~«ri-*^l 'M^,i ^^ \ 1 1 if.S. f.A^ TK Br Cornell University Library PR 4124.B8 1896 Brisels; a novel, by William Black .... 3 1924 013 435 197 CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY FROM Miss F.B. Stunner Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92401 34351 97 'she went porwakd without the least trace of shyness' B R I S E I S H IRovel BY WILLIAM BLACK AT author of " a princess op thdle " " highland cousins " "the handsome homes" etc. ILLUSTRATED BY W. T, SMEDLEY NBW YOEK HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 1896 WILLIAM BLACK'S NOVELS. IIBBAEY ESITIOlf. A DAUGHTER OF HETH. STAND FAST, CRAIG-ROYSTON 1 A PRINCESS OF THULE. Illustrated. DONALD ROSS OF HEIMRA. SUNRISE. GREEN PASTURES AND PICCA- THAT BEAUTIFUL WRETCH. Il- DILLY. lustrated. IN FAR LOCHABER. THE MAGIC INK, AND OTHER IN SILK ATTIRE. STORIES. Illustrated. JUDITH SHAKESPEARE. Illus- THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF trated by Abbky. A HOUSE-BOAT. Illustrated. KILMENV. THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF MACLEOD OF DARE. Iltasttatad. A PHAETON. MADCAP VIOLET. THREE FEATHERS. PRINCE FORTIINATUS. nimlraUd. WHITE HEATHER. SABINA ZEMBRA. WHITE WINGS. Illustrated. SHANDON BELLS. Iltostrated. yOLANDE. Illustrated. ISmo, Cloth, tl 25 per volume. WOLFENBERG.— THE HANDSo'mE HUMES. Illustrated. 12ino, Cloth, $1 GO each. HIGHLAND COUSINS. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, tl T5. Complete Seta, 26 vols., $80 00; Half Calf, $57 00. PoBLiBuiiB BY HAEPEE & BEOTIIEES, Nhw Tokk. Copyright, 1896, by Harper & Brothers. All righli retorved. CONTENTS CnAPTER PAGE I. Ai Sakchory ok Deb 1 II. The Qokdons of Grantly 13 III. Aunt Clara 30 IV. Wider Wanderings 46 V. AUP DER HbHB . . . . 60 VI. The Hypatia — and Thereaftbh 74 VII. A Greek Slave 90 VIII. By Moor and Eill 107 IX. " With Hey, NoNNY, NoNNY " 124 X. From Morn till Eve 143 XL A Secret op the Woods 160 XII. "Where the Dun Deer Lie" 178 XIII. North and South 196 XIV. A Departure 314 XV. A Squire of Dames 335 XVI. An Awakening 353 XVIL "Now ALL IS Done" 373 XVIIL A Resolve 393 XIX. Face to Face 309 XX. Der ewige Gesang 335 XXI. Judge and Jury 340 XXII. ' Loved I not Honor More ' 356 XXIII. 'Sweet Nellie O'Reb' 370 XXIV. ' Seemed Athens as a Paradise ' 393 ILLUSTRATIONS " SHE WENT FORWAKD WITHOUT THE LEAST TRACE OP SHYNESS" . . . . . . . Front) " SHE FOLLOWED THE DIRECTION OP HIS FINGER" Facing "'WELL, WE GENERALLY DISCDSS MAN'" . "'ONLY, YOU AND I ARE GOING TO BE CHUMS'" "PERHAPS THAT WAS WHY SHE WANTED THEM " "LITTLE INDEED DID THE HAPLESS PRINCE KNOW WHAT WAS NOW BEFORE HIM " . . "they were IN DEVONSHIRE PLACE" .... " 'don't THINK OF MB AS YOU SEE ME NOW ' " . " 'SO KIND OP YOU TO COME AND HELP MB !' " - "THERE WAS NO THOUGHT OP EVIL IN THOSE KINDLY AND SCRUTINIZING GRAY EYES . . "HER COLD IMPASSIVITY OF LOOK HAD CHANGED " '" THERE ARE COMPENSATIONS ' " ,spie(x page 4 72 96 162 182 208 224 310 326 368 370 BRISEIS CHAPTER I AT SANCHORY ON DEB Away up on the heights of Scoulter Hill, overlook- ing the wide and wooded valley of the Dee, a tall and slim young woman lay at full length on the heather, her interclasped hands beneath her head, her large, dark, foreign-looking eyes fixed lazily and dreamily on the slow-moving heavens. And she was singing to her- self — in a kind of absent undertone : probably she was quite unconscious that she was following these idle words — which as likely as not were of her own hap- hazard composition : O Love went sailing along the sky On the soft white clouds, so far and high ; ' O yonder's the world for which I'm fain — The wild gray waves and the driving main.' 'O dear little Love, much better you'd be, If you'd clip your wings and come down to me !' Poor boy, he was beaten and battered sore — Tossed by the surf and flung on the shore : ' I told you, you wretch, 'twould happen ; but now Here are handkerchiefs cool to bind your brow; And you'll fold your wings and creep close to me. And I'll hide you safe from the angiy sea.' She turned her head a little. And if she had chosen, 1 2 BKISEIS she might have gazed abroad on a sufficiently spacious and varied panorama — the fertile pastures of Glen Dye — the outskirts of Glen Tana Forest — the vast, undu- lating billows of the Grampians, shining here and dark- ened there with sunlight and velvet shadow ; while on the remote horizon-line rose the peaks of Loch-Na- Gar, the snow on them of a dim and burnished gold through the distant haze. But perhaps before her mental vision there was a very different scene. Per- haps she had transported herself back to her island home in the Saronic Gulf; perhaps she found herself once more under the cool shade of the olives, looking across the great plain of waters — the blazing blue of the summer sea all twinkling with innumerable little flashes of white foam ; on her right the lonely shores and precipitous cliffs stretching away down to Cape Colonna; far in front of her the hold cimeter-sweep of the Bay of Salamis ; beyond that again the palely vio- let shoulders of Gorydallus, and these but the begin- ning of a mountainous semicircle coming round to the scarred and gray-green slopes of Hymettus ; then in the midst of the extended plain a mass of rugged rock rising faint and visionary into the vibrating air, and, higher still, on the summit of the plateau, cer- tain lofty and saffron-tinted pillars telling of a ruined temple — the famous temple once the home and shrine of the Maiden Goddess, Pallas Athene. It is a spec- tacle that the merest stranger cannot contemplate without profound emotion; but in the case of this Greek girl — this Briseis Valieri — now lying supine and abstracted on an Aberdeenshire hill — there were many added and personal associations and affections and memories; for she also — for a time, at least, during her days of schooling and school-friendships — she also had been a Maid of Athens. AT SANCHOEY ON DEE 3 Of a sudden she was brought back to herself and her actual surroundings. " Briseis ! Bry ! Bry ! Where are you ?"— she heard the remote call for her. And then she rose quickly to her feet — her slender, tall, symmetrical figure showing dark against the sky — and looked all around. On this solitary open space of silver-lichened rock and herbage no one was to be seen ; but presently, beyond the adjacent larch-wood, and not far from the base of an ancient tower, she had found the object of her quest — the figure of a little, elderly man, who appeared to be frantically gesticu- lating. At once she set ofE to rejoin her companion, her long limbs and her free and agile step taking her over the heather as if she had been a young fawn. And even before she drew near him her eyes were full of a smiling and kindly interest; for those dark and lustrous eyes of hers had this unusual faculty, that even while the rest of her features were apparently quiescent, they of themselves could express pleasure, and good-will, and gratitude — and even on occasion mirth and mockery, for she was by nature a daughter of the laughter-loving Aphrodite. But now, as she rapidly approached, this smiling curiosity gave way to a vague concern and wonder; because she could see that her uncle was strangely agitated. He held up his hand. " Not too near — not too near \" exclaimed this small, nervous-looking man, who nevertheless had apple- tinted cheeks and bright gray eyes. "Briseis, I tell you this is a day of days for me — a day of days, in- deed ! — you will remember it all your life when you come to understand. Do you know what that is ?" She followed the direction of his finger, and saw on the ground in front of him some scattered patches 4 BEISEIS of a white, waxen-looking flower, which she thought might be one of the stitchworts or some such thing — for notwithstanding her long spring and summer and autumn rambles with this devoted enthusiast she had not picked up much botanical lore. "It's the Silene alpestris!" he said, excitedly. "Don't you understand? That is one of Don's 're- puted discoveries ' ! — but perhaps Sir Joseph Hooker, in the next edition of his Flora, will be so exceedingly kind as to transfer it from the Appendix and place it in the body of the book! Yes, yes; it's all very well for the younger men to make fun of me, and call me the Marquis of Clova, and say I shall never die happy till I rehabilitate the whole Don family. But what is that before you? I ask you, what is that? There it is! — staring you in the face — the Silene alpestris — one of Dan's ' reputed discoveries ' I There it is before you — growing wild on an Aberdeenshire hill — and not so far away from Clova either. I tell you this will make some of them open their eyes — " Naturally enough the young Greek girl stooped to secure for herself one of those starlike blossoms — if only for the purpose of closer scrutiny — but instantly he gripped her by the arm and checked her. " No," said he, peremptorily, " they are too precious. Perhaps to-morrow or next day, when I have every- thing ready, I may take one or two specimens to for- ward to the Linnsean Society, and the Royal Botanic Society, and the Andersonian at Glasgow; but other- wise they must be left to spread and flourish as nmch as ever is possible. I tell you, if I were that young Sir Francis Gordon, I would fence them round, so that not a single tourist should get near them. But in the meantime, Briseis — ^in the meantime, come away down — I must send some telegrams off — come away down o si B O H w B O 3 AT SANCHOET ON DEE 5 to the inn, and I will dictate them to you. Don't yon think Professor at Oxford will stare — don't you think so ? — ah, don't