Edith laughing. "Who, 
 for instance ? " 
 
 She flushed a little as she asked the question, 
 although she put it carelessly. 
 
 Julia did not notice this, being otherwise ab- 
 sorbed. 
 
214 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " It is hard to remember a list of names," she 
 said ; " there were so many. I know that Mr. 
 Drum Kettleby did, and Mr. Hazzard and Mrfe. 
 Davering, — and — let me see — and Mr. Foxall, 
 and Mrs. Percy, — and more besides, I think." 
 
 " They were all very kind," said Edith coldly. 
 
 " I think that thy friend Edith Arnold took the 
 wiser part, Julia," said Miss. Euthven, "in resting 
 quietly at home, on the evening before her first 
 ball." 
 
 " I am sure she did," said Philip, " for Julia 
 looks very tired this morning." 
 
 " It does not make much difference how I look," 
 said Julia. " You know the Assembly is not my 
 first baU." 
 
 " It is your first Assembly," said Philip, " and it 
 is a great pity that you should not enjoy it." 
 
 " Oh ! she wiU enjoy it when she is there," said 
 Edith. " Julia's looks and feelings in the evening 
 never depend upon having had a good sound sleep 
 the night before, as mine do. Even at school, we 
 used to notice that the more tired she was the bet- 
 ter she looked by lamp light. Her cheeks used to 
 have a way of flushing and her eyes such an aston- 
 ishing way of shining, late at night." 
 
 " They have stiU," said Mr. Drayton, who had 
 just left his letters to come to table. Julia busied 
 herself in making him a cup of coffee, and said 
 nothing. 
 
 " Miss Ruthven and I had such a pleasant talk 
 last evening," said Edith. " I was hearing all 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 215 
 
 about the Revolution — the time when General 
 Washington was quartered in Philadelphia, and 
 then about the Republican Court, and who the 
 worthy general used to come to visit in Philadel- 
 phia after his administration. I am to be taken 
 to see one of the very houses which he used to stay 
 in on the other side of the river, am I not ? " she 
 asked, turning to the old lady. 
 
 " If it should please thee, my dear." 
 
 " Of course it will please her," said Philip, 
 " and I invite myseK to be of the party. I always 
 used to imagine when I was a boy. Miss Arnold, 
 that Aunt Margaretta had lived herself in the days 
 of the Revolution. She tells those stirring tales 
 with all the spirit of an eye-witness." 
 
 " Now thou art drawing on thy fancy, Philip," 
 said Miss Ruthven, with a gleam of gentle humor, 
 " and crediting me with too great tenacity of life. 
 I was only recounting to Edith Arnold some of the 
 events which my mother has narrated to me as oc- 
 curring when she was young." 
 
 " Ah ! I know aU about those dear old stories," 
 said Philip, " and they are a thousand times better 
 than the stupid entertainment to which Jidia and 
 I doomed ourselves." 
 
 " Was not your party pleasant? " asked Edith. 
 
 " Pleasant enough," said Philip. " Very much as 
 they usually are, and we agreed afterwards that we 
 had both wished ourselves at home, aU the evening." 
 
 " One often says things which one does not 
 mean, when one is tired," said Julia. " I really 
 
216 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 think now that I should hare been sorry to miss 
 the party." 
 
 " Sapit qui reputat," said Mr. Drayton. He too 
 had had his wakeful hours, in the preceding night, 
 but they had been much sadder, more bitter hours 
 than Julia's. 
 
 They had been sweetened by none of the mys- 
 tery of half-awakened consciousness to a stronger, 
 deeper love than had been conceived of in the be- 
 ing he cared for most on earth. Algernon Dray- 
 ton had not supposed for a moment that the knowl- 
 edge of the nature of his love for Julia, of which 
 he had been wholly ignorant until it so unexpect- 
 edly betrayed him to himself, was shared by his 
 ward, — still less that his love was returned. 
 
 Beautiful, true, and fearless as the image of 
 Julia always presented itself to him, it never oc- 
 curred to him to think of her as anything but a 
 sweet trust which God had committed to his safe- 
 keeping, whose welfare and happiness he was bound 
 to seek, whose nature for its own sake it was his 
 pleasure and his duty to develop. He felt his re- 
 sponsibility aU the more because this charge had 
 been a voluntary one and the girl when she had 
 come to him had been in need of friends, and he 
 had loved her truly and tenderly ; but how or when 
 this love had grown into the desire to keep her for 
 his own — to join her life to his — he could not be- 
 gin to conjecture ; he was too utterly pained and 
 shocked at such a thought to try. Thus to dis- 
 cover suddenly in himself what seemed to him 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 217 
 
 the most selfish of all impulses appeared incredi- 
 ble. He considered it unpardonable. He could not 
 forgive himself for having felt the feeling — much 
 less for having shown it ; and thinking of Julia's 
 youth and innocence, he resolved that come what 
 might he wotdd not drag it away in its freshness 
 and loveliness from its natural surroundings and 
 transplant it to his, to be henceforth shadowed by 
 the sadness of his years. 
 
CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 ' But strive atill to be a man before your mother.' 
 
 COWPEB. 
 
 In view of the state of things which she had her- 
 self hastened to precipitate, Mrs. Davering had 
 made up her mind that she must speak to Charley. 
 She had always shrunk instinctively from letting 
 him know that she knew of his fancy for Julia, her 
 seeming ignorance leaving her much more free to 
 minister to it; but it would not do to allow the 
 prize to be carried off from under his unsuspecting 
 eyes without opening them to what she feared was 
 taking place. He must be made to realize his dan- 
 ger and pushed to some immediate action. 
 
 " I want to speak a word to you, Charley," she 
 said, coming into the billiard-room where Hfe and 
 Mr. Davering and Dr. Carey were smoking their 
 cigars after dinner. 
 
 " Yes, mother. Is there anything the mat- 
 ter?" 
 
 " Nothing of moment, but I should like to see 
 you in my own room." 
 
 " Certainly." He followed her up-stairs very 
 composedly, and sat down on a low ottoman beside 
 the fire, in the cosy little sitting-room which opened 
 from her bed-chamber. " Do yoii object to my 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 219 
 
 smoking ? " lie asked. " Shall I throw away my 
 cigar ? " 
 
 " My dear son ! Is it impossible to rouse you to 
 the importance of anything ? " 
 
 " Why, what would you have ? " he inquired, 
 innocently. " You said there was nothing of conse- 
 quence the matter." 
 
 " There is nothing actually the matter now, but 
 I am dreadfully troubled at something which may 
 happen." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " It would be a great misfortune to you, I fear." 
 
 " A great misfortune ? " 
 
 "Yes. Would you not consider it so, if you 
 heard that Julia Preseott was engaged ? " 
 
 Charley frowned, and was silent. 
 
 " I suppose that would depend a good deal on 
 whom she was engaged to," he said, after a pause. 
 
 " Suppose it were to Dr. Carey ? " 
 
 " To Lawrence Carey ? Absurd ! Why should 
 you think of it ? " 
 
 " Only because I am very sure that he is think- 
 ing of it. Do you fancy that it is for the sake of 
 your company that he has lingered aU this while in 
 Philadelphia?" 
 
 " Not entirely. He has enjoyed his visit for 
 other reasons, of course. Philip has been one at- 
 traction." 
 
 " Julia has been a much stronger one." 
 
 "Why, he has known Julia — Miss Preseott, I 
 mean, since she was a little girl." 
 
220 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " So have you." 
 
 Mr. 'Hazzard got up and went to the window, 
 and threw away the end of his cigar. 
 
 " What, do you want me to do ? " he asked. 
 
 " Whatever you want to do. If you are willing 
 to let things go on, do nothing." 
 
 " How can I help things ' going on,' as you call 
 it?" 
 
 " If you cared about it, you could help it." 
 
 " Suppose I do care ? " 
 
 " Then why not tell Julia so ? " 
 
 Charley thrust his hands into his pockets, with a 
 faint whistle, and took a turn backwards and for- 
 wards from one end to the other of his mother's 
 dainty little morning-room before he answered. 
 
 " What would be the use of that," he asked at 
 last, " if, as you think, she cares for Carey ? " 
 
 " I do not think she cares for Dr. Carey." 
 
 " Then where is the danger ? " 
 
 "The danger lies in him. I think Dr. Carey 
 cares very much for her, and no one can tell what 
 headway he may make if you leave the game aU in 
 his hands." 
 
 " I see," said Charley, nodding wisely. " Well, 
 I won't do that." 
 
 His mother was delighted. She . had hardly 
 hoped for such a ready acceptance of her counsel, 
 fearing that in awakening him to his peril she 
 should dishearten him ; but his heart was not faint. 
 
 Miss Edith Arnold was, meanwhile, absorbed in 
 the preparations for her first ball ; and I am forced 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 221 
 
 to acknowledge that the subject of dress rose to 
 very large proportions in her mind on this day. 
 
 She was saved any grave doubt, to be sure, as to 
 what she should wear by the fact that her simple 
 wardrobe only offered one suitable toilet for such 
 an occasion, but she was a good deal disturbed lest 
 this might not prove in all respects the thing ; so 
 she dressed early, and betook herself to her friend's 
 door in an anxious mood. 
 
 " How pretty you look ! " cried Julia. " And 
 your dress is lovely." 
 
 " Do you really think it pretty ? " asked Edith, 
 with a shy, downward glance at the dress, which 
 appeared to consist of waves upon waves of a trans- 
 parent pink material, of which the general effect 
 was as of a rose-colored cloud. 
 
 " Of course I do. It is charming, and suits jovac 
 style so weU. Come and look at yourself in my 
 long glass. What made you think of wearing those 
 silver ornaments ? " 
 
 "They are Gertrude's. She insisted upon my 
 bringing them with me," answered Edith, mightily 
 pleased; "and Gertrude ordered the dress made 
 for me in New York, so that it is all her taste. 
 She is particularly fond of pink and silver." 
 
 " So am I — at least I like them of aU. things for 
 you," said Julia. " But I must begin to get ready 
 myself, or we shall be late." 
 
 Philip met them down-stairs, looking cheerful 
 and handsome, and apologized for his father^ who 
 had gone to see a client at one of the hotels, he 
 
222 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 said, and hoped to join them at the Assembly. 
 Then they all three rolled away in the carriage 
 through the damp, muddy streets, and Edith's 
 heart heat high with muffled expectation. She 
 thought of her mother and sister in their country 
 home, where she knew that the primitive little 
 household was already sinking to its long night's 
 rest, and then her fancy came bj.ck with a bound 
 to the image of herself which she had seen in 
 Julia's mirror. The contrast saddened her ino- 
 mentarily, only to add greater zest to her enjoy- 
 ment when her former mood returned. 
 
 On the whole she was a happy girl as Philip 
 held out his hand to help her from the carriage at 
 the side door of the Academy, and they passed 
 along the carpet spread over the pavement, be- 
 neath the awning, flanked on either side by a gap- 
 ing, curious crowd and guarded by policemen, and 
 vanished from the dim world without to the bright 
 one within. 
 
CHAPTEK XIX. 
 
 "And e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy, 
 The heart, distrusting, asks if tliia be joy." 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 A "WALTZ was being played as they entered 
 the ball-room, and Dr. Lawrence Carey surprised 
 Edith by approaching and asking for the pleasure 
 of the dance. The Bostonian had so seldom far 
 vored her with his notice that she glanced invol- 
 untarily at Julia, and saw that she had accepted 
 Mr. Hazzard's arm, who was leading her towards 
 a small room on the left, which opened from the 
 larger hall at that end. 
 
 Mrs. Davering, too, looked anxiously after the 
 retreating couple, and then critically at the pair 
 which had just left her side, for Edith had granted 
 Dr. Carey's request and been whirled away into the 
 mazes of the dance. 
 
 "Miss Arnold is a very good dancer," she re- 
 marked to Philip. " I should hardly have expected 
 it ; country girls so seldom are." 
 
 " Miss Arnold is so graceful that I shoidd have 
 said she could hardly fail to dance well," replied 
 Philip stoutly. 
 
 Mrs. Davering looked at him in astonishment. 
 
 " Good dancing is not always a matter of grace," 
 
224 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 she said composedly; "however, it seems that in 
 this instance you would have been right." 
 
 She was further surprised, in the course of the 
 evening, at the attention excited and received by 
 Edith Arnold ; but her interest was only partially 
 involved in these minor events of the evening, her 
 whole heart being set on its more important issues. 
 
 The two persons who had found a seat somewhat 
 removed from the giddy whirl, in the small room 
 set apart for conversation, were in Mrs. Dav%ing's 
 eyes the only two persons at the ball. She would 
 have been gratified if she could have seen them, 
 for Charley Hazzard was talking, and Julia seemed 
 to be a not uninterested listener. 
 
 He was telling of the expected advent of some 
 English cricket players that spring, and from 
 cricket came to discussing lawn tennis, where 
 they found common ground of interest, as they had 
 often played together, and Miss Prescott was an 
 excellent player. Mr. Hazzard gradually waxed 
 enthusiastic. 
 
 " How pretty you used to look in that blue and 
 white tennis dress of yours," he cried. " Do you 
 remember ? " 
 
 " No, I do not," said Julia. 
 
 " "Well, I do, and I am sure you ought to." 
 
 " I never remember looking pretty, but you are 
 right in saying that I ought to remember it if I 
 had." 
 
 " Nonsense. Of course you do I At least, you 
 certainly remember the dress." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 225 
 
 " I certainly do, and I would much rather remem- 
 ber the beauty. It might cheer me in my old age." 
 
 " It is just like you to talk of your old age, at 
 your first Assembly," said Charley, with a resigned 
 air. 
 
 "It seems to show that I have postponed my 
 first Assembly rather unfortunately long." 
 
 " Why, yes," rejoined Mr. Hazzard, with rarely 
 facetious emphasis. " I believe you are actually 
 nineteen ! " 
 
 " I am almost twenty, sir, and in another year I 
 shall be twenty-one ! " 
 
 " In another year " — these playful words sug- 
 gested to Charley Hazzard aU the changes which 
 a year might bring, and he recalled his mother's 
 warning. - 
 
 " I wonder where you and I will be in another 
 year," he said despondently. 
 
 " Why, here, I suppose, of course." 
 
 " I wish we might be together," replied Mr. 
 Hazzard. " I mean — that is — do you think you 
 could ever care for me ? " 
 
 "Of course. I care for you now," said Julia. 
 " Are we not the best of friends ? " 
 
 " Do you — don't you think you might care 
 more than that? " asked Charley anxiously. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " , 
 
 " Oh ! You know what I mean. You must 
 know." 
 
 " No, I do not," she said uneasily. 
 
 " Well, I do," said Charley. " I am just dis- 
 
 15 
 
226 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 tracted about you, and I always shall be ! Don't 
 you think, if you tried, you might get to caring for 
 me?" 
 
 " Dear Mr. Hazzard," said Julia, rising, " I do 
 care, as much as I ever could, but it is only as a 
 friend, and I must not let you talk to me like this." 
 
 " Then you will go and marry some other feUow," 
 said Charley desperately. 
 
 " How foolish ! I am not going to marry any one. 
 Is it possible that you did not know that I intend 
 to be an old maid ? " 
 
 " Do you, really? " 
 
 " Of course I do." 
 
 " Will you promise to tell me if you change your 
 mind?" 
 
 Julia laughed. It never occurred to her to take 
 him seriously. " How persistent you are ! " she 
 said. "Here comes Mr. Freeman, to whom I 
 promised a waltz." 
 
 "Oh! Here you are, Miss Prescott, and Ha^ 
 zard too. It is the first time I have seen you about, 
 old man, since your accident," said Mr. Freeman, 
 making his appearance at this moment. " He does 
 not look like a sick man, does he, Miss Prescott? 
 By the bye, may I not have this dance? " 
 
 "Hang the fellow!" thought Charley. "It is 
 just my luck to have him come up ! " But there 
 was no help for the interruption, and he consoled 
 himself with the reflection that if Julia would not 
 promise to smile on him, she had at least denied 
 the intention of accepting any one else. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 227 
 
 Mr. Hazzard's knowledge of the fair sex was 
 certainly not profound, or he would hardly have 
 put so much faith in this assurance. Being de- 
 serted by Julia he went in search oF Mrs. Percy, 
 who was always rather a favorite of his ; and Mrs. 
 Davering was provoked at meeting him in the cor- 
 ridor, a little later, with the handsome widow on 
 his arm, but she was much too wise a woman to 
 show her displeasure to her son. She knew that 
 she must not quarrel with him if she hoped to 
 bend him to her will. 
 
 The baU was half over before Edith had gotten 
 beyond the first novel enjoyment of lights and mu- 
 sic and fragrant flowers. A general impression 
 was all that she had gained until she had danced a 
 great deal and walked in the wide corridor many 
 times, saying actually nothing in the most excited 
 of tones to the stupidest of partners. They were 
 aU very stupid. She was quite aware of that, but 
 she coidd not help confessing that it was fortunate 
 they were ; for in the exceedingly foolish state to 
 which her grand toilet and beautiful surroundings 
 had reduced her, what could she have said to a 
 clever man? 
 
 Just as she had asked herself that question, 
 Cecil Wilmott appeared and inquired if " this " 
 was not his waltz. 
 
 " Why, I am not engaged to you for a waltz," 
 cried she, innocently. In truth she had not seen 
 him before, that evening. 
 
 " You do not remember whose dance it is, I am 
 
228 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 sure," said Cecil. " We might as well consider it 
 as mine." 
 
 " But I da_ remember," replied Miss Arnold. 
 " I promised this dance to Mr. Foxall." Her tone 
 as she made this second remark was quite different 
 from her first impulsive exclamation. It seemed 
 to say that those who wished to dance with her 
 would be obliged to ask for what they wanted. 
 Her consent was not, it appeared, to be taken for 
 granted. - 
 
 Cecil quite understood the condition, but it net- 
 tled him. 
 
 " There would have been no use in my engaging 
 you beforehand," he said. " One never finds one's 
 partner at an Assembly after the room fills up." 
 
 " It would have been useless to ask me to dance, 
 of course," she answered, demurely, " if you really 
 thought you could not find me." 
 
 "You mean to imply that other people have 
 been more sanguine," said CecU, with an amused 
 smile. 
 
 " Perhaps I do." 
 
 " But not more fortunate, for with the best in- 
 tentions in the world it is very hard to find a per- 
 son in this crowd." 
 
 " I suppo,se one must begin by looking for the 
 person," she answered, for she had resolved that 
 she would not easily forgive, his unexplained es- 
 trangement. 
 
 " Ah ! Now we are agreed," said Cecil. " That 
 is precisely where I did begin. Come ! There is no 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 229 
 
 reason why you should wait for Foxall. Will you 
 not give me the dance ? " 
 
 " I am afraid that is impossible, Mr. Wihnott, 
 for here is Mr. Foxall." 
 
 Cecil indeed beheld that yellow-haired gentle- 
 man advancing through the crowd, for Mr. Foxall, 
 who was highly imitative, had perceived with re- 
 spect the growing estimation with which society 
 was welcoming Miss Arnold, and had proceeded to 
 fling himself at her feet, in a metaphorical manner 
 practically illustrated by his engaging her five 
 dances ahead, and waiting about in a nervous way 
 during the fourth dance for the happy moment 
 when he could claim her hand. It was not likely 
 therefore that he would be much behind time, and 
 Cecil bit his lip as he noticed the contented ex- 
 pression with which he approached his partner. 
 
 " Of course, if you prefer Foxall, I have nothing 
 to say," he remarked, in a very low tone. 
 
 Fdith had not time to answer ; Mr. Foxall was 
 already at her side, saying nothing very earnestly 
 on the subject of their dance ; but she raised her 
 eyes suddenly and shot at WUmott the only re- 
 proachful glance which they had ever given him. 
 
 Cecil was melted in a moment. " Can I take 
 you to supper ? " he whispered, following as the tri- 
 umphant Foxall was leading her towards the ball- 
 room from the corridor where the meeting had 
 taken place. 
 
 " I am engaged for supper to Mr. Philip Dray- 
 ton," she answered softly, turning back her head a 
 little. 
 
230 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Then I shall come for a dance just afterwards," 
 said Cecil. " Do not forget." 
 
 She smiled in answer without looking at him, 
 and the next moment was lost to sight among a 
 hundred other waltzers, and again resigned herself 
 to the gay spirit of the moment and the new charm 
 of charming. It was not unnatural that she should 
 enjoy her triumph, and no small compliment for a 
 little homebred maiden to find herself admired and 
 courted in such a briUiant scene ; but she was con- 
 scious that these things alone would not have made 
 her happy. She knew that since those last words 
 of Cecil's she felt unreasonably lighter-hearted, in 
 spite of her determination not to be reconciled. 
 
 When Philip came for her to go to supper he 
 found her seated on a sofa in the entry with quite 
 a little group about her, of which Mr. Foxall was 
 one, and the rest was composed of three of the ex- 
 tremely young gentlemen whose acquaintance she 
 had made on New Year's Day. They were still 
 a good deal occupied with their kid gloves, and 
 were further trammeled on this occasion by scru- 
 pulously kept dancing-cards, to which they were 
 continually referring in order to determine their 
 movements, as a mariner to his chart and com- 
 pass. 
 
 Philip stood still for a moment without speaking. 
 Edith was evidently full of fun, and was amusing 
 the young gentlemen very much, although how she 
 managed it Philip could not tell, being conscious 
 of the difficulty of the task and too far off to catch 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 231 
 
 what she was saying. He was quite near enough, 
 however, to see how pretty she was looking ; nor 
 was he the only person who was alive to this. 
 Among others, Cecil Wilmott, who happened to be 
 passing, had paused also, though unseen by Philip. 
 There was a fascination to him in watching the 
 girl, which he thought it safe to yield to, since she 
 did not know that he was near ; and he noted the 
 exquisite whiteness of her neck and rounded arms, 
 the softness and purity of outline of her face, the 
 changing light on her fair hair, which was drawn 
 back and fastened by a silver arrow in a wavy knot 
 behind, and the quiet sincerity of her blue eyes as 
 the merry smile died out of them, which seemed to 
 preclude the possibility of guile. Cecil breathed 
 hard as he looked at her, and something rose up in 
 his throat, which he gulped down with an impatient 
 sigh, as he turned away. 
 
 " Are you ready for supper ? " Philip asked, ad- 
 vancing a step or two so as to speak to Edith across 
 Mr. Foxall, which he could do very easily, owing to 
 his greater height. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I am quite ready," she answered, 
 gladly, and the other men made way, as she rose to 
 take his arm with the happy confidence with which 
 he always seemed to inspire her. 
 
 " It is better to go now," he said, approvingly, 
 " for we are a little late to get good seats." He 
 led her towards the stairs ; descending which a sud- 
 den turn brought them to a broader flight at one 
 end of the supper room, on which a crowd of ladies 
 
232 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 in dresses of every shade and color were sitting, 
 while their busy cavaliers flew about to supply 
 their wants ; and looking across from the top of 
 the steps where they stood, Edith saw another stair- 
 way equally wide, at the opposite end of the room, 
 on which was a like assemblage. 
 
 The accidental combination of colors, mellowed 
 by distance into harmony, formed an exquisite rain- 
 bow effect of bright and tender tints, still further 
 enhanced to her admiring eyes by a background of 
 tall green plants. 
 
 Below were small tables arranged on either side 
 the room for the lady patronesses and other ma- 
 trons of distinction, while a cloud of black coats 
 about the long table in the centre shifted uneasily 
 to and fro, a dark undulating ring, in the midst of 
 which the daintily spread feast with flowers and 
 fruit and glittering glass, lighted with taU wax 
 candles, looked all the more brilliant. 
 
 " Here is Cecil. He wiU wait here with you a 
 moment," said Philip, " while I find you a seat." 
 
 Edith hardly heard him ; she was absorbed in 
 the scene before her, and could not withhold a faint 
 exclamation of delight. 
 
 " So you like your first ball," said Cecil. 
 
 " Oh, very much." She had not turned her head 
 to look at him, but she recognized his voice. " I 
 do not see how I could help it," she added, with a 
 happy little sigh. 
 
 " Do you mean that you would if you could ? " 
 asked Wilmott. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 233 
 
 ." I mean that my will has nothing to do with it." 
 
 " A woman always likes a thing better for that, 
 I believe," said Cecil. 
 
 " I am not sure," replied Edith, doubtfully, " but 
 I think a man never likes a thing unless he has 
 determined to like it." 
 
 " You are mistaken there," said Wilmott. " A 
 man often likes what he has determined that he 
 shoxdd not like." 
 
 " Would and should have different meanings. I 
 did not say that a man always did his duty." 
 
 " But you credit him with very great strength of 
 will." 
 
 " I think when a man does a thing he generally 
 knows that he is going to do it." 
 
 " For all that, it may be a sort of fatality," said 
 Cecil. 
 
 " How a fatality ? " she asked, turning suddenly 
 towards the speaker, but he shook his head at her 
 mischievously for aU answer to her question, and 
 at that moment Philip returned. 
 
 " I have found Julia," he said to Edith. " Would 
 you like to sit beside her ? " 
 
 " I should, thank you. Where is she ? " 
 
 " Just below." 
 
 He gave her his arm, and as they were moving 
 down the stairs to join Julia, who was seated near 
 the bottom among a group of girls, but with a 
 place beside her which she had evidently been 
 keeping for Edith, they saw a very handsome 
 woman dressed in gold-colored brocade, who had 
 
234 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 been looking in vain for an empty table at the side 
 of the supper-room, come to the foot of the stairs 
 and point with her fan to the seat which they were 
 seeking, and the gentleman with her seeming to 
 approve, she glided into it with such a gracious 
 smile to Julia that it would evidently have been 
 quite impossible to dispute her right. 
 
 " How provoking ! " exclaimed Philip. 
 
 "' Will you not sit here. Miss Arnold ? " asked 
 Miss Louisa Mortimer, who happened to be near. 
 
 " Thank you. You are very kind," said Edith, 
 as Miss Mortimer made room for her. She was in- 
 deed glad to sit anywhere rather than near the 
 dark-haired beauty, in whom she had not failed to 
 recognize Mrs. Percy. Philip went off to get her 
 supper, and presently she saw Cecil WUmott ap- 
 proach the stairs from below and stand for a mo- 
 ment, with an indifferent air, beside the banister, 
 half leaning against it. Mrs. Percy, who had been 
 talking languidly to Julia, chanced to glance up 
 and met his eyes. Edith noticed that he started as 
 though he had not been conscious of her vicinity, . 
 but the next moment he bent down and said some- 
 thing to her at which she laughed and shook her 
 fan, then he sprang lightly up the stairs and was 
 once more beside Edith, before she realized that he 
 was coming. 
 
 " Have you not begun your supper yet ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Not yet. I have just found a seat." 
 
 " We shall be too late for our dance. It is too 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 235 
 
 bad. I wanted to have it before the room re- 
 fiUed." 
 
 " We might postpone it until the next Assem- 
 bly," said Edith. 
 
 Cecil glanced at her quickly. She was decapita- 
 ting a pansy. 
 
 " What has made you angry ? " he asked. 
 
 " Nothing. I am not angry," she answered, with- 
 out raising her eyes. 
 
 " Here is some salad. Miss Arnold," said Philip, 
 who had approached with a plate and a glass. 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! " She looked past Cecil at 
 Philip, with a soft grateful smile. 
 
 " She has learned some of the ways of the world," 
 thought Cecil. 
 
 " Let me hold your champagne for you," he said, 
 taking it as he spoke from Philip's hand, without 
 making the slightest motion to surrender his seat. 
 
 " Thank you, I need not trouble you," said Edith 
 quietly, offering to take the glass which Cecil held 
 just out of her reach. Philip looked at them both, 
 colored slightly and turned away. 
 
 "You need not trouble me, at any rate," said 
 Cecil. " Holding your glass is no trouble, but 
 there is something in your manner which leads me 
 to fancy that you would rather like to trouble 
 me." 
 
 Edith looked up quickly, and her eyes met his. 
 They did not sink or falter, but flashed out an in- 
 dignant light which lent a new aspect to her face. 
 
 " You are mistaken," she said, and seemed half 
 
236 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 inclined to quarrel with him for an instant. Then, 
 as though struck with the want of dignity of such 
 a proceeding, she smiled at her own childishness. 
 Just then Philip returned. 
 
 " I am going to ask you, Philip," said Cecil, 
 uneasily, " to let me carry Miss Arnold off for a 
 waltz which she has promised me." 
 
 " If Miss Arnold wishes to be carried off, I have 
 nothing to say." 
 
 " Of course she does. It is our only chance to 
 have our dance quietly, before the crowd gets 
 back." 
 
 " Can I not get you something more, Miss Ar- 
 nold ?" asked Philip. 
 
 " Nothing more, thank you." 
 
 " Then you wiU go with Mr. Wilmott ? " 
 
 " I certainly promised him the dance." 
 
 Philip bowed in silence. 
 
 The music was playing in a dreamy sort of way 
 when Edith and Cecil reached the dancing haU. 
 Only a few couples were moving about slowly over 
 the polished floor, although numbers of elderly, 
 ladies, who had been taken early to supper, had 
 returned and were seated together chatting in 
 groups, with an occasional unfortunate damsel 
 stranded beside them. 
 
 " How unhappy they look ! " cried Dr. Carey. 
 "They seem exposed like Andromeda to the mercy 
 of the monster Gossip and bound hand and foot by 
 Conventionality, while Theseus has returned to the 
 supper room (after his custom in this latitude) to 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 237 
 
 further refresh himself before undertaking the de- 
 liverance." 
 
 " Pray what does Theseus do in Boston ? " asked 
 Miss Prescott, for she and her partner formed one 
 of the slowly revolving pairs. 
 
 " Oh ! Andromeda is not so tightly bound there." 
 
 " Perhaps she knows how to defend herself ? " 
 
 " She may know a little better how to avoid re- 
 quiring defense." 
 
 " That is fortunate," said Julia. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because I am afraid, there is no Theseus to 
 come to the rescue." 
 
 " Theseus is a very commonplace person, of 
 course, with us," said Dr. Carey. " He has neither 
 the cap of darkness with which your hero is fur- 
 nished (that I take to be ignorance) nor the wings 
 of Mercury to raise him above eating his supper at 
 the same time that Andromeda eats hers, and if he 
 has slain no beautiful Gorgon with whose head to 
 petrify her enemies, he fails to desert her after- 
 wards." 
 
 Wilmott, meanwhile, and Miss Arnold were float- 
 ing in time to the music. They had both danced 
 many times that evening, but to each this dance 
 seemed different. 
 
 " How light you are upon your feet," said Cecil 
 softly. 
 
 " I am very fond of dancing. Are not you ? " 
 
 " Yes. With some people. It sounds stupid, but 
 I feel as if you and I could dance forever without 
 growing tired." 
 
238 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 She smiled, witliout raising her eyes. 
 
 " Who gave you those flowers which you prize so 
 much ? " asked Wilmott. 
 
 " What flowers ? " 
 
 " That hat full of pansies," he said provokingly, 
 for he had noticed that she kept it on her arm, al- 
 though she had left her other bouquets on a chair, 
 for convenience. 
 
 " I do not prize them so much," she answered. 
 
 " Well, waiving that ; who gave them to you ? " 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 " Oh, come now, that is absurd. Of course you 
 know." 
 
 "No, I do not." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that Philip sent them 
 anonymously ? " 
 
 There was just a perceptible pause, and then sjie 
 said, " What leads you to think that Philip — I 
 mean Mr. Drayton — sent them ? " 
 
 " I know who you mean, for I saw my cousin 
 choosing them at Pennock's," replied Wilmott, 
 coolly. " Of course I had a shrewd suspicion of 
 whom they were for, but it never occurred to me 
 that he meant to make a mystery of it." 
 
 " They are very beautiful," returned Edith. 
 " How kind he was to think of me ! " 
 
 " I thought you said a little while ago that you 
 did not prize them ? " 
 
 " Now that I know who sent them to me, I do 
 prize them," said Miss Arnold. She seemed 
 thoughtful for a moment. Perhaps she was re- 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 239 
 
 membering how unwillingly Philip had resigned 
 the hope of dancing with her for that of taking her 
 to supper, and that she had hardly interchanged 
 two words with him that evening. 
 
 " What are you thinking of ? " asked Cecil. 
 
 " Oh, of nothing ! " 
 
 " Will you look at me ? " he said earnestly. 
 
 " What for ? " she responded, still continuing to 
 avert her gaze. They were almost alone now in 
 the centre of the room, and waltzing very slowly. 
 
 " I want to see whether Philip is really such a 
 lucky fellow as you would have me believe," re- 
 plied Cecil. 
 
 " You are mistaken in supposing that I would 
 have you believe anything," she said. 
 
 Cecil looked longingly into her sweet downcast 
 face. 
 
 " I would give a great deal if you would let me 
 see your eyes," he said. 
 
 She hesitated, and then raised them half reluc- 
 tantly to his, but dropped them in an instant. 
 
 " Thank you," he whispered, and just then the 
 music came to an end. 
 
 They paused near the chair on which Edith had 
 carefully deposited her two bouquets. It chanced 
 to be Cecil's chair for the cotiUon, but Miss Ar- 
 nold's flowers had been pushed on one side, and a 
 huge bunch of crimson Jacqueminots occupied their 
 place. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Mrs. Percy, who was 
 seated beside the roses. " I had no idea those 
 
240 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 were yours, and naturally put mine there for safety : 
 — Miss Arnold, is it not ? " 
 
 Edith started involuntarily, and then turned to 
 the lady, who had risen, while Cecil performed an 
 introduction. 
 
 " I hope Miss Arnold will forgive my uncon- 
 scious rudeness," she said. "One gets in the 
 habit of being a tyrant, and confiscating one's part- 
 ner's seat." 
 
 " Very naturally," returned Edith. " It is I who 
 should apologize for the intrusion." 
 
 " There is certainly no reason why you should 
 apologize," said Cecil in a vexed tone. " I told 
 you to put your flowers on my chair." 
 
 " Yes, I have no doubt you are to blame in the 
 matter," replied Mrs. Percy, displaying all her 
 dimples, with a sunny smile. " After all, it is Mr. 
 Wilmott who is responsible for my red roses, too," 
 she continued, turning again to Edith, and then with 
 a careless glance at the young man which seemed 
 at the same time to claim him and to depreciate 
 her possession, she glided away with Mr. Freeman, 
 who had stood impatiently by during the conversa- 
 tion, waiting for the last waltz before the cotillon. 
 The music had begun again. Wilmott looked very 
 cross. 
 
 " Will you dance once more ? " he asked. 
 
 " Thank you, I think not," said Edith, coldly. 
 
 At this moment Mr. Drum Kettleby approached. 
 
 "Everything is ready, Miss Arnold," he said, 
 deferentially, " whenever you would like to begin 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 241 
 
 the cotillon. Our seats are tlie first two, at tlie 
 upper end of the hall ; may I conduct you to them ? 
 — But no, I beg pardon ! I see that they are bring- 
 ing in too many chairs at that side ! It will make 
 a crowd. I will return in an instant." He darted 
 off, leaving Edith still on Cecil Wilmott's arm. 
 
 "We had better walk towards my seat. You 
 can leave me there," she said gravely. 
 
 " Are you to dance with Drum Kettleby ? " asked 
 Cecil, in a tone of extreme surprise. " Why, that is 
 a great honor," he added, as though quite forget- 
 ting his ill-humor. 
 
 "Is it?" asked Edith, with a faint touch of 
 scorn. 
 
 Wilmott did not seem to notice her tone. " D^ um 
 Kettleby leads the cotillon," he said. " That is 
 really very nice." 
 
 " Oh, it is delightful ! " returned Edith, giving 
 vent to an odd bitterness which she could not re- 
 press. 
 
 " I assure you," pursued Cecil seriously, " that 
 there are hundreds of girls who would give their 
 eyes to have Drum Kettleby ask them for the co- 
 tillon at the Assembly." 
 
 " What do they obtain in return ? " asked Miss 
 Arnold satirically. 
 
 "Well, they get a beautiful bouquet to begin 
 with," said Cecil, smiling, as he regarded her bur- 
 den of flowers. " Do you know," he continued, 
 " I thought of course you were to dance with Philip 
 Drayton." 
 