you think so ? — ^but come away, Bry — I shouldn't wonder if I could show you the plant figured in Loudon or Eohinson, and then you will be convinced — " " Oh, but I am delighted, uncle !" said the young girl — and now all the beautiful, pale olive face was aglow with sympathetic pleasure. "I am delighted! And is it so great a discovery ? And will they give you more honor? — and print your name in more Transactions ? — and make you a Fellow of more Socie- ties ? Oh, but indeed I am delighted ! I must write and tell my cousin Calliope — " He laughed aloud, in a half-hysterical fashion — he seemed hardly to know what he w^s doing or saying. "And sooner or later, Bry, you will discover that in this country we say Calliope, not Calliope — " " In Athens we used mostly to call her Op8," said the young girl, without taking any offence, and still regarding the waxen-white flowers with the greatest interest. " But come away — come away now," he said, hur- riedly. "I must send off the telegrams at once." Then he paused. "No. Stay a moment. Kneel down." She was a biddable creature, and her dress was of a rough and simple material: she did as she was told. " Is it some form of worship, uncle ?" said she, with the soft dark eyes smiling. "Examine now," he said. "Examine closely; and when we go down to the inn, if I can find for you a figure of the plant, you, will see how they correspond. Observe now — the flowers panicled, rather large, and of a glossy whiteness — each petal with four notches — 6 BEISBIS the calyx erect, with blunt teeth as long as the petals — stem simple, few-leaved, about six inches high — " She had risen to her feet again. " But I do not need to be conrinced, uncle !" she exclaimed. "When you tell me, that is enough. Surely there pan be no better authority than yourself, after you hare given your whole life to the study? — " He slung his vasculum over his shoulder ; he put his hand in affectionate fashion within her arm ; and to- gether they proceeded to descend the hill — down through the larches that were moving and whispering in the light and varying breeze. " You see, Bry," he continued, in a grave and mat- ter-of-fact manner (for he would not betray too much exultation), " this Scoulter Hill is very well known as the habitat of many rare or at least uncommon plants; and among them is the Linncea borealis. Not that the Linncea is so very rare, but the fruit of it is — very rare indeed: Hooker says he had to take the description of it from Wahlenberg. Well, you understand, I have never given up the hope of some day stumbling on a branch of the Linncea bearing fruit — even in the spring or early summer — for it is an evergreen shrub and tolerably hardy — and in a sheltered place in the woods there might always be a chance of the fruit hanging on through the winter. And I was pottering about " — here he began to talk a little more quickly — " I was pottering, about. I had no thought of Don, or of the Don family, or of the scepticism that has re- jected so many of their discoveries. I was not think- ing of any Silene, or any of the disputed Saxifrages, or anything of the kind ; it was the dark green leaves of the Linncea I was looking for^ and not very anxiously either. Then of a sudden " — and now he was speak- ing in an eager, half breathless way — "of a sudden I AT SANCHOET OK DEE 7 saw something: it was like a slap in the face: for a second my eyes seemed quite bewildered. For I knew — oh yes, I knew instantly what it was ! — I knew the gap that the stranger filled ; and the oddest thing hap- pened — all in the flash of a moment it appeared to me as if I were answering back to this authority and that authority — this one in Edinburgh and that one at Kew — as if I were saying to them : ' Ah, perhaps you will now be a little less ready to add "not confirmed" when any one sends you the report of a discovery from Clova or from Dee-side ; and perhaps you will be less distrustful about Don's contributions to the British flora; and perhaps, considering the height and the whereabouts of Scoulter Hill, you won't find the phrase "a garden escape" sufiicient to account for everything.' Briseis, I think they will open their eyes a little !" he went on — and he laughed in his nervous, excited way. " They will begin to doubt their doubts — and that's the fact. They will begin to think that a thorough search of the whole of the Clova mountains might be more serviceable than dismissing every un- confirmed discovery with contempt. The rehabilita- tion of the Don family ? Well, I never thought that necessary — and I never proposed it to myself as an ob- ject — never — ^but still — but still — " And so he continued talking, garrulous and restless beyond his wont, while they held on their way down into the valley, and crossed the Dee by the gray stone bridge, and went along and into the village of San- chory. It is a quiet and still little hamlet, with one large and wide main thoroughfare, a straggling row of houses on each side of the spacious street, an inn, a church, and a number of small villas scattered about among gardens. But it is these gardens, especially in early summer, that redeem Sanchory from what other- 8 BEISEIS vise would be its commonplaceness of look; for wherever one turns — ^glancing down a lane or over a wall — there is a profusion of vivid, luminous, trembling leaves and branches ; and always through the young translucent green of this immediate foliage there is visible here and there the deep, soft rose-purple of the distant hills. As old John Elliott and his niece Briseis now walked up to the Gordon Arms, there was a hot glare of sunlight abroad, and the wide thoroughfare was quite empty. That was a busy afternoon for both of them. For what with his anxious temperament and the greatness of the occasion, the old botanist's hand was rather shaky, so that it fell to his niece's lot to take down from his dictation the telegrams to one or two learned professors and the letters to certain familiar friends which he composed as he paced up and down the small room. And then again at dinner — these prelim- inary announcements having been got rid of — he was still unusually talkative, and apparently he was very happy; he said some pretty things about the young lady's looks and the neatness of her dress; and he was generously insistent that she should share with him the small bottle of claret which was his modest daily allowance. She only shook her head, however. She was ready enough to fill his glass for him — ^but her own remained empty: she was like Fair Annie in the old ballad — ' O, she haa served the lang tables, Wi' the white bread and the wine; But aye she dranls the wan water, To keep her colour fine.' Nay, rambling on from mood to mood, he at length grew remorseful. AT SANCHOET ON DEE 9 "Briseis," he said, "I do think you are the most admirable companion that God ever created. Nothing comes amiss to you; whatever happens, it is always for the best; I never saw such content, such good-will, such a kindly disposition. But all the same — all the same I am convinced I ought not to allow you to sac- rifice yourself in this way. It is pure selfishness on my part. You should be living in Edinburgh or Lon- don, seeing young people of your own age, mixing in society, going to theatres and concerts and dances. You should not have elected to join my wandering life ; you should have gone to your Aunt Clara — " — Her eyes — those lustrous, dark, expressive eyes — looked amused. " Uncle, uncle," she said, " you are not going to for- sake me, are you ? I know well enough what every one else would say of me. They would say that I was useless and lazy and idle, and that I had no right to shirk my part of the work of the world, and go away and lie on a hillside, doing nothing but drink in the sweet air. And all that would be quite true. But then, it is for you to defend me. You are my ally. You should tell them that I am not entirely useless; for if I were to let you go away into these lonely places all by yourself, some day or other the Elfin Queen would be carrying you off into captivity and keeping you hidden for twenty long years — " "There is another thing too/' he proceeded, still harping on these hesitations. " There is your music. They tell me that your natural gift is quite wonderful — your facility and touch on the piano quite wonder- ful; and that you ought to go into training at the Eoyal Academy of Music, to perfect your technique — " " Eucharisto !" she exclaimed, laughing, yet not at all scornfully. "For what would the next step be? 10 BEISEIS Why, if I succeeded, I should have to play in large concert-rooms, 'and earn much money. Many thanks, yes ! — but the little money I have is sufficient for my wants, and I do not even have to trouble with a banker, since you are so kind as to look after it for me. And as for the concert-rooms, and meeting people, and mak- ing acquaintances, well, I do not like town life at all. It does not interest me. The air stifles me. It is different when I am wandering among the valleys and the mountains with you, uncle — ah, and such splendid wanderings ! — from Clova up to AthoU, from AthoU to Braemar, from Braemar all along Dee-side. Sas hupereucharisto ! — but I have no ambition to appear at St. James's Hall !" "As you please, Briseis, as you please," he replied, thoughtfully; and seeing that he had finished dinner, she now went to the mantel-shelf and filled his wooden pipe, and brought it over to him, along with the match- es. And then she turned the conversation back to the great discovery of the morning — so that he had soon dismissed these passing clouds. Nay, he grew garru- lous and exultant again ; and would have her fetch this or that botanical cyclopaedia, to convince her who was already convinced. There could be little doubt but that the plant they had found on the summit of Scoulter Hill was in reality the Silene alpestris, the Al- pine catchfly. Nevertheless, that same night, when all the little village had sunk into slumber — Briseis too, most likely, for she had for some time been gone to her room — the outer door of the Gordon Arms was stealthily opened, and a small, dark figure stole out. It was late ; but there was still a pale and steely glow up in the north- western heavens ; and this half-light produced a kind of wan grayness on the wide thoroughfare and on the AT SANCHOKY OK DEE 11 fronts of the houses : the trees alone were black. The prof oundest silence reigned ; not a horse whinnied in its stall; not a dog barked a false alarm. And throiigh the sleeping hamlet this small dark figure — which was that of the old botanist — pursued its noiseless way, eventually passing into the road that leads down to the bridge over the Dee. Then, as he went on, there came a murmur into the stillness of the night — an eerie sound — the sound of some unseen thing in this world of all-pervading death — the low-murmuring voice of the river. He crossed the bridge; but he could only listen — there was no glint of water under- neath. Then on again into the strange peace and hush of the country : it seemed to him as though he could have heard the faintest click for miles away, the si- lence was so absolute. Nor was there any sign or symp- tom of life ; not even a rabbit scurried away from be- neath the hedge-rows; he was the sole occupant of this mute and inanimate universe, in its dusk of metallic gray. But when he entered the woods, and proceeded to follow as best he might the ever-ascending path through the trees, even that faint guidance from the western skies was denied him, so that he had to remove the cap from the dark-lantern that he carried, letting the ball of orange fire glare out on the phantasmal stems of Scotch fir and larch and spruce. Slow progress, perhaps, as he toiled up the winding track, with the spectral limbs and branches starting out here and there from the surrounding gloom ; but there was something in his heart and brain that had to be satisfied ; there could have been no sleep for him that night while any nervous and torturing dread might keep suggesting that he had been the victim of an extraordinary hallu- cination. And at last he emerged from the black ob- 13 BEISEIS scurity of the trees; there was a colder breath of air stir- ring; he found himself on the open plateau of heather and rock ; and if the lingering twilight in the north- west was fading down into the transient darkness of the short summer night, at least he had with him this blazing will-o'-the-wisp that swung in his hand as he warily went forward. Warily indeed he went; for though the bull's-eye of the lantern glared fiercely enough, the light that it shed on the herbage was pale and ineffectual, and re- vealed almost nothing of color. But at length, after much searching, he came upon patches of small white dots. He knelt down — as Briseis had done. He brought the lantern close — and peered — and examined — just touching here and there with a finger-nail. And finally he rose to his feet again, with a sigh of immeasurable relief and satisfaction. " There is not a shadow of a doubt !" he said to him- self. "And to morrow — or the daji after to-morrow — some folk in the south will be opening their eyes !" CHAPTER ir THE GORDON'S OF GEANTLT Ok the following morning old John Elliott conveyed to his niece, with his usual shy and sensitive round- aboutness, that he would rather be left alone. He had to prepare the more formal communications respecting his discovery to be sent to certain learned Societies — especially with the view of showing that, from the position of Scoulter Hill, the Silene alpestris he had found there could not possibly have been a garden es- cape. But, he added, when these memoranda had been roughly drawn out, perhaps Briseis would be so kind as to copy them for him in her neat and accurate handwriting? And in the mean time she might go and amuse herself in exploring the surrounding neigh- borhood. Well, she was nothing loath; for in truth she was an idle wretch, as she herself had admitted ; always glad to get into the open air ; content to have nothing to do but gaze abroad upon wild flowers, and clouds, and hills; and more than content when she chanced to have a box of chocolate-creams in her pocket. So she put on her Hack straw hat with its spray of crimson blos- som; and she took her crimson sunshade with her, lest the direct rays in the valley should prove too oppres- sive; and a few seconds thereafter she was march- ing along the wide, empty thoroughfare, leisurely enough, yet with the bold freedom of step that 14 BRISEIS her long legs gave her. And she was repeating to herself : 'Down Dee-side rode Inverey, whistling and playing, He rapped loud at BracUIey gate, ere the day's dawing: " © Gordon of Brackley, proud Gordon, come down; There's a sword at your threshold mair sharp than your own." ' For this was a country-side haunted everywhere with historical and legendary associations ; and while her uncle was entirely engrossed with his botanical pur- suits she had had plenty of time for the reading up of the old ballads ; and it was with the intensest interest that she had come upon or hunted up this or that place mentioned in those wild tales of love and sorrow and tragic farewell, of war and hatred and passionate revenge. The two of them, uncle and niece, had been down in Glen Prosen and Glen Shee, where 'the gal- lant Grahams' assembled: ' In Glen Prosen we rendezvoused, Marched to Glen Shee by night and day, And took the town of Aberdeen, And met the Campbells in their array.' They had come round by Atholl: 'As 1 went tn by the Duke of Atholl's yett, I heard a fair maid singing ; Her voice was sweet, she sang sae complete, And the bells o' the court were ringing.' She had seen the ruined castle of Inverey, and the remaining stones of Brackley; she had crossed the fatal burn of Oorrichie : 'Mourn ye Hielands, and mourn ye Lowlands, I trow ye hae mickle need; For the bonnie burn o' Oorrichie Has run this day wi' bleid.' THE GORDONS OF GEANTLY 15 But perhaps it was the pathetic story of the two Gor- dons that kept most frequently recurring to her brain, now as she got away from the village, her tall, slim figure erect, her light and easy and graceful step tak- ing her quite rapidly enough out into the open coun- try: ' "Arise now, gay Gordon !' his lady 'gan cry ; "For tliere is fierce Inverey driving your liye." "How can I go, lady, and win them again. When I have but ae sword where he has got ten ?" ' "Arise, now, my maidens, leave rock and leave fan; How blest had I been had I married a man ! — Arise, now, my maidens, take lance and take sword : Go, milk the ewes, Gordon, for I will be lord !" 'Up sprang the brave Gordon, put his helm on his head. Laid his hand on his sword, and his thigh o'er his steed ; But he stooped low and said, as he kissed his proud dame — "There's a Gordon rides out that will never ride hame." 'There rode wi' fierce Inverey thirty-and-lhree. And nane wi' the Gordon save his brother and he ; Twa gallanter Gordons did never sword draw. But against three-and-thirty, woe's me ! what were twa V But here she stopped, in her idle and absent repe- tition. For she had arrived at a field of young corn, and somewhere over her head there was a lark pouring forth his melodious silvery trills, and she wanted to discover where he was. Yet in vain did she endeavor to pierce the blinding white spaces of the sky; he was nowhere visible; though all the listening air was filled with those pulsating floods of song. So she carelessly wandered on again, not heeding much whither she went; keeping by the outer edge of the corn-fields, now and again skirting some strip of copse or spinney. 16 BEISEIS and gazing with delight into the dim recesses, for all around the foot of the trees were masses of a heavenly blue — not the purple-blue of the wild hyacinth, but the clear, intense, -pellucid blue of the germander speedwell. And then, as she still held onward, it seemed to her as though another sound were invading — or increasing — the silence of the summer morn : a sound hushed and remote — a murmur constant and unvarying — and more voluminous than the soft stirring of the leaves around her. Had she then, in this for- tuitous fashion, drawn near the river? But why not? On Dee-side all roads, paths, and byways eventually lead to the Dee. Of a sudden she came upon the verge of a steep bank, which was crowned by scattered clumps of Scotch firs ; and there before her, stretching away over to the high and wooded slopes on the other side, was the broad bosom of the stream, the swaying and hurrying current sweeping round the dark brown pools with an easy oily swing, and then breaking away again into the open shallows, racing and chasing, sharp-glinting and shimmering in the glare of the morning light, while a great breadth and blaze of quivering diamonds lay immediately under the sun. Then, after some little survey, she pitched upon a sheltered nook for herself; and it was through a perfect paradise of wild flowers that she descended to the river — through masses of gorse and broom, with heartsease, dog-violets, yellow bedstraw, speedwells of various kinds and hues, and glossy and golden celandine all basking in the heat. It was a