 16 
 
242 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 ■" I wish I were ! " said Edith heartily. " He 
 asked me to dance with him." 
 
 " And you were previously engaged ? Well, 
 it is no small honor to lead the cotillon in the 
 foyer of the Academy," pursued Cecil, in a manner 
 which Edith inwardly condemned as sententious, 
 but she knew that her own irritation was unwar- 
 rantable. 
 
 "How I do wish you could put ori my ball 
 dress," she said hotly, " and lead it with Mr. Drum 
 Kettleby ! I am sure you would appreciate the 
 honor so much more than I do." 
 
 Cecil grew very pale. " When you have been 
 a little longer in society," he said, " you will under- 
 stand inore about these things." 
 
 liciith was cooled at once. They had reached 
 the end of the room, where a bank of flowers con- 
 cealed the orchestra. She slowly withdrew her arm 
 from that of her companion, and turned so as to 
 face him with an air of quiet disdain. 
 
 "I may be mistaken, Mr. Wilmott," she said, 
 " but I do not think that a prolonged acquaintance 
 with society will lead me to understand you any 
 better than I do at present." 
 
 She never knew what Wilmott would have an- 
 swered, for at this instant, Mr. Drum Kettleby 
 suddenly returning and clapping his hands, the 
 music for the cotillon began, and Cecil was obliged 
 to repair to his partner, nor did he again approach 
 or speak to her in the course of the evening, which 
 was perhaps not imuatural. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ** Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, 
 That has been, and may be again." 
 
 ■WOEDSWOETH. 
 
 The morning after the Assembly was dull and 
 cheerless. Julia complained of a bad headache 
 and did not come down to breakfast. 
 
 At about noon Edith sallied forth in thick boots 
 and a brown ulster for a solitary walk. It was the 
 first that she had attempted since she came to Phil- 
 adelphia, and there was a spice of adventure in the 
 undertaking which recommended it to her in her 
 present mood. It was quite within the range of 
 possibility that she might lose her way, but she in- 
 tended by her discretion and self-possession to ren- 
 der such an event extremely improbable. 
 
 She wished to be quite to herself, unmolested by 
 any of the Drum Kettlebys of her acquaintance ; 
 and so, avoiding the neighborhood of the Square, 
 turned her steps along Eighteenth Street, crossed 
 Chestnut and Market, and would have continued 
 her direct course, being a good deal absorbed in 
 her own thoughts, if the breadth and stateliness of 
 Arch Street had not arrested her attention and de- 
 termined her to choose it rather than the one she 
 was pursuing. She remembered hearing Julia say 
 
244 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 that the inhabitants of the older part of Arch 
 Street were chiefly Quakers, a people whose ways 
 seemed peculiarly mysterious and interesting to 
 Edith ; and then Mr. Drayton had once teased 
 Miss Ruthven by teUing her that when he was a 
 boy it used to be the fashion to walk in Arch Street 
 of a Sunday afternoon to see the pretty Quaker- 
 esses sitting at their windows, Miss Ruthven main- 
 taining that this was a base scandal. Edith found 
 herself gazing wistfully at the large, old-fashioned 
 houses, half hoping to see a rosy-cheeked inmate 
 with delicate frilled cap and muslin kerchief peep- 
 ing from between the curtains of the wide windows, 
 and quite unconscious of the rarity of the Quaker 
 garb among the younger members of the society 
 in her own day. 
 
 As she passed on, thus divided between her 
 thoughts and fancies and her naturally keen inter- 
 est in the objects about her, which no amount of 
 preoccupation could entirely destroy, she was quite 
 startled to see a well-known face gazing out ab- 
 stractedly from one of those very windows. 
 
 It was no merry, girlish one, such as she had 
 been picturing to herself, but that of a very grave 
 young man, whose gravity when his face was in re- 
 pose made him look much older than his years. 
 
 Philip Drayton, for it was he, chancing to with- 
 draw his eyes from the opposite side of the street 
 where they were fixed with a certain stern patience, 
 saw the compact little figure of Edith Arnold, close 
 to him, as it almost seemed, with the sweet face 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 245 
 
 upturned to his ; and at the same moment a voice 
 from behind summoned him, and he was obliged to 
 turn away from the pretty vision, which when he 
 looked again, was gone. 
 
 Edith passed on, at a loss to imagine how he hap- 
 pened to be there ; but it was not of Philip she had 
 been thinking at the moment that she recognized 
 him, but of another person. She had indeed been 
 driven out to walk by the half-acknowledged need 
 of a quiet hour in which to reconcile her conflict- 
 ing feelings with regard to this person, and the un- 
 expected sight of Philip jarred upon her reverie. 
 It brought his kindness suddenly to mind, and her 
 own shortcoming in deserting him on the previous 
 evening, of which she was distinctly conscious. 
 
 She tried to assure herself that it was nothing, — 
 Philip probably had not thought of it again. He 
 certainly had made no effort to detain her, but she 
 began to wonder why he had sent her those beauti- 
 ful flowers if he did not care for her society? Was 
 it his custom to take so much trouble for people in 
 whom he felt no interest? and why had he sent 
 the flowers anonymously ? It would have been a 
 great deal pleasanter, she thought, to know whom 
 they came from. She might have thanked him 
 graciously and been saved all regret upon the sub- 
 ject, whereas now she retained the uncomfortable 
 conviction that she had ill requited his generosity. 
 
 Just as she had thought of this, she heard hasiy 
 steps behind her, and, turning, saw Philip hurrying 
 to overtake her. 
 
246 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Where are you going, so far from home, Miss 
 Arnold ? " he asked. 
 
 " I do not know," she answered. " I only came 
 out to walk." 
 
 " But why did you choose such a damp, muddy 
 day?" 
 
 " Oh, I am well protected, and you know in the 
 country we go out in all sorts of weather." 
 
 " Do you ? It is not a common trait with coun- 
 try people," said Philip. " But then, you do not 
 exactly come under that head." 
 
 " Why not ? " asked Edith. "I am a country 
 girl, of course." 
 
 " Not exactly. I have always noticed that there 
 is a distinction to he made hetween country people 
 and people who live in the country. You helong 
 to the latter class." 
 
 " You like the country, do you not ? " asked 
 Edith. 
 
 " Very much. I should live there if I had my 
 way ; — but shall we not turn hese ? This gets to 
 be more of a business street as it goes on. I have 
 an hour to myself unexpectedly. What do you say 
 to our spending it at the Academy of Fine Arts ? 
 There are a few good pictures there just now." 
 
 " I should like that," she said. " I am quite 
 curious to know what you were doing in that house 
 in Arch Street, where I saw you, a little while 
 ago ? " she continued, when they had turned the 
 corner of Broad Street and were walking towards 
 the Academy. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 247 
 
 " For the moment I was not doing anything." 
 
 " So it seemed, but I fancied it was hardly like 
 you to be doing nothing." 
 
 " I should have been as much surprised as you 
 were," said Philip, " if I had been told yesterday 
 that I should be there. The truth is that my fa- 
 ther was summoned by an old friend and client to 
 make an alteration in her will, and as he was just 
 leaving town he sent me instead. I was kept wait- 
 ing for about ten minutes only to hear that she had 
 decided to leave her will as it was. I was really 
 delighted to hear it, for I had caught sight of you 
 as you passed the window, and knew that by hurry- 
 ing a little I should have a fair chance of overtak- 
 ing you." 
 
 " And you never gave a thought to the unfortu- 
 nate heir, who may have lost thousands by the old 
 lady's change of mind ? " 
 
 " On the contrary, I am inclined to think that it 
 was just the other way," said Philip. " She prob- 
 ably only sent for iny father in a fit of temper, 
 thinking that she would do awful things in the way 
 of disinheriting her descendants ; and perhaps the 
 very fact of being obliged to open her intention to a 
 stranger, instead of to an old and tried friend who 
 might have understood her special cause of aggra- 
 vation, had something to do with her change of pur- 
 pose, in which case you see that her heirs apparent 
 or presumptive have as much reason to be pleased 
 as I had, — I will not acknowledge that they have 
 more." 
 
248 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " That is a very fine compliment," said Edith. 
 "I think I must make you a courtesy; " and she 
 turned to him on the first step of the Academy, 
 which they had just reached, and dropped a mock 
 reverence with an air of comic humility. 
 
 Glancing up from this, her eyes encountered 
 those of another person beiit upon her with a half 
 satirical expression which did not quite conceal a 
 look of pain. 
 
 She lowered them instantly, acknowledging the 
 presence of Cecil Wilmott — for it was he — with 
 a somewhat constrained bow. 
 
 A moment later, his light overcoat was receding 
 in the distance and Edith was climbing the drab 
 stone steps which lead up to the galleries, with 
 Philip by her side, but he noticed that she did not 
 laugh again ; her mood was changed. 
 
 Julia meanwhile, having summoned her maid, to 
 ask for a cup of tea, not long after Edith went out, 
 was handed, with the tea, a little note from Mr. 
 Drayton, whom she had only seen for a moment at 
 the ball the night before, as he had come very late 
 and left early, without waiting as usual to escort 
 them home. She hastily opened his note, which ran 
 as follows : — 
 
 " Dearest Julia, — I seize the only moment I 
 have to write to you, as I am called to Washington 
 on business. I cannot tell how long I may be de- 
 tained — possibly a day — possibly a week; but 
 WiU return as soon as I can, you may be sure " — 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 249 
 
 Here Julia rang again for her maid. " Has Mr. 
 Drayton gone ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Julia, he left early this morning." 
 
 " That will do," said Julia. 
 
 The woman hesitated for a moment before leav- 
 ing the room, although she understood that Miss 
 Prescott wished to be alone. She could see from 
 her young mistress' expression that she was deeply 
 troubled, and could not bear to go without a word 
 of consolation. 
 
 " Miss Ruthven seen to the packing of his 
 things herself. Miss," she said at last, timidly. 
 
 " That was very kind on the part of Miss Huth- 
 ven," said Julia. "Now you can go, Emily." 
 And Emily went. Her mistress sank back on her 
 pillow and lay very still for a while, until her eyes 
 fell again on her guardian's note, and she remem- 
 bered that she had not finished reading it. She 
 took it up with a sense of apprehension- strangely 
 at variance with her usual contenttnent in reading 
 anything from him. Somehow, she felt as if he 
 had suddenly gone a long way off from her. This 
 .unexpected journey, undertaken without a word of 
 warning, seemed to have carried him much farther 
 away than Washington, but the style of the note, 
 when she resumed it, was not very formidable : — 
 
 " Now for a word in confidence, dear Julia. I 
 would rather have spoken it, but take my only op- 
 portunity to say that I should not be surprised if 
 Philip's friend, Dr. Carey, should seek ere long to 
 see you. I fancy that he wishes to speak to you of 
 
250 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 something which he has very much at heart ; and so 
 I should like you to know that I think him an ex- 
 cellent young man, with strong common sense, fair 
 ability, highly cultivated, who has made a good 
 choice of a profession. In short, that if you should 
 be able to listen to him as he desires, he is not apt 
 to give you reason to regret your choice. 
 
 " At all events, do not decide hastily, my child. 
 Take time to consider, and believe me as always, 
 " Affectionately and faithfully, 
 
 Algernon Deatton." 
 
 As she finished reading the note, Julia sprang 
 out of bed, and began her toilet with a sort of 
 desperate energy. It seemed to her that she could 
 not stay shut up in one room any longer. 
 
 It was a little odd that a few moments later 
 there came a knock at her door, and a card was 
 handed in, on which was inscribed the name of Dr. 
 Lawrence Carey. 
 
 " Did you say that I was not weU, and not able 
 to see any one ? " asked Julia. 
 
 "Yis, I jist did. Missy," said Rogers, speaking 
 from the other side of the door. "I said you 
 had n't ben down to breakfast, and I did n't know 
 eff you 'd be coming down to lunch ; but he say eff 
 you be a-thinkin' of comin' down he 'U jist step in 
 and wait." 
 
 • " Say that I have a bad headache and shall not 
 be down for half an hour at least," said Julia, not 
 chancing to be in a mood to soften this announce- 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 251 
 
 ment, but she knew that if her visitor persisted in 
 staying spite of such discouragement she must see 
 him. He was so intimate at the house that were 
 she to deny herself altogether, on the plea that her 
 head was aching too badly, there would be noth- 
 ing for it but to remain up-stairs, and she felt just 
 then as if she needed air. The whole house was 
 not large enough for her! She dressed hastily, 
 therefore, and came down stairs with rather a bad 
 grace. 
 
 She and Dr. Carey, whom she found standing 
 near the centre -table in the drawing-room, in 
 rather an uneasy attitude, had had a polite dispute 
 during the German cotiUon which they danced 
 together on the previous evening, and Miss Pres- 
 cott knew quite well that his coming this morning 
 was an overture of peace. She had an anxious 
 feeling, indeed, that it might signify something 
 more, for even before her guardian's warning she 
 had begun to be conscious of an increasing diffi- 
 culty in keeping on purely society topics with him, 
 and the hostile measures which she had adopted 
 had been partly a ruse to ward off the evil hour 
 which she feared -now was approaching. She would 
 not show the white feather, however, and, much as 
 she had hoped to find the field unoccupied, marched 
 in and faced the enemy with a bold front. 
 
 The preliminaries passed off very well. 
 
 Their dispute chanced to have been on the sub- 
 ject of Ralph Waldo Emerson, of whom Dr. Carey 
 was a very warm admirer, and whom Julia had pro- 
 
252 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 ceeded to attack upon some passing mention of his 
 name, out of a pure spirit of contrariety, little 
 dreaming that a great critical author was, ere long, 
 to ^dopt the same method of dealing with the same 
 subject. 
 
 Dr. Carey now appeared like a recording angel, 
 with two volumes under his arm, one of essays, one 
 of poems, and Miss Prescott was soon reduced to 
 silence by the eloquent testimony which he heaped 
 up before her from the poet's own mouth and out 
 of the very brain of the philosopher. 
 
 She was quite content to sit quietly at her end 
 of the sofa and listen to all that there was to 
 be said and quoted in opposition to her rashly- 
 expressed opinion. She even encouraged her vis- 
 itor to read much more than he had intended, 
 because, in the first place, she had taste enough 
 to enjoy what he read, and, in the second, it was 
 so good to have his attention thus happily occu- 
 pied and the current of his thoughts turned into 
 so safe a channel. 
 
 But Dr. Carey had not come for this. It was 
 sweet to make a convert to one of his favorite au- 
 thors, but much as he admired him he had decided 
 that there was some one else whom he admired 
 more, and on this occasion Emerson had merely 
 been a subterfuge covering a yet deeper subject of 
 reflection to his young apostle. 
 
 " There is a life of him, by Conway, just out," 
 he said at last. "I shall have to send it to 
 
 you." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 253 
 
 Then they talked of other things. 
 
 Dr. Carey felt, it seemed, that the limit to his 
 stay in Philadelphia had come at last. 
 
 " I have been away much longer than I in- 
 tended," he said, " and there are a hundred things 
 which need attention at home." 
 
 " Are you glad to go ? " asked Julia carelessly, 
 realizing an instant after she had spoken that she 
 had better not have asked the question. 
 
 " I am not glad," he answered. 
 
 " Society here is very pleasant, certainly," said 
 Miss Prescott, choosing to give a broad interpreta- 
 tion to his words ; " but we who live in it tire a 
 little sometimes of seeing always the same faces." 
 
 "I was thinking only of the friends of whose 
 society I do not tire," said Dr. Carey. 
 
 " Indeed, no. I often wonder what you and 
 Philip find to say to one another when you shut 
 yourselves up for one of your long talks," said 
 Julia. " I do not think Philip is an easy person 
 to talk to, fond as I am of him." 
 
 "I do, but then he is equally tolerant of me, 
 which every one might not be," returned Dr. Carey, 
 with unusual meekness. "You said just now,". he 
 continued, in a studiously matter-of-fact tone, " that 
 you sometimes wearied of society here. Do you 
 think you would be willing to live anywhere else ? " 
 
 "I do not know that I should," she answered, 
 more seriously than she had yet spoken. " To be 
 tired of a thing is not always to be sure of liking a 
 change." 
 
254 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Certainly not, but it is apt to render one will- 
 ing to try change." 
 
 "Not if one knows the world, I think," replied 
 Julia, with a sigh so genuine that a student of 
 human nature could hardly have suppressed a 
 smUe at the inconsistency of her apparently bright 
 prospects with her sad philosophy. 
 
 Dr. Carey had never a very keen sense of hu- 
 mor, and was too much in earnest just then for it 
 to have been stirred, even had he possessed such a 
 faculty. Julia was, he thought, the most complete 
 woman whom he had ever met. There was a de- 
 pendence and an independence about her which 
 appealed to him equally, touching two sides of his 
 own character — his love of domination and a 
 natural dislike to being made too far responsible 
 for anything. Then he thought her handsome, in 
 rather a rare style of beauty, and was unconsciously 
 impressed by her social ease and tact. In truth, 
 he did not know himself how much of her sur- 
 roundings were admired by him as a part of her- 
 self, but felt a vague uneasiness at the thought of 
 transplanting her, for her own sake, which in- 
 creased the difficulty of asking her to become his 
 wife. 
 
 Seeing that he was allowing a pause which might 
 become dangerous, Jidia spoke again. 
 
 " Talking of change," she said, " I think I should 
 like to go abroad." 
 
 " I was not thinking of that," said Dr. Carey, 
 "when I asked you if you would like to try a 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 255 
 
 change, but it was a stupid remark ; pray forget it. 
 I came to-day prepared to be selfish, to talk to 
 you of my own hopes and wishes rather than of 
 yours." 
 
 " Oh ! I have such a bad headache ! " cried Julia. 
 " I am sure I shall not be sympathetic. Do not 
 you think you had better wait for some other 
 time ? " 
 
 " Unfortunately I cannot. I am obliged to re- 
 turn to Boston to-morrow. I am very sorry that 
 you have a headache, but I must say my say." 
 
 Julia protested no more. There was something 
 in her visitor's tone which convinced her, even more 
 than his words, that protest would be useless. He 
 must say his say, and she must listen to it. A pas- 
 sive part was never an easy one to her, and to be 
 obliged to listen to the unburdening of another 
 heart when her own was struggling with a new 
 sense of misery was doubly hard ; but she had an 
 unusual power of mastering emotion. 
 
 She rose from her seat on the sofa and walked 
 over to the piano, which was open. She sat down 
 before it and struck a few soft chords, and then 
 turned towards Dr. Carey a quiet, attentive face. 
 
 " I am listening," she said, calmly and very 
 gravely. " What is it that you have to say ? " 
 
 Carey rose also. It was not half so easy to 
 speak his mind, now that he was requested to do so, 
 as he had thought it would be a few moments be- 
 fore while she seemed so unwilling to let him speak. 
 His heart sank at the unchanging stillness of her 
 
256 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 face. He thought it augured ill for him, but he 
 was too much of a man to let a faint heart over- 
 come him. 
 
 " What I want to say is simply this," he said, 
 suddenly resolving to dispense with all prelimina- 
 ries which might have led up to his request. He 
 drew near and rested his crossed elbows on the 
 piano, while he bent towards her in a determined 
 attitude. " I want to ask you to be my wife. Will 
 
 you?" 
 
 " Do you think it is a question of will ? " she 
 
 " Can you, then ? " 
 
 " I cannot." The words were not said ungently, 
 but deliberately. A refusal was never more unmis- 
 takable since the memory of man, but Carey did 
 not seem to heed it. It has' been hinted that he 
 had some experience of Julia's temperament which 
 might incline him to believe it the reverse of docile. 
 Perhaps he fancied that the decision of his manner 
 had roused a spirit of opposition. 
 
 " You do not mean that," he urged gently. 
 " Think for a moment. I care very much for you. 
 It is hardly necessary to tell you that." 
 
 " Why ? " she asked. 
 
 " Because I think you know it. You must have 
 seen how I was getting to feel," he replied, with a 
 tremor in his voice which he vainly tried to calm. 
 
 Julia shook her head. 
 
 " Did you not know what was coming ? " asked 
 Dr. Carey. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 257 
 
 " Indeed I did not, in time to avert it." 
 
 "Then wiU you not think now, whether you 
 might not love me and be my wife ? " 
 
 " Ah no ! " she said. " I never could." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " You have not given me open encouragement, of 
 course," pursued Carey presently, while the hot 
 hlood surged into his face ; " but " — he hesitated. 
 " You must have known that your very contrariety 
 attracted me. Did you not ? " 
 
 Julia dropped her eyes. 
 
 " It ought not to have," she said, with a faint 
 smile. 
 
 " Ah ! But it did. Everything about you does. 
 What you do, and what you leave undone." 
 
 " I am at least not responsible for that," she 
 said demurely. 
 
 " Julia ! You are trifling with me." 
 
 " Dr. Carey, I am not, and I have not given you 
 the right to take the liberty you are taking in call- 
 ing me by my name ! " She rose angrily as sh,e 
 spoke, and turning from him stood for a moment 
 looking out of the window. 
 
 " Julia ! Julia ! " he repeated, vehemently, in a 
 tone of genuine feeling, which touched her, in spite 
 of her determination to be cold. 
 
 She faced him with an agitation which she vainly 
 strove to conceal. 
 
 " What can I do ? " she asked, with trembling 
 lips. " This is very painful for both of us. Surely 
 it had better come to an end." 
 ir 
 
268 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Did you mean what you said to me ? Will you 
 not think of it and give me an answer at some jfu- 
 ture time ? " 
 
 Julia looked perplexed. It happened that her 
 guardian's last words in the note she had received 
 from him that morning flashed across her mind. 
 " Do not decide hastily," he had said, but as she 
 thought of his advice, she only grew more deter- 
 mined that she would not follow it. In all things 
 else she would take his counsel, she thought, but 
 in this he was not fitted to judge of what was best 
 for her ; then, too, she had a duty, a hard one, to 
 the young man who stood before her waiting for 
 one word of comfort, which he would translate into 
 a world of hope. 
 
 " If I consented to that," she said sorrowfully, 
 " you might really tell me, with reason, that I had 
 trifled with you." 
 
 "No, I. should not." 
 
 She clasped her hands together and her face 
 grew pale. 
 
 " I must not deceive you or myself," she said. 
 " It is utterly impossible for me to answer as you 
 wish, now, or ever." 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 "This is truth the poet sings, 
 That a sorrow's crown of sonow is remembering happier things.*' 
 
 Tenhysoit. 
 
 Mrs. Peect was alone. She was seated near 
 the window in her own drawing-room, trying to 
 catch the fading light on a bit of artistic embroi- 
 dery to which she was applying the finishing touches, 
 turning her head from side to side as she did so, 
 with a critical air which became her weU. 
 
 A small tea-table near the fire was spread for 
 afternoon tea, with an easy-chair near it, which 
 opened its arms most soothingly to a weary passer- 
 by, and a slender-legged papier-mache one ready 
 for a more energetic guest, but the tea hour was 
 passing and no one had come. 
 
 Mrs. Percy herself had been so busy with her 
 work that she had not thought of ordering in the 
 kettle, and just as she was about to do so, two vis- 
 itors were admitted. One of the late comers was 
 tall, angular, and rather awkward in his move- 
 ments ; the other, somewhat below him in height, 
 lithe, active, as graceful as a man can be in these 
 modern days of absence of all effectiveness from 
 male costume. 
 
 It chanced that this visitor entered the room a 
 
260 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 little in advance of his companion, and the lady, 
 who was just turning from the window with her 
 work in her hand, smiled on him, a sweet, trium- 
 phant smile, which he knew how to interpret ; but 
 there was an expression in his face which she did 
 not understand until the taller man came in ; then 
 she darted a sudden, piercing glance at Cecil Wil- 
 mott, in whose hand she had already placed her 
 own, and said in a dry tone : — 
 
 " So you have been very thoughtful, and brought 
 Dr. Lawrence Carey with you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have literally brought Carey," said Cecil, 
 answering as in good faith. " Here is a man, Mrs. 
 Percy, who would have left town without coming 
 to wish you good-by. He wanted to express his 
 regrets through me, but I told him he must bear 
 them in person." 
 
 " What, is Dr. Carey a deserter ? Will he not 
 dine with me after all ? " asked Mrs. Percy, turning 
 to the Bostonian and holding out to him the little 
 jeweled hand which she had rather hastily with- 
 drawn from Wilmott. 
 
 " I regret to say that I must return to Boston," 
 said Dr. Carey stiffly, "and so cannot have that 
 pleasure." 
 
 " So soon ! " exclaimed Mrs. Percy, with a down- 
 ward inflection of her expressive voice ; " but I am 
 glad at least of this pleasant opportunity of seeing 
 you. You must sit down, and if Mr. Wilmott will 
 kindly ring for tea, I will make you a cup which 
 shall be good enough to tempt you to return to us." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 261 
 
 Slie did not look at Wilmott as she mentioned 
 his name, but made a gesture towards the bell, 
 which he instantly obeyed. 
 
 " You have been bored with our stupid city. Dr. 
 Carey, I am sure," she said. 
 
 " No, not exactly," he answered, studiously non- 
 committal. He was thinking what a fool he had 
 been to allow himself to be forced into paying this 
 visit when in anything but a mood for conversa- 
 tion. He had only done so in consequence of an 
 elegant little note which he found awaiting him 
 that afternoon, and which must be answered in 
 some way. 
 
 " This woman will not rest satisfied until she has 
 formed some theory to herself of why I am going 
 away," he thought, uneasily. " There are days in 
 a man's life when he might be spared a cup of tea ! " 
 Indeed, he had managed to take a hasty leave of 
 his hostess, Mrs. Davering, by pleading an unex- 
 pected necessity of starting for home that night. 
 
 "But you are getting very tired of life here," 
 persisted Mrs. Percy. " Confess, now, that you are 
 longing to be once more in Boston." 
 
 "On the contrary, I should have liked to stay 
 longer, but found that I could not." 
 
 Unconsciously he put this assertion in the past 
 tense, poor fellow, endeavoring to give it force. 
 
 " AU the clever people at home are growing im- 
 portunate. I know how it is," said his tormentor, 
 nodding gayly. " Here is your cup of tea." 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Percy, we have very few clever 
 
262 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 people in my native town," he said, carrying the 
 war into the enemy's country. " None to compare 
 with some whom I have met in yours." 
 
 " You are determined to leave a pleasant impres- 
 sion behind." 
 
 " I am speaking rather of that which I shall take 
 with me." 
 
 " How she does manage to make every one pay 
 her compliments," thought Cecil. 
 
 " The cleverness, you mean ? " said the widow to 
 Carey. " Of course you will. And does Mr. Wil- 
 mott go with you to Boston ? " she asked, sweeping 
 round upon her other visitor, with a teacup in her 
 hand. " If you took him you would at least take a 
 lively impression." 
 
 "I do not expect to go to Boston," said Cecil 
 Wilmott, to whom Mrs. Percy seemed to look for 
 an answer to this question. " Why did you think 
 so?" 
 
 "Oh, for no reason," she said carelessly, "and 
 so I fancied it might be true. It is always the 
 unexpected which happens." 
 
 " I have been thinking of going away for a week 
 or two," said Cecil, "but only for a visit to my 
 uncle, in New York." 
 
 "Ah, now I remember," she said, "that you 
 told me you were thinking of going away some- 
 where, and as you came with Dr. Carey I thought 
 it possible you might be going with him." 
 
 " I am sorry to have to hurry off, Mrs. Percy," 
 said Dr. Carey, who saw in this diversion a chance 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 263 
 
 o£ escape, "but I have an engagement with Mr. 
 Hazzard, — to dinner, in fact. We dine at the 
 club, and I go afterwards to the train, so that I 
 cannot keep him waiting." 
 
 "Indeed? Then I shall not see you again," said 
 Mrs. Percy. "It is too bad that you must go," 
 she added, with a faint show of reluctance, but 
 even good acting had not been able to conceal 
 from his rather obtuse vision that something was 
 going wrong between herself and Cecil Wilmott. 
 He did not care a sixpence what it was so long 
 as it gave him an opportunity of quitting the field 
 in good order, for his wounds were beginning to 
 cry out, and he could not bear the pain and smile 
 much longer. 
 
 " Were you afraid to come before? " asked Mrs. 
 Percy, in a mocking tone, as soon as the door had 
 clo.sed on Dr. Carey. 
 
 " There are very few things of which I am 
 afraid," said Wilmott. 
 
 "Then I am not one of them ? " 
 
 " Hardly." He took the hearth -brush, as he 
 spoke, and began dusting some stray cinders into 
 the -fire. 
 
 " Are you afraid of this little Miss Arnold ? " 
 
 "Why do you ask?" 
 
 " It is evident. Are you not running away ? " 
 
 " I am not afraid of her in the sense which you 
 mean." 
 
 " How, then, are you afraid of her ? " 
 
 " I do ncff intend to say." 
 
264 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Oh, the transparency of man ! And you think 
 I cannot guess?" 
 
 " I think you cannot." 
 
 " Will you acknowledge it if I guess rightly? " 
 
 "I will acknowledge nothing." 
 
 " Stupid ! Have you not already in that very 
 speech acknowledged everything? I know your 
 secret. Shall I tell you what it is ? " 
 
 " As you please." He was leaning against the 
 mantelpiece, frowning a little, as he looked into the 
 fire. 
 
 "You give me permission?" asked the widow 
 in a bantering tone. Cecil did not see the look of 
 indecision which came over her face as she vainly 
 tried to read his own, but he suspected that her 
 questions were not merely prompted by the love of 
 teasing. She was deeply interested in the answers, 
 and for some reason or other she wanted to gain 
 time. 
 
 " It is one of two things," she was saying to her- 
 self. " I will try the least likely. His manner of 
 denying will teach me more than a confession." 
 
 "You give me permission?" she repeated aloud. 
 
 Cecil waved his hand impatiently. 
 
 " Then, Mr. Vanity, you are afraid to stay here 
 for fear this young lady may grow too fond of you." 
 
 Cecil blushed hotly. " Absurd ! " he said, trying 
 to laugh. 
 
 "Of course it is absurd. The truth is always 
 much more absurd than an invention." 
 
 " Some people have a genius for in"^ention," re- 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 265 
 
 plied Cecil, " which enables them to reproduce the 
 absurdity if not the truth." 
 
 " Are you not inclined to credit me with some 
 knowledge of you ? " asked the lady. 
 
 "A little. Why?" 
 
 " Well, then, I wiU tell you another thing about 
 yourself. You brought that Bostonian here with 
 you this evening simply because you were afraid to 
 trust yourself with me alone, and you would have 
 gone with him when he went but that you were 
 still more afraid of leaving me in anger." 
 
 "That is partly true," said Cecil; "the last part." 
 
 " The first part is the truest." 
 
 " However positive you may please to be," re- 
 joined CecU, " your supposition of my reason for de- 
 ciding to go to New York is entirely groundless." 
 
 " I believe it is," said Mrs. Percy musingly, 
 "for t>^o reasons. First, you are too selfish to 
 take so much trouble for the sake of any one ; and 
 secondly, because if you had only been going for 
 that reason you would not have feared to see me." 
 
 " If I had feared to see you, Eeta, why should 
 I have come ? " 
 
 "Why, indeed? " she asked, with a sudden smile 
 which brought out all her dimples. " The inclina- 
 tion must have been a little stronger than the 
 dread. I believe you are fond of me, you foolish 
 boy, but this new fancy has taken a very strong 
 hold on you. You are much farther gone than 
 when I last saw you." 
 
 Cecil did not speak for a moment. He strode 
 
266 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 impatiently up and down the room. Presently Mrs. 
 Percy came to his side, and laid her hand caress- 
 ingly on his shoulder. 
 
 " Cheer up," she said. " There is really no dan- 
 ger of your taking that young woman seriously." 
 
 "Reta," he returned, taking her hand in his, 
 " you have always been a very sweet friend to me." 
 
 " Only a friend ? " she asked archly. 
 
 " I wanted you to be more to me once, but — 
 you refused me. That was a long while ago," said 
 Cecil. 
 
 " And since then you have only been a friend ? " 
 
 " I have tried to be. Part of the time you were 
 bound to another." 
 
 " That too is past." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! " cried Cecil, dropping her hand and 
 renewing his walk to and fro. " It is aU past, and 
 no doubt some day this will pass also ! " 
 
 A look of anger and pain had come into the eyes 
 of Mrs. Percy. 
 
 " Then you really have decided that it is this girl 
 whom you care for ? " she asked, in a bitter tone, out 
 of which she vainly tried to put all feeling. She 
 knew it was an unwise question, and would have 
 recalled it the moment after she had spoken. 
 
 Cecil looked at her regretfully. 
 
 " Why will you make me say such things ? " he 
 said. " I have not decided ; it has been decided for 
 me — by the fates, I suppose. I had better say 
 good-by,'Reta." She had sunk down on a low seat 
 before the fire, with her face turned from him. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 267 
 
 She neither moved nor answered for a moment, and 
 for a moment Cecil stood before her, waiting. Then 
 he walked over to a corner table where he had left 
 his hat, and coming back held out his hand. 
 
 " Good-by," he said again. 
 ' "Tjood-by," she answered softly, without turning 
 her head towards him or seeming to see the out- 
 stretched hand. " I suppose I shall hardly see you 
 again." 
 
 " Oh dear, yes ; you will see me to-night, if you 
 go to Mrs. Waverley's," replied Cecil, cheerfully. 
 " I have no doubt I shall take you in to dinner." 
 
 " Then you are not to leave town immediately? " 
 she exclaimed, in an altered tone. 
 
 " I hardly know," he said. " Soon, if not imme- 
 diately." 
 
 She turned and looked up into his face. " Is 
 it to be a last resort ? " she asked, and this time, 
 she laid her hand in his. 
 
 " Perhaps," he answered, and so he left her. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIL 
 
 " Where paasion leads, or prudence points the way.*' 
 
 BOBEBT IiOWTH. 
 
 Cecil left Mrs. Percy in a curious frame of mind, 
 and he concluded while he was dressing for Mrs. 
 Waverley's dinner that he had better start for New 
 York the next day. Chance would have it that he 
 was seated beside Mrs. Percy at dinner, even as he 
 had suggested that he might be ; but the lady's 
 mood was quite changed since he had left her in the 
 dusk and the firelight. 
 
 She was more brilliant than usual — quite the 
 centre of admiration ; but she took no more notice 
 of Cecil, than if he had been the most indifferent 
 of her acquaintances. As for WUmott, he was un- 
 usually silent. He had one more farewell visit to 
 pay, to which he looked forward with mingled feel- 
 ings of pleasure and apprehension, and he was try- 
 ing to decide that it would be wiser not to pay it. 
 Having determined to run away, why test his reso- 
 lution by another interview with the siren from 
 whom he had resolved to fly ? asked Prudence. 
 To which Cecil answered that it would be treating 
 the members of his uncle's household very cava- 
 lierly if he went without " saying good-by " to 
 them, and this flimsy excuse was all that his disin- 
 clination to such a course required to condemn it. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 269 
 
 His nature was averse to prudence, and much 
 more ready to rush hastily into action than to bear 
 patiently the results of its own temerity. He went 
 to dinner in a state of indecision as to whether he 
 should or should not depart the next morning with- 
 out seeing Edith Arnold again, but when dessert 
 was served his mind was made up. He excused 
 himself from rejoining the ladies, and was soon on 
 the way to Meredith Square. 
 
 As ho neared the house he was determining to 
 avoid anything like a t§te-a-t§te with Miss Arnold, 
 which he felt would hardly be a wise experiment, 
 but to treat her in a kindly, friendly manner which 
 shoidd harmonize, as far as might be, the slight in- 
 consistencies of conduct of which he acknowledged 
 himself guilty on former occasions. 
 
 Rogers, who had received instructions that the 
 ladies would see no one that evening, took his time 
 about answering the bell. , 
 
 " No, sar. Miss Prescott, she got a very bad 
 headache and can't come down no more to-night ; 
 and Miss Arnold, she 's with her ; and Miss Euth- 
 ven, she 's gone out with young Master Philip to a 
 Star Lecture. There ain't nobody at home, nor 
 ready to see nobody ! " concluded that worthy negro. 
 