gracious bower she had chosen for herself, by the side of an alder -bush, and overlooking a rather deepish bit of the water ; and here with much com- placency she sat herself down to listen to that monoto- nous, dreamy, drowsy sound, and also to the music of THE GORDONS OF GEANTLY 17 a thrush that was carolling clear and high from among the neighboring leaves. This was a beautiful world she found herself in ; and she had it all to herself. The river glanced^ and chased, and swung along; the gorse burned in the sunshine; the pervading still- ness seemed only to be intensified by that universal murmur and whispering. And it was in a kind of half- somnolent mood that her purposeless brain went back to the story of the two Gordons who were so foully done to death by Inverey and his three-and-thirty men: ' " O came ye by Brackley, and what saw ye there? Was the young widow weeping and tearing lier hair ?" "I came down by Brackley; I loolied in, and, oh! There was mirth, there was feasting, but naething o' woe. ' "Like a rose bloomed the lady and blithe as a bride, A bridegroom young Inverey stood by her side ; She feasted him there as she ne'er feasted lord. Though the bluid o' her liusband was red on his sword." ' O there's dule in the cottage, but there's mirth in the ha', For the twa bonnie Gordons that are deid and awa'; To the bush comes tlie bud, and the flower to the plain, But the twa gallant Gordons come never again.' And she was thinking that when next her uncle and herself were anywhere near Glen Muick she would like to go and see Auchoilzie, where the two brave Gor- dons were slain : she was thinking of that, or perhaps of something else, or perhaps of nothing at all — when — When suddenly a silver-white object leapt into the air away on the other side of the river, falling again with a startling splash on to the surface of the oily, smooth, brown pool, and instantly disappeared. She stared in astonishment. What was the unknown creat- 18 BKISEIS lire that had so marvellously shown itself in this soli- tary world that she had thought was tenanted by her- self alone? Then she reflected: the Dee was a noted salmon river — that must have been a salmon ! And then again, as she regarded with the most eager in- terest that smooth stretch of the stream, she per- ceived something — she perceived some faint sem- blance of a thread — a gray gossamer line only just visible against the herbage of the opposite shore. In- stinctively her eyes followed upwards : the next mo- ment she became aware that this long line ended in a fishing-rod, and that the fishing-rod was in the hands of some one — gentleman or gamekeeper — who was coming rapidly along her side of the river, reeling in as he advanced. Very well. She would sit still and see the novel sport. For there is not much doing with rod and reel in the arid channels of the Cephissus, nor yet where the washerwomen of the Ilissus ply their calling in the turbid pond once the Fountain of Callirrhoe ; nor were the fishermen of her island-home of ^gina likely to find a salmon in their nets. She would wait and look on. Here was a tale to carry back to her uncle. But her equanimity was of short duration. For, to her dismay, she observed, by the manner in which that gray thread was cutting the surface of the stream, that the fish must be making straight in her direction; and presently, as the tightened and straining line? was actu- ally forcing its way in among the branches of the alder- bush, she beheld beneath her feet an olive-green creat- ure that had come sailing into the pool, and was now hanging there almost motionless, its tail alone slightly moving, its head boring down. "What to do she knew not. She had a terrified sense of being in the wrong somehow — she ought not to be there — her intrusion THE GORDONS OF GRANTLT 19 could but make mischief — and was there not enough peril brewing with that taut line working in among the alder leaves ? Breathless, bewildered, she regarded that creature in the deeps below her, not with a pleased interest, but a shrinking alarm; and at length, overcome with this nervous apprehension, she could sit still no longer; she swiftly and stealthily struggled to her feet, and retreated up the bank, glad to find a place of shelter behind a clump of Scotch firs. When she ventured to peep forth to see what was going on, she perceived that the fish had headed out again into midstream, while the fisherman seemed to be doing all he could to pull him away from the proximity of that dangerous bush. Now when the fascinated eyes of Briseis Valieri had been fixed on the mysterious object that lay suspended in the pool, she had assumed that it was a large salmon; but it was nothing of the sort: it was a small grilse of about six or seven pounds; and when a grilse of that size is inclined to be lively, it forms an excellent imi- tation of an electrical battery, that keeps sending con- tinuous shocks not to the wrists only, but to the very innermost soul of the angler. Of course Briseis, from behind the firs, could only in part make out what the beast was after. First he held steadily over to the other side, until the weight of the long and bellying line gave him pause. Then he appeared on the sur- face, lashing and splashing with head and tail, and churning the water all around him; and in these fitful glimpses he was no longer of a dull olive green but of a brilliant silver and purple. Then he disappeared; and the attaching gray thread remained motionless. Then with an appalling rapidity he shot right in the direction of his captor, who was seen to go backward along the bank as best he might, while he frantically 30 BEISEIS reeled in until the top of the rod had resumed its curve. Then the indomitable small creature made over to the other side again, and for a few seconds he lay there and sulked. Then he began to more — slowly — slowly — until there was a sudden slackening of the line, and a sinuous flash of splendor sprang into the air, coming down again with a crash. All this was very well, and very heroic ; but these successive discharges from the electrical battery were diminishing its power. After that last flourish the gallant little grilse grew more and more amenable ; he suffered himself to be towed nearer and nearer; the angler took from his pocket a bright metal instrument and adjusted it; he shifted his rod to his left hand, holding it high ; he watched his chance— then there was a cautious stogp — a quick gleam of the gaff — and the next moment the flapping and struggling fish was on the bank. The absorbed spectator behind the trees imagined that this vicissitu- dinous fight must have lasted an hour : in reality it had occupied precisely eight minutes. And now that she could breathe a little more freely she thought she would step forth from her hiding- place, and walk along the bank, and apologize to the angler for her untoward presence. Whether he were gentleman or gillie she could not make out as yet; for he wore the ordinary costume — ^knickerbockers, shoot- ing--jacket, and stalker's cap ; and he was stooping to fix a bit of string to the grilse, for the easier carrying of it home. But the moment he became aware that she was coming his way, and evidently with the inten- tion of speaking to him, he dropped the fish, he most respectfully raised his cap, and even made some show of advancing to meet her, to await her commands. He was a tall and firmly built young fellow of about five- and-twenty, well-featured and pleasant of look, with THE GORDONS OF GEAKTLT 31 clear gray-blue eyes that seemed all the clearer because of the light yellow sun-tan of his complexion. He. ap- peared a little surprised — and no wonder : for appari- tions such as he now saw before him are not common on Dee-side. As for her, she went forward without the least trace of shyness ; no touch of added color was visible in the pure, pale, transparent olive of cheek or forehead. It is true, her eyes seemed to bespeak a little favoring consideration ; but that was only natural — as she was a culprit. " I wish to ask your pardon," she said, with great sweetness — and surely since ever the world began no more musically-toned voice had ever reached a young man's ears — " I wish to ask your pardon, sir, if I have done any harm. I had no idea you were fishing — " " Oh, but it's quite the other way round I" said he, promptly, and even anxiously. " Quite the other way round, I assure you ! You did me a very good turn indeed; I am exceedingly obliged to you. Your get- ting up on the bank frightened the fish out into the stream when he was very nearly breaking me in 'that alder-bush. I am extremely obliged to you — " The Greek girl's dark and lustrous eyes, with their highly curved, wondering, attentive eyebrows, looked pleased. "That is fortunate — very fortunate indeed," said she, with a smile of thanks. "But I will not run any such risk again. I will keep away from the river — " "Oh, I hope not!" he protested. "Why should you ? What possible harm can you do ? For one thing, this isn't fishing weather at all. I was not even trying the ordinary pools ; I was merely putting a fly over one or two of the runs ; as you see, I did not think it 32 BRISEIS worth while to bring a gillie with me. You must not dream of keeping away from the river ! — " Shyness and embarrassment? — they were certainly not on her side. It was he who was disconcerted and bewildered; the splendor of her eyes abashed him; this slim slip of a girl, in the sweet gracionsness of her self-possession, was stronger than he ; he hardly knew what to say next. And yet he had to make some des- perate effort, or