 " Has Miss Arnold a bad headache ? " asked 
 Wilmott. 
 
 " Well — I ain't heered about that, sar," said 
 Rogers, looking puzzled. 
 
 " Take up my card to Miss Arnold," said Wil- 
 mott, in a clear, decided tone which surprised him- 
 
270 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 self, " and say that I should, like to see her if she 
 can leave Miss Presoott for a little while, as I am 
 going out of town to-morrow." 
 
 It was not until the reluctant Mercury had de- 
 parted with his message, and he was looking dream- 
 ily into the library fire, that Wilmott recollected 
 his prudent resolve to avoid a t§te-&r-t§te. He 
 pulled himself together with a start, and then re- 
 membered that it was too late now to draw back, 
 but he could at least keep the other half of his res- 
 olution; He could be as kindly and as friendly as 
 he pleased. Five minutes elapsed after he had 
 come to this conclusion, and he began to wonder 
 whether after all he was to have an opportunity of 
 trying it. Then the door opened quietly and 
 Edith came in. 
 
 She came slowly, putting up her hand as she did 
 so to shade her eyes from the light. Her face had 
 that pale tint ^hich often comes of having been 
 some time in a darkened room, and Cecil fancied 
 that there was a slightly tremulous movement about 
 the comers of her mouth. Her hand, too, trem- 
 bled just a little, he thought, as he took it in his, 
 but she withdrew it almost instantly, so that he had 
 not time to be sure. 
 
 Could it be possible, he thought, that this shrink- 
 ing little girl was the scornful young lady wBo had 
 turned upon him so disdainfully as she uttered her 
 parting words at the Assembly ? Or, again, was 
 this quietly moving figure the same which he had 
 seen so full of life and animation, on the steps 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 271 
 
 of the Academy that morning ? What had caused 
 the change? It was an unwise subject of specu- 
 lation; and a silence had fallen between them, 
 after the first polite interchange of greeting, which 
 was equally unfortunate. Edith was the first to 
 break it. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that you are going away," 
 she said. 
 
 " It is a bore to have to go just now," replied 
 Cecil. 
 
 " Because there is so much that is pleasant going 
 on at home, I suppose." Her manner was quiet 
 and cold. 
 
 " Have you forgiven me for being so disagreear 
 ble at the Assembly last evening ? " asked Cecil, 
 abruptly. 
 
 " It is I who should ask to be forgiven," she said, 
 with a smile and a faint blush. 
 
 " Perhaps you should. I think you were a little 
 hard on me in your thoughts," rejoined Cecil, "but 
 I erred in speech. In fact, I made an ass of my- 
 self, and quite deserved anything you might choose 
 to think." 
 
 She did not answer for a moment, and then she 
 changed the subject. "Where are you going?" 
 she asked. 
 
 She had seated herself in a low chair with a high 
 carved back, on the other side of the fire-place, just 
 opposite to him, and her face was half turned from 
 him, bringing the delicate outline of her features 
 into distinct relief against the dark marble mantel- 
 piece. 
 
272 A CARPET KNIGST. 
 
 Cecil noticed that she wore the same dark green 
 traveling dress in which he had first seen her. 
 Somehow he fancied that there was a significance 
 in this little fact. 
 
 " I am going to New York to stay with my tm- 
 cle," he said, in answer to her question. 
 
 " And why do you go now, since you say that 
 you would find it pleasanter to stay at home ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know." He took a little carved 
 wooden paper-knife from the table and began play- 
 ing with it. 
 
 " I think you had been with yoifr uncle in New 
 York when I first met you," said Edith. 
 
 " Yes," answered Cecil. " Did you see me when 
 I first saw you ? " 
 
 She smiled. 
 
 " I fancy you did, and yet through the whole of 
 that dreary detention you never gave me a chance 
 to say a word to you." 
 
 A slight frown crossed her brow. She raised 
 her head a little. " No," she replied quietly. 
 
 Cecil laughed merrily at her little air of offended 
 dignity. " You evidently do not think it your 
 duty to amuse chance acquaintances in railway 
 trains," he said. " Your manner now reminds me 
 forcibly of the reserve in which you wrapped your- 
 seK on that first evening. Even after I told you 
 who I was, I had to struggle with all my might to 
 elicit the interesting bits of information which you 
 strove so tenaciously to withhold." 
 
 " I do not think I succeeded very well," said 
 Edith, demurely. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 273 
 
 " No, not very," replied Cecil. " That sort of 
 thing does not go down with me." 
 
 " If I should not see you again," she said gravely, 
 " I shall not forget how kind you were in befriend- 
 ing me on the first evening of my arrival." 
 
 " Why should you think that you wiU not see 
 me again?" he asked with a sudden change of 
 tone. " Do you expect to be gone before my re- 
 turn from New York ? " 
 
 " That depends upon how long you stay there," 
 returned Edith, laughing. 
 
 " It also depends upon how long you stay here." 
 
 " I cannot tell you that," she answered. 
 
 There was a pause, in which she rose. " I wish 
 you a very pleasant journey," she said, and held out 
 her hand to Cecil, who had also risen. Her easy, 
 cordial manner exasperated him to the last degree. 
 
 " You seem in a great hurry to get rid of me," 
 he remarked. 
 
 " Not at all," she answered blandly. " I fancied 
 that you were ready to go." 
 
 She reseated herself as she spoke, opened a little 
 leather wallet which hung at her side, and took out 
 some fine crochet work in colored silk, through 
 which she began plying the needle diligently. 
 
 Cecil leaned against the mantel shelf in gloomy 
 silence. As he watched her busy fingers, her head 
 slightly bent, and the composed expression of her 
 face, it suddenly occurred to him that the situation 
 which he had anticipated was reversed in this in- 
 terview. 
 
 18 
 
274 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 It was Edith who was being kindly and sedu- 
 lously friendly, and he who was wondering at the 
 change in her and inwardly chafing at its incon- 
 sistency with certain shy, sweet glances which he 
 remembered only too distinctly. 
 
 Had she never reaUy cared for him at all then ? 
 Had she felt no response to the attraction which 
 had been so strong with him? Common sense 
 should have told him to rejoice in the certainty 
 that his idle fancy had hurt no one, but common 
 sense was silent. He was alive to no feeling but 
 an irresistible desire to make her care, almost to 
 make her suffer for the pain which he was feeling, 
 as the last mo'ments flew past in which he could be 
 with her. 
 
 " What are you making ? " he asked. 
 
 " A little silk purse," she answered in a prac- 
 tical tone, without looking up. 
 
 " It is very pretty. May I see it? " 
 
 As he spoke, he held out his hand, which touched 
 hers as he took it. 
 
 " For whom are you making this ? " 
 
 She smiled, and looked up archly. 
 
 " Suppose that I should tell you, for Mr. Drum 
 Kettleby?" 
 
 " I should not believe you." 
 
 " Then, as I do not like being doubted, you must 
 guess for whom." 
 
 " Will you not give it to me ? " he asked, sur- 
 prised at his own boldness. 
 
 She laughed. " The purse is for my sister," 
 she said. 
 
A CARPET KNIGBT. 275 
 
 " Then will you not make one for me ? Is it too 
 much to ask ? " 
 
 She did not answer for a moment, but lifted a 
 fire screen from the table and held it before her 
 face. 
 
 " 1 want to take something to my sister made 
 with my own hands, to show that I have thought 
 of her while I have been away," she said, at last. 
 
 " And you do not want to give me anything to 
 show that you have thought of me ? " 
 
 " I have thought of my sister." 
 
 " But not of me ! " he returned, with a bitter- 
 ness which startled her. 
 
 " I have not thought of making you a purse," 
 she replied, quietly. 
 
 He handed it back to her and turned away. 
 
 " I wish I had never thought of you," he said. 
 
 She glanced up at him shyly, with one of her old 
 appealing looks. 
 
 " Would you really care for a purse if I made 
 it? " she asked. 
 
 " You know I woxdd ! " he cried vehemently. 
 " There is nothing I want so much." 
 
 She was surprised at the eager, triumphant light 
 in his eyes. 
 
 " Do you- promise to make it for me ? " he con- 
 tinued. She smiled and nodded. 
 
 " Give me your hand on it, then ! " 
 
 She drew back a little. She was frightened, she 
 hardly knew why, he seemed by his manner to 
 make so much of so little. 
 
276 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 "I will certainly keep my promise," she said, 
 without seeming to notice the hand which he held 
 out to her. 
 
 But Cecil was in no mood to be gainsaid. ' A 
 moment before he had been profoundly discour- 
 aged. Now he once more commanded the situation. 
 
 " If you will not give me your hand," he said, 
 " I must know the reason. Have I done anything 
 to offend you ? " He be&t over as he spoke and 
 looked earnestly into her face. She grew very 
 pale. 
 
 " I am not offended," she answered faintly, and 
 a shy, frightened look caine into her eyes. 
 
 Cecil drew a long sigh of relief, and possessed 
 himself of one of her hands without further qu.es- 
 tion. She tried to withdraw it, and failing, started 
 to her feet, but Cecil still held the hand fast be- 
 tween both his own. 
 
 " Edith ! " he whispered. " Edith ! I love you." 
 
 " Hush ! " she said, while the color began to re- 
 turn to her cheeks. " You must not say that." 
 
 " I must and I will. I love you 1 I love you ! " 
 he cried, vehemently. " Do you love me ? " 
 
 She was silent, for she was making a gallant 
 struggle for self-possession. 
 
 " You did not come here to say this," she re- 
 plied, at last. 
 
 " Perhaps not," he answered, " but what of that ? 
 What difference does it make whether I meant to 
 tell you ? Do you not believe me when I say I love 
 
 you?" 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 277 
 
 " It makes all the difference," said Edith, an- 
 swering the first part of his question only. Again 
 she tried to draw away her hand, and this time suc- 
 ceeded. 
 
 " If you did not mean to tell me," she proceeded 
 quietly, " it is best you should not do so." 
 
 « But I have told you," he said. " "What is 
 done cannot be undone." 
 
 " Yes, it can," she answered quickly ; " or, rather, 
 it is not done, since you did not mean to do it." 
 
 " It is," he replied, firmly. " I have spoken and 
 you have heard me, and I must hear my answer. 
 Do you love me ? " 
 
 She had been drawing away unconsciously, step 
 by step, and he following her, imtil she had reached 
 the corner of the room nearest the fire-place. She 
 placed her hands on the back of a tall old-fashioned 
 chair near the window, and drew it in front of her 
 for support, under a sudden sense of weakness 
 which had come upon her rather than to protect 
 herseH against him, but he misunderstood the ac- 
 tion. 
 
 He paused instantly, and folded his arms across 
 his breast. 
 
 " I await your decision," he said. There was a 
 long silence. Cecil had dropped his eyes and did 
 not see the effort which she made several times to 
 answer him. At last the words came very slowly. 
 
 "You may think it strange," she murmured, 
 "when I tell you that I might have cared for you, 
 but it is all that I can say." 
 
278 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " You mean, then, that you do not ? " he asked, 
 raising his eyes and fixing them on hers. 
 
 " That is all I can say," she repeated. 
 
 " But you must say more," said Cecil. " Do 
 you mean that you do not care for me ? " 
 
 " No," she answered, faintly. 
 
 "Not at all?" 
 
 " Not in that way." 
 
 " Then how do you know you might have 
 cared?" 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 " Believe me," he pleaded, " you must care a lit- 
 tle, or you could not be sure of that." 
 
 " I only know," said Edith, in a low voice which 
 trembled very slightly, " that I do not love and 
 trust you as I should do the man I married." 
 
 " Why not ? " he asked, almost with defiance. 
 
 " It may be," she replied, more firmly, " because 
 you have -not sought my love." 
 
 " What can you mean ! " cried Cecil. " Surely 
 I have. Am I not seeking it now ? " 
 
 " For the moment you are." 
 
 " For my whole life, Edith ! Why will you be 
 so cruel ? " 
 
 " Do you think me quite blind," she asked, "and 
 quite stupid ? Do you think I have not seen how 
 you tried not to care for me ? " 
 
 " What difference does that make, even if it be 
 true ? " he answered slowly. " Suppose that I tried 
 not to care and yet did care in spite of it, does not 
 that prove that my love was all the stronger ? " 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 279 
 
 " How can that be ? " she answered. " You ac- 
 knowledged a little while ago that you did not 
 come into this room even intending to tell me that 
 . you loved me ! " 
 
 " I am beginning to think that you never have 
 cared ! " he exclaimed bitterly. " You do not 
 know what it is to love or you would think that 
 of as little consequence as I do." 
 
 " I certainly think it of consequence," she said. 
 
 " Then you doubt my love ? " 
 
 " Ah, no ! " she cried, impulsively, pained by 
 the pain his face and voice expressed. " It is not 
 that " — 
 
 He drew a step nearer and held out his arms, 
 but still she shrank away from him. 
 
 " It is not that I doubt it," she said desperately, 
 " but that your love does not seem supported by 
 any strength of purpose." 
 
 " And so you do not trust it ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 Cecil turned without a word and left the room. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 " Who is this tliat darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge? " — 
 Old Tbstamkkt. 
 
 "Well, you know, dear, we must give some- 
 thing." 
 
 " Must we ? " 
 
 " Oh ! How stupid men are ! " cried Mrs. Daver- 
 ing, looking hard at a wax candle which was stuck 
 into a curiously wrought sconce attached to her 
 writing table. On the table lay some note-paper 
 and a pen with a fanciful penholder, beside an 
 ornamental inkstand. They all looked as if they 
 had just come out of a shop, for Mrs. Davering did 
 not write very often. 
 
 Mr. Davering stood on the hearth-rug in his 
 wife's boudoir. He was indeed warming his coat 
 tails, but with none of that truculent air of sov- 
 ereignty which one associates with the action. He 
 looked meek, on the contrary, and rather dispirited, 
 although there was nothing despicable in his meek- 
 ness. It evidently only arose from the depression 
 with which a gentle nature regards the decision of 
 another which he does not share, nor disagree from 
 strongly enough to oppose. 
 
 " Why must we give something ? " he ventured 
 to ask. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 281 
 
 " There are such simple reasons," said his wife, 
 disdainfully, " that I should think even you would 
 see them." She drew an impatient sigh, and then, 
 as though resigning herself to the inevitable, began 
 to explain. " What I propose to give in this in- 
 stance," she concluded, "is something a little dif- 
 ferent from the rest of the world. I think of 
 having private theatricals, and as it seems hardly 
 worth while to turn the drawing-rooms upside down, 
 I think of taking the little theatre, which wiU hold 
 my guests quite comfortably, and then letting them 
 come home to supper." 
 
 " But, Helen, I have quite a feeling about pri- 
 vate theatricals — and who will act in them ? " 
 asked Mr. Davering in dismay. 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself about that, Buchanan," 
 said his wife, nodding her head contentedly. She 
 had indeed talked herself into quite a good humor, 
 and Mr. Davering realized the inutility of any 
 further protest. He therefore left her ; brooding, 
 as he went, on how much he had always disliked 
 private theatricals, and how well Mrs. Davering 
 knew it. 
 
 Fate meanwhile was being kinder than he hoped; 
 for when his wife opened the answer to an elegant 
 little note which she proceeded after this conversa- 
 tion to dispatch to Julia, she found to her dismay 
 that Miss Prescott declined taking part in any 
 theatricals. 
 
 Being aware that her whole object in proposing 
 this troublesome form of amusement had really 
 
282 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 been for the sake of bringing Julia and her son 
 Charley together, one may imagine that for the 
 moment Mrs. Davering was completely crushed. 
 Indeed Mrs. Wilmott, who chanced to drop in for 
 a neighborly chat in the course of the afternoon, 
 found her friend in an unusual state of depression. 
 
 " I can't think what has come over Julia," she 
 said, after confessing her grievance. 
 
 "I do not think that Julia has been looking 
 at all well lately," replied Mrs. Wilmott kindly. 
 " She always misses Algernon when he leaves her, 
 and you know he is in Washington now, with the 
 possibility of a longer absence." 
 
 " That is another person whom I counted on to 
 help me with my play ! " exclaimed Mrs. Daver- 
 ing. 
 
 Mrs. Wilmott shook her head "with an air of 
 commiseration which was very aggravating to Mrs. 
 Davering in her present vexed mood. "I am 
 afraid, Helen, you will hardly get Algernon to in- 
 terest himself in the matter just now. He is a 
 good deal taken up with some important lawsuit 
 which has required his presence in Washington, 
 and it is just possible may take him abroad. I had 
 a letter from him yesterday morning asking me 
 whether I should be willing to go to Heronsford 
 and take Charlotte, in case he had to be away 
 through the summer. You know Aunt JRuthven 
 always goes back to her own house in Germantown 
 in the spring, and he is anxious to secure suitable 
 guardianship and cheerful surroundings for Julia. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 283 
 
 I wrote at once to say that I would do so with 
 much pleasure." 
 
 Mrs. Wilmott quite forgot at the moment that 
 sh.e had been specially requested not to communi- 
 cate this piece of information to any one until Mr. 
 Drayton's return. There was something so pleasant 
 in having the opportunity to disclose in an easy off- 
 hand way the fact that she had been asked as a 
 favor to go to Heronsford. It would prevent 
 there being any danger of Mrs. Davering's suppos- 
 ing that her presence and Charlotte's there was 
 merely an act of Christian kindness from Algernon, 
 to save them expense through the warm weather 
 when town would be unbearable. 
 
 Mrs. Wilmott was so often the recipient of Chris- 
 tian kindness that she was sensitive upon the sub- 
 ject, and at this moment a most brilliant plan oc- 
 curred to her. " I have it ! " she exclaimed with 
 kindling interest ; " why should we not get up a lit- 
 tle parlor opera, instead of a play ? We could find 
 one with just two or three characters, and perhaps 
 Julia would play the accompaniment." 
 
 " Who would sing in it ? " asked Mrs. Davering. 
 
 " Well — there is Charley. He has really a very 
 fair baritone, and Cecil sings a little." 
 
 " But who would sustain the r81e of the heroine? " 
 
 " I do not know of any one who would both sing 
 and act well, except Mrs. Percy," said Mrs. Wil- 
 mott, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Dear me ! " exclaimed Mrs. Davering. " How 
 tired one gets of Mrs. Percy. She is always every- 
 
284 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 where. I am quite sick of her affected French 
 songs ! I can't think why they take so." 
 
 " She has a great deal of dramatic talent," said 
 Mrs. Wilmott, "although I confess I never like 
 to see too much of that Sort of thing in private life. 
 It makes one feel as if one could not tell what was 
 real about a person, and how much assumed for the 
 occasion." 
 
 " Well, to do her justice, she did not assume to 
 care when her husband died," retorted Mrs. Daver- 
 ring. 
 
 " What would you have ? She had married for 
 money, and with his removal disappeared the only 
 obstacle to her enjoyment of it ; but she is a very 
 fascinating woman to men," said Cecil's mother, 
 with a little sigh. 
 
 " After all it is only her voice, which is a matter 
 of the least consequence to me at present," said 
 Mrs. Davering majestically. 
 
 She walked over to the bell, and after ringing 
 for the carriage, stood still a moment, pleasing 
 herself with the idea that a " parlor opera " would 
 sound very different from private theatricals to 
 Mr. Davering. " I will see Julia to-morrow, and 
 ask her about the accompaniment," she said aloud. 
 " I do wish Cecil were to be here to arrange things 
 for me. I could make him stage manager, if he/ 
 did not feel equal to singing." 
 
 " It is very possible that Cecil may return in 
 two weeks," said his mother, with a proud sense of 
 her son's importance. " He did not expect to stay 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 285 
 
 longer than that. I will write to him and tell him 
 of your plan, if you like, and urge his coming as 
 soon as he can." 
 
 " Do. That is a kind woman ; and now come 
 with me for a turn in the Park and I will drop you 
 at home, on my way to call on Mrs. Percy ; I shall 
 find her in a little after five o'clock." 
 
 When she went to caU on Julia the next day 
 Mrs. Davering was told that Miss Euthven and 
 Miss Arnold were out and Miss Prescott was en- 
 gaged, but on sending in her card, with a particu- 
 lar request that she might be allowed to see Miss 
 Prescott, was ushered into the library, where she 
 found Julia sitting alone. 
 
 She did not look well. Mrs. Davering was im- 
 pressed with this fact, and would have remarked 
 upon it at once, but for something cold and rather 
 constrained in Julia's manner to herself, which 
 rendered her a little less at her ease than usual. 
 
 The truth was that, as sometimes happened to 
 this lady, in the absorption of her own affairs she 
 had temporarily forgotten her keen interest in 
 those of others, and until thus reminded of it, both 
 the cause of the somewhat formal terms on which 
 she and Miss Prescott had remained ever since 
 Mrs. Percy's party, and the formality itself had 
 quite escaped her memory. 
 
 Now, however, as she sat opposite to Julia in 
 Mr. Drayton's library, the conversation of that 
 evening came back to her quite distinctly, and she 
 recalled how indignant Julia had been ; but she 
 
286 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 kept her thoughts to herself for the moment, and 
 rushed into the details of her new project. 
 
 Julia listened, but with little display of interest ; 
 and when Mrs. Davering at length preferred her 
 request that she would play the accompaniment 
 for the parlor opera, said quietly that she was sorry 
 that she could not grant it. 
 
 " Are you afraid you would be nervous at play- 
 ing before so many people ? " asked Mrs. Davering 
 anxiously. 
 
 " It is not so much that," said Julia calmly; " but 
 I do not wish to undertake anything of the kind 
 at present." 
 
 "You are really not looking well," said Mrs. 
 Davering, changing her tone to one of patronage ; 
 " but I am sure you will regret your decision, for it 
 is best to keep up in these cases, no matter how 
 badly one may be feeling." 
 
 " Thank you, I am quite well," said Julia. " I 
 am only suffering the reaction from a headache." 
 
 " That is all you will acknowledge, of course," 
 said Mrs. Davering, who, feeling herseK thwarted 
 in her pet scheme, was determined at least to have 
 the satisfaction of firing one parting shot ; " but I 
 was really sorry to hear of Mr. Drayton's proposed 
 departure. If you felt so badly at the idea of your 
 guardian's marrying, my dear, how must you feel 
 at the prospect of his being away aU summer ? " 
 
 " Mr. Drayton has only gone to Washington a 
 day or two on business," said Julia proudly. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know," said Mrs. Davering. " I did 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 287 
 
 not mean now, of course. I meant when he crosses 
 the ocean for two or three months. It will really 
 be hard on you, dear, to be left at home. I re- 
 member when you were ill abroad and missed see- 
 ing so many of the sights, you were always talking 
 of the things you would see the next time Mr. 
 Drayton took you to Europe." The shot had hit 
 the mark. Julia grew quite white for a moment 
 and her lips quivered ; then she made a great effort 
 at self-conquest, and rose as though to usher her 
 ■visitor politely from the room. 
 
 Mrs. Davering, although she was standing and 
 had proposed to go, was not in any hurry about it, 
 but Julia felt that she could not endure inactively 
 what she was suffering. She must do or say some- 
 thing. What she said was : — 
 
 " Helen, you were very kind to me at that time 
 which you have just spoken of, when I was ill, and 
 I have considered you until lately as a friend ; but 
 it was a friendship bom of circumstance, not of 
 real sympathy or understanding, and — it has come 
 to an end." 
 
 " Dear me ! How melodramatic ! Why, your 
 headache has made you quite imposing. And how 
 tall you look in that maroon-colored peignoir I It 
 is really becoming. Au revoir, my dear ! " 
 
 Julia did not take in the sense of these last words 
 of Mrs. Davering's. She only realized that at last 
 she was gone, and turning slowly from the door to 
 which she had accompanied her, sank into the near- 
 est chair with a sense of stupid misery. 
 
288 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 It was true, then, — not a dreadful possibility, 
 but a fact, — Mr. Drayton was going to Europe, 
 and she was to be left, and all the world had heard 
 it, except herself. She did not know how long she 
 had been facing this idea, when suddenly she heard 
 the street door open. A light, firm step was com- 
 ing through the entry. 
 
 It paused before the library door, and then the 
 door opened; and without turning her head, she 
 knew that Mr. Drayton was in the room. She rose 
 mechanically, and stood stiff and still, not looking 
 at him or speaking. 
 
 " Why, Julia ? Is that you, dear? " he said af- 
 fectionately,, coming towards her and taking her 
 two cold little hands in his. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Drayton." Still she did not raise her 
 eyes, or smile. 
 
 " What is it, my child ? Are you not well ? I 
 am afraid you have been going to too many parties, 
 you naughty girl ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Julia, raising her eyes at last with 
 a strangely hard look in them. " I have been go- 
 ing to too many parties." There was a faintly sa- 
 tirical smile about the corners of her month. 
 
 Mr. Drayton dropped her hands and turned 
 
 ■ away. He stepped to the fire, drew off his gloves 
 
 and began warming his hands. " How are Miss 
 
 Ruthven and your friend Miss Arnold ? " he asked, 
 
 presently. 
 
 " They are very weU," said Julia coldly. " Philip 
 and Edith have gone to ride on horseback. Would 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 289 
 
 you like a warm cup of coffee after your journey? " 
 she asked, in a kind but slightly weary tone. 
 
 "No, thank you, dear. The journey is not a very 
 long one. There are several matters, however, 
 about which I am anxious. Perhaps I had better 
 go down to the office." 
 
 "Oh no, do not! Philip will soon come back, 
 and then you can talk them over with him,"' she 
 said earnestly, coming to his side, and forgetting 
 for the moment, in her solicitude, her feeling of 
 wounded pride. 
 
 " Why, that was spoken like your old self, Ju- 
 lia ! " said Mr. Drayton, turning to her with his 
 sweetest smile. " Let us sit down, dear, and have 
 a little talk." He drew her to a seat beside him 
 on a low lounge by the fire. " Come, tell me all 
 that has happened since I went away," he said. 
 
 " Not much has happened here" said Julia, with 
 some accent on the last word, 
 
 " Did a certain young gentleman come to call, as 
 I predicted, and wish to discuss a certain delicate 
 subject ? " asked Mr. Drayton, with an attempt to 
 be playful, which for once was rather a failure, on 
 account of the anxious expression of his face. 
 
 " Whom do you mean ? " inquired Julia, fixing 
 her direct gaze upon him. 
 
 " I mean Dr. Carey," said Mr. Drayton, looldng 
 into the fire. 
 
 " Yes, Dr. Carey came to call," said Julia, coldly. 
 " He came to say good-by." 
 
 "That was not all, Julia?" 
 
 19 
 
290 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 "It is all that I care to remember." 
 
 Mr. Drayton turned and gave her one long 
 searching look, which Julia bore unflinchingly with 
 something of defiance in her eyes. 
 
 "Are you quite sure of that?" he asked. "Do 
 you not think that you Avill change your mind? " 
 
 " I am quite sure tJiat I shall not." 
 
 He put his arm gently about her. " Julia," he 
 said, " there is something which I must tell you ; 
 and the sooner it is said, the better, I suppose." 
 
 He paused for a moment, and then began again 
 more hurriedly. 
 
 " I have just decided, my dear, to accept that 
 case of which I spoke to you a few weeks ago, the 
 one which involves my going abroad, and I have to 
 sail very soon, — next Monday, in fact." 
 
 She listened in stony silence. It was nothing 
 new to her, only a little more sudden — a little 
 sooner than she had thought possible. At last, she 
 said : — 
 
 "I heard that you were going abroad for the 
 summer, through Mrs. Davering, this afternoon. It 
 is true, then ? I did not know whether to believe 
 it." 
 
 Her throat felt very dry. It was with difficulty 
 that she succeeded in pronouncing her words, but 
 she spoke clearly enough and rather coldly. 
 
 " It is quite true," said Mr. Drayton, " but I do 
 not know how Mrs. Davering heard it." His face 
 wore a serious, troubled look, which at any other 
 time would have aroused Julia's sympathy, but it 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 291 
 
 seemed as if some evil fairy had transformed her 
 usual tenderness into the haughtiest indifference, 
 so far as her manner was translatable. Perhaps 
 some such thought occurred to Mr. Drayton ; for 
 seeking anxiously a cause for Julia's altered de- 
 meanor, he suddenly hit upon Mrs. Davering as the 
 evil genius who had wrought the change. It was 
 a great relief to have some one to blame other than 
 his ward or himself. 
 
 " Has Mrs. Davering been talking to you again 
 about me ? " he asked quickly. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Julia. " She said nothing but 
 what I have told you." 
 
 "Nevertheless, you felt wounded at hearing it 
 from her first, rather than from me. Is that not 
 true, Julia ? " > 
 
 " I should have supposed that I might have been 
 told as soon as any one," said Julia calmly, " but 
 it makes very little difference, since you go so soon. 
 I" — 
 
 Her voice broke off suddenly, and she turned 
 away her head. Mr. Drayton hastily withdrew 
 his arm. He rose from his seat and began pacing 
 up and down the room with firm set lips, a glow on 
 his cheek, and a brilliant light in his dark eyes. 
 
 The excitement of his manner had a quieting 
 effect upon Julia, and restored the self-control 
 which she feared she had been about to lose. 
 There was comfort in the assurance that this part- 
 ing, which was so hard for her, was after all not 
 such an easy matter for him ; and then, quickly as 
 
292 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 he had withdrawn from beside her, there had been, 
 at the instant of his doing so, something like a 
 lightning flash of sympathy which had passed from 
 him to her. She knew by a sudden instinct that 
 he was feeling more than he wished her to imagine, 
 and the discovery gave her courage to say what she 
 could not have said without this gleam of hope. 
 
 " Must you go away ? " she asked. 
 
 He did not answer, so she spoke again. 
 
 " Is it necessary to take this case ? " 
 
 " No, it is not necessary." 
 
 " Then why do you do it ? " she inquired, in a 
 softer tone. 
 
 " For many reasons. It is not only gratifying 
 to my ambition to have been asked to take it, but 
 if I conduct it well it wiU increase my reputation 
 both here and abroad ; and then the change of air 
 and scene will no doubt do me good." The last 
 part of this speech was uttered in so sad a tone, 
 and the first part with so little of the buoyant ex- 
 pectation which the words would have conveyed, 
 that Julia exclaimed, — 
 
 " I do not believe you really want to go ! " 
 
 Mr. Drayton walked away towards one of the 
 book-cases at the side of the room. He took down 
 a book, opened and looked at it. His back was 
 towards Julia, but she saw him raise his hand to 
 his eyes. It might have been to shade them from 
 the light, but she fancied that he brushed away a 
 tear. 
 
 " I do not think it will do your health as much 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 293 
 
 good to go as to stay here," she said, earnestly. 
 "If you are not feeling strong you will need to be 
 cared for. It will be lonely among strangers." 
 
 He did not answer for a moment, and then he 
 turned once more towards her, with the kind smile 
 which she knew so well. 
 
 " My dear girl must not believe me so selfish," 
 he said, "as to be thinking only of what is good 
 for me. I am thinking also that it will be best for 
 her to have a little less care, — to be thrown more 
 entirely with younger people ; for when I am here 
 I am unconsciously selfish, and monopolize her time 
 a little too much, without meaning to do so." 
 
 He had drawn near to her and taken her passive 
 hand in his. Her whole heart rose to her lips in 
 one wild protest against the fate which seemed 
 closing about her. 
 
 " Oh ! if it is of me you are thinking, do not, do 
 not leave me ! " she cried. 
 
 " I must," said Mr. Drayton, in a strange, stern 
 voice. " I must leave you for your sake and mine. 
 It is best for both of us." 
 
 Julia said nothing then. What could he mean ? 
 Was it that after all he was tired of the responsi- 
 bility which he had undertaken in the care of her ? 
 Did he fancy that she was becoming too exacting, 
 too dependent on him ? Did he suspect the reason 
 why she had answered Dr. Carey as she had done ? 
 Oh horror of horrors ! Why had she shown her 
 sorrow to him ? A feeling of despair had suddenly 
 succeeded to her passionate grief, and she was 
 
294 , A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 dumb with a sense of suffering which could not be 
 expressed. 
 
 She did not know how long it was before he left 
 the room. She remembered afterwards that he 
 had come close up to where she stood by the table 
 in the centre of the room, and just touched her 
 forehead with his lips, and that she had not moved 
 or raised her eyes, and then he had gone — yes, he 
 had gone ! 
 
 When she realized that, she stretched out her 
 arms with a low cry of pain. Her hands touched 
 the back of a heavy leathern arm-chair, the one in 
 which her. guardian always sat, and she clung to 
 it as to a living thing and clasped it in her arms, 
 sinking down until her head rested upon its cush- 
 ioned seat, and weeping there as if her heart would 
 break. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " The blood more stirs 
 To louse a lion than to start a hare ! *' 
 
 Edith meanwhile had gone to ride with Philip, 
 as Julia said. The promise had been of long stand- 
 ing, and its fulfillment postponed from time to 
 time, imtil Julia took it in hand and insisted that 
 it should be fixed for to-day. 
 
 She had set her heart upon Edith's wearing her 
 riding habit and riding her horse ; which, as she 
 was very fond of the horse, was a proof of the 
 enthusiastic nature of her friendship, for she had 
 never allowed any one else to ride him. Indeed, 
 until the time of his accident Mr. Drayton and 
 Julia had ridden together constantly ; but during 
 the press of the gay season Miss Prescott had not 
 found time to ride with Philip, who had been con- 
 demned to go alone. 
 
 Edith, who was feeling a little dispirited just 
 now, was not very enthusiastic about the ride, and 
 a little incident happened as they were about to set 
 forth which plunged her into a sad abstraction, 
 very unlike her usual alert interest in the things 
 about her, and must have made her rather a dull 
 companion. • 
 
296 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 It chanced that as they came out of the house a 
 boy was standing on the door-step, holding a note. 
 Philip, recognizing in him hig own office boy, put 
 out his hand mechanically and took it. 
 
 " Is any one waiting ? " he asked, quickly. 
 
 " No, sir. Mr. Wilmott give me the note before 
 he went away." 
 
 " Why did you not give it to me yesterday, then, 
 or this morning ? " 
 
 " It ain't for you, sir. He told me to bring it 
 up here when I 'd get a chance, and I ain't had a 
 chance before," said the boy. 
 
 Philip glanced at the address. " I beg your par- 
 don. Miss Arnold," he said, in a changed tone. " It 
 seems that this note is for you." 
 
 Edith blushed hotly as she took it from him, as 
 much from surprise as embarrassment. Her first 
 impulse was to put the note in her pocket, and wait 
 for a more suitable moment to read it ; then it oc- 
 curred to her that such a course would add to the 
 appearance of something prearranged between her- 
 self and Cecil, and she decided to open it at once, 
 but on breaking the seal perceived that it only con- 
 tained the verses which she had copied for him, 
 and which he had returned. There were a few 
 words written on his card to say that after what 
 had passed between them he did not feel that he 
 should keep them, and that was all. The whole 
 matter was unimportant, evidently the result, in 
 Cecil, of a passing feeling of pique ; but the little 
 action wounded her, and the tears sprang to her 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 297 
 
 eyes unbidden, as she thrust the paper hastily out 
 of sight and joined Philip on the pavement, where 
 he had been apparently absorbed in the inspection 
 of the horses and conversation with the groom 
 while he awaited her coming. 
 
 He helped her on horseback without speaking, 
 and they rode for some distance in silence. Had 
 Philip been a ready man he would have begun to 
 talk at once upon indifferent topics ; but if he suc- 
 ceeded in not seeming to notice his companion's 
 mood, he was far too much distressed by it to be 
 capable of acting the part he would have chosen. 
 
 At last Edith roused herself, and began ques- 
 tioning him about some beautiful gardens which 
 they were passing, on either side of a broad street, 
 with many grand-looking houses standing in the 
 midst of them. 
 
 " Why have I never been in this part of the city 
 before ? " she asked wonderingly. " How fine it is. 
 Who lives here ? " 
 
 " Some of the most worthy people in town," re- 
 plied Philip ; " but, living where we do, we do not 
 happen to know them, and are not often led in this 
 direction either for business or pleasure." 
 
 " If I lived in Philadelphia I should live here," 
 said Edith decidedly. 
 
 Philip smiled. " I do not wonder that this part 
 of the town impresses you favorably," he answered. 
 "It is much more beautiful than our own, but we 
 are very conservative, and cling to our old haunts." 
 
 At this moment a lady rode by, in a dark-green 
 
298 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 habit, whom Edith recognized as Mrs. Percy. She 
 bowed graciously, as did also the cavalier who was 
 accompanying her, and who proved to be Mr. Haz- 
 zard. 
 
 " Are you going to the hare and hounds, Dray- 
 ton ? " he called out in passing. 
 
 " No, I was not," said Philip. " In fact, I had 
 forgotten that the hunt was to-day." And then, 
 turning to Edith, as if a sudden thought had struck 
 him, asked, — 
 
 " How would you like to see the hare and 
 hounds, by the bye. Miss Arnold ? We might go 
 to the meet, and to Heronsford afterwards. It is 
 on the way." 
 
 " I think that would be delightful," replied Edith. 
 " You know I want to see Heronsford very much." 
 
 " Never fear. I will certainly take you there," 
 he answered, " but it is rather a rare chance to see 
 the hare and hounds at this season of the year. 
 This hunt has been gotten up rather as an experi- 
 ment, because we have had such mild weather for 
 the last few weeks, and they do not usually begin 
 until a month or two later." 
 
 They had left the pavements by this time, and, 
 turning their horses at the next cross-road, passed 
 along a country lane, and then on into another, 
 until they found themselves at the gate of a long 
 avenue, which led up to an old-fashioned gray 
 stone house. In a field near the house were a num- 
 ber of open and close carriages, filled with people, 
 and of ladies and gentlemen on horseback, some of 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 299 
 
 the latter dressed in red coats, which proclaimed 
 that they were to join the hunt. 
 
 Philip dismounted, and went to speak to the 
 lady of the house, who might be seen in a pretty 
 little basket phaeton, wearing a jaunty hat, and 
 nodding with kindly hospitality to all new-comers. 
 She drove up presently to welcome Miss Arnold, 
 and recommended a certain spot to her and Philip 
 as likely to give them the best possible view of 
 "the start." 
 
 They had just taken their places on the side of a 
 hill, according to her directions, when the "hare" 
 passed them, moving quite deliberately, and with 
 none of the fear in his eye of coming pursuit which 
 might be associated with his character. 
 
 He "appeared about forty, was dressed in a vel- 
 veteen riding -suit, mounted on a strong -looking 
 chestnut, and carried a bag, strung over one shoul- 
 der, from which he drew a handful of small bits of 
 white paper, which he scattered on the ground to 
 . make the trail. A lady rode beside him, glancing 
 at whom rEdith perceived the inevitable Mrs. Percy. 
 
 " The hare wiU be allowed twenty minutes' 
 grace," said Philip, " that he may be weU in ad- 
 vance of his pursuers before they set upon his 
 track." 
 
 During the pause which ensued Mr. Hazzard 
 rode up. 
 
 " Good afternoon. Miss Arnold. How is Miss 
 Prescott to-day? I was sorry to hear yesterday 
 that she was not feeling well." 
 
300 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Slie is better, thank you, but not quite herself, 
 yet. Do you not miss Dr. Carey very much, Mr. 
 Hazzard ? " 
 
 " Miss him ! I should think I did. I hardly 
 know where I am without him. I don't see why 
 on earth he should have insisted on going away ! " 
 
 " I miss Carey, too," said Philip. " What a 
 good fellow he is ! I wish I could have seen more 
 of him while he was here. He has always stayed 
 at our house when he has been in town before, you 
 know, and I quite envied you for having him with 
 you." 
 
 " Ah, yes, I stole a march on you," replied Mr. 
 Hazzard. " You see I had been on to Boston last 
 winter, and Carey was so confoundedly kind to me 
 that I wanted to get a chance of giving him some 
 fun ; but with my usual luck I must needs go and 
 sprain my ankle, which was sorry fun enough for 
 both of us." 
 
 " Your ankle seems as well as ever now," said 
 Edith, glancing at his riding-boot, the fine propor- 
 tions of which did not seem in any way' disturbed 
 by the leg within. 
 
 " I still have a little trouble in walking," he an- 
 swered ; " but I am as good as any man in the sad- 
 dle. Will you not remember me kindly to Ju — 
 to Miss Prescott ? I came yesterday on purpose to 
 ask her if she would not ride out here to-day with 
 me. By Jove ! I believe they are going to start," 
 he added. Looking where he pointed, Edith saw 
 that the huntsmen had all formed in a line across 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 301 
 
 a broad valley in front of them, a few rods behind 
 a green hurdle which had been arranged for the 
 first leap. 
 
 While she looked, Mr. Hazzard had joined their 
 ranks just as the word was given, and they were 
 off. They all took the hurdle successfully, and 
 then came flying by in a wild rush for the end of 
 the field, where the topmost rail had been consider- 
 ately withdrawn from the fence in several places. 
 
 Philip and Miss Arnold had only intended to be 
 spectators of the scene, which was pretty enough 
 in the bright winter sunshine ; but as the hunters 
 swept by them, the horse which Edith was riding, 
 being a young one, suddenly became excited. He 
 plunged and kicked and struggled for his freedom, 
 and then, taking the bitlbetween his teeth, without 
 further ado joined in the race, so that before she 
 realized what was happening she had dashed down 
 the hill and was riding with the others. 
 
 They were fast approaching the fence, and she 
 had never practiced leaping ; she felt giddy with 
 excitement, but the next moment Philip's voice 
 sounded in her ear, and she was comforted to find 
 him stUl close at hand. He had held back a little 
 at first, fearing to incite her horse still further, but 
 now he came swiftly to her side. 
 
 "Give him his head," he said calmly, as they 
 neared the fence. " That will do. Now your whip, 
 and raise him a little. Bravo ! " he cried, as she 
 found herself, to her own infinite surprise, on the 
 other side of the barrier, with Philip still beside 
 
302 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 her and his strong hand on the bridle, beneath 
 which her horse seemed quite submissive. 
 
 " Oh ! I am so glad," she exclaimed breath- 
 lessly. " And thank you ever so much for taking 
 such good care of me." 
 
 " Why, you are a famous horsevfoman," replied 
 Philip. " I had no idea you meant to do such 
 desperate things." 
 
 " Indeed, I did not mean them, either," she said 
 contritely. " I am ashamed to say that I could not 
 manage my horse." 
 
 " I know all about it," answered Philip reassur- 
 ingly. " No one could have restrained him, I 
 think, with the temptation so near. I should have 
 been more thoughtful in choosing our point of ob- 
 servation. How do yovpieel about it now? Do 
 you want to follow, or shall we turn back ? " 
 
 " Oh, let us go on," cried Edith ; and then see- 
 ing that Philip looked troubled, she added, " I wDl 
 do whichever you think best." 
 
 " I think it would be a little safer not," he said. 
 
 " But must we turn back ? It is so ignomin- 
 ious." 
 
 Philip laughed. " Suppose we take a medium 
 course," he suggested, as they came to a road 
 which led off to the right of the one which the 
 others were following. "Let us strike down this 
 path; which I think will lead us out so that we 
 can see the hare again," he continued, turning 
 their horses' heads as he spoke, and they were 
 soon riding through a thick wood. Huge bare 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 303 
 
 trunks of trees stood out on either side of them, 
 the naked boughs of which with their thousands 
 of little branches formed a fine network overhead, 
 so interlacing that the pale February sky was only 
 faintly visible between. 
 
 The sound of the hunt soon died away in the dis- 
 tance. There was no noise but the rustle of the 
 dried leaves as they crumpled beneath the horses' 
 feet. 
 
 " How ghostly this is," said Edith. " It is a 
 great contrast to the gay scene which we have just 
 left. If I were alone, I think I should be quite 
 frightened." 
 
 " Why, what are you afraid of ?" 
 " I am not afraid — with you." She looked up 
 at him frankly and trustfully, as she spoke. Per- 
 haps the sense of security which his presence al- 
 ways inspired was increased at the moment by the 
 pluck and presence of mind which he had shown in 
 the last half hour. " I wish that I had had a 
 brother, and that he might have been like you ! " 
 she exclaimed, impulsively. 
 
 Philip started. He cast an earnest glance at her 
 unconscious, smiling face, and then turned away 
 with a deep sigh. " I think we must hurry a little, 
 if we are to reach the other side of the wood in 
 time to see the end of the hunt," he said. 
 
 They quickened their horses' pace, and soon 
 heard the far-off winding of the horn which de- 
 noted the whereabouts of the hare. It was used 
 in this instance by the lady who accompanied him. 
 
304 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Why did you not want me to follow the hunt?" 
 asked Edith. 
 
 " Because the leaps become more and more dan- 
 gerous as the chase goes on." 
 
 As he spoke, they emerged from the wood on 
 an open field which sloped away gradually towards 
 a little stream winding along between two swampy 
 banks. Just as they did so the hare leapt the 
 stream, closely followed by Mrs. Percy, and then 
 the whole pack of hunters came flying across, helter 
 skelter, some sinking into the mud and water up to 
 their horses' knees. After this, a mad race began 
 for the top of the field, which, as the horses were 
 beginning to feel the effect of the run, was hard 
 for them, but the riders urged them on with re- 
 doubled speed, each excited with the hope of com- 
 ing in the first. 
 
 At last the hunt was over. The hare and Mrs. 
 Percy had just escaped being overtaken, and Mr. 
 Hazzard had been the nearest to the capture. 
 
 " How about Heronsford ? " asked Philip. 
 " Would it be wiser to postpone it for another 
 day?" 
 
 " We will if you say so." 
 
 He smiled at her evident disappointment. 
 
 " I meant only in case you were tired," he said. 
 
 " But I am not tired." 
 
 " Then we will push on, by all means. After all, 
 we have not far to go." 
 
 Their way led them through a shady country 
 lane bordered with fine old willows, and after pass- 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 305 
 
 ing several cosy looking farms, and here and there 
 a country-seat, brought them at last to the gates of 
 Heronsford. 
 
 The avenue curved in a long sweep and crossed 
 a rustic bridge, bringing them in sight of the house 
 some moments before they reached the door. Edith 
 had been pleased with the little sketch which she 
 had seen of it, but was not at all prepared for the 
 stateliness and grandeur of the original. It was 
 built in an English Gothic style, with carved stone 
 ornaments, very finely executed, in the pointed 
 arches above the doors and windows. 
 
 The gabled end of a pointed roof was presented 
 to the approach, adorned with numerous little stone 
 spires and pinnacles, and the chief entrance was 
 protected by a carved porch in three Gothic arches 
 from which a few steps descended to the ground. 
 
 The main body of the house formed an angle 
 with this projecting wing, and built into the 
 structure was a long line of slender sculptured 
 pillars, through the intervals between which the 
 windows of the drawing-room could be distin- 
 guished, opening on a sort of stone piazza like a 
 cloistered walk ; while on the left another wing 
 jutted forward, inclosing an irregular strip of lawn, 
 and terminating in a low turret. 
 
 The whole building was of a rough, faintly tinted 
 ■gray stone resembling granite in texture, but evi- 
 dently softer and easier to carve ; and the longer 
 Edith looked the more attractive it appeared, 
 among the dark foliage of a wide-spreading group 
 
 20 
 
306 . A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 of Norway pines, and covered at one end with a 
 veil of ivy. 
 
 " Do you like it ? " asked Philip turning towards 
 her eagerly. 
 
 " Oh, very much ! " she answered. " Everything 
 about it is so in harmony and so beautiful. How 
 could you think of all this yourself ? " 
 
 " I did not think of it all," said Philip modestly. 
 " I wish I had." 
 
 " Did you not plan it yourself ? " she asked. 
 
 " I planned it, but I mean to say that the forms 
 themselves are not original. They have been re- 
 peated hundreds and hundreds of times." 
 
 " The combination is original, "^said Edith, " and 
 although I have only seen the forms in pictures, I 
 doubt if I should like them so well if you had in- 
 vented them yourself." 
 
 " I did not intend to say that I could invent 
 forms as good." 
 
 "If it were possible that you might," she an- 
 swered, " they would not have the same associ- 
 ations. There is a charm in the ideas which these 
 awaken, which add to one's enjoyment. I can 
 fancy some royal prisoner, for instance, looking 
 from the solitary window of that turret chamber,' 
 or an astronomer, or a misanthrope ; or I can imag- 
 ine a brown-robed monk pacing that cloistered 
 walk." 
 
 " That tower contains my collection of curiosi- 
 ties," said Philip, " and I fear there is never any 
 face bui my most commonplace one to be seen from 
 it." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 307 
 
 " I wonder which you look the most like, a king 
 or a philosopher ? " she questioned gayly. 
 
 "You have a lively imagination indeed if you 
 could fancy I looked like either," said Philip. 
 
 Edith colored a little. " Oh ! no, I have no im- 
 agination at all," she responded demurely. 
 
 They had reached the door now and Philip had 
 thrown the reins to a groom and stood beside her 
 horse ready to help her to dismount. 
 
 " Why do you say that ? " he asked. 
 
 " I have always been told so." 
 
 " I do not believe it," said Philip. He was hold- 
 ing her at arms' leng-th, with a wistful look in his 
 eyes of which he was hardly conscious. 
 
 " It is aU the result of your imagination," as- 
 serted Edith, " which has set my stupid brain to 
 working." 
 
 This was too dangerously sweet, and suddenly 
 realizing that he had thrown precaution to the 
 winds, Philip set her on her feet just in time to re- 
 ceive the welcome of a graceful red setter, which 
 came bounding up to greet them. 
 
 " Down, Larry ! Down, I say ! " exclaimed his 
 master. 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Edith, " can this be Larry ? Why, 
 he does not look as if his leg had ever been 
 broken ! " 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " The worst is not 
 So long as we can say, this is the worst." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 It being once decided that Mr. Drayton was to 
 go abroad in a few days, time seemed to fly by on 
 wings of which the motion might almost be felt 
 and heard. Sunday morning came, and he went to 
 church with Julia and Edith as usual, the only un- 
 usual circumstance being that Philip, who was not 
 much of a church-goer, accompanied them. 
 
 It has been mentioned that Mr. Drayton was an 
 Episcopalian, and Tery simple and earnest in his 
 belief. He might be seen at the corner of his old- 
 fashioned family pew in one of the oldest churches 
 in Philadelphia as often as Simday morning came, 
 but there was none of the pomp and circumstance 
 of the typical paterfamilias in his manner of at- 
 tending the service, and never the faintest reproof 
 conveyed in word or look to any one who chose to 
 remain away. 
 
 Philip availed himself of this privilege very 
 freely, but when Julia was a little, girl she had 
 begged to be allowed to go to church with her 
 guardian, and they had always been together since. 
 
 Edith Arnold never forgot the impression made 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 309 
 
 upon her by her first Sunday in Philadelphia, the 
 deserted aspect of the town, the air of starched re- 
 spectability of the other church-goers whom they 
 met on their way to .the morning service, proceed- 
 ing solemnly two by two as though assisting at a 
 funeral, or the stillness of the streets. 
 
 It seemed to her an awful silence that fell on the 
 great city at the end of every busy, giddy week, 
 and she could not shake off the impression that 
 some serious misfortune was about to happen, when 
 she heard the chiming of the beUs. 
 
 As she was waiting for Julia at the foot of the 
 stairs in the front entry, on this particular Sunday, 
 Mr. Drayton looked out from his library and asked 
 Edith if she would not step in for a moment, as he 
 wished to speak to her. She assented quietly, and 
 taking the chair he offered near the large end win- 
 dow, looked up inquiringly. 
 
 " Perhaps you have heard, my dear, that I am 
 going abroad unexpectedly ? " 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Drayton, I was so sorry to hear it." 
 
 " I am very sorry, too. I feel it most for Julia's 
 sake, as you may imagine," said Mr. Drayton, 
 speaking hurriedly. He paused, and then said, " I 
 want to ask if you will not do me the great favor 
 of remaining with my ward as long as possible af- 
 ter I am gone ? " 
 
 " I will, indeed, as long as I can." 
 
 " And can you not stay long ? " 
 
 She looked embarrassed. " My mother and sis- 
 ter have been growing impatient for my return," 
 
810 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 she said, hesitatingly ; " but I will write to my 
 mother and tell her of your having to go away, and 
 I think she will let me stay." 
 
 Mr. Drayton looked much relieved. " I shaU 
 consider it as a personal kindness if you will do 
 so," he said. " Julia is very fond of you, and you 
 may do more than any one else can to divert and 
 cheer her. She wiU make an effort to go into so- 
 ciety for your sake which she would not make for 
 her own, perhaps, — and I think society is good for 
 her." 
 
 Edith was touched by the tenderness of his tone. 
 " I will do all that I can," she said, " but I wish 
 that you were not obliged to leave her. Julia cares 
 for so few people that her feelings are very intense 
 for those whom she loves." 
 
 " I know it," said Mr. Drayton. He turned to 
 the window and was silent for a moment. ■ " I 
 would rather, Miss Arnold, that Julia did. not know 
 of my having spoken to you on this subject," he 
 said, presently. 
 
 " I will say nothing about it," said Edith, rising, 
 and as she spoke he opened the door, for they both 
 fancied that they heard a step on the stair. 'It 
 proved, however, to be Philip, who came in with 
 his usual grave demeanor. 
 
 As the whole party walked together, the fact that 
 Mr. Drayton and Julia hardly spoke to each other 
 on the way to church was not noticeable ; but it was 
 communion Sunday, and when they came out alone 
 half an hour after the others and walked side by 
 
A CARPET .KNIGHT. 311 
 
 side, still without speaking, the silence became op- 
 pressive. 
 
 It was the last of many Sundays that they had 
 walked home together like this, but not like this. 
 Whether talking or silent, with "oh, what differ- 
 ent feelings ! " thought poor Julia, as she struggled 
 to keep back the flood of sweet old memories 
 which threatened to break do^n her self-control. 
 
 " Next Sunday you will be on the ocean," she 
 said, at last, in desperation. She shrank from im- 
 agining the future, but it was easier to face it 
 calmly than to think of the pasK 
 
 " Yes, I suppose we may have reached Queens- 
 town by Sunday," said Mr. Drayton, with that stu- 
 pid assumption of cheerfulness which deceives no 
 one on such occasions. 
 
 " Queenstown — so soon ! " exclaimed Julia. 
 
 " You are right," he returned, hastily. " We 
 could hardly reach there < so soon, certainly not 
 at this season." 
 
 " Are not voyages at this time of the year — 
 more dangerous ? " 
 
 " They are longer, but as to the danger, it is 
 quite a matter of chance at any season. There are 
 arfew times, of course, which are considered excep- 
 tionally safe for crossing or exceptionally hazard- 
 ous, but this does not happen to be either," said 
 Mr. Drayton. 
 
 He did not renew the subject, and Julia, who 
 had not the courage to speak again, was for once 
 thankful when they reached the house, so much did 
 
312 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 she dread some word or look which might dispel 
 her outward composure. 
 
 It was fortunate for her that the rest of the day 
 was so occupied with the necessary preparations 
 for Mr. Drayton's departure that there was no 
 time to think. She had always taken a pride in 
 performing certain little womanly offices for him, 
 and she would not relinquish them now of all times, 
 when they seemed to be the last faint links connect- 
 ing her with a past which was fast slipping away 
 from her. 
 
 She dropped here and there a silent tear as she 
 folded one of his coats, or between the piles of his 
 clean handkerchiefs, when none were by to see her 
 weakness, but at dinner she wore a brave front, 
 and aU through the afternoon until the moment of 
 parting was close at hand. 
 
 Mr. Drayton, who was to sail from New York 
 early the next morning, had told her that he must 
 leave home on Sunday evening, intending to go 
 on board that night ; and towards dusk Julia crept 
 into the library, where he was giving a few last di- 
 rections to Philip, with such a dull sense of misery 
 at her heart that she was glad of the twilight which 
 sheltered her from sympathizing eyes. 
 
 Miss Ruthven and Edith were in the drawing- 
 room waiting to say " good-by," and presently Mr. 
 Drayton went with Philip to speak to. them, but 
 Julia did not follow.. She sat down quietly at one 
 comer of the familiar old fire-place, and felt that 
 she could not bear to hear the commonplace last 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 313 
 
 words, which must be said in the cheerful family 
 farewell. 
 
 It seemed to her an interminable time before she 
 heard Philip start up, declaring that they would be 
 late, in energetic tones. He went out to see after 
 the carriage, and then his father came back into 
 the room, and Julia knew that he was standing be- 
 side her. She had risen, and he was holding out 
 his hand. She raised her eyes slowly until they 
 met his. One long look passed between them, and 
 then he opened his arms and folded her to his 
 heart, bending over her as he did so a face filled 
 with the tenderest, most protecting love; 
 
 " Julia, my dear, dear child," he said. " God 
 bless j'^ou ! " 
 
 He put her gently from him after that, and left 
 her without daring to take another look. In the 
 entry he met Philip coming to hasten fcim ; they 
 both went out together, and soon the retreating 
 wheels of the carriage told Julia that he was really 
 gone. 
 
 It is Miss Thackeray, I think, who, with that 
 pretty gift of insight, half satirical, half tender, 
 which she has inherited from the genius of her fa- 
 ther, gives thanks to Heaven, somewhere, that we 
 are not always young ! 
 
 To those who know how keen a sorrow may be, 
 for comparatively little cause, when felt with un- 
 accustomed nerves by one who never dreamt its 
 power, and is thus unprepared to fight with it, this 
 is properly a cause of thankfulness ; but there may 
 
314 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 be two classifications of the causes of great sor- 
 row. 
 
 First, that of its being new and bringing a kind 
 of terror to the imagination, as well as a rending 
 of the heart ; and, second, that of its actual inten- 
 sity, for like every other passion it is capable of al- 
 most infinite shades of force. 
 
 There can be little doubt that the bitterest is not 
 that which comes as a stranger, but as an old ac- 
 quaintance ; as an enemy often met and striven 
 with, but never vanquished. The poor bunted spirit 
 which such grief pursues knows every far-off sound 
 of its awakening, every step of its approach ; and 
 when he feels that he can fly from it no longer, 
 but must turn and see its face, his very breath is 
 stopped with anguish, and his mental pain may be 
 compared to the worst physical torture ever devised 
 by tyrant.. 
 
 It is not asserted that Algernon Drayton suf- 
 fered from grief like this, but there was a strange 
 mingling in his love for Julia of past and present 
 associations which added to its strength, and his 
 self-reproach, at having permitted himself to covet 
 that which he considered a trust, added to it the 
 sharp prick of regret. Of Julia's own feelings, he 
 told himself that they were those of an affectionate 
 daughter who had not known any parental care 
 but his, the sense of whose estrangement from her 
 mother had added to her love for him. 
 
 " She could not love me better if she were my 
 own child," he said, and tried to make himself 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 315 
 
 happy with that thought. How much sympathy 
 there was between them ! What perfect under- 
 standing of each other's moods ! How glad Julia 
 would be to see him on his return ! How happy 
 their life would be when they were once more to- 
 gether — but stop ! Where were his thoughts 
 traveling ? 
 
 He remembered that he had deliberately planned 
 to come away from home in order to give her an 
 opportunity to form some attachment which would 
 separate her from him. After Julia was married 
 could they live together as they had done ? He 
 had thought once that this could be. The time 
 had been when he looked forward to taking her 
 children on his knee as he might do those of 
 Philip, but that time was past. 
 
 He knew now that he never could live in the 
 house with Julia and feel that she was married to 
 another man, — that some other had the first right 
 with her, and he was only second in her love. 
 When he realized this he was a very unhappy 
 man, and he paced with long strides up and down 
 the damp deck of the steamer, which was only wait- 
 ing for daylight to put out to sea. 
 
 Meanwhile, in her darkening chamber, through 
 the long hours of the winter evening, Julia knelt 
 motionless with her face hidden from sight. She 
 did not know how time was passing. She did not 
 know that she was there ; she only knew that he 
 had left her and that she was alone. 
 
 It was Edith who first came to her to try to offer 
 
316 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 comfort, although she little knew how much it was 
 needed. She wound her soft arms about her friend, 
 however, and laid her cheek to hers, and by and 
 by Jidia consented to lie down, while Edith sat 
 beside her in silent sympathy. 
 
CHAPTEE XXVI. 
 
 " But sorrow returned with the dawning of mom, 
 And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away." 
 
 Campbell. 
 
 It was the middle of February when Mr. 
 Drayton sailed, and the news of his safe arrival had 
 not reached home before the day appointed for Mrs. 
 Davering's " Parlor Opera " approached. 
 
 He had written once by the pilot and once by a 
 ship crossed at sea. Both were short, affectionate 
 notes in which he spoke regretfully of his enforced 
 absence, mentioned that the ship was comfortable 
 and the passengers agreeable, and ended with kind 
 messages. • 
 
 The style of these communications was, uncon- 
 sciously perhaps, much more reserved than his tone 
 had ordinarily been in writing to Julia, and what 
 she noticed most was the entire absence of his usual 
 vein of playful humor. These weeks were very 
 hard to her, for she did not fairly understand why 
 she suffered. She was always conscious of a dull, 
 weary pain of spirit, a physical restlessness, and 
 showed a tendency to take offense easily at little 
 unintentional acts or omissions in others, which 
 was very foreign to her usual disposition. 
 
 They were sitting together in the library one 
 
318 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 evening when two notes were handed to Julia, one 
 for herself and one for Edith, who had left the 
 room to get something a few moments before. 
 
 " It is an invitation to a theatre party from Mr. 
 Hazzard," said Julia. " I do not care to go." 
 
 " I think thou shouldst make an effort for thy 
 friend's sake," remarked Miss Ruthven. 
 
 " So I would, if I thought it would give her 
 pleasure," replied Julia. " I will go and find out 
 how she feels about it." She left the library, 
 and presently she and Edith came back together. 
 Edith, it seemed, was delighted with the prospect 
 of the theatre party, so it was decided to accept 
 Mr. Hazzard's invitation. 
 
 " By the bye, Edith," said Miss Prescott, as she 
 sat down to her writing table, " what have you done 
 with the notes ? " 
 
 " I left mine up-stairs." 
 
 " Yes, but what did you do with mine ? " 
 
 " I thought you took it." 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then I must have put it in my pocket." 
 
 " No doubt," returned Julia, " for talking of notes, 
 here is one which I found in the pocket of my rid- 
 ing habit. You must have left it there after your 
 ride last week." As she spoke she drew from her 
 workbasket the crumpled envelope containing the 
 verses returned by Cecil. 
 
 Philip recognized his cousin's handwriting, know- 
 ing it well, and noticed that Edith received it with 
 a bright blush. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 319 
 
 Immediately the whole scene connected with the 
 note came back to him. He remembered how em- 
 barrassed she had seemed before, when he handed 
 it to her, how surprised he had himself felt at 
 Wilmott's having written, and her evident pertur- 
 bation afterwards. Then he recalled the fact, which 
 he had learned accidentally, that Edith had seen 
 Cecil alone on the night before he went away, and 
 all these trifles tended to confirm a suspicion, which 
 had crossed his mind once or twice before, that 
 some understanding, possibly a secret engagement, 
 existed between Edith and Cecil. The only fact 
 which seemed to him inconsistent with such a pos- 
 sibility was that of her having gone to ride with 
 him, on the very day after Cecil's departure. He 
 had it not in his heart to accuse her of frivolity or 
 lightness, and yet, to his strictly loyal nature, this 
 little action and another, that of her having mislaid 
 Cecil's letter, seemed to point to a thoughtlessness 
 of conduct of which he was loth to believe her 
 capable towards the man whom she meant to marry. 
 It was all the harder to be just to her, that he felt 
 in his heart how fatal the course of circumstances 
 had been to him. " I do not believe I really cared, 
 before that ride," he said to himself ruefully. 
 
 When he realized that he had allowed his inclin- 
 ation to wander in a forbidden direction, he resolved 
 that for the future he would hold it better in check. 
 
 Thus it happened that a week passed without his 
 doing more than to interchange a hasty greeting 
 with the two girls, or a few affectionate words with 
 
320 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 Julia after breakfast, and as during this time lie 
 went nowhere in society, there were none of the 
 chance meetings which might have taken place 
 away from home. 
 
 At the end. of the week, however, he appeared to 
 have modified his enthusiasm for work, for although 
 they saw no more of him in the house they occa- 
 sionally met him in society. 
 
 Edith was surprised to find that he now seldom 
 came to speak to her, but he would stroll into a 
 comer of the room from which he could see that 
 part in which she happened to be, or, if chance led 
 him to approach her, would pass by with a courteous 
 bow. She did not know how to interpret this 
 change of deportment at first, and feared that she 
 had unintentionally given him cause of offense ; but 
 after the first one or two occasions, when she looked 
 at him with a troubled, mystified expression, or 
 smiled upon him in his distant corner, or glanced 
 up with surprise when he passed her, she ceased 
 to show that she was disturbed by his conduct. 
 He thought her manner serenely indifferent. 
 
 Meanwhile the season was atijis height. Edith 
 and Julia were pressed with engagements on all 
 sides. Breakfasts and luncheons, afternoon teas, 
 dinners, dances, followed one another in bewilder- 
 ing succession. There was so much to be done 
 and so little time to do it in that the two girls had 
 little opportunity for interchange of thought, and 
 each had imperceptibly become inore shut up in 
 herself and less confidential than in the early part 
 of Edith's visit. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 321 
 
 This inexperienced young person had undergone 
 an indefinable change in a few short weeks which 
 struck Cecil Wilmott very forcibly the first time 
 that he saw her after his return from New York, 
 which chanced to be at a smaU cotillon party given 
 by Miss Mortimer. In the first place, Edith had 
 become the fashion. • It was very easy for a pretty 
 stranger to do that, especially if in addition to an 
 attractive face and figure she had sweet manners 
 and a supply of small talk. 
 
 Dinner parties, opera parties, luncheon parties, 
 were made for her. She and Julia were asked 
 everywhere, and Edith, at least, seemed unweary- 
 ing in her enjoyment of this new life of gayety, so 
 different from anything which she had ever known 
 before. 
 
 Mr. Drum Kettleby and Mr. Foxall vied with 
 each other in delicate attentions and monopolizing 
 suggestions of walks, and talks, and dances, which 
 they strove to bespeak so long before the occasion 
 as each to outstrip his rival, and Edith turned an 
 amused face on either without seeming to care very 
 much to which she was talking, or what he was 
 saying ; so very deep had this young lady from 
 New RocheUe become in the course of six weeks of 
 fashionable society. 
 
 Julia meanwhile had not regained her usual 
 looks and spirits. She went out almost as indefat- 
 igably, but with a lack of enjoyment which Edith 
 could not fail to detect in her languid air and the 
 wearied expression with which she often returned. 
 
 21 
 
322 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 Her displeasure with Mrs. Davering had somewhat 
 blown over, but had left a coldness of manner and 
 of feeling, with Julia, which nothing as yet had 
 dissipated. She had, indeed, consented, with re- 
 luctance, to be present at the representation in the 
 drawing-room theatre which Mrs.. Davering was to 
 have for the benefit of her friands, but her consent 
 had been wrung out of her by the earnest suppli- 
 cations of Charley Hazzard, who was all this time, 
 poor fellow, falling more and more deeply in love, 
 while Julia still looked upon him as the friend of 
 her childhood, — a good -hearted boy. She con- 
 sented quite unsuspectingly to his entreaties to be 
 allowed to ride with her sometimes, and she and 
 Edith had gone together to a theatre party given 
 by him in their honor. He was, of course, liable 
 at any- time to be tripped up in conversation by 
 this fair young athlete, and to find the heels of his 
 wit kicking against the sky, but if Julia laughed 
 at him she did it to his face, while beneath the 
 laughing there was a hearty liking which she was 
 at no pains to conceal. Charley was triumphant, 
 for he was convinced that his mother's timely wam> 
 ing to him to declare his affection for Julia just 
 when he had done so had been the undoubted 
 cause of Miss Prescott's rejection of Dr. Carey; 
 and although a good deal frightened by her threat 
 of remaining an old maid, he hardly believed she 
 would adhere to her resolution always, and sooner 
 or later he confidently hoped to win her hand, hav- 
 ing no suspicion of the existence of any other rival 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 323 
 
 than the one whose suit he, by his clever tactics, 
 had defeated. 
 
 Mrs. Davering was pleased to find that he was 
 very much interested in the plan of the parlor 
 opera, and on the evening before his mother's en- 
 tertainment, Edith and Julia, who were sitting with 
 Miss Ruthven in the library, were surprised by 
 Charley's entrance with Cecil Wihnott. 
 
 Edith hardly dared to look at the latter. His 
 coming at all seemed very strange to her, but Julia 
 evinced more pleasure at seeing Cecil than she had 
 shown at anything for some time, so that Charley 
 Hazzard seemed a little hurt, and Julia, yielding 
 to his persuasion, rose and consented to go with 
 him into the drawing-room to play " something." 
 
 " We hardly expected thee so soon, Cecil," said 
 Miss Ruthven, who, in her meekly dignified way, 
 evidently took the whole credit of his visit to her- 
 self. 
 
 "Oh, I got back a week ago," replied Cecil. 
 " It was a little sooner than I expected, myself, but 
 I came in obedience to a summons from my lady 
 mother." 
 
 " I saw you at Miss Mortimer's party the other 
 evening. Miss Arnold," he added, turning to Edith, 
 " but I think you did not see me." 
 
 Edith blushed, but said nothing, so Miss Ruth- 
 ven took up the conversation again. 
 
 " Thou hast not told us why thy mother sent for 
 thee," she said. 
 
 " Heaven knows why 1 " returned Cecil, and then 
 
324 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 noticing that the old lady looked quite shocked, he 
 added hastily, " She meant it all right, of course. 
 She had engaged my services to Mrs. Davering, it 
 seems, as stage manager and general sufferer for 
 all the faults of a somewhat faulty performance at 
 the little theatre." 
 
 " That is where Julia and thee are going together 
 to-morrow evening, my dear, is it not ? " asked Miss 
 Ruthven, turning to Edith, who saw that she must 
 enter into the conversation. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Euthven, that is where we promised 
 to go. Who sings in the operetta, Mr. Wilmott ? " 
 she asked, lifting her eyes to his face for the first 
 time. 
 
 "I hardly know," said Cecil, "the performers 
 have been changed so often. Charley and Mrs. 
 Percy take the principal parts. Mrs. Davering 
 wanted me to sing baritone, but I respectfully de- 
 clined. If you only knew how tired I am of the 
 sound of it you would not mention the word oper- 
 etta ! " he exclaimed impatiently. 
 
 Edith laughed. 
 
 " Why, the sound is the very thing of which 
 thou shouldst not tire," said Miss Ruthven reprov- 
 ingly. 
 
 ■" I am afraid you are too critical," said Edith. 
 
 "I should like to hear your opinion on that 
 point when you had sat through a rehearsal," said 
 Cecil grimly. 
 
 Just then Miss Ruthven rose and gathered up 
 her work, and left the room. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 325 
 
 Edith became very much absorbed in some lamp- 
 lighters which she was making. Cecil took Miss 
 Kuthven's seat, a little nearer to her than he had 
 been before. 
 
 " I am glad to have this opportunity of speaking 
 to you, Miss Arnold," he said, "for there is some- 
 thing which I want to say." 
 
 She glanced up at him with a shade of appre- 
 hension which he did not fail to detect. 
 
 "You. need not be afraid that I am going to 
 renew the conversation which we had when I Jast 
 saw you," he said satirically, " but what I have to 
 say to you certainly bears upon that. It assumes 
 that what took place that evening may not have 
 deprived you of all friendly feeling for me. Has 
 it or has it not ? " 
 
 " Surely not," she said. 
 
 " Then," pursued Cecil, " perhaps you may like 
 to know that I thought very seriously about all that 
 had passed between us, afterwards, and it seemed 
 to me that you were quite right in accusing me of 
 infirmity of purpose." 
 
 " I did not say that." 
 
 " You may not have used those words, but you 
 expressed that idea ; and I resolved that if you 
 would accept me for a friend, instead of a lover, I 
 would try to prove to you that I had a little more 
 backbone than you supposed." 
 
 Edith was much moved by this confession. 
 
 " You are very good to care what I think of 
 you," she said. 
 