in another moment she would be away — vanishing out of his life as though she had never existed. " I hope you won't think me rude," said he, " but — but there are few visitors coming about these parts at this time of the year ; and I wonder whether it could have been you that I saw yesterday, from a distance, going into the Gordon Arms, along with an elderly gentle- man. For the day before I had a note, dated from the inn, from a Mr. Elliott — " " That is my uncle," said she, simply. "And I was very glad to give him any permission he may have thought necessary — " he was continuing, when she interrupted him. " Then you are Sir Francis Gordon ?" she said, her face lighting up with interest. "Yes—" "Oh, but I must thank you ever so much for the very kind and friendly note you sent to my uncle. He would have written to you himself, but he has been so busy yesterday and this morning — " " I am sure there is no occasion," said he — and per- haps the subtle freemasonry of youth was already es- tablishing itself between these two; perhaps for the moment they had forgotten town proprieties ; surely, it seemed natural enough and right enough, strangers as they were, for these two young folk to be tarrying THE GORDONS OF 6KAKTLT 23 and interchanging a few half-hesitating words here on the hanks of the cool-murmuring stream, in the blaze of sunlight, among the wild flowers of the early summer. "Nor was there much need," he went on, "that your uncle should ask permission to go through the Grrantly woods. One thing is very certain: it is the people who have the courtesy to ask permission who can be trusted everywhere not to do any injury — " " Oh, I assure you," said Briseis, " that my uncle is most scrupulous — most scrupulous, to the smallest par- ticulars. If we are away for the whole day, and have our scrap of luncheon on some hill-side or on the bank of a bum, he has every little bit of wrapping-paper and every little bit of string carefully buried, so that not the least trace shall remain." " If they were all like that !" said he, ruefully. " I wonder if the tourists and excursionists know how many private parks and grounds are closed against them that might otherwise be open to them but for their thoughtless behavior ? Why, later on in the year, when a band of excursionists comes out from Aberdeen to this neighborhood, what do they immediately set about ? — putting their dogs to hunt the rabbits, break- ing off branches from the flowering shrubs, and strew- ing the place all over with empty lemonade-bottles, and paper bags stained with strawberries. It is igno- rance of course. They don't know any better. But it is distressing to go about the next morning and see the litter they have left behind them — even on the lawn seats and the terraces — everywhere about. Naturally the gardeners complain ; it is all added work to them ; and they would have me adopt a policy of rigorous exclusion. I don't like to do that either. I don't want to play dog in the manger. I'm sure those peo- ple would be heartily welcome if they'd only be a 24 BEISEIS little more considerate — if they could be got to un- derstand how unfair it is — " Then all at once he jammed down his helm and was off on another tack : this was not the way to entertain a young lady. " It has just occurred to me. Miss Elliott," said he — and she did not care to correct the little mistake — "that I could get much more extended permission for you and your uncle if you were remaining in this country-side. I could get you letters that would make you free of the forests, and would secure for you help rather than hindrance from the keepers — " "Indeed, we have always found j;hem most civil," she answered him; "though sometimes they have seemed anxious that we should go away down to the valleys again — " "That may have been when you were getting too near the sanctuary," said he. " But if I get you those letters, you would find both keepers and watchers only too ready to be your guide. Will you allow me ? If I can get one or two for you by to-morrow afternoon, may I call with them ?" " Oh, thank you, it is so very kind of you — my uncle will be so much obliged to you !" said she. And then she gave him one of her sweetest smiles — with her eyes ; and a little bow as well ; and turned away and was gone : leaving him standing there as if he had been in dreamland, and vaguely wondering why he had been such an immeasurable fool as not to have offered to shake hands with her on parting. When Briseis returned to the inn, she told her uncle of her having met Sir Francis Gordon of Grantly, and of the young man having promised to bring along one or two letters which might be of use to them when they happened to be in the neighborhood of the deer forests. THE GOEDONS OP GEAIfTLY 25 " Civility/' said the old botanist, " is the best pass- port eyerywhere. I have never found it fail. In all my years of wandering in Scotland I have never had to bandy a word with any one, when once I had ex- plained my errand, and asked for information as to where I should be doing no harm." Nevertheless, when on the following afternoon young Gordon drove up to the inn, and alighted from the dog-cart, and was shown into the room where uncle and niece had been respectively writing and reading, Mr. Elliott was profuse of thanks for those talismanic missives that had been procured in so remarkably short a space of time. " Oh, that is nothing — that is but a trifling courtesy to one of your name and lineage," said this young Frank Gordon, who had a most pleasant and modest manner. "No doubt they were very glad to be of the slightest service to you ; there are few families in Scot- land better known or more respected than the Elliotts of the Lea." At this the old botanist blushed slightly, and glanced furtively towards his niece ; for the fact is he had not told Briseis that in writing to Sir Francis Gordon for permission to explore the Grantly woods he had con- trived to mention his kinsmanship with that famous house, as some kind of voucher for his petition. But Briseis did not notice ; she had turned to this young stranger, who seemed so kindly intentioned, and so anxious to win favor. "Oh, and I am very proud of the name too," said she, smiling, "though I myself have no right to it." Frank Gordon looked perplexed, and even a little embarrassed ; but of course he could not put a ques- tion. It was old John Elliott who interposed. 36 BKISEIS "My niece/' said he, "is an Elliott only by her mother's side — my sister, poor thing." And as these tentative explanations appeared to in- volve some trifle of constraint — pointing to the absence of any formal introduction, and so forth — Briseis her- self resolved the situation by asking their guest whether he would not have some tea. He thankfully accepted ; and for the moment the difificulty was got over ; though he was all the time conscious that he did not even yet know her name. He staid an indefensible length of time; for they were practically strangers to this district ; and he had plenty to tell them about where they ought to go and what they ought to see. And for the most part he addressed himself to the old botanist; when in the course of talk he had to turn to this beautiful Greek creature, it was in a diffident sort of way ; he seemed afraid of the glow of those splendid black eyes. And yet, afraid or not afraid, nothing would satisfy him but that uncle and niece should come out the very next day to have a look over Grantly Castle. "It isn't much of a show-place," said he, "though the excursionists from Aberdeen appear to think it is. And if we cannot let you see a Fairy Flag, such as they have at Dunvegan, or a Brooch of Lorn, such as they have at DunoUie, still there are a few things might in- terest you ; and besides that, the Castle itself is a very good specimen of the Scotch baronial style of archi- tecture. You might pass an hour or two — " Old John Elliott looked timidly and inquiringly tow- ards his niece ; and she responded frankly enough — " Oh, thank you very much ; we shall be delighted : my uncle deserves a rest after his labors of the last two days. And what hour will be most convenient for you ?" THE GOKDONS OF GKANTLY 27 "No, no; what hour will be most convenient for you ? The gardens are freshest in the morning, of course. But perhaps it will be better to leave it this way : ' Come as soon as you can, and stay as long as you can' — and that's a Dee-side welcome." Thereupon young Gordon got up to say good-bye ; and this time he did not forget to shake hands with the Greek girl ; while she did not hesitate to bestow on him a look of great sweetness, as if to thank him again for his kindness to two strangers. There was some final understanding that they were to go out to Grantly Castle on the following morning. He drove rapidly home, paused for a second to let the groom get to the cob's head, then he descended, and walked into the big stone-paved hall. On the table there were a number of letters lying ; and these he carelessly took up, to look at the envelopes. But one of them appeared to arrest his attention ; the ad- dress was in a foreign hand : A Son Altesse BoyaU, le prince de Monteveltro : C/ies Monsieur, M. sir M^ancis Gordon, Grantly CaaiU, Aberdeenshire, Ecosse. He turned from the table, and sent his voice echo- ing through the hollow-sounding hall : " Aunt Jean ! — are you anywhere about ? — Aunt Jean — are you there ?" " Here I am, laddie : what is't you want ?" a voice answered him ; and presently, at the top of the wide oaken staircase, there appeared Miss Jean Gordon. She was a tall and fair-complexioned