326 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Then you will let me be your friend ? " 
 
 " I will indeed." She put her hand in his 
 calmly and gently, and so he went away. 
 
 The whole of this short interview with Cecil 
 came back to Edith quite distinctly that night when 
 she was going to bed, and she became vividly aware 
 that Cecil was no longer the magician that, with all 
 his faults, he had been to her before he went away. 
 He appeared an agreeable young man, nothing 
 more. Was it because she had been going more 
 into, society merely, meeting more people and grow- 
 ing accustomed to being admired ? She was very 
 sure that it was not, and quite indignant with her- 
 self for such a thought. Then was it for some 
 particidar reason, conscience asked, on account of 
 some special person who had absorbed her interest? 
 
 " Oh dear, no ! " she said half aloud, and with 
 an effort to escape further self-examination she rose 
 and moved to the toilet-table, where she began 
 combing and braiding her long, fair hair, but her 
 own countenance, which she saw reflected in the 
 mirror opposite wore a very shame-faced expres- 
 sion. 
 
 In truth, she suddenly realized that there was a 
 person who had begun lately to monopolize much 
 of her thoughts, and that for the last ten days, she 
 had noticed his looks, his manner, where he sat or 
 stood, with a distinctness which provoked her with 
 herself. She extinguished the gas and jumped into 
 bed, with a determination to turn her mind in some 
 more profitable direction for the future ; but just as 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 327 
 
 she was falling asleep she was aroused by the 
 sound of footsteps and started up to see a bright 
 light shining from the crevice beneath her door. 
 
 She sprang out of bed, lit the gas, and opening 
 the door, was surprised to see Julia in her dark 
 red dressing-gown, with her feet thrust into a pair 
 of loose slippers, and a lighted candle in her hand. 
 " Why, what is the matter ? " she cried, for there 
 was a strange, wild look in Julia's face which 
 frightened her, and her hand, when Edith grasped 
 it, was quite cold. 
 
 Julia came in slowly, without speaking, and set 
 down the candle, looking about her as she did so 
 with wide, staring eyes. 
 
 " Speak to me, Julia," said Edith. " What is 
 it?" 
 
 " I had to come to you," she answered, in a low, 
 horror-stricken voice. 
 
 "Of course, it was quite right to come to me, 
 if you were troubled about anything." 
 
 " I could not bear it ! I could not stay alone with 
 it ! " exclaimed Julia, still speaking low, but with a 
 tone in which there seemed pent up such an inten- 
 sity of suffering that Edith, moved to pity, put her 
 two arms about her, and drew her to the bed, 
 where they sat down side by side. 
 
 " You certainly should not be alone," Edith 
 said. " Will you not tell me what it is which has 
 disturbed you so ? " 
 
 Julia did not answer for a moment, but turned 
 her head round again and looked about the room 
 
328 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 in all directions ; then she hid her face on Edith's 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Oh ! Edith, I can always see it, even when I 
 close my eyes ! " she cried. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, Julia, tell me what it is you 
 see ! Have you been dreaming ? Or has something 
 really, happened ? " 
 
 " It was all so sudden," said Julia. " I was sit- 
 ting by the fire in my dressing-gown, thinking, as I 
 often do. I had been sitting a long while, I hardly 
 know how long, when I heard a voice behind me 
 speak my name, — and Edith, it was Mr. Drayton's 
 voice ! Oh, you need not look incredulous, — I 
 ' heard it quite distinctly ; so I jumped to my feet, 
 and the whole side of the room was dark, but in the 
 midst I saw him standing in a gleam of light. I 
 knew it was my guardian, and he was holding out 
 his arms to me as he did on that last day, but I 
 could not go to him, something held me back, and 
 in an instant he was gone, and then there was a 
 roaring in my ears like the wild rushing of water, 
 and I kept seeing his face before me everywhere, 
 as if floating upon the air, whichever way I turned, 
 but oh ! so changed ! Edith, Edith ! something has 
 happened ! " 
 
 She shrank still closer to her friend and clung to 
 her with a sort of desperate fear, which was so real, 
 that it infected Edith herself, in spite of her efforts 
 to be calm. 
 
 " Hush, dear Julia, it was only a dream ! " she 
 said. " There is nothing in it, dear." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 329 
 
 .She tried to soothe her as she would a frightened 
 child, but Julia shook her head. 
 
 " I am sure it was his voice," she said. " It is 
 not like any other ! " 
 
 " I think that you probably dropped asleep with- 
 out knowing it," replied Edith, " and you were 
 suddenly awakened by some sound in the street. 
 Some one may even have spoken your name, — 
 but not to you, dear, to some one else, — and you 
 know your guardian's voice so weU that it was quite 
 natural you fancied that you heard him call. It is 
 easy to be deceived into thinking that we hear a 
 sound with which we are very familiar," proceeded 
 this young philosopher. 
 
 "But is it not Very strange, at any rate," said 
 Julia, " that nearly two weeks have passed and he 
 has not been heard from ? " 
 
 " I thought you had heard from him twice." 
 
 " Oh, yes, on the way ; but I mean that we have 
 not heard of his safe arrival." 
 
 " There would not be time for you to hear of 
 that ; certainly not by letter." 
 
 " No, not by letter, but by telegram. The arri- 
 val of a steamer is always telegraphed by cable, and 
 I have been looking vainly for any notice of the 
 Bohemia." 
 
 " Ah, now I see the whole cause of your bad 
 dream!" exclaimed Edith. ''You have been wor- 
 rying yourself about that without ever saying a 
 word to any one, and the idea of some misfortune 
 has taken hold of your imagination. Depend upon 
 it you will hear to-morrow that aU is well." 
 
330 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Do you really hope that ? " asked Julia, rais- 
 ing her head and looking into her friend's face very 
 earnestly. 
 
 " Certainly I do," she answered cheerily. "Now 
 get into bed witli me, dear, and we will go to sleep 
 and forget all about it." 
 
 " You are very good to me," said Julia wearily. 
 
 " Ah, dear Julia, you do not know how I love 
 you." 
 
 " And so do I love you," returned Julia, as a 
 softer light came into her anxious eyes. " But I 
 am afraid I cannot go to sleep." 
 
 Nevertheless, Edith persuaded her to try, and in 
 a shorter time than she had hoped, Julia did sleep 
 quite soundly, as though worn out with emotion, 
 her hand still clasped in her friend's and their 
 heads resting on the same pillow ; but Edith lay 
 awake for a long while. 
 
 In spite of the good sense and decision with 
 which she had succeeded in quieting Julia's agita- 
 tion, the story which she told made a strong im- 
 pression on Edith's mind, and it was several hours 
 before she succeeded in throwing it off. 
 
 At last she too slept, and did not wake until 
 quite late the next morning, when to her surprise 
 she found Julia up and dressed, but with the same 
 sad, patient face as usual, for the day had brought 
 no news. 
 
CHAPTEE XXVn. 
 
 " Like ships that sailed for sunny isles, 
 But never came to shore." 
 
 Habvet. 
 
 On returning from his office the next afternoon 
 Philip glanced into the drawing-room before going 
 up to dress for dinner, and saw Edith sitting with 
 her back to him, looking out of the window. She 
 was all alone, and, yielding to an impulse, he al- 
 lowed himself the unusual pleasure of going in and 
 addressing her. 
 
 She started slightly at the sound of his voice, 
 and answered his greeting with a look of surprise 
 which led him to realize more than he had before 
 how odd his conduct must have appeared to her of 
 late. He grew suddenly shy imder the conscious- 
 ness, and began to wonder what he could say which 
 would make it seem natural that he should have 
 spoken to her now. 
 
 " Would you like to see the evening paper ? " he 
 asked at last, unable to think of anything less stu- 
 pid. 
 
 " Thank you," said Edith, tranquilly, " I have 
 seen it." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 " Yes, Julia sent for it," replied Edith gravely. 
 
332 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " She is hoping for a telegram to announce the ar- 
 rival of the Bohemia." 
 
 " Ah, I see. We should hardly hope for that 
 yet, I think," said Philip. 
 
 " Do you really not think so ? " she inquired 
 eagerly, glad of this opportunity of allaying her 
 doubts. 
 
 " Certainly not. Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " I think Julia is a little anxious at not hearing." 
 
 " Oh, there is no reason for anxiety," said Philip, 
 sitting down beside her on the sofa as he spoke. 
 " The Bohemia belongs to a line which is proverb- 
 ially slow and sure; besides, voyages are always 
 longer at this season of the year." 
 
 "I am very glad to hear you say so, in order to 
 be able to speak more reassuringly' myself. I con- 
 fess that Julia's fears had made me a little ner- 
 vous." 
 
 " You must remember that Julia has an anxious 
 temperament," returned Philip, smiling. " I was 
 afraid she would begin to look for news long be- 
 fore it could get to us, but it has seemed to me 
 of late that she was in better spirits. Whom did 
 I hear her playing to last evening ? " 
 
 " Mr. Hazzard and Mr. WUmott were both 
 here," said Edith, " and Mr. Hazzard urged her to 
 play, but I thought she only did it not to seem 
 disobliging." 
 
 " Possibly," answered Philip. " Have you seen 
 much of Cecil Wilmott since he came back ? " he 
 added, with an attempt at carelessness. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 333 
 
 " He came to see us for the first time last even- 
 ing." 
 
 Philip knew he was on dangerous ground, but 
 the temptation was tremendous. He wanted to • 
 know the worst. 
 
 " I want to ask you a question," he said. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Will you tell me whether you had not met 
 Cecil before since his return ? " 
 
 " Why do you ask me that ? " 
 
 He was silent for a moment, then he said, — 
 
 " I had several reasons for asking, but pray do 
 not answer if you do not wish to do so." 
 
 " I had not met him before," replied Edith, slowly. 
 
 " Or heard of his change of fortune ? " 
 
 " I do not know what you mean." 
 
 " I. meant that I did not know whether Cecil had 
 told you that he had suddenly come into quite a 
 large sum of money through the generosity of his 
 uncle in New York." 
 
 " He did not tell me," she answered gravely ; 
 " but I am sincerely glad to hear it." 
 
 " Cecil has done a very fine thing, I think," said 
 Philip, " for as soon as he got home he had a deed 
 executed by which he settled two thirds of this 
 money permanently on his mother and sister." 
 
 " Did he really ? " cried Edith, with a look of 
 keen pleasure. " Do you know that you have made 
 me very happy by telling me that ? " 
 
 " I am glad to have been the means of giving 
 you pleasure," returned Philip, with just a touch of 
 
334 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 bitterness, and then "took himself to task for his 
 folly. He had wished to tell her himself of this 
 good action of his rival, taking a sort of sad com- 
 fort in the fact that, with all his faults, Cecil was a 
 better fellow than many persons had given him 
 credit for, but the sight of her joy at hearing it 
 was hard to witness, so inconsistent is weak human 
 nature even in the strongest and best of us. 
 
 After spending the early hours of that evening 
 in working as usual, Philip returned to the house 
 at nine o'clock, and had just dressed to go to the 
 Drawing-room Theatre, where he had promised to 
 join Edith and Julia, when his attention was ar- 
 rested by a shout, heard through his window, of a 
 newspaper boy, who was passing on the opposite 
 side of the street. 
 
 " ' Evening Telegraph ! ' Extra edition ! Terri- 
 ble disaster at sea ! Midnight collision in a fog ! 
 The steamer Bohemia sunk off the coast of Ire- 
 land ! " 
 
 Philip rushed to the window and flung it open. 
 The voice was growing more distant, but the next 
 words came J;o him only too distinctly, " Sixty per- 
 sons supposed to be lost ! Others rescued by the 
 Cornwall." Philip's heart gave a great thump 
 against his ribs and then seemed to stand still. 
 For one instant he felt as if he coidd not move. 
 The next, he was tearing headlong down the stairs, 
 — was in the street and in hot pursuit of the news- 
 boy. Then he had overtaken him, and was return- 
 ing with a copy of the fatal paper. He came back 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 335 
 
 into the house quietly, for he had left the street- 
 door open, and unfolded it beneath the gas-light in 
 the entry with a trembling hand. 
 
 There was the same heading, word for word, 
 which the boy had repeated. There was no mis- 
 take in the name of the steamer, as he had hoped. 
 
 The account of the accident was dated from Lon- 
 don, on the morning of that same day. Philip read 
 it with a sinking heart. 
 
 " The Anglo-American steamer Bohemia [Cap- 
 tain Waterman] which sailed from New York on 
 
 the of February, for Liverpool, and arrived at 
 
 Queenstown at daybreak on the 11th instant, came 
 in collision last night at midnight, during a heavy 
 fog, about eight miles east of Dungarvan, in St. 
 George's Channel, with a vessel reported to be the 
 Scotch Mull of Cantyre, from Glasgow for Cork, 
 in ballast. The Bohemia at the same time was on 
 her way from Queenstown to Liverpool. One hun- 
 dred and fifty-four of her passengers and crew 
 were saved by the iron screw steamer Cornwall, 
 and landed at Liverpool. 
 
 " The following is a list of the saved^assengers 
 as far as known." 
 
 Then came the list of persons who had been 
 picked up by the steamer Cornwall, and carried 
 safely into port. Philip looked in vain among 
 them for his father's name. Further details would 
 be furnished whenever received, the paper said. 
 That was all the comfort that it gave him. 
 
 As he still stood staring blankly at it, feeling too 
 
336 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 much stunned to think, the door of the library 
 opened and Miss Euthven came out. 
 
 " I thought it was thy step, Philip, which passed 
 in such haste." 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Ruthven." 
 
 " What is the matter, Philip ? " she asked- 
 " Thou dost not look well." 
 
 " Oh ! Aunt Euthven, something dreadful has 
 happened." 
 
 " Come hither, Philip. What hast thou there ? 
 A newspaper ? " 
 
 Philip came close to her and took her withered 
 hand. He felt very much like laying his head on 
 her shoulder and giving way to his grief, as he 
 might have done in years gone by, when he would 
 come to his old aunt- with his childish troubles, 
 but he strove to remember that he was a man and 
 must guard against too sudden a shock to her. 
 
 " What is that ? " she said again. 
 
 "It is this evening's paper. Aunt Margaretta, 
 and there is something in it which has made me 
 very anxious." 
 
 " What is it about, my dear ? " 
 
 " About my father," he said. 
 
 " Something concerning his business, PhUip ? 
 Has something gone wrong with any of the trusts 
 which he left in thy keeping ? " 
 
 " No, thank God, it is not his honor, but it is 
 bad enough." 
 
 " No danger to his life ? " she asked faintly. 
 
 " There has been an accident to the ship in which 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 837 
 
 he sailed. He may be saved, of course, but his 
 name is not mentioned." 
 
 " What, then ? Algernon is not lost ? Spfiak, 
 PhHip ! " 
 
 " I hope not. Aunt Ruthven, but I do not know." 
 
 " Ah ! my poor boy," cried the old woman, 
 stretching towards him her trembling arms. Philip 
 led her to a chair in the drawing-room and knelt 
 beside her with his head in her lap. 
 
 " How can I bear the uncertainty ? " he asked. 
 " How can I tellJulia ? " 
 
 "Strength will be given thee, my son. God will 
 not forsake thee," she said, tenderly enfolding him. 
 " Oh ! Algernon, Algernon," she murmured, " that 
 I should outlive thee ! " 
 
 Philip soon started up and began pacing the 
 room. . 
 
 "I wish I could avoid speaking to Julia," he 
 said, " until we know more. There may be better 
 news in the morning." 
 
 " Yet would it be kinder that she should hear it 
 from thee than from a stranger," returned Miss 
 Ruthven. "If it is in the paper, may not this 
 report reach Julia at any moment ? " 
 
 " That is true ! " cried Philip. " I must go to 
 her at once. Good night, dear aunt." 
 
 « Good night, Philip." 
 
 As he strode through the street in the midst of 
 his misery and doubt, the wish again occurred to 
 him that he could save Julia the anxiety which he 
 was suffering. 
 
 22 
 
338 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " If I could only get her safely home ! " he said 
 to himself. " If I could only get her home." 
 
 He made his way up-stairs, when he reached the 
 Theatre, and through the gay throng of people 
 who stood about the entrance of the auditorium. 
 
 There was a scene being enacted at that mo- 
 ment. Mrs. Percy, who performed the part of a 
 peasant girl, was singing, and coquetting with her 
 own sweet reflection in a spring of mimic water. 
 Mr. Hazzard, her valiant adorer, was dressed as a 
 French soldier, and watching her from a stage 
 concealment. Edith and Julia were sitting beside 
 Mrs. Davering and fortunately not very far for- 
 ward in the audience. Julia, who had the inside 
 seat, looked pale and weary. Her eyes had a sad, 
 far away expression which showed that she was not 
 in sympathy with the scene about her. 
 
 Edith, on the other hand, was full of life and 
 enjoyment. Her face beamed with animation, and 
 even at this moment Philip was provoked at the 
 sight of Mr. Drum Kettleby occupying the seat 
 just behind Miss Arnold, and leaning forward from 
 time to time in the pauses of the song to speak to 
 her with amiable patronage. Philip was presently 
 beside them. 
 
 " I beg your pardon. Drum Kettleby," he said, 
 hastily, " but I shall be greatly obliged if you will- 
 let me have your seat for a moment." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly, my dear fellow," said Mr. 
 Drum Kettleby. " Take it by all means." Never- 
 theless he looked at Philip in some surprise when 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 339 
 
 he quietly took it and turned his back upon him 
 without further ceremony. 
 
 " Turn your head this way, Miss Arnold," said 
 Philip to Edith. " I have something to tell you 
 which I do not want overheard." 
 
 Edith turned her head instantly. He had spoken 
 in a low voice, but unconsciously used a tone of 
 command which she instinctively obeyed. 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked quietly. 
 
 "I have heard some bad news," said Philip, 
 " and I do not want Julia to know it. Do you 
 understand ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Edith. A sudden change swept 
 over her face. " Do you wish to tell me what the 
 news is ? " 
 
 " It is about my father," said Philip, hurriedly. 
 "Of an accident to the ship in which he sailed, 
 but he himself may be safe." 
 
 Edith's eyes flashed up into his with a qtdck 
 glance of sympathy and understanding, which gave 
 a kind of comfort. 
 
 " You see the thing is in the evening paper," he 
 went on, "and I wish above all things to guard 
 against its reaching Julia accidentally. How can 
 I get her home ? " 
 
 " I can do it," said Edith. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " I will say that I am tired, and do not want to 
 go back to Mrs.' Davering's to supper." 
 
 "That will do," said Philip, "tell her that I 
 have gone to call the carriage, please." 
 
340 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Had you not better speak to her yourself?" 
 
 " I can't," he answered. " I am afraid to haye 
 her see my face." 
 
 Edith looked up again, and noticed what a pale, 
 stern face it was. 
 
 " I am so sorry for you," she said impulsively. 
 
 " Thank you. I know you are. We must only 
 hope that things are less dark than they seem. Do 
 not let any one have an opportunity of speaking to 
 her if you can help it. You will find me below." 
 
 He went, and Edith turned to her friend, whose 
 attention happened, very fortunately, to have been 
 engaged by Mrs. Davering during Philip's short 
 interview 'with her. 
 
 " Do you care very much about going to Mrs. 
 Davering's to supper, Julia ? " 
 
 "No. Why do you ask?" 
 
 "I feel rather tired. Would you mind if I 
 asked you to come home with me now ? " 
 
 "Certainly not," replied Julia. "We will go 
 as soon as the opera is ended." 
 
 " So far so good," thought Edith, " but who 
 might not come and talk to Julia after the opera 
 was ended ? " 
 
 "Do you think it is necessary to wait till the 
 end ? " she asked nervously. 
 
 "Are you in such a hurry? Perhaps you do 
 not feel well?" 
 
 Edith jumped at the excuse; anything rather 
 than what she feared. " To tell you the truth," 
 she said, " I think the air is rather oppressive." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 341 
 
 responded Jiilia. "You feel faint." 
 She looked about her anxiously. " I wish Philip 
 were here. You know he promised to come for us." 
 
 " He did come a moment ago, when you were 
 talking to Mrs. Davering," said Edith, with a des- 
 perate effort to appear unconscious. " He said he 
 would wait for us outside." 
 
 " Did he, indeed ? Then I will explain to Mrs. 
 Davering, and we can go at once." 
 
 There was very little stir made, for they glided 
 qidetly out in the midst of a loud Iburst of applause 
 at a duet from the tenor and the prima donna. 
 Philip was waiting at the foot of the stairs. He 
 offered his arm instinctively to Julia. It seemed 
 to him, poor fellow, that she needed aU the support 
 which he could give her, but Julia drew back. 
 
 " Take Edith," she said. " She does not feel 
 well. Help her to the carriage, Philip." 
 
 " Do you not feel well. Miss Arnold ? " he asked, 
 in a tone of genuine concern. " Why, I thought " — 
 He was going to say that he had thought she was 
 looking remarkably well, when a slight warning 
 pressure on the arm which she had taken somewhat 
 enlightened him as to the cause of her sudden in- 
 disposition. 
 
 He was haunted with the fear even on the drive 
 home that they might meet some belated newsboy 
 who would shout the dreadful secret into Julia's 
 ears as it had come to his, but they reached the 
 house on Meredith Square without further incident. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 " But oh, the heavy change now thou art gone I 
 Now thou art gone and never must return ! " 
 
 Milton. 
 
 The morning papers brought no comfort to 
 Philip. He rose early, after a sleepless night, and 
 walked down to the news ofi&ce, giving orders that 
 his absence should not be mentioned, and that all 
 papers were to be taken unopened to his bed- 
 chamber, especially that they were not to be shown 
 to Julia under any circumstances. 
 
 When he reached home again he had realized 
 that almost all the little hope to which he had 
 clung was gone. He could not conceal his great 
 bereavement from himself or keep it from others 
 any longer. The first thing that he heard in com- . 
 ing into the house was that Julia had asked for 
 the paper, and being told that Philip was "reading 
 it," had requested Rogers to get her another. The 
 poor old family servant, only half suspecting that 
 some great misfortune hung over the house, was 
 beside himself to know what to do, when, fortu- 
 nately, his young master came. 
 
 Philip went into the dining-room where Julia 
 was sitting by the fire alone'. He knew she was 
 thinking of his father, for this was an hour in the 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 343 
 
 day peculiarly associated with tim. Mr. Drayton 
 had always been full of life and mischief in the 
 morning, being so much more boyish in this re- 
 spect than Philip, that the few moments before 
 breakfast seemed quite to belong to him. 
 
 Julia looked up as Philip came near her, with a 
 slight start, as though aroused from some sad 
 thought. 
 
 " Is there any news of the Bohemia, Philip ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 Philip felt himself grow pale. " The ship has 
 been heard from," he answered. 
 
 " How ? Where ? Has it arrived safely ? " 
 
 " No, Julia, it has not arrived." 
 
 " Has something happened, Philip ? " 
 
 "Yes, there has been an accident — at — at sea." 
 
 " I knew it ! " she exclaimed. "O Philip, your 
 father — is he safe ? Tell me ! " 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 " What have you heard ? Where is the paper ? 
 For pity's sake do not keep it from me ! What 
 hope is there ? " 
 
 This was the hardest question for him to answer 
 which she had yet asked. Philip opened the first 
 of two folded papers which he held. 
 
 " This one came first," he said, gently. " It is 
 the account of a collision. The Bohemia was run 
 into by another vessel and a hole made in her side. 
 Here is a list of a number of the passengers and 
 crew who were saved." 
 
 Julia's eye was upon him as he uttered the last 
 
344 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 words. He knew only too well what it was asking. 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " And his name is not there ? " she said at last. 
 
 " Not there, but this is only the list as far as 
 known." 
 
 " O God ! '' she cried, and buried her face in 
 her hands. Then suddenly she withdrew them and 
 pointed to the other paper. " Not there either ? " 
 she asked. " Read ! Is it not there ? " 
 
 "No, Julia, not as having escaped," he said, 
 mournfully, " but still he may be saved." 
 
 "Let me see, please, please," she murmured ; and 
 Philip reluctantly gave her the paper which had 
 come that morning, and turned a little from her, 
 for he was sick at heart. 
 
 This is what she read : — 
 
 " Further particulars of the Bohemia disaster 
 show that she was near Helvick Head, about three 
 miles from shore. She was struck on the starboard 
 side amidships, and sank in less than twenty min- 
 utes. Distress signals were given and responded 
 to by the Cornwall, proceeding up the Channel, 
 which made all haste to the rescue. There were 
 nine boats on the Bohemia, four of which were 
 crushed in the collision. Five were got off, but 
 one, beiag overcrowded with passengers, was sunk. 
 All the boats pulled away from the doomed ship, 
 leaving the captain, who refused to desert his post. 
 The last boat was commanded by the first officer, 
 who did all he could to induce the captain to leave 
 the ship. 
 
' A CARPET KNIGHT. 345 
 
 "The following who appear on the steamer's pas- 
 senger list have not been accounted for." 
 
 " I thought you said his name was not there," 
 said Julia hoarsely. 
 
 " You know what I meant, Julia." 
 
 " Then you saw it on this list ? " 
 
 Philip bowed his head. Julia read on with a 
 terrible eagerness. The personal accounts of sev- 
 eral passengers were given in full. She stopped 
 at one headed by the names of two ladies whom 
 she knew in New York, and pointed half way down 
 the column to another name. Philip had seen it 
 too. 
 
 The older of the two ladies wrote as follows : — 
 
 " About forty-five minutes after eleven o'clock 
 at night, without the slightest warning of the prox- 
 imity of any vessel, a bark appeared on our right, 
 and crashed into us just above the funnel, making 
 a big hole. My daughter and I were in our state- 
 room. We were awakened by the crash and rushed 
 on deck, where the boats were being put off. 
 Every one was crowding into them, and we saw one 
 sunk before our eyes from being overloaded. 
 
 " We women were powerless against the rush of 
 strong men, for many of the crew were trying to 
 save themselves. We were beginning to give up 
 hope, when our friend, Mr. Drayton, saw us and 
 made way for us, assisting us into the last boat. 
 We begged him to follow, but there were nearly 
 forty in the boat already, and seeing a number of 
 sailors trying to get on board, thus endangering 
 
346 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 the lives of all, Mr. Drayton cut the ropes himself 
 and set the boat adrift, saying good-by to us. We 
 were too much laden even to attempt the rescue 
 of any persons floating. We rowed to the Corn- 
 wall, which stood by during the night. 
 
 " At daylight the topmast of the Bohemia and 
 her fore and main-yards were visible above water, 
 but there was nobody in the rigging." 
 
 Julia started up with a low cry. 
 
 " Of course he was not there ! " she said wildly, 
 " he was here 1 Don't you see? He came here." 
 
 " What do you mean, Julia ? " asked Philip, be- 
 wildered. 
 
 She clasped her hands above her head. 
 
 " That was it," she murmured, speaking more to 
 herself than to him. " He died like a hero ! Like 
 a jjero ! " she repeated, with a wail, " and he came 
 to me ! " Her large, dark eyes were fixed in a 
 sort of stare. Presently a mist seemed to come 
 over them. She tottered and stretched out her 
 hands to Philip, who just caught her as she would 
 have fallen senseless on the floor. 
 
 It was the beginning of a long illness, a pro- 
 tracted fever, in which Julia lay tossing for weeks 
 between life and death. She had the less chance 
 of recovery, the doctor said, that her health had 
 been giving way, and she had evidently overtaxed 
 her strength for weeks before the shock came. 
 . No one could be more patient and loving than 
 Edith in this time of trouble, except perhaps Miss 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 347 
 
 Euthven. The two together devoted themselves 
 night and day to the care of Julia, but neither of 
 them was strong enough to bear the long-continued 
 strain, and at last they were forced to allow the 
 assistance of a trained nurse. 
 
 It was a sad sight to see Philip Drayton in these 
 days. He went about with the look of a man upon 
 whom some great blow had fallen, and who was 
 stunned by it, so that none of the little outward 
 circumstances of life were real to him, but like 
 things acted in a play. He had never known, him- 
 self, with what a worshipful dependence he looked 
 up to his father, until he felt that he was gone. 
 
 He was always making inquiries and searching 
 the papers for some possible clue, which should 
 give him the right to indulge a faint hope that Mr. 
 Drayton might, after all, have escaped. The cap- 
 tain of the lost steamer, who had been picked up 
 by a Welsh vessel, floating on a bit of wood, and 
 carried to Caernarvon, was reported at one time to 
 have said that he believed there was " another 
 steamer " near the wreck, which had saved many 
 lives ; but when this report was sifted it proved to 
 have been the Cornwall to which the captain re- 
 ferred, on which the name of every passenger saved 
 was well known to poor Philip. 
 
 Another day he turned away with a shudder from 
 the following short despatch, dated from Dublin : 
 
 " One female and two male corpses were landed 
 yesterday at Tramore. One body is apparently 
 that of an officer of the ill-fated Bohemia, and one 
 
848 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 of a passenger, — it is thought an American. His 
 watch, which was found on him, had stopped at 
 12.15, no doubt the hour the ship went down, that 
 fatefid night." 
 
 Edith Arnold, who happened to be in the room, 
 had taken the paper from Philip's hand. She drew 
 his attention to the concluding sentence. 
 
 " That was just the hour," she said, "when Julia 
 believes that she saw him." 
 
 " Poor Julia ! " sighed Philip. " I know she 
 thinks that she saw him." 
 
 " Do you know, I can hardly help believing it 
 myself?" 
 
 " That my father actually appeared to Julia ? " 
 
 " You know she came to me on that very night," 
 said Edith, " only a few moments afterwards, and 
 told me aU about it. I was impressed even then 
 by the story and by her manner." 
 
 " I never heard that before," said Philip gravely. 
 " What time was it when she came to you ? " 
 
 " It was exactly twenty minutes past twelve. I 
 know, for I looked at the little French clock on the 
 mantel-piece, when I lit my light." 
 
 They were both silent for a little while. 
 
 "I shall write and get the description of this 
 watch," said Philip, presently. " If it seems worth 
 while, I will go to Ireland. Where are you go- 
 ing ? " he asked, as Edith rose. 
 
 " To Julia. She may want me," she said, and 
 glided from the room. 
 
 He did not see her again for several days. She 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 349 
 
 was so constantly engaged with Julia that they 
 rarely met, except by accident, or when he went to 
 the door of the sick room, as he did morning and 
 evening to ask the tidings. 
 
 Then he would interchange a few whispered sen- 
 tences with Edith or Miss Ruthven. Woidd be 
 told of " a little better night," " not quite so much 
 fever," or " a little less restlessness," as the best 
 news which he could hope to hear, and go down 
 again to his solitary breakfast or dinner with a 
 dull sense of misery which was not the best incen- 
 tive to appetite. There was no denying that he 
 suffered very much from loneliness added to his 
 grief. Cecil Wilmott and Charley Hazzard came 
 constantly to inquire for Julia. The latter sent 
 her the most beautiful flowers, and carried about 
 with him a very mournful face, poor fellow, while 
 Cecil showed the sincerily of his interest in many 
 little ways. He also came out very unexpectedly 
 as a help to Philip in his professional cares just at 
 this time ; but in spite of the fact that his cousin 
 had really gone to work in earnest since his return, 
 there was not more sympathy between them than 
 there had been. 
 
 There may have existed a secret cause for the 
 want of intimacy now which prevented them from 
 being more in each other's company ; but certain it 
 is that Philip saw very little of Cecil except when 
 thrown with him by the necessities of business. 
 
 As Philip sat in the study one afternoon, the 
 door opened, after a muffled ring at the bell, to ad^ 
 
350 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 mit Rogers with a card. He had a pleased expres- 
 sion as he handed it to his young master, and Philip 
 glancing at it read the name of Dr. Lawrence 
 Carey. 
 
 " Show him in, — or wait, — where is he ? I will 
 go to him ! " 
 
 Philip opened the folding doors long closed be- 
 tween the library and drawing-room, the usual ob- 
 scurity of which was increased by the bowed shut- 
 ters of the front windows, — a token that the house 
 was in mourning. Dr. Carey was sitting near -one 
 of them. He rose and came hurriedly towards 
 Philip, holding out both hands. 
 
 " My dear fellow ! " was all he said, words which 
 may be rendered in a hundred different tones, but 
 then their hands were clasped together in a man- 
 ner which could not be mistaken. 
 
 " I was thinking of you the other day," said 
 Philip. " You were the only person whom I wished 
 to see." 
 
 " And Miss Prescott ? " asked Carey, with an 
 earnest look of inquiry. 
 
 " She is about the same. Perhaps a little less 
 well to-day." 
 
 " Then she is not out of danger ? " 
 
 " The doctor will not say so." 
 
 Dr. Carey turned his back to Philip and walked 
 to the window. 
 
 " It was good of you to come," said Philip. 
 
 " I could not keep away," he answered. 
 
 " I am glad of that," said Philip simply. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIX. 
 
 " How wonderful is death, — 
 Death and his brother sleep [ " 
 
 Shelley. 
 
 De. Caret, stayed two nights and a day. His 
 visit was a great comfort to Philip, but it is doubt- 
 ful whether he gained much consolation from it 
 himself beyond this, for Julia steadily grew worse, 
 and yet Carey was forced to return on the second 
 morning after he had come. Philip went with him 
 to the train and promised to write often, and so 
 they parted with heavy hearts. 
 
 Mrs. Wilmott and Charlotte, coming to ask after 
 Julia the next afternoon, were shocked by the ser- 
 vant's answer, — "The doctor says Miss Julia is 
 very low." 
 
 " I must speak to Mr. Philip ! " said Charlotte, 
 pushing by old Rogers who would have closed the 
 door again, and bursting in upon Philip, who was 
 sitting alone in the library, for Charlotte had a 
 very kind heart, but was not always considerate of 
 the feelings of others. "How is Julia, reaUy?" 
 she asked impetuously. " Is she worse ? " 
 
 "Yes, Charlotte." 
 
 " Do you think she — cannot live ? " 
 
 " God knows," answered Philip. 
 
352 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Oil, mother ! There is hardly any hope ! " 
 cried Charlotte, turning to Mrs_. Wilmott, who had 
 followed and stood behind her in the doorway. 
 
 Just then there was another ring, and Mrs. 
 Davering's voice was heard inquiring. 
 
 " This is too much," cried Philip. " I cannot 
 see that woman ! " 
 
 "I will go and speak to her," said Mrs. Wil- 
 mott. She went to do so, and Philip slipped out 
 and ran up stairs at the same moment, leaving 
 Charlotte alone. He knew she intended to be 
 kind, but he could not bear her well-meant sym- 
 pathy just then. He had a desperate feeling that 
 he was being shut out forever from Julia, that per- 
 haps at this instant her spirit was passing away, 
 and here were all these strangers crowding in to 
 take possession of his life, which had been spent 
 near her and near his father. 
 
 He crept softly along the passage and through 
 the room adjoining hers, in which Miss Ruthven 
 slept, to the door of Julia's chamber. 
 
 He was determined to see her. They had kept 
 him from her all these days because the excitement 
 would not be good, they said : and what had come 
 of it? Had she a chance more of living, for his 
 banishment ? 
 
 There was a screen in front of the door, stand- 
 ing silently behind which, he could hear her labored 
 breathing, and now and then a faint flutter, as of 
 some one fanning her. The light was dim in the 
 room, although it was bright enough outside, for it 
 was only four o'clock of a spring afternoon. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 353 
 
 Peering fearfully from behind the screen he saw 
 that Edith was by the bed, which was just in front 
 of him, and Miss Euthven and the nurse were 
 whispering together in the doorway of a room which 
 opened on the other side. Edith was bending very 
 close to her friend, with a look of love and anguish 
 which he could not mistake, even from where he 
 stood. 
 
 At this moment his hand was touched from be- 
 hind by some one. He turned, and to his surprise 
 saw the doctor holding out something towards 
 him. It seemed to be a yellow envelope. He 
 stepped back and took it mechanically. He did 
 not feel the least interest in it. Then he opened 
 the envelope in a stupid sort of way and gave a 
 great start, putting his hand over his mouth to 
 keep himself from crying out. It was a telegram. 
 
 " Is it true ? " he asked of the doctor, with a 
 look of frightened gladness, the like of which the 
 good man had never seen before. 
 
 " I will soon tell you," he answered, stepping 
 unceremoniously behind Philip and reading the 
 message over his shoulder. 
 
 It was dated "Gibraltar, March — ," and ran 
 thus: "Eescued by ship Mary Brown, for this 
 port. Have written. Algeknon Drayton." 
 
 " It is signed with my father's name," said 
 Philip. 
 
 " Yes. It was evidently sent by him." 
 
 " And he is living ? Would to God it had come 
 sooner ! To think that Julia will never know ! " 
 
 23 
 
354 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Do you suppose that she would rejoice in it as 
 you do? " asked the doctor. 
 
 Philip stared at the medical man in amazement. 
 " Why, I thought you understood, doctor, that this 
 — this terrible report was the whole cause of her 
 ilhiess ! " 
 
 " The shock — of course — I understand that, 
 and that she had previously been in a frail state 
 of health ; but was she very much attached to your 
 father?" 
 
 " She has been perfectly devoted to him all her 
 life," said Philip, with tears in his voice. 
 
 " Ah ! Well, if that is the case," said the doctor, 
 cheerfully, " I think there is some hope yet ; other- 
 wise I should hardly feel justified in saying that 
 there was." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean that in the state into which Miss Pres- 
 cott has unfortunately sunk in spite of all our 
 .efforts to prevent it, nothing will save her but some 
 great reaction, if it can be safely brought about. 
 It is a dangerous remedy in her weakened condi- 
 tion, but hers is a case of extremity. If she is not 
 roused she will almost surely pass away in the sort 
 of stupor which has been creeping over her for the 
 last twenty-four hours." 
 
 Philip looked piteously into the doctor's face. 
 " What can be done ? " he asked, " and how ? " 
 
 " I think if she could only be made to realize 
 your father's safety all might yet be well." 
 
 " But do you thiak that possible ? " 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 355 
 
 " It is just possible only, but it is worth trying. 
 As she has not seen you before, it might not be a 
 bad idea for you to try." 
 
 Philip nodded. " I understand," he said eagerly. 
 He was all alertness and attention now. "How 
 had I better doit?" 
 
 " Suppose you go in and take her the telegram ? 
 I will see that the other door is closed, so that 
 there may not be too many people, and will be 
 ready here in case I am wanted." 
 
 He went out through the entry, and Philip 
 waited until the door on the opposite side of the 
 chamber was softly closed. Then he glided into 
 the room. 
 
 Julia was lying in the centre of a huge, four-post 
 bedstead with heavy chintz curtains. Her little 
 figure looked so slight and frail — more like a 
 child's than that of a full-grown woman ^^ — that he 
 could hardly believe that it was hers. One of her 
 poor thin hands was clasped in Edith's. That was 
 a good sign, Philip thought. It showed that she 
 had not entirely lost consciousness. But what 
 troubled him most was her breathing, — it came 
 with so much effort, although she was propped up 
 with pillows. 
 
 As he approached the bed, Edith looked up at 
 him with tear-stained eyes. He met them with a 
 steady gaze. There was a sort of reserved strength 
 in his manner, which had changed utterly in the 
 last few minutes, and seemed to hold a kind of 
 subdued hope. 
 
356 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 He gently withdrew Julia's hand from Edith's, 
 and took it in his own. Then he leajied towards 
 her and whispered her name. 
 
 "Julia." 
 
 The dark eyelashes trembled, although her eyes 
 did not unclose. He felt sure she had heard him. 
 
 " I have something to tell you, Julia." 
 
 Her eyes opened now with an inquiring look, 
 but they wandered away from Philip in an instant, 
 as though nothing were able to fix her attention. 
 
 " It is something about my father," said Philip. 
 
 She turned her face slightly towards him, with 
 an expression of apprehension. 
 
 " There is good news," said Philip. 
 
 Her little hand, which had lain so lifelessly in 
 his, suddenly grasped it spasmodically. Her eyes 
 shone like two stars, and gazed up at him with a 
 desperate eagerness of entreaty. 
 
 " He is saved, Julia." 
 
 Her lips moved now, although he could not dis- 
 tinguish what they said. He bent over her and 
 caught the words : — 
 
 " How do you know it ? " 
 
 It was so like Julia to ask that, even in this su- 
 preme moment. He recognized the old doubting 
 spirit which had haunted her from childhood. 
 
 " He has telegraphed to me from Gibraltar," he 
 answered, holding up the telegram as he spoke, 
 and speaking very distinctly. 
 
 The dying girl uttered a low cry, — the first 
 sound above a whisper since the day before, and 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 367 
 
 withdrawing the hand which Philip held, clasped 
 it in the other with a look of passionate thanksgiv- 
 ing. 
 
 She remained in this attitude for several mo- 
 ments; then her eyes gradually lost their lustre, 
 the lids drooped over them, her head sank a little 
 sideways on the pillow, the labored breathing 
 ceased. Was it sleep, or was it death ? 
 
 The doctor, who had entered the moment that he 
 heard her voice, bent his ear over her anxiously. 
 He cautiously inserted his fingers round the wrist 
 of one of her hands, which still lay clasped to- 
 gether on her breast. He shook his head and 
 asked for some ammonia. 
 
 The nurse went for it, and, with old-fashioned 
 prejudice, brought at the same time a mirror. 
 They were all there now, — Miss Ruthven standing 
 behind Philip with her hand upon his shoulder, a 
 mixture of hope and anxiety upon her wrinkled 
 face ; for she had just heard of her nephew's safety, 
 and yet seemed in the dread presence of the enemy 
 whom he had escaped. 
 
 While the doctor was pouring out the stimulant 
 the nurse approached the mirror to Julia's lips. 
 Every one bent forward involuntarily, and a dim 
 cloud of mist appeared on the surface of the glass. 
 The doctor managed to insert a teaspoonful of the 
 ammonia between her lips, and a faintly warmer 
 tint replaced the deathly pallor of her face as she 
 swallowed it. 
 
 " Thank God ! " he said, below his breath. He 
 
358 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 watched her anxiously, and remained by her side, 
 using every means of restoration, until reaction had 
 become completely established. At last he rose, 
 with a triumphant smile. " She wiU do now," he 
 whispered. " Keep the room perfectly quiet, and 
 see that she has a little stimulant from time to 
 time. I wiU see her in the course of an hour." 
 
 The letter, which reached Philip a day or two 
 after, was begun on the — of February, on board 
 the Mary Brown, and ran as follows : — 
 
 "My deak Son, — It distresses me to think 
 what grief and anxiety you and dear Julia and 
 Aunt Margaretta will feel on reading of the wreck 
 of the Bohemia, if, as I fear, no report of my 
 safety may reach you at the same time. 
 
 " I am saved, however, and when you know this 
 I trust that the assurance may in some measure 
 repay you for the doubt and apprehension which I 
 cannot spare you. 
 
 " I was picked up by this vessel on the night of 
 the — of February, just as I had begun to surren- 
 der all hope of ever seeing you again. The captain 
 tells me that he was attracted to the scene of the 
 disaster by cries of distress, and sent out a life- 
 boat, which discovered me and one other clinging 
 to a portion of the cabin steps, which were floating, 
 long after the ship had gone down. 
 
 " I was almost insensible. It was the shouts of 
 my companion in misfortune, a sturdy young sea- 
 
A CABPET KNIGHT. 359 
 
 man, wMch had arrested the attention of the 
 Mary Brown, and secured our deliverance. No 
 one could have been kinder than this captain, or 
 more indefatigable in his efforts to restore me from 
 the state of unconsciousness into which I frequently 
 relapsed after my first revival ; but when I realized 
 my delivery and told him of the anxiety which my 
 friends would feel, and the urgent nature of the 
 business for which I was going to England, I could 
 not induce him, by any argument, to change his 
 ship's course. 
 
 " We were bound for Gibraltar, and already thre'e 
 days out. My worthy rescuer said that he was 
 in the merchant service of Great Britain. He had 
 his orders, and they must be obeyed. I offered 
 him a large sum of money if he would land me 
 at any convenient poiut in France or Spain from 
 whence I could communicate with home, but he 
 was immovable, and I have surrendered myself at 
 last to the prospect of several weeks of inaction, 
 only writing this letter in the faint hope of hailing 
 some passing ship which wiU put it in the way of 
 reaching you." 
 
 Then followed a few words of gratitude at the 
 wonderful escape which he had made, and many 
 messages to all of them, especially to Julia. 
 "Would that I could return, myself, with this 
 letter ! " he added later, in a hasty postscript to 
 say that they had had the good fortune to come 
 alongside of a sailing vessel from Bordeaux, bound 
 for New York, and he therefore hoped that this 
 
360 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 missive, which he sent by her, would reach them 
 in two or three weeks, — almost as soon as the tel- 
 egram, which he would despatch from Gibraltar 
 before returning, himself, to London. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 " O welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope, 
 Thou hovering angel, girt with golden wings." 
 
 Milton. 
 
 The first faint promise of young leaves had 
 come, with gray or reddish tints deepening into 
 exquisitely varying shades of palest green, while 
 here and there a more vivid touch of the same 
 color gave expression to the landscape, when Julia 
 was once more taken to drive in the Park. By the 
 middle of April she was to be moved to Herons-" 
 ford under the care of Mrs. Wilmott and Char- 
 lotte, while Miss Ruthven bade a temporary fare- 
 well to her charge, and returned to the old-fash- 
 ioned home which she had forsaken for so long. 
 
 Edith, too, felt that she must go back to her 
 mother and sister, but she had promised to return 
 in June and make Julia a long visit. Julia's re- 
 covery bad been slow but steady. When she was 
 first able to go out again she was still very thin, 
 but had regained her old alertness of manner and 
 brightness of expression. She had received a long 
 letter from Mr. Drayton, telling of his return to 
 JLondoD, and of the surprise and disappointment 
 (as he expressed it) of the honorable gentlemen 
 who represented the other side of the lawsuit in 
 
362 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 whicli lie was engaged at his escape from the 
 machinations of Neptune. Then had followed a 
 half serious and half joking account of the trial, 
 which he knew she would like, and last of all a 
 word or two of tenderest regret at hearing of her 
 illness, as he had done through a letter from Miss 
 Ruthven. 
 
 " If I could only give you half the pleasure that 
 my reported loss has given you pain," he said, "I 
 should be very happy." 
 
 He wrote to Philip at the same time a letter full 
 of anxious inquiries and urgent instructions as to 
 the care of his " dear little ward," as it pleased him 
 to designate this young woman of twenty. It was 
 in accordance with one of his suggestions that it 
 was decided to move out of town so early, for he 
 thought the country air would be, good for Julia ; 
 and she submitted to all that was decreed for her, 
 with a new sense of contentment. 
 
 A great change had come over her since those 
 awful weeks of darkness and despair, when she lay 
 tossing on her bed of pain. She no longer seemed 
 to herself all alone in the world with but one 
 friend to cling to, and on the brink of losing that 
 one, in whom her whole life centered. 
 
 She had been deeply touched by the love and de- 
 votion of every one about her in this time of trial, 
 and felt as if she could not do enough for Philip or 
 Edith, or even Miss Ruthven. Indeed, she did not 
 think that she had known this lady's real character 
 before, long as they had lived together ; but perhaps 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 363 
 
 her sense of the goodness of all these friends might 
 not have been quickened, and it is almost sure that 
 she never could have lived to realize it fully, but 
 for the crowning mercy, which she believed the 
 direct act of an aU-merciful Father, in saving Mr. 
 Drayton's life. 
 
 It seemed to Julia that if she did penance for- 
 ever for her past shortcomings, she never could 
 be gratefid enough for this great blessing. She 
 wanted to begin to do something which was very 
 hard to do, at once, in order to prove to herself 
 how sincerely she regretted the spirit of repining 
 to which she had yielded when she fancied that she 
 was forsaken, before the torment had come of los- 
 ing utterly that which she now told herself that 
 she had had no right to wish for all her own. 
 
 Oddly enough, no one appeared to be willing to 
 let her do the smallest thing. Every one was gen- 
 tle and kind and considerate. Every one thought 
 for her and arranged everything, so that there was 
 nothing for Julia to do but to accept their arrange- 
 ments, and this at least she did with the best grace. 
 
 The parting with Edith was one of the hardest 
 things which she had to look forward to, but even 
 that was sweetened by the hope of her speedy 
 return. 
 
 " You will write soon, dear ? " she said, as they 
 stood together in the entry, Edith in her traveling 
 dress, while Rogers was taking down her bags to 
 put into the cab, and Philip awaited her on the 
 doorstep. 
 
364 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Of course I will." 
 
 " And often ? " 
 
 " Very often." 
 
 " I wish thee a very pleasant journey, my child," 
 said Miss Ruthven, whom Edith turned to next, 
 " and although I do not know thy mother, it will 
 please me to be mentioned to her as one who will 
 retain an affectionate remembrance of her child." 
 
 Edith kissed the old lady warmly and then came 
 the farewell to Philip. She held out her hand 
 to him, but Philip smiled and -shook his head, 
 although he seemed ready enough to take the hand 
 if she had not withdrawn it. 
 
 " You do not get rid of me so quickly," he said. 
 " I am going with you." 
 
 " Of course, Edith," said Julia, " Philip must 
 see you to the station. You might otherwise have 
 some romantic adventure, such as the one you had 
 when you came to us this winter. Do you not 
 remember ? We have found out that you are. a 
 young lady who requires very sharp looking after." 
 
 Edith laughed and blushed in spite of herself. 
 She had a very tell-tale complexion, which was al- 
 ways producing false appearances, especially for 
 Philip's benefit, as it seemed. He noticed the 
 blush as he helped her into the carriage, and when 
 the last adieus were spoken and they were driving 
 from the door his anxiety got the better of his dis- 
 cretion. 
 
 " Did Cecil Wilmott come to say good-by to 
 you?" he inquired. 
 
A CARPET KNIOET. 365 
 
 " Why do you ask me that ? " 
 
 " In the hope that you will answer me." 
 
 " Does that mean for curiosity ? " 
 
 " It means, rather, for information. I have a 
 reason for wishing to know what I ask." 
 
 " What possible reason can there be ? " 
 
 " It would be hard for me to tell you that, but 
 you will answer me or not, exactly as you please, 
 of course." 
 
 " As it happens I prefer to do so. Mr. Wilmott 
 did come last evening," she said proudly, " and I 
 was sorry to say good-by to him." 
 
 Her manner puzzled Philip, as it had always. 
 
 " I think I was wrong. After all, I am afraid I 
 had no right to ask you these questions," he said. 
 " WiU you forgive me ? " 
 
 He turned towards her as he spoke, but she 
 avoided looking at him. 
 
 " Not unless you will teU me why you wanted to 
 know." 
 
 " Will it not do if I promise never to offend 
 again r 
 
 " I should like very much to know what your 
 reason is," she answered, playing with the handle 
 of her closed parasol. 
 
 " If you will say that you forgive me, I will tell 
 you," said Philip, with a change in his voice ; but 
 just at this moment the carriage stopped at the sta- 
 tion. 
 
 " I am sure it must have been difficult for you 
 to leave your important law^business to come with 
 
366 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 me to-day," she remarked, when they were waiting 
 to take the train. 
 
 " I wanted to come." 
 
 " You are certainly fortunate in one respect," 
 she said. " You always want to do amiable things. 
 You must be naturally benevolent, or perhaps you 
 have a high sense of duty ; now I am always want- ' 
 ing not to do the things which I ought to do." 
 
 " Such as what, for instance ? " 
 
 " Oh, I do not know, there are a hundred of 
 them. I wanted very much not to go to see Mrs. 
 Davering to bid her good-by." 
 
 "■ I should have had the same wish," said Phil- 
 
 " It would have been nothing in you, but it was 
 shockingly ungrateful of me, after all she has done 
 for me." 
 
 " Granted. What else have you wanted not to 
 do that was amiable, — or a duty, since you put it 
 so?" 
 
 " I do not think I want to go home, as much as 
 I ought," said Edith, gravely. 
 
 " Do you not, and why ? " 
 
 " I can hardly tell. I believe I am a little afraid 
 of the changes which I may find, after so long an 
 absence." 
 
 " I hoped that the feeling might have a little to 
 do with reluctance to leave us," said Philip. 
 
 " So it has, of course, but that regret is some- 
 "what compensated by the desire to see my mother 
 and sister." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 367 
 
 " Naturally. We have no such compensation. 
 Are you not sorry for us ? " 
 
 " Very, for Julia. I think she will miss me al- 
 most as much as I shall miss her." 
 
 " And how about me ? " 
 
 " You ? oh, you have your books and your artis- 
 tic employments, I suppose, to say nothing of the 
 aU-absorbing affairs at your office." 
 
 " They will not fill all my time." 
 
 " I thought they would," said Edith demurely ; 
 and it suddenly flashed upon Philip that she was 
 intending to punish him for that period of studied 
 neglect, during which he had been so frequently in 
 her society without availing himself of it. 
 
 " I suppose a woman never forgives a man who 
 feels her influence for refusing to yield to it," he 
 said bitterly. 
 
 " What do you call refusing to yield to a per- 
 son's influence ? " asked Edith innocently. 
 
 " Denying one's self the pleasure of talking to 
 her would be one way," he answered, smiling. 
 
 " Well, I should think his doing that might 
 make her a little skeptical of his deriving enjoy- 
 ment from her society." 
 
 " Do you think it would never occur to her that 
 he derived greater enjoyment than he thought it 
 wise to indulge in ? " 
 
 " How could it, if he gave her no opportunity of 
 finding it out ? " 
 
 " I think women have a wonderful way of find- 
 ing things out." 
 
368 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Perhaps you give them credit for too much 
 penetration," said Edith. 
 
 " Do you still feel as if you would like to hear 
 my reason for asking you those questions about 
 Mr. Wilmott ? " he inquired. 
 
 " I do not know," she answered shyly. 
 
 " I would tell you now, if I could," said Philip ; 
 " but the train is ready and there is no more time 
 for talking." 
 
 " Is there not ? " she asked, with a sudden up- 
 ward glance of unmistakable regret. 
 
 " I will come to New Roehelle and tell you," he 
 said gently. 
 
 " You promise ? " 
 
 " I promise." 
 
 And now the moment was come for parting. 
 Edith was seated in the train which was to take 
 her home. Philip was standing beneath the win- 
 dow. The engine was about to start. He took off 
 his hat and raised his head with the rare, sweet 
 smile which could so transform his grave face. 
 What was it which happened as their eyes met? 
 Edith could not tell. Her gaze suddenly grew 
 misty and she withdrew her eyes, with a vague con- 
 sciousness that the train which was carrying her 
 off was tearing something which hurt more and 
 more as the distance grew greater between Philip 
 and herself. 
 
CHAPTEE XXXI. 
 
 " Sweet is revenge — especially to women." 
 
 BntON. 
 
 One day it occurred to Cecil Wilmott that some 
 one had made him a promise, and that promise had 
 not been kept. He often thought of the fair prom- 
 iser, but the promise had escaped his memory until 
 now. Immediately he began asking himseK why 
 he should not claim this pledge, and when it is ex- 
 plained that it consisted in the simple consent of a 
 young lady to make him a silken purse, it will be 
 seen what a fanciful fellow he was, that such a 
 trifle should appear to him a matter of importance. 
 
 His interest in it was undoubtedly due to that 
 which he still felt in Edith Arnold, but it certainly 
 could not be said of him that all this time he was 
 utterly disconsolate, for as the days passed they 
 brought their balm to his hurt spirit. It was pleas- 
 ant to feel himself able for the first time in his life 
 to order a new coat without a prick of conscience, 
 or to bring a friend home unexpectedly to dinner 
 or to take his mother and Charlotte to the theatre 
 without encountering that hesitation and doubt of 
 the prudence of the step, which on former occa- 
 sions had gone far to interfere with its enjoyment. 
 
 The month of May found Charlotte and her 
 
 24 
 
370 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 mother living at Heronsford, while Cecil vibrated 
 as he loved to do between the town and country. 
 He had resumed his old habits of intimacy with 
 Julia, and was as much at home in his uncle's 
 house as in his own, but was never to be depended 
 upon as certain to be at one place or the other. 
 
 Strange to say, he had not called upon Mrs. 
 Percy since his return from New York, although 
 he had met her frequently in society. Perhaps his 
 last interview with the widow had led him to dread 
 her searching eyes and direct questions. He felt 
 too sore as yet to wish his wound examined, even 
 with a view to the cure which it was just possible 
 that this lady might have been willing to under- 
 take. 
 
 With Julia it was different. He was almost . 
 sure that she had read ,his secret, but she never 
 alluded by word or look to her knowledge of it, and 
 was only a little more gentle and considerate in 
 her manner towards Cecil than she had ever been 
 before. The country air was agreeing _ with Julia 
 wonderfully. She was losing the angles of her 
 outline, and was not only regaining all that she had 
 lost by her illness, but beginning to look better and 
 stronger than for a long while. A new, peaceful 
 light had come into her face, — a sweetness and 
 contentment which made one wonder whither the 
 dark, defiant spirit which had once looked from her 
 eyes was flown. 
 
 Philip, too, seemed happy, but restless. He was 
 never still. He rose earlier and worked later than 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 371 
 
 ever, often not returning until long after dark, on 
 these soft spring evenings when every one else was 
 enjoying the delicious fragrance of the budding blos- 
 soms, and Mrs. Wilmott and Charlotte, sitting near 
 the open windows of the drawing-room, would be 
 watching anxiously for his return. 
 
 Julia was usually to be found at the piano at 
 such times, and Cecil, if present at all, sitting 
 dreamily beside her, lost in enjoyment of the mu- 
 sic. 
 
 It was on a scene like this that Charley Hazzard 
 entered one evening in the second week in May, 
 and soon drove Cecil from his favorite corner. He 
 had come, it seemed, to recall to Miss Prescott her 
 consent long since given to go with him on a boat- 
 ing excursion. The boating party was to have been 
 given for Miss Arnold, and Mr. Hazzard, who was 
 much disappointed' to hear that she had gone home, 
 was anxious to know when she would be witt them 
 again. Quite a lively discussion ensued with re- 
 gard to Edith's possible movements and whether 
 she would get back in time for the proposed festiv- 
 ity, which resulted rather discouragingly, as she was 
 not expected until June. 
 
 " I will tell you what it is, Charley," said Cecil. 
 " I am going to be in New York to-morrow on busi- 
 ness, and I will run up to New Eochelle and see 
 whether Miss Arnold will not fix an earlier day." 
 So it was arranged. When he set out on his jour- 
 ney to New York, Cecil was still contemplating the 
 idea of the promised purse. The more he thought 
 
372 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 of it the more he wanted it, until, as was usual with 
 him, the desire wrought the determination to be 
 satisfied. On reaching her house at New Rochelle, 
 however, he was told that Miss Arnold was not at 
 home. There was nothing for it but to leave a 
 card. He scribbled on it a few hasty words em- 
 bodying his request and telling of Julia's and Mr. 
 Hazzard's desire for her return, and then he turned 
 his steps homeward in a very discouraged frame of 
 mind. His " business " in New York, which was 
 not of grave importance, was soon despatched and 
 then he took the train for Philadelphia. 
 
 He found his mother's empty house inexpress- 
 ibly dreary. It chanced to be an unusually warm 
 evening, and the air seemed close and full of dust, 
 while a sense of loneliness pervaded everywhere. 
 All the furniture in the drawing-room was covered 
 with ghostly .gray linen, and all the pictures and 
 chandeliers mysteriously enveloped in muslin bags, 
 and the general effect such as is peculiar to a de- 
 serted city house in summer time. 
 
 After washing off the cinders accumulated dur- 
 ing his journey, he sauntered round to the Club, 
 where he got rid of an hour or so ; but when din- 
 ner was over, he found himself much bored with 
 his own society. 
 
 It happened that while in this state of dejection 
 he bethought him of Mrs. Percy. Was she at 
 home ? He did not know. He had not kept him- 
 self informed of her movements for the last six 
 weeks ; but he began to recall many soft May 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 373 
 
 evenings passed in her company, and almost me- 
 chanically he found his hat, and strayed dreamily 
 out in the direction of her house. 
 
 Mrs. Percy was at home, the servant said, but 
 she was not in the drawing-room when Wilmott 
 entered, and no lamps were lit. The windows of 
 this room, which looked out back and front, were 
 all open. A vase with some lilies of the vaUey 
 stood on a little table near one of them, and a bas- 
 ket with some fresh cut roses on the mantel. They 
 were evidently from Mrs. Percy's own bushes and 
 vines, which were blooming and climbing over the 
 fence of the garden behind the house, and filling 
 the air with their sweet odor. 
 
 Cecil stepped to one of the back windows, which 
 opened to the ground, and saw the lady herself, 
 half sitting, half lying, in a sea-chair, which had 
 been dragged on to the little grass plot in the cen- 
 tre of the inclosure. A small book lay in her lap, 
 but it had grown too dark to read, although much 
 lighter outside than in the drawing-room, where 
 all was gloom. 
 
 "Who is that?" asked Mrs. Percy, without 
 turning her head. She was reclining with her face 
 upturned, as though contemplating the stars. Cecil 
 did not answer for a moment. He had a sudden 
 instinct that his voice would startle her. 
 
 Presently she turned, and lifting herself to a sit- 
 ting posture peered at him questioningly through 
 the twilight. Then he stepped from the window, 
 where his figure had been only faintly visible in 
 
374 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 the gathering darkness, and came more clearly into 
 view. 
 
 " Cecil ! " she cried sharply, pressing her two 
 hands together with a sudden movement, and then 
 added, more softly, " Is it you ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Why did you not answer me ? " she asked, af- 
 ter an instant's pause, quite in her usual tone. 
 
 " I was afraid of frightening you." 
 
 " How should I have been frightened if you had 
 answered? I was only startled a little because 
 you did not." 
 
 " I do not wonder," he said carelessly. " It is 
 growing late ; and it seems a long while since I 
 have seen you." 
 
 "Does it — to you?" 
 
 " Of course it does. I have been meaning to 
 come, but a hundred things have prevented. I 
 hope you are not angry with me." 
 
 " Angry ! Then you flatter yourself that you 
 have been missed ? " 
 
 " I suppose I do. May I sit here ? " he asked, 
 seating himself, as he spoke, on a cushion beside 
 her chair, with his elbow on the turf. 
 
 " If you are not afraid of taking cold." 
 
 " The mere suggestion of the possibility is re- 
 freshing on such a night as this ; but you look 
 cool and comfortable," he said, noticing that she 
 was clad in some soft semi-transparent material, 
 through which her neck and rounded arms were 
 faintly visible. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 375 
 
 " I certainly am," she answered, lifting a feather 
 fan and waving it gently to and fro as she spoke. 
 
 " How do you manage it ? " he asked, lazily 
 watching the gleam of a diamond on her white 
 hand as it passed. 
 
 " I dress thinly, as you see, and then I never do 
 anything in hot weather. Now you, no doubt, 
 have been roaming from one end of creation to an- 
 other, after your usual restless fashion." 
 
 " No, I have only been to New York." 
 
 " And the rolling stone has gathered no moss. 
 I can read that in your face," she said, turning her 
 own full upon him as she spoke. " Are you sure 
 that you went only to New York ? " 
 
 What wonderful eyes she had! he thought. They 
 seemed to shine out through the twilight, and to 
 shine into him, as he propped himself half reclining 
 on the grass beside her chair, in the same way that 
 he had felt as if they did before, taking away his 
 power of resistance to anything she might demand. 
 No doubt the effect of old habit in yielding had 
 much to do with the fascination she exercised. 
 
 " Exactly speaking, I went a little farther," he 
 admitted. 
 
 " Can I guess where ? " 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 " I can gather, at any rate, that your mission 
 was not altogetlier a success." 
 
 « Why so ? " 
 
 " Perhaps you did not get what you went for." 
 
 " I think I shall get it." 
 
376 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " You wanted more than you got." 
 
 " How do you know that ? " 
 
 " How, indeed ? We know many things with- 
 out being able to tell how we know them ; but if I 
 were mistaken you would tell me." 
 
 " I would tell you nothing on that subject." 
 
 " Then I will tell you where you went." 
 
 " I do hot think you can." 
 
 " You must think me very stupid. You went to 
 New Eochelle." 
 
 " Perhaps I did." 
 
 " Ah, yes, you did. You went to see Miss Ar- 
 nold, and now you come to me." 
 
 " I did not go for what you think," he said, and 
 laid his cheek against the arm of her chair, as he 
 looked up at her tenderly. 
 
 "You need not explain. I understand." She 
 turned away her head. 
 
 " What, Reta ? What do you understand ? " 
 
 " The situation. It is very complimentary." 
 
 " I thought we were done with all this senti- 
 mental nonsense ! " he exclaimed impatiently. " I 
 thought we were to be friends ! " 
 
 " I don't know who is sentimental, Mr. Wilmott," 
 she said scornfully. "You looked a little so a 
 moment ago, but certainly I am not." 
 
 " You are not very friendly." 
 
 " It takes two to make a friendship. You have 
 come to pay me the first visit for nearly three 
 months, and seem quite disappointed that I have 
 not been mourning your absence. That part of 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 377 
 
 your conduct hardly seems friendly, nor have I 
 ever gone so far as to credit you with much senti- 
 ment." 
 
 " It is not *as if we had not met constantly in 
 society," said Cecil. "You could have asked me 
 to come at any moment, knowing me as you do, if 
 you had any reason for wanting to see me." 
 
 " It is, perhaps, fortunate for me that all of my 
 . friends do not wait to be a,sked. A woman in my 
 position does not care to be a beggar for their 
 company^ I think I can say without boasting that 
 most of my visitors come because they have reason 
 — or think that they have — to want to see me." 
 
 " As your ' position ' happens to be that of the 
 most popular woman in town, that is quite possible." 
 
 " Oh, wish me joy of my popularity ! " she ex- 
 claimed bitterly. "It is a proud thought that I 
 am sought because it is fashionable to seek me, but 
 at least it gives me the assurance that in accepting 
 a visit I am not accepting a sacrifice. Even yours 
 this evening does not appear to me to be dictated 
 by wholly charitable motives. Am I right, or is it 
 an act of compassion? " 
 
 " Compassion ? Of course not. Compassion to 
 myself, perhaps." 
 
 "So I supposed." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "I fancied that you were a little depressed, a 
 Uttle disheartened, and a little tired of your own 
 company." 
 
 " I think I am." 
 
378 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Well, then, my friend, I advise you to go 
 hotne and go to bed. It is growing cooler, and I 
 think you will sleep. It is certainly too cool for 
 me to venture to remain in the open air any later." 
 She rose from her seat as she spoke, and threw a 
 soft woollen shawl about her shoulders. 
 
 " WiU you send me away, then ? " 
 
 " I counsel you to go, in case you came to me for 
 advice." 
 
 " I hardly think that I did do that." 
 
 " For consolation, then, perhaps ? But you see 
 I have none to offer. I have intimated to you that 
 I am poor in some things, although not a beggar." 
 
 He had picked up his cushion and followed her 
 into the house. She was groping along the wall 
 for the bell handle, intending to ring for lights, 
 when his hand unexpectedly met hers in the dark- 
 ness. He had been conscious of a wish to stay her, 
 to hold her back as it were, as her intention grew 
 more plain of leaving him, but he had not meant 
 to touch her hand, and was startled at the sudden 
 fire which flashed through him at the contact. 
 
 " Reta ! " he exclaimed softly. 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 He felt again for her hand, but it was gone. He 
 touched instead the edge of the cold marble mantel- 
 shelf. Then he heard a light laugh, and the next 
 moment a flaming gas-jet streamed up from the 
 central chandelier. She had found a match and 
 lit it. How he hated the broad, flaring light after 
 the dreamy dusk and darkness ! 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 379 
 
 " I wisli you good night, Mr. Wilmott," said 
 Mrs. Percy, standing in the doorway on the other 
 side of the room. " I find that it is nearly ten 
 o'clock, and I am a little tired." 
 
 There was no appeal from such a dismissal. He 
 said good night, and found his hat, and was soon 
 on his way home. 
 
 He whistled softly to himself as he walked along, 
 but not for want of thought. " What did she mean 
 by turning me out ? " he was wondering. " Was it 
 revenge ?. What do I mean, myself ? " He stopped 
 to light a cigar. At the moment his own situation 
 seemed as enigmatical to him as it would have 
 to another. Had he not been thinking of Edith 
 Arnold reproachfully that morning? And yet she 
 was in no way responsible for the subtle emotion 
 which stirred him now. 
 
 It appeared to him that there had been an un- 
 usual influence exerted over him by Mrs. Percy 
 that evening. She had seemed different from her- 
 self, breathing a sort of suppressed intensity, as if 
 inspired with some feeling to which she was de- 
 termined not to yield, which lent her all the more 
 power while she held it in check. Her very scorn 
 had attracted him, and she knew it. " She always 
 had such an extraordinary faculty for understand- 
 ing me ! " he said to himself impatiently. " I think 
 if I had married it would have been better to keep 
 out of her way, but as it is it makes no difference." 
 
 Since it made " no diiference," he did not at- 
 tempt to resist the impulse which prompted him to 
 
380 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 revisit Mrs. Percy the next evening, but when he 
 reached her door he was told that Mrs. Percy was 
 " out of town." 
 
 " When did she go ? " he asked, in astonishment. 
 
 " She left this morning, sir, by the twelve o'clock 
 train." 
 
 "And where was she going? " 
 
 " I reaUy could n't teU." 
 
 The person who had answered the bell was quite 
 unknown to him, evidently some one who had come 
 to take charge of the house for the summer. 
 
 Cecil turned away with a keen sense of disap- 
 pointment. 
 
CHAPTEiR XXXII. 
 
 " O sufEering, sad humaziity I "' 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 About a week later Philip had arranged his 
 affairs so that he could " run on to Boston." It 
 was thus that he spoke to such persons as he was 
 obliged to speak to at all of his proposed absence, 
 the ostensible cause of which was the fulfillment of 
 a promise to make a short visit to Lawrence Carey, 
 but the real object which he had for going at this 
 particular time was his intention of stopping on 
 the way at New Rochelle. He stepped into his old 
 office to give some parting directions to Cecil Wil- 
 mott, and found him in the act of opening a small 
 parcel, which had just arrived by express. 
 
 " Look here ! " exclaimed Wilmott triumphantly, 
 as he drew forth a dainty little purse of crimson silk. 
 "Did you ever see anything so pretty as that? " 
 
 " Certainly not," answered Philip good-humored- 
 ly. " Where did you get it, you gay Lothario ? " 
 
 " Oh, it was made for me," said CecU, who, to 
 do him justice, had not the faintest intention of 
 disclosing the name of the donor, but as he lifted 
 the little box in which it had been packed from the 
 table a small card slipped from between the box 
 and the paper, vmperoeived by him, and fell to the 
 
382 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 < floor face upward. Philip's eyes followed it me- 
 clianicallj% and even at a distance he was startled 
 by a resemblance in the card to one he had seen 
 before. Could it be because a certain name was 
 continually in his thoughts that he fancied he saw 
 it now ? He could not bear the doubt, and stoop- 
 ing hastily to pick it up read Miss Edith Arnold's 
 name quite unmistakably. He laid the bit of paste- 
 board on the table without a word. He dared not 
 trust himself to speak for a moment, so violent was 
 the rush of anger and jealousy and disappoint- 
 ment that surged up in his heart. 
 
 Cecil was unconsciously putting away his treas- 
 ure. He had not seen the card at all. The look of 
 satisfaction with which he stowed the purse in his 
 breast-pocket was too much for Philip's self-controL 
 
 " How came Miss Edith Arnold to make you a 
 silk purse ? " he asked fiercely. 
 
 Cecil started at the mention of Edith's name, 
 and gazed in surprise at Philip's angry face. 
 " She made it because I asked her* to," he an- 
 swered, with a look of cool amazement. 
 
 " How did you dare to take the liberty of ask- 
 ing her ? " growled Philip. 
 
 " How did I dare ? " repeated Wilmott, still 
 more astonished than indignant. " I dare do most 
 things which suit my fancy." 
 
 " Then I am to understand that you are on such 
 terms with this young lady, that you have only to 
 mention to her your fancies in order to have them 
 gratified ? " 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " That is not an exact statement of facts," said 
 Cecil, " but then, I did not make it." 
 