woman, rather elderly and rather plain, but with cheerful and good- humored eyes. 28 BEISBIS " Didn't yon see this ?" he said to her, holding out the letter. " Does it mean that the Mater is coming on here at once, just as I had got everything ready to go up to London ?" He advanced to the foot of the staircase ; she came down the steps, and took the envelope from him, and regarded it. " No, no," said she, " there must be some mistake. Your mother's last letter to me was from Nice ; and she said they meant to go straight through to London, to Thomas's Hotel, and would be there for a consider- able time. This must be the blundering of some cou- rier or valet — " He received the letter back and looked at it thought- fully. " I never know what that excellent step-papa of mine may be up to," he observed. " He may be wanting to escape out of the hands of the diplomats and seek sanc- tuary here — for himself and his two black poodles." Then of a sudden he changed his tone. " Aunt Jean," said he, "we are going to have two visitors here to-morrow — two strangers to the neighborhood, who would like to look over the Castle and about the grounds. And I didn't ask them formally to lunch ; but to-morrow, when they are here anyway, and when it's about lunch-time, I mean to propose it promiscu- ous-like ; and of course they will stay. And I wish you would see that McKillop sends in plenty of flowers for the table — and for decoration all about — plenty of them — plenty — Confound him, he's nothing but an old miser — " " Is she so very pretty, Frank ?" Aunt Jean inquired, with a demure smile. "Who told you there was a 'she' in the case ?" he demanded, loftily. THE GORDONS OF GRANTLY 29 ''There usually is," said Miss Jean Gordon. "Es- pecially when a young gentleman is so particular about flowers for the luncheon table." " Very well, then, Aunt Jean, I will tell you hon- estly: she is just about the most beautiful creature you ever beheld ; and I don't see why you shouldn't be as much interested in her as I am ; I don't see why you should think there's nothing in the world worth admiring except old china and old lace. You know. Aunt Jean, I'm not much given to rave about young women ; but you should see this one ; why, she be- wilders you — " " She won't bewilder me," said Aunt Jean, shrewdly. " She is a Greek girl," he continued — and it seemed to afford him much pleasure to stand there and talk eagerly about the marvellous stranger. "I gathered as much from her Christian name — which isn't Chris- tian, by-the-way, but pagan. A Greek goddess she is ! — in figure, and height, and symmetry ; but not of the severe type either — oh, no ! — most womanly and win- ning in expression. Beautiful ? — but wait till you see ! What I can't understand is why she should have re- mained unmarried ! She must have seen lots of men — in her own country — in England — even wandering about on those botanizing excursions with her uncle — men presumably with eyes in their head — " "She may not wish to be married," retorted Miss Jean, rather tartly. " Why should she ? They say that a woman ought to marry in order to have an ob- ject. Well, when she does, she generally gets one !" Jean Gordon — Jean Gordon ! But now she was mov- ing off — for the dressing-bell was beginning to sound ; and she was as particular about the punctuality of din- ner as though there had been twenty guests staying in the house. CHAPTER III AUNT CLAKA But next morning found old John Elliott in an ap- prehensive, restless, fidgety mood; nay, he was in- clined to be peeyish and fretful. "I'm not used to going among strangers, Briseis," he said. " I don't like it — it worries me^" "Why, uncle," she remonstrated, "didn't you hear Sir Francis say there was no one staying at the Castle — no one except his aunt, who always lives there — " "And it is too far for you to walk, along a dusty road," he continued, plaintively. "Even if they have a dog-cart at the inn here, there would be the cost of it — for what ? — the expense of a dog-cart — ^f or what ?" Now part of this conversation had been overheard by the servant-lass who was bringing in breakfast ; and she, with the friendly familiarity of the Scotch do- mestic, made no scruple about intervening. "I beg your pardon, sir," said she, "but there's a wagonette and pair come in from Grantly, sir, and they're in the stable-yard, and the coachman says Sir Francis ordered him jist to wait for your convenience, sir." " Oh, well, I suppose we must go," the old botanist said to his niece, though with evident reluctance. " I suppose there will be no further letters until the after- noon post — " "Uncle," she answered him, coaxingly, "you must AUN^T CLARA 31 give those people in the south a little time. In the case of the Societies you could not expect an answer until after their next meeting, when the various Sec- retaries will be asked to acknowledge j'our communi- cation — " "But there were the telegrams to my personal friends — " " And what could they reply ?" she went on, in her persuasive and musical tones. "'No doubt they were very glad to learn of the discovery ; and no doubt they thought you were very lucky. Of course you will hear from them sooner or later, when they have leisure to write; but in the mean time you must have a day or two of idleness ; and then we will set to work again — that is, you will set to work, and make more wonderful discoveries, and I will tramp over the hills with you, and wish I could be of some help." It was difScnlt to withstand the subtle and singular charm of her voice ; he usually yielded, and yield he did on this occasion ; so that about eleven o'clock the wagonette was brought round to the front of the inn, and uncle and niece went out and took their places. Then ensued a most blithe and inspiriting drive along the valley of the Dee, the winding road giving them occasional glimpses of the broad-sweeping and glanc- ing stream, or again plunging them into scattered woods of larch and birch and pine. Then they came to a lodge gate and entered ; the wagonette rolled smoothly along the wide carriageway; until of a sudden Briseis grasped the arm of her companion, who had at the moment been plunged in profound meditation : " Look, uncle, look ! — isn't it noble ! — isn't it splen- did !" And y€t this tall and gaunt keep was not imposing by reason of its spacious dimensions, though otherwise 33 BEISEIS it was picturesque enough. The structure was lofty in proportion to its restricted base ; the windows were for the most part narrow, deeply -recessed, scattered unevenly here and there ; the surmounting angle tur- rets had conical roofs suggestive of French Gothic ; the gables showed ' corbie-steps '; and crowning all, up against the blue and white, a weather-cock was perched airily on a tiny golden ball. A building of solid and severe aspect, perhaps ; but the surrounding grounds were more modern and more cheerful — the trim ter- races, the grassy slopes velvet-smooth, the long range of greenhouses, the blazing masses of color in flower beds and plots, the partition-walls smothered in the dark green foliage of apricot and fig, the sunlit woods trend- ing down to the river. From this high plateau, indeed, there was a wide-stretching view, not the least con- spicuous feature being Scoulter Hill with its ruined tower, far away in the silvei'y west. And here was the young laird coming bareheaded down the steps to receive his guests ; and up there at the hall door was Miss Jean Gordon, her shrewd eyes not too evidently scanning. The welcome that the vis- itors now received was of the most friendly kind — in its Scotch fashion almost too insistent — for who wanted cake and wine and fruit at this time of the day ? — and who needed rest after so pleasant a drive ? — in truth, Briseis, who was ever hungry and athirst for sweet air, and sunshine, and open landscape — Briseis so avowedly lingered without — gazing abroad on the variegated gar- den, and the- glimpses of the river through the trees, and the rising and swelling uplands beyond. — that young Gordon was forced to alter the form of his invi- tation. " Perhaps you would rather stroll about for a bit," he suggested, "and have a look at the greenhouses ?" AUNT CLABA 3S " Oh, yes ; -woTildii't you, uncle ?" she made answer, promptly. " They are such beautiful gardens ! I have not seen any gardens like these since we were at Drum- mond Castle in Perthshire." — And if the young laird was in any way proud of his paternal inheritance, that was a compliment surely ! So the four of them set forth on a sauntering peram- bulation^ walking two and two for convenience' sake ; they passed under the canopied vines, house after house ; then out again, and through part of the ' poli- cies ' skirting the woods ; then back into the basking and brilliant garden. And while the old botanist was descanting to Miss Jean on the origin of this or that cultivated plant or shrub, young Frank Gordon, with a shy ingenuity, was putting questions to his companion, about herself, her knowledge of Scotland, her pursuits, while also he was incidentally telling her a great deal about his own occupations and plans. Briseis listened with a smiling acquiescence ; she did not say much, but her eyes were amiable ; and whether she spoke or was silent, she seemed to be drinking in the beauty of the things around her with a constant and perhaps half -unconscious delight. The fragrance wafted hither and thither, the warm sweet air, the sunshine and azure sky, the radiant glow of color in the garden, the stir and silver-glancing of glossy leaves : these were happy surroundings — for a gracelessly idle creature, whose chief and distinguishing faculty appeared to be that of enjoying every minute and second of her life. Then, as they chanced to be walking along one of the upper terraces, Frank Gordon pulled out his watch. "Just luncheon-time !" he cried. "Come away in — Aunt Jean will tell you that starvation and fainting fits are not allowed at Grantly." 2* 34 BEISEIS It was not a very STiinptuous banqueting-hall they were ushered into — this long, low apartment, with its wainscot of panelled oak and its five or six plain win- dows; bnt it had some interesting family portraits — the men of them appearing by their uniform to hare been mostly admirals and generals ; and it had several fiery and fuliginous battle-pieces, chiefly of naval en- gagements ; while the luncheon table was set forth in quite a bright modern way, with an abundance of flow- ers. And perhaps Jean Gordon, who sat at the head of the board, was listening to the old botanist's tale of his many experiences in the wilder parts of Scotland, or perhaps she was only perfunctorily heeding him-; at all events, she beheld what she had never beheld be- fore, and that was the assiduous and diffident and re- spectful court that her nephew was paying to this Greek girl with the gracious ways and the resplendent eyes. Well did the amused Miss Jean know that this was not at all the young man's ordinary habit. She was ac- quainted with him. She had studied him — in no un- friendly fashion either. And she had heard tell of him at Oxford too : how that even during Commemoration week those pretty pieces of femininity who come flutter- ing from college to college like so many butterflies ap- peared to have no attraction for him whatever. Nor could it be said that this was owing to cruel neglect on the side of those young persons ; they seemed willing to accord him a fair share of notice ; for he was ex- ceedingly good-looking, and he was merry and pleasant- humored and ever ready for a frolic ; but somehow his soul was rather set on sports and athletics ; and when these happened to fail him, a pipe and a meditative stroll along the tow - path appeared better to suit his fancy than consorting with muslin. But now — but now ! Jean Gordon's demure eyes saw a good deal more than AUNT CLARA 35 they seemed to see. Not that there was any intentional sentimentalizing on the lad's part ; no trace of such a thing was in his nature ; the frank and open good-com- radeship he was ready to offer to any one whom he chanced to meet and like was not of a kind to lead to the little appeals and secret understandings of sham love-making. Indeed, what Miss Jean chiefly remarked on this occasion was that the young laird was clearly so well pleased by his companion of the moment that he was rather tempted to let his boyish gayety get the better of him ; and that again and again he had to re- call himself, resuming that attitude of shy deference that became him very well in the presence of this beauti- ful stranger. Good-comradeship was all very excellent in its way ; but this Greek girl was too august somehow — too serene and remote — in spite of the sweetness and charm of her manner and the unmistakable friend- liness of her regard. So, notwithstanding that he was by birth and lineage and personal temperament one of 'the gay Gordons,' he subdued himself and kept him- self humbly respectful ; he was like a school-boy wait- ing upon a great lady ; and when she turned her glori- ous eyes upon him, his own rather shrank away from that overpowering bewilderment. Jean Gordon thought that the young laird of Grantly had met with his match — and more than his match — this time. And then he would have his guests go for a stroll round the hall, to look at the old armor and the stags' heads ; and many a tale he had to tell of both ; with now and again an anecdote of this or that one among the more noted of his forebears. Perhaps he did not treat those ancestors of his with the reverence which their deeds of love and valor and their territorial desig- nations demanded ; but it is the way of youth — espe- cially of a modest youth — to make light of such things ; 86 BRISEIS and there was not much boasting or showing off about this young man. He pretended not to remember wheth- er it was a head of seventeen or of eighteen points that caused the Duke of Gordon, when he discovered what a magnificent stag he had shot, to exclaim, in despair, "And now there.is nothing left for me to live for." He did not know where Glenlogie was, or even whether there was such a place, though Briseis herself could quote for him a couplet out of the old ballad : "He turned about lightly, as the Gordons does a' ; ' I thank you, Lady Jean ; my love's promised awa'." "And are all the Gordons as light of heart as that ?" asked this tall young Greek creature, with her inscru- table, enchanting smile. " Oh no," he made answer, almost bashfully. " It is impossible to say how those epithets got attached to the different families in the north — I suppose through the chance of alliteration mostly — the gallant Grahams, the gay Gordons, the fighting Erasers, and so on. And if you know that very ballad. Miss Valieri, you will remember that Glenlogie was not so hard of heart after all ; for he married ' bonnie Jeanie Melville, who was scarce sixteen years old.'" And so they wandered about the dim, stone-paved, hollow-sounding hall, examining claymores, dirks, tar- ges, and old powder-horns, trying to make out the phantom figures in the breadths of faded tapestry, and telling or hearing about all kinds of people and places and things — about the Queen's coming to Balmoral on the following week ; about the Parquharsons of Dee- side, and the Lindsays, and the Irvines of Drum ; about Lord Lewis Gordon and the '45 — " O send Lewie Gordon hame, And the lad I daurna name 1" AUNT CLAEA 37 But in course of time the old botanist grew more and more abstracted ; it was clear to Briseis that he was thinking of the afternoon post, and of the expected communications from the south ; besides, both of them knew that young Gordon was going up to London by that night's mail -train. And so, in spite of many protests, and with many thanks and good wishes, the visit came to an end ; the wagonette was brought round ; and Frank Gordon and his aunt Jean stood at the top of the steps watching their departing guests until a curve in the drive hid them from sight. And then it was that the young man turned to his com- panion. " And now. Aunt Jean ? What do you say now ?" he demanded, with something of triumph in his tone. But Aunt Jean did not answer him at once. She regarded him for a second, curiously. " I have often wondered, Frank," said she, " what kind of woman would prove attractive to you. And — and I'm glad it's that kind." There was a flash of boyish delight in his eyes ; but at the same time he said, reproachfully : "Why, you talk as if there were whole heaps of them! You talk as if there were a whole race of such women. Come, now. Aunt Jean — honestly now — ^honestly — did you ever in all your life come across any girl or woman half as fine and wonderful as that one — so perfect in her manner — so winning in her disposition — and so extraordinarily beautiful too — " Aunt Jean smiled. " Lad, laddie," she exclaimed, " I am saying nothing against her ! Nothing of the kind ! I would rather be on her side. If it comes to that, I will say this for her, that she has the most bewitchingly musical voice I ever heard in my born days. And when she was going 38 BEISEIS along the terrace I thought she walked just as a swan swims — breasting the air, as it were — as graceful a thing as ever I saw — " " Didn't I tell you ! didn't I tell you !" he cried, eagerly. "A strange girl, too," said Aunt Jean, thinking back, "with her modest little apologies for being at once useless and perfectly happy. Well, I could not say it to her face, but indeed I was thinking it all the time, that there were plenty of women useless enough who could not make you pleased and satisfied-like with just looking at them. A rare, fine creature that, or my name's not Jean Gordon." Aunt Jean was silent for another second or so. " And there's one thing I would say to yourself, Frank, my man : If you have a thought of bringing some one home to this old house, you'll not find me in the way, nor will she ; neither the one nor the other of ye ; I'll just pack up my bits of things and be off to Edinburgh — there's the Carmi- chaels — the Eamsays — there will always be a corner for me somewhere-^" But at this a prodigious blush overspread his hand- some, boyish face ; and in his embarrassment he could hardly win to articulate utterance., "Aunt Jean ! — why — what — what are you thinking of ? Do yon imagine — I could have any such fancies in my head ? — a mere stranger — a perfect stranger like that— though I thought you would be interested in her — yes, I certainly thought that — and I wanted to be civil to the old gentleman — But how can you imagine I had any fancies of that kind — " "I don't know — I don't know," Miss Jean answered, cautiously. " She is Just winsome enough to turn any lad's head, and that's the truth ; and there would be no great madness about it, either, as far as I can make AUNT CLAEA 39 out ; for you don't need to marry for money, Frank ; and the Elliotts of the Lea are as old a family as the Gordons of Grantly. So giye me notice when ye please — " " Oh yes," said he, and he put his hand within her arm to lead her into the house again. "Precisely. Just so. And what would Grantly be without Aunt Jean ?" "Well, she patted the hand that lay on her arm ; for she was very fond of this lad — and very proud of him too, though he hadn't done much to speak of, as yet. "It is very generous of my young lord," said Aunt Jean, half laughing, "to talk like that to his humble dependant. But she knows her place ; and when the bride comes home, all she'll want will be just to get a kiss from her — and then off by train to Edinburgh town." And then Aunt Jean, who was not an effusive sort of person, abruptly said : " Prank, laddie, mind you see that Wentworth puts your Tarn o' Shanter in your travelling-bag, for there's nothing so soft to the head when you're in a railway carriage." Meanwhile old John Elliott and his niece had been driven rapidly away towards Sanchory ; and when they at length arrived there, and entered the inn, and opened the door of the parlor, his first and eager glance was directed to the sideboard, where a number of letters and newspapers lay extended in a row. And he would have gone quickly forward to examine these and seize his own, but that at the same moment he became aware of the presence of a stranger in the room — some one seated in the dusk between the two windows — and to his amazement he found Briseis ex- claiming : " Why, Aunt Clara ! And you did not let us know you were coming !" 