 " When did you ask this favor ? " 
 
 " A week ago." 
 
 " Did you go to New Rochelle ? " 
 
 « I did." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " Come, Philip," said Cecil, " I think you have 
 asked about questions enough." 
 
 Philip was silent for a moment, but he was still 
 so sore and bitter that he soon broke out again. 
 
 " Perhaps I had better tell you at once," he said, 
 " that this is not a subject of playful indifference to 
 me." 
 
 " By Jove ! I should think not," returned Cecil. 
 " I hope you do not get off jokes in this style," 
 
 Philip walked away to the window and stood 
 looking out, with his back to his cousin, for several 
 moments without speaking. There was something 
 so eloquently miserable in its expression that Cecil 
 began to feel sorry for him, although far from sus- 
 pecting the extent of his unhappiness. 
 
 " What is the matter, old fellow ? " he asked. 
 " Why have you got so worked up over the idea of 
 Miss Arnold's giving me a little present ? " 
 
 " Are you engaged to her ? " asked Philip, in a 
 stifled tone, from which and from the question, the 
 truth flashed upon Cecil. He realized for the first 
 time that Philip had been a rival, very possibly a 
 successful one, and the idea did not please him. 
 
 " What business is it of yours ? " he inquired, 
 
384 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 with sudden asperity. " Have you not known that 
 we liked one another for a long time ? " 
 
 " I have," came from Philip, solemnly. He took 
 his hat and left the office without another word. 
 
 Cecil's feelings, when alone, were not enviable. 
 He had said nothing which was actually untrue, as 
 he kept assuring himself ; and yet he was quite 
 conscious that he had conveyed a false impression. 
 He had done it in the heat of anger, and his first 
 impulse was to undo it, but when he came to ask 
 himself how, he did not see what wordg he could 
 use. Those which he had spoken related to a well- 
 known fact, and could be supported by abundant 
 proof ; to attempt to explain them away was to put 
 himself in the wrong, and he soon began to assure 
 his conscience, after his easy-going fashion, that 
 Philip would not be such a fool as to continue to 
 be misled, when this unreasonable fit of jealousy 
 was over. 
 
 In spite of the assurance, however, the inner 
 voice would not be silenced. Cecil was accustomed 
 to taking things easily, but he was not accustomed 
 to speaking or acting what was not true ; and so 
 he sat down before he left the office and wrote a 
 short note to Philip, which he confided to the post- 
 man, but which, unfortunately, did not reach his 
 cousin before he left home the next morning. 
 
 Cecil had not been spending his time satisfacto- 
 rily to himself for the last twenty-four hours, for 
 he had been trying unsuccessfully to distract his 
 mind from the thoughts and memories which had 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 385 
 
 been so unexpectedly awakened by his last visit to 
 Mrs. Percy. 
 
 He tried vainly to discover whither the pretty 
 widow had betaken herself. Many of her plans 
 for the summer were well known among her friends, 
 but which particular one it had suited her fancy to 
 foUow was entirely a matter of speculation. Usu- 
 ally Cecil had been the trusted confidant of her 
 last whim, and as day after day went by, and he 
 could learn nothing of her and her whereabouts, 
 he began to feel deserted, and to realize how much 
 he had always relied upon the certainty of her 
 friendship. 
 
 He became conscious that her half playful, half 
 affectionate interest in his sayings and doings had 
 given him a pleasant sense of security, and that for 
 a man so constituted that he must always be a little 
 in love, it was a great boon to be able to turn to 
 the coquettish tenderness of such a woman — even 
 if she would give him nothing more — when he was 
 tired of himself, as she had rightly guessed that he 
 had been the last time she saw him. Now, for the 
 first time, her interest failed him. He had been 
 indefinitely deprived of the society of his friend 
 just when he wanted it, and he felt cross. 
 
 " Who goes on your boating party ? " he asked 
 Charley Hazzard, in a bored tone, as they walked 
 together towards Miss Mortimer's house, where it 
 had been arranged that Mr. Hazzard's guests were 
 to meet, a few days later, — for Miss Arnold had 
 written to decline the kind proposal of postponing 
 
 25 
 
386 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 the boating party, in case she could hasten her 
 return. 
 
 " Why, Miss Prescott is to go," said Charley, 
 with such a beaming countenance as proclaimed 
 that in saying this he was saying everything, " and 
 Miss Mortimer and your sister. I think those are 
 all the young ladies. I asked Miss Mildred Dav- 
 ering, but she is doubtful. The men are all mem- 
 bers of the club except Drum Kettleby. Only a 
 certain number can go in the boat, you know." 
 
 " Why in the world did you ask me ? " 
 
 " Because I wanted you, of course." 
 
 " I hate boating." 
 
 " That is all fudge," said Charley Hazzard. 
 "You are out of humor. There is no one who 
 enjoys that sort of thing more than you do, and 
 you puU. a very decent stroke for a feUow who 
 does n't practice ; besides you can talk and tell 
 stories, which is the next best thing to singing." 
 
 " Are you in earnest ? It is a tremendous com- 
 pliment." 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " And Mrs. Davering is to keep us aU in good 
 order, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Oh ! my mother is away, you know. I have 
 asked Mrs. Percy to do that." 
 
 " Mrs. Percy ! " 
 
 " Yes. Don't you think she ynH make a — a 
 suitable chaperone ? " asked Charley in a troubled 
 tone. 
 
 " Suitable ? Well, yes, but I thought she was 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 387 
 
 out of town." Cecil's expression was worth study- 
 ing. 
 
 " Why, so she is, but so are the ladies at Herons- 
 ford. I do not think they mind coming in for the 
 night — do you ? " 
 
 " I understood you to say the other day that you 
 did not know where Mrs. Percy was." 
 
 " Did 1 say so ? Oh yes, I remember, but I met 
 her in the street afterwards and asked hf r to join 
 my party. Come to think of it, I don't think she 
 told me then where she was staying. She said she 
 was very tired of people here, and had run away on 
 purpose, without letting any one know whither she 
 was going. I had a good deal of trouble to per- 
 suade her to eome with us to-day, but at last she 
 consented — and here she is." 
 
 They had reached the house, and who should ap- 
 pear on the doorstep but Mrs. Percy herself, in con- 
 versation with Mr. Drum Kettleby. She bowed 
 carelessly to Cecil, shook hands with her host, and 
 then they all went in and greeted the other ladies, 
 whom they found assembled. 
 
 Miss Mildred Davering was there, after all, look- 
 ing as pretty as usual ; and then there were Miss 
 Mortimer, and Charlotte, and Julia, who was in her 
 happiest mood. She seemed, even to Cecil, hand- 
 somer than he had ever thought her before. Her 
 cheeks fairly glowed with color, and there was a 
 wonderful light in the depths of her dark eyes. 
 Poor Charley Hazzard was quite mad about her. 
 He could not hide his desperate admiration from 
 
888 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 the most indifferent of his guests, or keep away 
 from Julia's side for more than a few moments at a 
 time. He went humming and blundering round 
 her, as one has seen a great stupid humble-bee 
 round a brilliant flower. 
 
 Cecil meanwhile found his way to Mrs. Percy's 
 side. His mental sky had cleared since she had 
 come upon his horizon, and he was inclined to take 
 a more cheerful view of life. 
 
 " How abominably you treated me the last time 
 I came to see you ! " he said, preparing for a com- 
 fortable scold. 
 
 " Did I really succeed in doing that ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " You might have let me know that you were 
 going out of town," said Cecil. 
 
 " It is possible that I might if I had happened to 
 know it myself." 
 
 " Then you had not decided to go before I left 
 you ? " 
 
 " I think not." 
 
 " And why did you go so suddenly ? " 
 
 " I hardly remember ; I believe I was bored." 
 
 " You are very kind to say so." 
 
 " Would it have been kind to be bored while you 
 were with me ? " 
 
 " If you will let me infer that you were bored 
 because I was gone, you are really kind." 
 
 " Do you think I am ? " She suddenly raised 
 her eyes with a mocking smile. 
 
 " I am beginning to hope that you do not mean 
 
A CARPET KNIOHT. 389 
 
 to be unbind," he answered, noting as he spoke that 
 the jaunty little boating dress she wore, of dark 
 blue flannel, was an unusually becoming costume. 
 
 " I am afraid you are of a little too sanguine a 
 temperament, Mr. Wilmott. If I had really been 
 in despair at the dullness of my own company, 
 after the exhilaration of yours, I fancy that wait- 
 ing until the next evening would have brought me 
 the renewed delight more quickly than going out of 
 town." 
 
 " So you heard of my missing you the next 
 night ? " he asked quickly. 
 
 " I heard that some one did, and I fancied that 
 it might have been you." 
 
 " Then you meant to treat me badly ? " asked 
 Wilmott, coloring with vexation. 
 
 " I believe I meant a little more than that," she 
 said quietly, and some one else came up to talk to 
 her just then, so that he had to give up the at- 
 tempt. 
 
 In the horse-car on their way out to the boat- 
 house, he talked to Julia, in desperation. 
 
 " Do you remember a warning which you took it 
 into your head to give me about a certain young 
 lady, some three or four months ago ? " he asked, 
 in a cautiously moderated tone. 
 
 " A warning ? " repeated Julia, with a puzzled 
 expression. 
 
 " I think you intended it for such. It was after 
 that evening when you came home and found me 
 talking to Miss Arnold in the twilight. You seemed 
 
390 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 very much afraid that we might get to liking one 
 another too much." 
 
 Julia looked at him and smiled. " Yes, I re- 
 member," she said. " Did it do any good ? " 
 
 " Not a particle, as far as I was concerned, and 
 with the young lady herself no warning was needed, 
 as must soon have become evident, even to you." 
 
 " ^ven to me ? "Was I so very obtuse or over 
 officious ? " 
 
 " I do not think you were either," said Cecil ; 
 " but things do not always turn out quite as one 
 would assume from the premises." 
 
 " What made you think of it now ? " inquired 
 Julia. 
 
 " I was thinking of Hazzard," replied Wilmott, 
 looking about him as he spoke, to make sure that 
 their host was out of ear-shot. " I was wonder- 
 ing," he continued, " whether my sensibilities were 
 unnecessarily aroused on his account. I confess I 
 cannot help feeling rather sorry for the poor devil." 
 
 "Why, has he got into some new trouble?" 
 asked Julia anxiously. 
 
 " I like your innocence," said Cecil incredulous- 
 ly, " but does it strike you as. exactly fair to play 
 fast and loose with a man's feelings as you are 
 doing with his?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" she exclaimed, with a 
 look of extreme surprise. 
 
 " Only to point out to you what any one can see 
 with half an eye, that poor Charley is over head 
 and ears in love with you. I thought you must 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 391 
 
 know it, although it is equally evident that you do 
 not care a rap for him." 
 
 " I do care for him, Cecil," said Julia earnestly. 
 " I am very fond of Charley Hazzard. I should 
 feel dreadfully if I thought that what you say were 
 true." 
 
 " As for its being true," remarked Cecil, " there 
 is no more doubt of it than that I am sitting on 
 this seat." 
 
 Here the conversation was ended by the return 
 of its subject. He would have been much aston- 
 ished to hear that any one was pitying him. 
 
 Cecil could not find another opportunity of talk- 
 ing to Mrs. Percy all the afternoon. She was 
 seated at the opposite end of the boat from him, 
 going up the river, while his neighbor proved to 
 be Miss Mortimer, conversation with whom was 
 never wildly exciting, and consisted on this occa- 
 sion of small interjections from the young lady, or 
 timorous inquiries as to the danger of accident or 
 the possibility of a wetting. 
 
 Wilmott was inclined to curse his fate, but to 
 his great joy Mr. Hazzard made a complete change 
 of arrangement when they started to row home. 
 He asked Miss Prescott to take the seat at the 
 stern usually reserved for the chaperone, and be- 
 hind which he sat himself as steersman, and placed 
 Mrs. Percy beside Cecil, who chanced to puU the 
 very foremost oar and thus sat farthest from the 
 stroke. 
 
 " At last ! " exclaimed WUmott, as he pushed 
 
392 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 out from shore. The moon was glorious, — not a 
 silver moon, but a great amber-colored one. Its 
 light made a shining path along the smooth surface 
 of the river, on which one felt almost as if one 
 could safely tread, and the shadows beneath the 
 bushes on the banks looked like black caverns into 
 which one might descend forever, falling through 
 unknown worlds. 
 
 " Now you will tell me what you did mean by 
 running away without letting me know where you 
 were going," he said. 
 
 " Can you not guess ? " 
 
 " I cannot imagine." 
 
 " You probably will in time," said Mrs. Percy. 
 
 " It suits you to be enigmatical to-day." 
 
 " It suits you to call me so. What I said this 
 afternoon was very plain." 
 
 " That you not only intended to treat me badly, 
 but meant something more ? " 
 
 « Exactly." 
 
 "What was it, Reta?" 
 
 " It was simply to show you that I could live 
 without you." 
 
 " Strange," returned CecU, " that you found it 
 necessary to take so much trouble in order to show 
 me that ! " 
 
 Just then there was a call to rest upon their 
 oars. The boat drifted with the current. Some 
 one sang a song. Then they began to row again 
 slowly until just as they came beneath the shadow 
 of one of the bridges, where all was dark as night, 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 393 
 
 and looking out from under which the river, the 
 trees, an old forge on the shore near by, and the 
 moonlit sky, with little sailing clouds, formed a 
 charming picture. There was another shout to 
 stop. Cecil seized the opportunity to turn to his 
 companion. Chance had placed them behind every 
 one. 
 
 " Why did you suppose that I needed proof that 
 you could live without me?" he asked, in a low 
 tone. " Had I not had abundant proof of it in 
 times past ? " 
 
 " Perhaps," said Mrs. Percy, " but not lately. I 
 thought you needed another lesson." 
 
 " It is not an easy one for me to learn, certainly." 
 
 " Are you really so conceited, then ? " 
 
 " Hardly as absurdly so as you imagine. I 
 should always have supposed my companionship 
 quite a matter of indifference to you if you had 
 not suggested the doubt, but now I am reaUy such 
 a fool as to feel like venturing everything I have 
 in the world to disprove it." 
 
 " To yourself or to me ? " 
 
 " To you, I suppose." 
 
 " Then you yourself believe that I cannot ? " 
 
 "Oh! Howl wish I did!" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because I love you." 
 
 There was a long pause. 
 
 " Do you know, Eeta, that I am not quite sure 
 whether you can live without me, and so in that 
 your proof has failed, but you proved something to 
 
394 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 me by going away. You led me to find out that I 
 cannot live without you ! " 
 
 Still she did not answer. She was leaning back 
 in the boat, letting one hand trail in the water. 
 She did not move or lift her eyes, and very gradu- 
 ally Cecil withdrew his left arm from his oar, 
 which was resting idly iu the boat, and passed it 
 round his companion, unreproved by word or look. 
 
 " Oh, E.eta, if you can care for me," he whis- 
 pered, " after all these years, you will make me the 
 happiest fellow in the world ! " 
 
 " How shall I ? " she asked softly. 
 
 " By giving me what I have most coveted." 
 
 " Most f Are j^ou sure ? " 
 
 " I am perfectly sure." 
 
 " You will not change your mind again ? " 
 
 " I never should have changed it if I had thought 
 you cared for me. Do you love me ? " 
 
 " I believe I do," she said, lifting her eyes sud- 
 denly and looking into his with her bewitching 
 smile, "but you must take away your arm, dear, 
 or somebody will see." 
 
 Cecil was too happy to be disobedient, so he did 
 as he was told, and this was fortunate, for just 
 afterwards Mr. Hazzard sang out to the men to 
 " make ready," and they were soon pulling down 
 the stream in a charmed silence. 
 
 The charm was not felt by all, for Julia had been 
 rendered quite unhappy by what Cecil said to her 
 of Charley Hazzard, and when they pushed off 
 from Strawberry Mansion on this lovely moonlight 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 395 
 
 night, her heart was very heavy. She noticed, 
 ■with dismay, that Charley's manner gave only too 
 much ground for her newly-awakened fears, and 
 turning over many doubts and troubled thoughts 
 concerning him, she began dimly to recall the 
 conversation which they had had so long ago at 
 the Assembly, and to wonder whether he could 
 really have been in earnest when she thought him 
 half in fun. Could it be that the poor fellow had 
 been paying her serious attention all these months 
 during which she had treated him with the freedom 
 and the indulgence that she might have granted to 
 a favorite cousin, whom she had known from child- 
 hood ? If so, how could she help him ? How could 
 she right the unconscious wrong which she had 
 done ? She felt ready for any sacrifice, and it oc- 
 curred to her that the hardest thing that she could 
 do was, possibly, the only thing which would save 
 him. 
 
 Just then he spoke. " Do you remember a talk 
 we had last winter, Julia ? I may call you Julia, 
 may I not, because we are such old friends ? " 
 
 " You may, for that reason," she said. 
 
 " And the talk ? " asked Charley. " It was at 
 the Assembly. Have you forgotten what I said to 
 you then ? " 
 
 " I do not remember exactly what you said," she 
 replied, in the same low tone in which he had 
 spoken. 
 
 " But you remember what I meant, do you not ? 
 and what you answered ? " 
 
396 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " I think I said to you then that I never intended 
 to marry," answered Julia gravely. 
 
 " Yes, you did," said Charley, " but I hoped you 
 might if I always kept caring for you, as I have 
 done, and never bothered you with saying things. 
 Oh, I know what you mean by that shake of your 
 head ; but I am not going to say another word, 
 only to remind you of your promise." 
 
 " My promise ! " gasped Julia. " When did I 
 make a promise ? I do not know what you mean." 
 
 " Do you not remember," cried the young fellow, 
 "how I asked you to promise that if you ever 
 changed your mind you would let me know ? Do 
 you not remember that you did promise ? Oh, you 
 need not think that I am impatient. I am quite 
 willing to wait, if it should be for years ; only re- 
 member that I am the same always." 
 
 " And so am I," responded Julia. " What I 
 said to you before was half in joke, and I had no 
 idea that you were so serious in taking my answer, 
 but it is quite true that I never intend to marry." 
 
 " I see," he answered sadly. " You have not 
 changed, but let me hope a little. You may 
 change." 
 
 " No, never." 
 
 He uttered a sigh which was almost a groan. 
 
 "I will not change with regard to you either," she 
 said gently. " You always will be a dear friend, 
 so dear that I am going to tell you the reason why 
 I shall not marry." Her voice shook, and she 
 paused for a moment to gather strength. It was 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 397 
 
 terrible to her to speak of her inmost secret — that 
 which had been sacred between her and her God. 
 Her agitation was contagious, and with intelli- 
 gence sharpened by his love, he caught a glimmer 
 of her meaning. 
 
 "Do not tell me that you care for some one 
 else ! " he cried, in a tone of supplication. 
 
 " But it is true," she said. " There is some one 
 whom I have loved all my life." 
 
 Julia had spoken in a vety low tone. She won- 
 dered whether he had heard her, for there was a 
 long silence. She turned gently round to look at 
 him, and his expression shocked her. Could this 
 be Charley Hazzard's — this pale, indignant face 
 and stifif, straight figure, which sat so rigidly upright 
 in the moonlight, as if carved out of stone ? There 
 were the signs of such desperate pain and suffering 
 that she shrank at the sight. 
 
 " For God's sake don't look at me ! " he said, 
 between his teeth. 
 
 She turned away her head, but she could still 
 see him in her imagination. "Will you not be- 
 lieve in my friendship ? " she asked beseechingly. 
 
 "I will believe in nothing," he said hoarsely. 
 " In nothing ever again." 
 
 If the little pleasure boat had been sensible of 
 the load it bore that night, it surely must have 
 sunk ; but as it was, it glided swiftly down the 
 moonlit stream, and, not unlike the bark of life, 
 held side by side a strange, mixed freight of hu- 
 man joy and sorrow. 
 
CHAPTER XXXni. 
 
 " I daxe do all that may become a man ; 
 Who dares do more is none." 
 
 ShA££SF£A£B. 
 
 A BACKWAED April shower, falling in May, had 
 become conscious of its mistake, and, as usually 
 happens with shy people, had grown twice as 
 clumsy and awkward in consequence. 
 
 It had spoiled the fresh appearance of Edith 
 Arnold's pretty morning dress, and driven her and 
 Gertrude from the lawn tennis ground, where they 
 were engaged in a delightful game ; and now as 
 Edith stood gazing disconsolately from the upper 
 entry window, she saw it flooding the flower beds 
 all round the piazza and fiUing the blossoms of the 
 trumpet vine, which climbed over the roof, so full 
 of water that they all drooped their heads and 
 looked utterly forlorn. 
 
 It chanced that the approach to the house was 
 shielded from Edith's point of observation by a 
 clump of tall young maples, and she was therefore 
 surprised at this moment to hear a ring at the bell. 
 Morning callers were not common in the seclusion 
 of New RocheUe thus early in the season, and 
 when the housemaid appeared to teU her that there 
 was a gentleman in the parlor who had asked for 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 399 
 
 Miss Edith Arnold, she was aware of a slight 
 quickening of her pulses and a faint flutter of ex- 
 pectation. 
 
 She slipped down-stairs quietly without going 
 into the room in which her mother and Gertrude 
 were sitting, and paused a moment at the door of 
 the drawing-room, summoning aU her courage and 
 self-possession to enable her to offer a cordial and 
 unconscious greeting to the tall, broad-shouldered 
 young man whom she beheld already in her fancy ; 
 then she opened the door and saw Philip Dray- 
 ton standing before her on the hearth-rug, in front 
 of the sweet-smelling boughs of blooming lilacs 
 stuck into the empty fire-place. She was, perhaps, 
 more agitated than surprised. But why was he 
 gazing at her with this stern, sorrowful face? 
 What had happened, that he should look at her so 
 sadly? 
 
 These thoughts took her by storm, and held her 
 from speaking until Philip said, — 
 
 " I am come because I said I would come to see 
 you. Do you remember ? " 
 
 " Yes," she said, still more surprised. 
 
 " Do you care to hear the explanation which I 
 said I would give, or would you rather not ? " 
 
 She lifted her eyes, which had sunk before his, 
 in another attempt to fathom the cause of his 
 strange greeting. 
 
 " I care to hear it if you care to give it," she 
 replied gravely ; ' not otherwise." 
 
 " I should think not," he said bitterly. 
 
400 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " Why do you speak so ? " she asked. 
 
 " Because I am mad ! " he cried passionately. 
 " Do not heed me. I do not mean to blame you, 
 but just now I hardly know what I say ! " 
 
 " To blame me ? " she repeated. " For what ? 
 What have I done?" 
 
 " Is it possible that you do not know ? " 
 
 " Of course I do not." 
 
 "Not really?" 
 
 " Most truly no ! Has something happened ? " 
 
 " You can think of no reason, then, why I 
 should reproach you unless something has hap- 
 pened ? " said Philip slowly. " Is it a complete 
 surprise to you, Miss Arnold, to be told that I am 
 in love with you? Have you never dreamed of 
 such a thing as possible ? Has there been no look 
 or word of mine to show you that I was struggling 
 with a feeling to which I knew that I must not 
 yield?" 
 
 She did not answer. She had fallen to trembling 
 as she stood facing him. Her eyes were sunk on 
 the ground. 
 
 " Have you never intended to give me a' second's 
 encouragement?" asked Philip, in the same low 
 tone. " Has it been all my own blind infatuation 
 which has led me to hope against hope ? " 
 
 He paused again. Still Edith did not speak. 
 How could she answer such a declaration of love 
 as this? It was more like an accusation of mur- 
 der. 
 
 "If you can truly tell me that," he resumed 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 401 
 
 solemnly, " then it is also true that I have no right 
 to find fault with you." 
 
 " It is certainly true that you have never given 
 me any right to suppose that — you — you eared for 
 me," she said at last. " Yet even if I had been so 
 vain as to fancy that you did, why should I be so 
 blamed ? What have I done ? " 
 
 "What, indeed?" he cried bitterly. "It is a 
 very little thing to give a man false hope, to reas- 
 sure him when he fears he is falling into a fatal 
 error, to blind him while you steel his heart to the 
 real state of yours ! I know society looks very 
 lightly on these things. Was it aU unconscious, 
 then, that light in your eyes when I parted from 
 you ? " he asked, in a desperate tone. 
 
 There was an instant's pause, and then she said, 
 honestly, — 
 
 " No. I thought then — I thought I knew — 
 that you liked me very much." 
 
 " And I, poor wretch," cried Philip, " I thought 
 I knew that you liked me much ! You see what a 
 fool I have been — and — that I must leave you." 
 
 " Why do you call yourself a fool ? " asked Edith 
 faintly. " Why must you leave me ? " 
 
 " Because if I stay I shall do you a great wrong. 
 I ought not, as it is, to have asked you that ques- 
 tion, and if I stayed I could not help asking an- 
 other." 
 
 " I wish you would ask it." 
 
 "Edith ! You do not know what you are saying ! " 
 
 " God help me ! " she cried, " I believe I do not. 
 
402 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 It is all inexplicable — what you say and what I 
 say — like some dreadful dream." 
 
 " As for me," said Philip, " my dream is over, 
 and this is an awakening, — a very bitter one ! " 
 
 He turned away as though to leave her, in his 
 auger and despair, and not being able to command 
 her voice to speak so as to detain him, Edith took 
 a step forward and laid her hand upon his arm. 
 
 '^Philip," she whispered. 
 
 He turned back instantly and looked again into 
 her face with his stem, sad eyes. 
 
 " I believe you are sorry for me," he said, " and 
 it may well be that I am wrong to blame you for 
 the depth of misery into which I am sunk. Give 
 me your hand, for farewell." 
 
 Poor Edith could stand no more. As he gave 
 her back the one of her hands which he had taken 
 in his for a moment, she covered her face with both 
 of them and burst into tears, the sight of which 
 moved him deeply. 
 
 " I am a brute to have spoken as I did ! " he 
 cried. " Do not be distressed at what I said, I beg 
 of you. You should not regard it any more than 
 the raving of a maniac. 1 told you I was mad, 
 but I swear to you that I bear you no resentment." 
 
 " There is some great misunderstanding," she 
 said, withdrawing her hands from her face with a 
 gesture of hopeless mystification. 
 
 " Oh no, there is not ! " said Philip. " That at 
 least is past, and in my sober moments I do not 
 think that the misunderstanding was your fault, or 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 403 
 
 that you were responsible for the truth's being 
 hidden from me. We Have both been the jest of 
 circumstance. I should have seen the folly of try- 
 ing to win you from the first. God knows I held 
 back long enough, and then I was deceived, — not 
 by you, but by chance, — into believing that your 
 heart was free. I wish that I might be your friend, 
 and it is possible that I may be yet some day, 
 when this is passed. Good-by until then ! " 
 
 He stooped and kissed her hand, and then has- 
 tened away before she could speak, even if she had 
 been inclined to do so, but she was not. A feeling 
 of utter hopelessness had come upon her, from 
 which "she thought that nothing would ever rouse 
 her again. 
 
 Pier sister Gertrude was much distressed at her 
 altered looks for the next day or two. She told 
 her mother that she thought a " change of air " 
 would be good for Edith, and urged on the prepa- 
 rations for the visit to Heronsford, in which Edith 
 herself did not seem any longer to take the slight- 
 est interest. As it chanced, they neither of them 
 knew anything of Philip's visit, for he had come 
 and gone without their seeing him, while the fool- 
 ish young person whose health they were discussing 
 kept her own counsel and grew more and more 
 unhappy as the days wore on. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 " The clouds that gather round the aettmg sun 
 Do take a sober coloring from aii^eye 
 That hath kept watch on man's mortality." 
 
 WOEDSWOETH. 
 
 "Is anything the matter, old fello\y?" asked 
 Lawrence Carey, as he and Philip sat at dinner on 
 the evening of Drayton's arrival in Boston, 
 
 " Nothing that I know of. Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " You look as if you were very much cut up 
 about something." 
 
 " Do I ? " replied Philip gloomily. " I am a 
 trifle tired after my journey. I shall be aU right 
 in the morning." But he did not seem inclined to 
 retire early, and as the evening wore on they fell 
 to discussing many things in the half personal, half 
 philosophical spirit, which was their nearest ap- 
 proach to confidence. 
 
 " Then you will not come back vnth me to Her- 
 onsford ? " asked Philip at last. 
 
 " No, I think not," said Carey. " There is no 
 use in it. It is all very well to talk about a faint 
 heart and that sort of twaddle, but if a man has 
 given a woman a fair chance to find out whether 
 she can like him, and she does not care for him, 
 there is no sense in fighting against it." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 406 
 
 " But," said Philip, " how can one be sure ? 
 Might it not be possible for a woman to think that 
 she preferred some one else, and yet to be mis- 
 taken?"' 
 
 " That is her lookout." 
 
 " One would say so, if one did not care." 
 
 " Oh ! if one thought there was any doubt, one 
 would ask the woman, of course. Sometimes a 
 man might have reason to hope from her manner 
 of refusing him." 
 
 " How if she had not refused him and yet he 
 knew that she would be bound in honor to do so ; 
 would there be any use in his subjecting her to that 
 pain ? " asked Philip, with the look of a puzzled 
 judge on his serious face. 
 
 Lawrence Carey looked at him with a half sur- 
 prised, half amused expression. 
 
 " I can't tell, my dear fellow," he said compas- 
 sionately. " It depends so entirely upon the wo- 
 man. There are some who would misconstrue your 
 delicacy. Few people thank one for trying to bear 
 their burdens. In any case, I think my advice 
 would be to leave the responsibility where it be- 
 longed." 
 
 " You would ask for her love, then, in any 
 case ? " 
 
 " I should do it once" said Dr. Carey, his mind 
 reverting to his own affairs ; " but as to doing it 
 oftener, I am very doubtful. If a woman is cold, 
 she is cold." 
 
 " Do you think that is true where there is no 
 
406 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 other influence to contend with, or only where there 
 is some one else whom she likes better ? " asked 
 Philip sadly. 
 
 " I really can't tell. It is like speculating 
 whether the sun wiU shine on a particular day, to 
 attempt to inquire into the complex causes of so 
 simple a thing as personal attraction, or the absence 
 of it." 
 
 " Some men seem born to attract," said Philip. 
 " Now there is Cecil Wilmott. I remember we had 
 a talk about him once before ; I did not think you 
 did him justice, and he has come out lately in a way 
 to warrant my opinion rather than yours ; but he is 
 certainly a light weight in proportion to the influ- 
 ence he exerts." 
 
 " Of course he is," said Dr. Carey. " That kind 
 of fascination is as accidental a gift as blue eyes 
 or black, but it is less definable. The possession 
 of it is apt to be generally felt, but not generally 
 acknowledged. Half the people who yield to it do 
 so without knowing to what they yield. I do not 
 care a rap for it, myself, and nothing surprises me 
 so much as the extent of its power over others." 
 
 " I believe the more a person has of it, the more 
 alive that person is to its influence," said Philip, 
 musingly. 
 
 " Thank you," said Lawrence Carey dryly. 
 
 " My dear fellow, I was not thinking of you ! " 
 protested Philip, suddenly awakening to the unflat- 
 tering implication of his words. 
 
 " Oh, I thought you were I " 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 407 
 
 " On the contrary, I was thinking of a woman," 
 said Philip, reddening painfully at the confession. 
 
 " That is all right, old man, you need not tell me 
 any more about it. She is not much of a woman if 
 she does not appreciate you." 
 
 " She is a Very sweet woman indeed," said Philip 
 staunchly, and soon afterwards they parted for the 
 night. 
 
 The result of this conversation, after it had been 
 turned over in his mind with the more active events 
 of the day, caused Philip not only to regret the vio- 
 lence to which his sudden jealousy had driven him, 
 but to wonder whether he had not been foolish in fore- 
 going an opportunity of ascertaining the real state 
 of Edith's affections. 
 
 Lawrence Carey thought that it would have been 
 honorable to ask for her love. Why need he have 
 been more scrupulous ? Might he not stop again 
 at New RocheUe on his way back and learn the 
 truth ? he asked himself as he tossed about on his un- 
 easy pillow that night ; but these were not the healthy 
 thoughts of his waking moments, and with the morn- 
 ing his unselfish nature reasserted its strength. 
 
 He would take the first opportunity of begging 
 Miss Arnold to forgive him when he could do so 
 as a friend, but he would not take a mean advan- 
 tage of another man, even to gain what he most 
 wished for in the world ; and so, after passing a day 
 or two in Boston with his friend, he took the night 
 train for Philadelphia that he might secure himself 
 against the temptation of lingering on the way. 
 
408 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 * 
 
 He had ordered his horse sent to meet him, but 
 stayed in town all day and rode out that evening 
 much later than usual, to find Mrs. Wilmott, Char- 
 lotte, and Julia assembled in the drawing-room. 
 
 " Why, Philip ! We had given you up ! " ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Wilmott, as he burst in upon them 
 in his muddy boots. 
 
 " Have you seen anything of Cecil ? " asked 
 Charlotte. " We expected him, too, this evening." 
 
 " Yes, I have seen Cecil," answered Philip grave- 
 ly. " He came to tell me some bad news." 
 
 " Some bad news ? What was it ? " asked Mrs. 
 Wilmott. 
 
 "It was of a friend of all of us," answered 
 Philip, looking meaningly at Julia. 
 
 " Not of Mr. Hazzard ? " she cried, starting from 
 her seat with a sudden premonition. 
 
 " It was. What made you think of him ? " 
 
 " I hardly know," she said hurriedly. " What 
 is it ? What has happened ? " 
 
 " We are not sure that anything has," he an- 
 swered ; " only we do not know where he is." 
 
 " Tell us just what you have heard." 
 " " Why, Cecil came to tell me that Hazzard has 
 not been seen or heard of since that boating party 
 which he gave for you." 
 
 " How did Cecil hear about it ? " asked Charlotte. 
 i " Mrs. Davering telegraphed to him to know 
 where Charley was. She and her husband are at 
 Saratoga, where she expected her son to join her ; 
 and not hearing anything from him for more than 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 409 
 
 a week, she had already written a letter, which came 
 just after the message, asking Cecil to look him up 
 and let her know if anything was the matter. This 
 Cecil tried to do. He went first to the house in 
 town, and learned that he had not been there since 
 'the afternoon before the boating party. They sup- 
 posed him in the country. Cecil then took the train 
 for Wymbleton, not doubting that he should find him, 
 but learned to his discomfort that he had not been 
 seen there, either, for ten days. StiU hoping that 
 Charley might have gone unexpectedly to pay a 
 visit to some friend, Cecil returned to town at 
 three o'clock and came at once to me ; but we have 
 both spent the whole afternoon in making inquiries 
 among all the men he knew well, and especially 
 those who went on the excursion up the river, with- 
 out being able to find any clew to his strange dis- 
 appearance." 
 
 " Why, what nonsense ! " cried Charlotte Wil- 
 mott. " A grown man like Mr. Hazzard could not 
 be stolen like a child. How could he disappear ? " 
 
 Julia was pale as death, but said nothing. " 
 
 " It only shows the danger of a young man's 
 leading that sort of irresponsible life — one foot in 
 one place and one in another," said Mrs. Wilmott, 
 with a shake of her head. " There is Cecil himself, 
 who is only too fond of it. Of course, if no one 
 knows where he is, he might be anywhere, as I 
 have often told him ; but I never thought of his 
 being spirited away." 
 
 " I remember being quite surprised that Mr. 
 
410 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 Hazzard did not walk home with you that night, 
 Julia," said Charlotte. " I thought it odd when 
 he asked CecU. to come with us, especially as the 
 party was given for you." 
 
 "When was Mr. Hazzard last seen, Philip?" 
 asked Julia, almost sternly. 
 
 " As far as we can learn. Freeman was the last 
 of his friends who saw him. He says that Charley, 
 after arranging with each one of the men who he 
 should take home, to be sure that aU the ladies 
 were safely cared for, accompanied the rest in the 
 horse-car as far as Mrs. Percy's door, when he and 
 Freeman got out together. Mrs. Percy, who was 
 full of gayety, said a hundred pleasant things to 
 Hazzard about the success of his party, the beauty 
 of the night, etc., to which Freeman noticed that 
 he barely replied, but saying good-night to both 
 of them rather abruptly, turned and walked off in 
 the same direction in which they had come. He 
 remembers thinking this strange at the time, as it 
 was the opposite way from the Daverings' house, 
 but thought no more about it beyond the moment." 
 
 " Is this the last that is known of him, then ? " 
 asked Julia. 
 
 " It is the last that is known with any certainty ; 
 but there are all sorts of reports about already, since 
 it has been known that he is missed. It is said that 
 one of the night watchmen on the raUroad bridge 
 across the Schuylkill saw a man put out into the 
 river in a wherry, from one of the boat-houses, be- 
 tween twelve and one o'clock that night, and that 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 411 
 
 ■when he got into the middle of the stream, the man 
 suddenly disappeared. From where the watchman 
 was posted he could not tell whether he lost his 
 balance, or the boat upset, or whether the man 
 threw himself intentionally into the water. He 
 made his way down to the shore, and after some 
 trouble, succeeded in finding another boat and 
 rowing out to the place ; but when he got there the 
 wherry was floating bottom upwards, and there was 
 no sign of the man anywhere." 
 
 " Of course there always would be reports of this 
 kind," said Mrs. Wilmott hurriedly. " It is not 
 worth while to dwell upon any of them when, after 
 all, our young friend may be amusing himself 
 somewhere, and entirely unconscious of the anxiety 
 which he is causing." 
 
 " It is bad about Mrs. Davering," said Philip. 
 " Cecil had to telegraph to her to come home ; for 
 if he is not found in another twenty-four hours, the 
 whole thing will be in the papers, although we have 
 tried to keep it as quiet as possible." 
 
 Nothing more was said that evening. Even the 
 more cheerful aspects of the subject were not fur- 
 ther discussed, for its gloomier ones were upper- 
 most in the minds of all. Julia learned from 
 Philip, after the others had gone to bed, that the 
 river was being dragged, and that he expected to 
 hear the result from Cecil in the morning. 
 
 Julia and Charlotte were sitting on a covered 
 veT^anda which opened from Mrs. Wilmott's bed- 
 chamber, the next morning, when the postman 
 
412 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 came. JuKa, who was the first to see him, sprang 
 up and ran down to the front entry, where she met 
 Philip with an open letter in his hand. 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked. " Has he been 
 found?" 
 
 Philip looked at her pityingly. " No, dear Ju- 
 lia," he said, " he is not found for us. He never 
 will be in this world." 
 
 " Then he is dead ? " 
 
 " His body has been found. It is even as you 
 feared." 
 
CHAPTEK XXXV. 
 
 " Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might ; 
 Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, passed in mnsic out of sight." 
 
 "O Philip!" cried Charlotte, intercepting him 
 on his way to his room, the evening after the sad 
 news of Charley Hazzard's death had been con- 
 firmed ; " here is a note which came for you the day 
 you went to Boston. I put it into my work-basket 
 intending to give it to you when you came home, but 
 this terrible catastrophe of poor Mr. Hazzard's quite 
 drove it from my mind. I think it is from Cecil." 
 
 "All right, Charlotte. You need not be troubled 
 about it. I have seen Cecil three or four times a 
 day since, so that if the contents were of any conse- 
 quence, I should have been likely to hear." 
 
 " I thought the note might have been to tell you 
 some news," said Charlotte meaningly. 
 
 " Some news ? " repeated Philip, with a sudden 
 frown, " What news ? " 
 
 " Have you heard of the engagement ? " asked 
 Charlotte, beaming all over with an air of mystery. 
 
 " No," said Philip savagely. " I do not want 
 to hear of it." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, I am sure," returned Char- 
 lotte, with offended dignity. " It seemed like the 
 
414 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 most important thing that had happened since you 
 went away." 
 
 " It is important to you, no doubt." 
 
 " I fancied that you might take some slight in- 
 terest in it on Cecil's account," said Charlotte 
 loftily. 
 
 "Possibly I should," returned Philip, with a 
 bitter smile, " but the truth is that I would a little 
 rather the subject were not mentioned to me." 
 
 " You do not know how cross he was ! " grumbled 
 Charlotte, as she described the interview to Mrs. 
 Wilmott a few moments later. 
 
 "Ah, well, my dear, I have no doubt that he 
 has the same feeling that I have about Mrs. Percy. 
 He probably dreads receiving her into the family. 
 But although I never fancied her before, I shall 
 try to like her now, and we must make the best of 
 things for Cecil's sake." 
 
 " Oh, as for that," said Charlotte, " you always 
 make the best of things. But I had no idea that 
 she cared for Cecil." 
 
 Meanwhile Philip, who was very far from imag- 
 ining this interpretation of his ill-humor, was stiU 
 smarting under the belief -that Charlotte had in- 
 tended to announce Cecil's engagement to Edith 
 Arnold. His hand tightened convulsively on the 
 note which he supposed to contain the unwelcome 
 tidings, and he thrust it unopened into his pocket. 
 
 When Edith received her next letter from Julia 
 she happened to be sitting listlessly in Gertrude's 
 studio, watching the artist put some finishing 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 415 
 
 touches to the portrait of a country peddler, whom 
 she had beguiled into sitting for her. Edith was 
 not thinking of the dirty old man, with his cunning, 
 careworn face and short cuddy pipe. Her thoughts 
 were, indeed, far otherwise engaged, and she sud- 
 denly aroused herself from her sad abstraction to 
 perceive that the model had fallen asleep. 
 
 " Wake him up ! " she said indignantly. " He 
 will spoil the picture." 
 
 " Oh, it is a great pity to spoil his nap," replied 
 the placid Gertrude. "I can work on the back- 
 ground for a while. You see the figure is almost 
 done. He only wants another wash over his face." 
 
 " I should think he did ! " said Edith. 
 
 At that moment the postman arrived with Julia's 
 letter, and all the current of her thoughts was 
 changed. She slipped away with it stiU unopened 
 to a shaded seat in an arbor, at the bottom of the 
 garden, and here she broke the seal. The letter 
 contained a long account of the heart-rending " ac- 
 cident " which filled Julia's thoughts just then to 
 the exclusion of every other subject. 
 
 Mrs. Wilmott had received an urgent message 
 from Mr. Davering entreating her to come to his 
 wife. The poor lady had returned to her house in 
 the country just in time to hear the certain news 
 of her son's death, and was in a state of the most 
 terrible excitement, walking her room day and 
 night with sobs and lamentation, refusing to see 
 any one or to receive any consolation, of which, 
 indeed, no one felt that there was much to offer. 
 
416 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 Mr. Davering was quite worn out with his efforts 
 to comfort her, and had at last brought her to say 
 that she would be willing to see Mrs. Wilmott, 
 who went to her at once. 
 
 " I wanted to go, too," wrote Julia, " I feel so 
 deeply for her, but Mrs. Wilmott begged me not 
 to think of it. She said that seeing me would be 
 sure to awaken painful associations. Poor Mrs. 
 Davering ! So here I am with Charlotte and the 
 prospect of a visit from Miss Euthven, who has 
 been urged by Philip to come and look after us in 
 our unprotected maidenhood. WiU you not come 
 soon, dear, and cheer us up a little ? We are all 
 very sad, but Philip is as gloomy as a nightmare. 
 I sometimes wonder whether his extreme depres- 
 sion can be entirely due to the shock of our 
 friend's loss, or whether he can have any personal 
 cause of unhappiness which has made him so dif- 
 ferent from himself ever since his return from 
 Boston. Perhaps he is only very tired. He has 
 certainly had a great deal of care and anxiety 
 since his father went away, and when I spoke of 
 your promised visit the other day, hoping it would 
 give him something bright to think of, he said that 
 he thought he would leave home before then, as, 
 he fancied that he needed change of air." 
 
 At this point the letter, which had been trem- 
 bling in Edith's hold, dropped upon her lap, and 
 she covered her face with her two hands while 
 tears trickled silently between her fingers. 
 
 Her private desk contained at that moment a 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 417 
 
 letter partly written to Julia, in which she stated, 
 with many expressions of regret, that she found 
 herself obliged to give up her visit to Heronsford, 
 the day fixed for which was fast approaching. 
 After their last interview her self-respect would 
 not allow her to take a step which might throw her 
 in Philip's society, but now it seemed that she 
 could accept Julia's invitation quite freely, for 
 Philip himself intended to secure her against the 
 possibility of a meeting. He was determined to 
 avoid her, whatever the mysterious cause of his 
 displeasure might be. The thought was infinitely 
 bitter. 
 
 At last she dried her tears and rose sadly from 
 her' seat to return to the house. She fancied as 
 she did so that she heard the clicking of the front 
 gate, announcing the possible arrival of a visitor, 
 and quickened her pace in order to get to her room 
 without molestation ; but as she turned the corner 
 of the house in hot haste, with her straw hat hang- 
 ing by its strings behind her, and several tresses of 
 her fair hair flying loosely in the wind, she almost 
 ran into some one who was advancing by a con- 
 verging path. 
 
 The broad approach was shielded at this point 
 by the clump of maples which has been mentioned 
 already, and Edith, stepping aside beneath one of 
 the trees with a startled movem^P raised her 
 eyes and met those of Philip Drayton. 
 
 He came forward eagerly, with an anxious look 
 in his face. 
 
418 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 "Have yon forgiven me for my rudeness the 
 other day? " he asked. " I do assure you that I am 
 utterly ashamed of my want of self-control. Will 
 you let bygones be bygones ? " 
 
 She did not answer for a moment. She was evi- 
 dently very much startled, and, looking gravely at 
 his outstretched hand, just touched it with her 
 finger-tips, which felt as cold as ice. 
 
 " I do not wonder that you find it hard to un- 
 derstand me," he said sadly. " I did not expect, 
 of course, to meet you in this way." 
 
 " Nor I that you were coming here," said Edith, 
 in a tone which seemed to have changed, since he last 
 heard it. It was quieter than before, and colder. 
 There was no response in her manner to his. 
 
 " I thought I owed it to myself and you to ask 
 your pardon," he said humbly ; " and then I was 
 afraid that the idea of meeting me might possibly 
 prevent you from visiting Heronsford, so I decided 
 to come and tell you that I was going away." 
 
 " You were very kind." 
 
 " I meant to be, for I fancied you would like bet- 
 ter to hear from myself why I had gone. I wanted 
 you to know that it was chiefly for your sake." 
 
 " Then may I ask why ? " She turned, as she 
 spoke, and walked slowly along the garden path, 
 and Philip walked beside her for some time in si- 
 lence. 
 
 " It is very simple," he said, at last, in a deep 
 voice in which there was a strong vibration. " I 
 not only imagine that you would probably prefer to 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 419 
 
 have me absent, but it would be difficult for me to 
 so far master myself as to be able to meet you 
 every day as you would wish." 
 
 " Indeed ? " 
 
 " Why do you say that ? You seem as much 
 surprised as Julia did, when I told her that I should 
 not be at Heronsford during your visit." 
 
 " You think then that it ought not to be a mat- 
 ter of surprise to me ? " 
 
 " Julia's surprise was based on the fact that she 
 said she thought we had always been good friends," 
 replied Philip gravely. 
 
 " I think I have been laboring under the same 
 impression," said Edith dryly. 
 
 " I can hardly miderstand that," he answered ; 
 " for I have not been a very good friend, as I told 
 Julia." 
 
 " Did you give her the impression that we had 
 quarreled ? " asked Edith. " I should like to know 
 my cue." 
 
 " It seems that if it be to quarrel, you will take 
 it easily," said Philip, with some bitterness. 
 
 " I think you can hardly accuse me of having 
 been inclined to do so, although I may have seemed 
 stupid, finding myself unable to guess why you were 
 angry with me." 
 
 " When, for instance ? " 
 
 " You did not seem very well pleased the last 
 time I saw you." 
 
 Philip's face darkened. " Do you not know 
 why ? " he asked. " I told you at the time. Do 
 you want me to tell you over again ? " 
 
420 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " I hardly know," she said, with a slight tremor 
 in her voice. " I should like to understand it if I 
 could, hut I would rather that you were not angry 
 with me again. I would rather we were friends." 
 
 " Angry ! angr^i " he repeated, desperately. 
 " Do you call it being angry when a man tells you 
 that he loves you, and shows you his grief that an- 
 other man has been preferred to him ? " 
 
 " Why do you suppose that I prefer another 
 man ? " she asked quietly. 
 
 " I believe that you do not mean to be cruel," 
 said Drayton slowly, " and I will try to think that 
 you are sincere in wishing to retain my friendship. 
 You have a perfect right to the reserve which you 
 choose to maintain, with regard to your own feel- 
 ings, from your own point of view, but from mine 
 it is intolerable." 
 
 " And from mine," said Edith, " all you say is 
 enigmatical. Whom do you think I care for ? " 
 
 " Cecil Wilmott has told me, Edith." 
 
 " What did he tell you ? " she asked, proudly. 
 
 " I know now that you are engaged to him." 
 
 " Did Mr. Wilmott tell you that ? " 
 
 " He did not say it, but he implied it. He would 
 not say that it was untrue." 
 
 " Then I will say so." 
 
 " Take care. He has written to me since. I 
 have the note in my pocket at this moment." 
 
 " What can you mean ? " 
 
 " That it matters little whether you call it an en- 
 gagement, if there is, as he led me to believe, an 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 421 
 
 understanding between you. Did you not make 
 him a purse and send it to him ? " 
 
 " I certainly did. Does that constitute an en- 
 gagement ? " 
 
 " You are treading on dangerous ground," said 
 Philip. "Will you say in so many words that 
 Cecil told me what was false ? " 
 
 " How can I, without knowing what he said ? 
 I do not believe that Mr. Wilmott would say what 
 was not true," said Edith gravely, " any more than 
 that he said he was engaged to me." 
 
 Philip misunderstood her caution. He thought 
 it the deliberate evasion of an acknowledgment 
 which she did not wish to make. An expression of 
 pain and regret passed over his face. He drew a 
 crumpled envelope from his pocket, and handed it 
 to her^thout a word. 
 
 Edith looked at it with amazement. " This note 
 is directed to you," she said, " and it has never 
 been opened. What am I to do with it ? " 
 
 " Read it," said Philip imperatively. 
 
 She quietly broke the seal, and read the follow- 
 ing, in Cecil's handwriting : — 
 
 My deae Philip, — I have been troubled since 
 you left the office lest you may have misinter- 
 preted what I said this morning. I beg, therefore, 
 to state explicitly, in answer to the question which 
 you asked to-day, that I am not engaged to Miss 
 Edith Arnold, who has, as I believe, never enter- 
 tained towards me any feelings but those of a 
 
422 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 friend. My own to her were once of a warmer na- 
 ture, but met with the most distinct proof that they 
 were unreturned. 
 
 Faithfully yours, Cecil "Wilmott. 
 
 As she read the note, a sudden light broke upon 
 Edith, who perceived that it was dated some weeks 
 back. In fact she noted that it bore the date of 
 the very day when she had last seen Philip, on his 
 way to Boston. She raised her eyes from its peru- 
 sal to the troubled countenance of the young man 
 before her, with a glance almost of compassion. 
 
 " I was sure there was a misunderstanding," she 
 said, with a sweet, confident smile. 
 
 Philip did not know what to make of the smile. 
 He took back the note from her outstretched hand, 
 and read it as in a dream, and his whole being 
 seemed transfigured. 
 
 "Dear Edith, is this true? " he cried. 
 
 " You should ask Mr. Wilmott. Did you be- 
 lieve me when I told you that I was not bound to 
 him in any way ? " she said reproachfully. 
 
 " I did in part. I believed the letter of your 
 words." 
 
 " You were kind." 
 
 " The truth is," said Philip, " that I was afraid 
 to believe. Will you not forgive me now ? Will 
 you not give me your hand ? " 
 
 " As a sign that we are friends ? " 
 
 " No," said Philip. " I do not ask it as a friend." 
 
 She turned a little from him towards the side of 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 423 
 
 the summer house, into which they had wandered 
 as they talked. 
 
 " Edith," he said, " I think you love me." 
 
 Still she said nothing. 
 
 " Edith ! Edith ! " he cried passionately, " if you 
 do care for me the least little bit, for God's sake 
 tell me so ! " 
 
 The terrible earnestness of his tone seemed to 
 move her with a force outside her own volition. 
 She raised her head and held out her two hands to 
 meet his with a sudden impulse, and then as quickly 
 dropped them ; but he caught them as they fell. 
 
 " You do care a little, do you not ? " he asked 
 impetuously. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Only a little ? " 
 
 She did not answer, so Philip began to protest. 
 
 " I love you more and more every time I see 
 you. Why did you make me believe that you 
 cared for some one else ? " 
 
 " I did not make you believe it," she said 
 proudly. "It was you who would believe it. I 
 began to think that you never would believe any- 
 thing else." 
 
 " Give me the right to believe something else, 
 and you wiU find I will do so at any risk. WiU 
 you not forgive me ? " he entreated. 
 
 " Ah, yes," she sighed, " I do forgive you." 
 
 " And you love me ? " he asked ; and then he 
 stooped and took his answer from her lips, which 
 yielded it at last. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 " Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life, 
 The eTening beam that smiles the clouds away, 
 And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray." 
 
 BtBOH. 
 
 Charlotte Wilmott had a very different office 
 to perform from that with which Philip had cred- 
 ited her. Instead of announcing Cecil's engage- 
 ment to Edith Arnold, she was called upon to 
 break the news of Philip's engagement to her, to 
 Cecil. Although fully aware that he had surren- 
 dered already to other charms, she had prepared 
 herself for a little sisterly consolation on the occar 
 sion, and was surprised to the degree of being 
 slightly disappointed at the coolness with which 
 her brother received the information. " I never 
 saw anything in Edith Arnold myself," said Char- 
 lotte, " but I thought at one time, Cecil, that you 
 admired her very much." 
 
 " So I did," said Cecil, lighting a cigar. " I 
 was in love with her, I think." 
 
 " How can you speak of it like that ! " 
 
 " Why not, since it is ovei* ? " 
 
 " After all, I don't believe you were worthy of 
 her 1 " exclaimed Charlotte, with sudden inspiration. 
 
 " So she thought," said Cecil coolly. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 425 
 
 " Oil, she thought so, did she ? " asked Miss Wil- 
 mott, changing sides with female facility, as her in- 
 dignation took a new turn. " Well, I think her a 
 self-satisfied little minx, and am very sure she is 
 not at all worthy of Philip, however well she may 
 think of herself." 
 
 " By which nice gradation of unworthmess one 
 may see exactly how high an appreciation you have 
 of your brother," said Cecil, with something of his 
 old enjoyment of a joke, even at his own expense. 
 
 But Charlotte was in no jesting mood. " It 
 is well enough for you to laugh, Cecil," she an- 
 swered, in an injured tone, "but no one can say 
 that I do not think highly of my own flesh and 
 blood." 
 
 It chanced that the young lady who was being 
 thus freely discussed had set forth that very morn- 
 ing from New Eochelle to make her promised visit 
 to Heronsford, and discovered, on reaching Phila- 
 delphia, that Philip had come to meet her. 
 
 " I have stolen a march upon Julia," he said, 
 with satisfaction. 
 
 " How was that ? " she asked shyly. " Did Ju- 
 lia not know of your coming ? " 
 
 " I fancy she did not, but I have my dog-cart 
 here and propose to drive you to Heronsford." 
 
 " But," said Edith, " I was to take a particular 
 train and Julia was to meet me. She wrote me all 
 about it, and said it left from this same station." 
 
 " Well, then, we will send her a telegram," said 
 Philip calmly. " I knew she had despatched Eog- 
 
426 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 ers to meet you in town, but not of the rest of her 
 plan. I gave Eogers something else to do, and 
 ventured to present myself instead." There was a 
 quiet confidence in his manner which Edith had 
 noticed there before, in moments which required 
 decision. She inwardly admired him for it, but 
 felt herself called upon outwardly to demur. " I 
 am afraid Julia wiU be disappointed," she said. 
 
 "I shall regret that," replied Philip, "but have 
 you no fear of disappointing me ? " 
 
 She started and turned to him quickly, with a 
 faint blush and a very tender light in her eyes. 
 
 " I think I have a prior right, have I not ? " he 
 asked gently, drawing her little hand, as he spoke, 
 within his arm. 
 
 " Perhaps you have," she answered, and Philip, 
 taking her answer for consent, helped her. into the 
 carriage without meeting with any further objec- 
 tion to such a pleasant mode of ending her jour- 
 ney. 
 
 So the telegraphic message was sent, and these 
 two young people began one of life's pilgrim- 
 ages, which they had determined to make together, 
 with a happy confidence in each other and in the 
 future which it is to be hoped was not to prove 
 the result of inexperience. 
 
 Julia meanwhile had risen early that morning, 
 and gone to the garden to gather some flowers 
 to add a finishing touch to the pretty bed-room 
 which she had taken pleasure in preparing for 
 her friend, and after luncheon she proposed to 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 42? 
 
 drive herself to the station in a jaunty little vil- 
 lage cart which her guardian had provided for her 
 use the year before. 
 
 "Hadst thou not better take James with -thee, 
 my child?" asked Miss Kuthven, coming out on 
 the doorstep as Julia was about to set forth. " Thou 
 art aware that Frisky hath much of the sprightli- 
 ness of youth, which may render him diffieidt to 
 control, and is also not patient under the approach 
 of railway trains." 
 
 " Oh, no, dear Miss Euthven. You must not be 
 anxious, for I know Frisky's ways, and Edith and 
 I will be quite enough of a load for him." 
 
 " There thou art right," said Miss Euthven 
 thoughtfully, "for it is not well to load a young 
 horse too heavily. Only remember thy promise to 
 be careful." The old lady stood shading her eyes 
 as she looked after Julia, who drove off in the best 
 of humors. She knew that one of the " ways " of 
 the spirited black pony which di-ew her LUiputian 
 equipage was to back when he saw a locomotive, 
 and remembering his antipathy she turned him off 
 into a grove of evergreens at a short distance from 
 the station, to wait until the train in which she ex- 
 pected Edith had come and gone. Then she threw 
 the reins over his neck and left him among the 
 trees while she ran out to look for her friend, — 
 but'no Edith was there. 
 
 She walked all round the little square wooden 
 station-house with a keen sense of disappointment, 
 peeped into the waiting-room, where she oidy saw 
 
428 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 two severe-looking old ladies wearing the American 
 livery of gray linen dusters, and was about to re- 
 turn to the wagon when the station-master said, 
 in answer to some inquiry, — 
 
 " There '11 be another train along. Miss, just in a 
 minute. It 's an express train, but it '11 stop for a 
 flag or a passenger, and your friend may be in that." 
 
 " Perhaps she may," said Julia, with renewed 
 hope. " I must go back to Frisky or he will be 
 over the traces," was her next remark ; and Frisky 
 was inclined to verify it, for she just reached him 
 in time to prevent that enterprising animal from 
 making various new discoveries in the art of har- 
 nessing. 
 
 Whiz ! Whiz ! Whiz ! came the express train, 
 flying and flashing past with such uncurbed veloci- 
 ty that she gave up hope again. It did not seem, 
 to her to pause an instant, certainly not long 
 enough to deliver a passenger, before it was whirl- 
 ing away in the distance ; but she was mistaken. 
 
 One person had got off the train, and was com- 
 ing briskly across the railway track before she 
 had time to turn Frisky's head homeward and 
 emerge from the friendly shelter of the grove. The 
 solitary passenger came and stood in the opening 
 of the green hemlock boughs and gazed upon her 
 with a surprise and pleasure in the meeting which 
 hardly dared trust its own origin. 
 
 Julia was dressed in a light summer costume 
 consisting of some gay-colored chintz, much puffed 
 and looped as to the skirts, in shepherdess-like 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 429 
 
 style, but fitting closely to her waist and shoulders, 
 with a delicate white muslin kerchief crossed about 
 the throat. She wore a broad-brimmed straw hat, 
 round which a dark red silk scarf was twisted care- 
 lessly, and was bending forward, as' she sat in the 
 village cart, trying to disentangle Erisky's tail 
 from the reins. Her back was towards the specta- 
 tor, and he drew a step nearer before he spoke her 
 name. 
 
 "Julia!" 
 
 She started and dropped the reins, but did not 
 look round until he repeated the word. Then she 
 turned her head very slowly with an expression of 
 fear, but one look was enough to change it into joy. 
 
 It was in very truth Mr. Drayton who stood 
 close to her with a smile on his lips and the glow 
 of health on his cheek. It was no midnight vision, 
 born of hopeless longing, which was thus suddenly 
 presented to her in the morning sunshine, and with 
 a cry of happiness she sprang toward him. 
 
 "Were you afraid I was a ghost?" he asked, 
 tenderly drawing her to him and looking down at 
 her with a gleam of his old humor. 
 
 But she did not answer. She stood for a mo- 
 ment gazing up into his face as though she could 
 not see enough of him. 
 
 "I am too glad," she whispered, and laid her 
 head upon his shoulder with a long sigh. 
 
 His face suddenly changed. " My sweet, sweet 
 child," he said, pressing her to his heart. " I do 
 not deserve this happiness. Shall I tell you all 
 
430 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 the things which I have been thinking of while I 
 have been away?" 
 
 " Yes," she said, " tell me everything." 
 
 " Where shall I begin ? " 
 
 "Begin with that night," she answered, lifting 
 her head and looking up again. 
 
 « The night of the accident ? " 
 
 " The night I saw you ! Did you think of me ? " 
 
 " You mean when " — 
 
 " When you were so nearly lost." 
 
 " Of course I thought of you — and Philip. It 
 was most natural that I should." 
 
 "But did you see me?" she persisted. "Did 
 you see me when I saw you ? " 
 
 " Do you mean that you thought you saw me on 
 that night ? " he asked slowly. 
 
 " I did see you, and there was water aU around 
 you, and you were holding out your arms to me ! " 
 she answered, and as she spoke his face grew pale 
 and his eyes darkened with excitement. 
 
 " I can hardly believe this, Julia," he said in a 
 trembling voice, but Julia cared for nothing but 
 the truth. 
 
 " Did you see me ? " she said. 
 
 " Yes, dear, I thought I did. It seemed to me 
 in that awful moment, when consciousness was 
 passing from me, although I still clung to a frag- 
 ment of the wreck, that for one instant the greatest 
 longing of my heart was answered, and I saw your 
 face ! I had believed it to be the hallucination of 
 a drowning man." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 431 
 
 They were both silent for a moment. Julia had 
 never withdrawn her eyes from his. She did so 
 now, with a look of profound contentment, and 
 rested her chin thoughtfully upon her hand. 
 
 " I knew it," she murmured. 
 
 " My darling ! What would I not have given to 
 spare you the shock and suffering you had ! I 
 think the hardest time for me was when I was in 
 that sailing-vessel, carried along night after night 
 over the dark water." 
 
 " After you were saved ? " she said. 
 
 " Yes. When I was being taken to Gibraltar 
 against my will, with such a strange sense of help- 
 lessness and isolation from all my world, to which 
 I did not doubt that I was already as one dead." 
 
 " Hush ! " she whispered, shuddering, and put 
 her hand up as though to close his lips, but he 
 caught the hand and kissed it, with a vehemence 
 which brought the color to her cheeks. 
 
 " I made up my mind to two things while I was 
 abroad," he said. " What do you think they 
 were ? " 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 " The first was to come home just as soon as the 
 duties to others which I had undertaken would 
 permit," he said, with a merry smile. 
 
 " And the second ? " asked Julia. 
 
 " The second decision," he replied more gravely, 
 " was not reached until after I returned to London^ 
 and received Philip's long letter telling of all the 
 anxiety which my reported loss had brought, and 
 
432 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 above all, of my little girl's illness. Then I deter- 
 mined — look at me, dear. Julia." 
 
 She raised her head obediently, and looked 
 gravely into his face. 
 
 " I determined that come what would, you 
 should know my love, and that it was love alone 
 which had driven me from you — even if you 
 turned from me with dread a moment after!" 
 
 She opened her eyes with sudden astonishment. 
 
 " What can you mean ? " she asked. " Have I 
 not always known that you loved me, tenderly and 
 truly?" 
 
 "You have indeed," said Mr. Drayton, " but I love 
 you more, now. I love you desperately — absorb- 
 ingly ; with a love which claims you for its own ! " 
 
 She turned away her head, and drew her hand 
 from his with gentle dignity. 
 
 " Is it strange," he continued, " that when I was 
 mastered by such a selfish feeling as this, I should 
 have felt that my only manly course was to leave 
 you?" 
 
 " It seems strange to me," she said. 
 
 " I felt, that I could not stay, Julia, without 
 asking you to be my wife." 
 
 To this she did not answer by word or look. 
 She was intensely still. The lids were drooped 
 over her eyes, but her half averted face spoke to 
 him in spite of herself. It seemed that there was 
 a silent reproach in it. 
 
 " Do not fancy that I was afraid to bear the pain 
 of a refusal," he said hurriedly. 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 433 
 
 Still she answered nothing. 
 
 The minds of men and women travel by such 
 difEerent methods that even where most sympa- 
 thetic they sometimes reach quite opposite conclu- 
 sions from the same premises. 
 
 " The truth was this," he said at last, with an 
 effort to speak out all that was in his mind, let it 
 cost what it might in the way of misconstruction. 
 " I knew that in answer to the protecting love 
 which I had had«for you so long, my child, and of 
 which we have just spoken, you loved me too as 
 a daughter might love a father, and I feared to 
 shock that love by offering you a feeling so differ- 
 ent ; or that by the gradual influence which my 
 mind had acquired over yours in the years we had 
 lived together, I might persuade you to believe that 
 you cared for me more than you did, and then, too 
 late, might come the true hero who could have filled 
 your dreams, and I should stand by in despair to 
 see my darling's life made wretched." 
 
 Julia turned her face towards him now with one 
 long reproachful look. 
 
 " You are my hero," she said. 
 
 " I thought that in your exalted fancy you might 
 haye imagined me very different from the reality," 
 he answered. " It seemed best to remove my in- 
 fluence and let you see more of others." 
 
 " If I never see you again from this moment," 
 
 said Julia, with a strange courage which had come 
 
 to her as he talked, " or if I spend all my life with 
 
 ^ou, it will be the same thing with me, and as for 
 
434 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 your being a hero, that is proved, and there is no 
 more room for fancy in the matter." 
 
 " My love ! My love I " he cried passionately, 
 and caught her in his arms. " Will you be my 
 very own ? " he said, bending over her. 
 
 " Did you not wish to forget me ? " 
 
 " I never hoped to do so. I knew it was impos- 
 sible." 
 
 He spoke almost sadly. His eyes were looking 
 into hers which suddenly grew bright with triumph. 
 
 " Say again that you love me," she whispered. 
 
 And he did say it in more ways than one, so that 
 at last she was convinced ; and by and by they per- 
 ceived that Frisky had eaten up all the bushes in 
 his neighborhood, and proceeding to get his head 
 the other way they drove slowly towards Herons- 
 ford, but when they had gone about half the dis- 
 tance Julia drew in the reins with a sudden jerk 
 and a little exclamation. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " asked her guardian, 
 looking about them vainly for the cause of this 
 abrupt stoppage. 
 
 " Why, what can Jiave become of Edith ? " she 
 cried. " I e:spected to have met her at the train ! " 
 
 " Are you sure that you met the train she told 
 you?" 
 
 " Oh ! she did not tell me, it was I who told 
 her." 
 
 " What do you mean, dear ? " 
 
 " I wrote her last week just what train to take, 
 and I sent Eogers in to meet her this morning." 
 
A CARPET KNIGHT. 435 
 
 " Probably she has made some change of plan, 
 and when we get home you will find a letter ex- 
 plaining it." 
 
 "Perhaps I shall," said Julia, and there was 
 every reason now why she should have driven on, 
 but still the cart stood still in the middle of the 
 country road, and Frisky had begun his favorite 
 habit of browsing by the wayside. 
 
 " There is something else which — which troubles 
 me," she said presently, examining the lash of her 
 slender driving whip with great interest. 
 
 " What is it ? " asked Mr. Drayton, very gently. 
 
 " It is about my mother," she said, blushing all 
 over as she spoke. 
 
 " You mean about telling her ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Leave that to me." 
 
 « But will she — will she like it ? " 
 
 " I think she wiU, when she fully understands. 
 She shall be told first, before any one else. Is not 
 that what you would wish ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes! I wish no one else need know at 
 aU!" 
 
 Mr. Drayton laughed. "There is no need of 
 their knowing for the present, at any rate," he 
 
 " Mr. Drayton " — timidly. 
 " Are you going to call me that always ? " 
 " I don't know," she said, blushing again ; " but 
 I want to tell you something." 
 "Well, dear?" 
 
436 A CARPET KNIGHT. 
 
 " When you were away and that dreadful news 
 came, and afterwards when I was ill and was get- 
 ting better, Philip was so true and kind and 
 thoughtful for me, that I never can forget it. I 
 have always felt to him as towards a brother, but 
 I do not think I quite appreciated before aU the 
 strength and tenderness that there was in him." 
 
 For answer Mr. Drayton put his arm about her 
 and pressed her to his side. 
 
 "Thank you for telling me," he said, after a 
 moment, »and then Frisky was reminded of the 
 error of his ways. 
 
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 " Little Classic " style. i8mo . . . . j . . . 1.25 
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 Gabriel Conroy. 
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 Nathaniel Hawthorne. 
 
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Houghton, Mifflin and Company. 7 
 
 " Little Classic " Edition. Each volume contains a 
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 Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 
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8 Works of Fiction Published by 
 
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 Thomas Hughes. 
 
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 Henry James, Jr. 
 
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 Deephaven. i6mo 1.25 
 
 Old Friends and New. i8mo 1.25 
 
 Country By-Ways. i8mo 1.25 
 
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 Rossiter Johnson. 
 
 " Little Classics." Each in one volume. iSmo. 
 
 I. Exile. IV. Life. 
 
 II. Intellect. V. Laughter. 
 
 III. Tragedy. VI. Love. 
 
Houghton, Mifflin and Company. 9 
 
 VII. Romance. XIII. Narrative Poems. 
 
 VIII. Mystery. XIV. Lyrical Poems. 
 
 IX. Comedy. XV. Minor Poems. 
 
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 Tales from Shakespfeare. i8mo i.oo 
 
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 Men, Women, and Ghosts. • i6mo 1.50 
 
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 Doctor Zay. i6mo 1.25 
 
lO Works of Fiction Published by 
 
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 By the author of " Rutledge." i6mo $1.25 
 
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 This edition has been carefully edited, and is illus- 
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 The Antiquary. St. Ronan's Well. 
 
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 Old Mortality. The Betrothed, and the 
 
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 of Montrose. The Talisman, and Other 
 
 Heart of Mid-Lothian. Tales. 
 
 Bride of Lammermoor. Woodstock. 
 
 Ivanhoe. The Fair Maid of Perth. 
 
 The Monastery. Anne of Geierstein. 
 
 The Abbot. Count Robert of Paris. 
 
 Kenilworth. The Surgeon's Daughter, 
 
 The Pirate. and Castle Dangerous. 
 
 The Fortunes of Nigel. 
 
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Houghton, Mifflin and Company. ii 
 
 Horace E. Scudder. 
 
 The Dwellers in Five-Sisters' Court. i6mo .... $1.25 
 
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 Mark Sibley Severance. 
 
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 Comic History of the United States. Illustrated. i2mo 2.50 
 
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 The Fair God j or, The Last of the 'Tzins. i2mo . 1.50 
 
12 Works of Fiction. 
 
 Henry Watterson. 
 
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 l6mo $1.50 
 
 Richard Grant White. 
 
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 Faith Gartney's Girlhood. Illustrated. i2mo . . . 1.50 
 
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 Patience Strong's Outings. i2mo 1.50 
 
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 Leslie Goldthwaite. Illustrated. i2mo 1.50 
 
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 Odd, or Even ? i2mo 1.50 
 
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 The above twelve volumes in box 18.00 
 
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 Publishers^ 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, 
 
 4 Park St., Boston, Mass. ; 1 1 East Seventeenth St., 
 
 New York. 
 
 A Catalogue containing portraits of many of the above authors, 
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