40 BEISBIS And in his inordinate surprise he even forgot the coveted letters. "I hope there's no ill news, Clara/' he said, with sudden and nervous apprehension. This Mrs. Alexander Elliott who had now risen to receive their greeting was a middle-aged woman, rather short and stout of figure, but with a pinched and care- worn face, her hair gray or yellowish -gray, her eyes somewhat sad and tired, and yet shrewd enough, her mouth thin -lipped and resolute. She gave one the impression of an indomitable, unjoyous kind of little woman, who had come through many trials, and was not even yet likely to give up in despair. "No, there's no ill news. Uncle John," said she; "at least I hope you'll not regard it that way. And you'll have to forgive me for appearing intrusive and importunate. I know how difficult it is to write and explain ; and when you have written and tried to explain, it's so easy for the answer to be put of£ and put off, or forgotten altogether. So I thought I would come right through and see yourself, as soon as I could find out where you were — " "Is it about money, Clara ?" John Elliott said, tim- orously. "It's about Edward," she replied. And then she went on quickly and anxiously : " You know how I have slaved and toiled, on poor enough means, to give those three boys a fair start in . the world — perhaps even to the neglecting of the girls. Have I not done everything for them ? Did ever any mother do more ? I led or followed them into every one of their studies, keeping pace with them, and night after night, when all the house was asleep, sitting up hour after hour, just to get a bit ahead of them, and be able to coach them for their examinations. And I'm sure the girls AUKT CLAKA 41 have helped too — making their own dresses as well as they could — and scrimping themselves of their pocket- money. Not but that we've had our reward in one way. Look at the result — though perhaps it is not for me to boast. There's John at Sandhurst, doing splendidly ; there's Alexander on the Warspite ; and now there's Edward, who has a grand prospect before him, if ever there was one. For he has just passed his University Certificate Examination, and that would enable him to enter at Gains College, Cambridge — it's Caius most of the medical students make for, I believe — and he would have no bother about matriculation ; then if he did anything near as well at Caius as he has done at King's College — followed by some practical work at the hospitals — he would make just an invalu- able junior partner for some well-known doctor; in- deed I may say he is universally popular owing to his pleasant manners and his cleverness. But then, Uncle John, three years at Cambridge — " Uncle John had been growing more and more un- easy ; he knew what was coming. And yet he could not but listen with respect to this piteous appeal from the poor mother. " Two hundred and fifty pounds a year at least," she continued ; " perhaps two hundred and eighty — though he is a most considerate and economical boy ; and how am I to provide that without the help of one or two relatives ? And I know I ought not to come to you ; you have been so generous to me so many times before ; but here is a very special juncture — it will be the mak- ing of Edward's career — if you can find it in your heart to help us — " " But, Clara," said old John Elliott, nervously and hurriedly, "it is impossible ! — quite impossible — I'm very sorry — ^you know I should be only too glad to do 42 BEISEIS anything for you and yours — but there are circum- stances — the plain truth is, I have not the means. But — but why don't you go to Sir Patrick ? — he is the head of the family — " " Sir Patrick Elliott ?" said she, with a touch of scorn even amidst her plaintive suspense. " I know him. I know what I should get from him. I should get a grandiloquent lecture, and a civil good-day — " • And now it was that Briseis Valieri interposed. "You won't think me too bold, Aunt Clara, will you ?" she said, in her soft and persuasive tones. " But I often reproach myself with being so idle and useless ; and now you might give me the opportunity of being of a little help. Shall I show you how simply it could be done ? The money that my father left me was put into the India Three-per-cents ; then my uncle here heard of some American railway bonds, quite safe, that were paying six per cent. ; and after he had consulted with one or two people — to make sure, you know — we changed the money over to the American bonds, so that my income was actually doubled. Now, Aunt Clara, if you were to take the half of the capital — if that would be of use to you in my cousin's education — don't you see that I would have exactly the same income that I had before the change was made ? Is not that quite clear ? I should be none the worse — you would be all the better—" So far John Elliott had listened, with symptoms of an ever-increasing distress becoming visible ; but now he could bear the situation no longer. "Briseis," said he, in the strangest way, "you don't understand about such things. You can't understand about them at all. There are some circumstances that I must explain to your aunt, "Would yoii mind — would you mind leaving us alone together for a few moments — " AUNT CLAEA 43 She looked from one to the other in mute astonish- ment. But she saidj as she moved to the door — and her parting look was surely one of exceeding kindliness and good-will : "At least you will remember. Aunt Clara, that the half of what I have is yours, if you will take it : the rest is quite sufficient for me." ' The moment she was gone John Elliott rose from his seat and began pacing up and down, in great agitation. " That is a noble-hearted creature, John," his sister- in-law began to say, "though of course one hesitates about accepting such an ofEer from a mere girl — " " Clara, she has not a penny !" he broke in, excitedly. " Not a penny ! And it's all my doing. I advised her. I heard of these railway bonds through Philip Murray — you remember Philip Murray in Edinburgh ; and he had made ample inquiries — a First Mortgage it was — the Denville Valley First Mortgage Guaranteed — and he was so convinced of its safety that he put £8,000 of his own money into it. Well, I laid the matter before Briseis ; I thought it was a good chance for her ; and she assented only too readily ; the fact is, I don't sup- pose she cared one way or the other ; she has no thought for money matters — her wants are so simple — " "And do you mean to say that her little fortune is entirely gone ?" his sister-in-law demanded of him, staring at him in a blank kind of way. " Clara, it's a terrible thing even to speak of ! — terrible ! — I that should have been the first to protect her, since she chose to join my wandering life. The bonds are still quoted — yes — but they are valueless : no one would touch them. They were 108 when we bought them ; now they are down at 17 or something of the kind ; but they are quite unsalable ; nothing has ever been paid on them after the first six months. 44 BRISBIS and nothing ever will be paid on them, so it is said. Of course Briseis does not know. She thinks the six per cent, interest is still being paid ; and probably imagines that a considerable portion of it is being stored up for her ; hence her ofEer to you — ^which was generous all the same. And she must not know, Clara ! — she must not know ! — " " Then she is dependent on you for her support V exclaimed Aunt Clara, her eyes still staring. " I give her what money she needs — it isn't much," he said, in a more resigned way. "And I may ex- plain to you that my own means are still further crip- pled ; for I put a small sum into the Denville Valley Mortgage along with hers ; and that's gone too. So you see. Aunt Clara, it is impossible for me to do what you ask. I'm very sorry. I've always heard that the boy was clever and brilliant, and likely to do well. But after all, the three years at Cambridge are not an absolute necessity — " The startled and expectant look had faded out of Aunt Clara's eyes ; there reigned there a sort of hope- less rumination ; and she was silent. But at length she said : " You may as well call Briseis in again, John. She shall hear no word of all this from me." When the young girl returned to them she was much astonished to learn that Aunt Clara was on the imme- diate point of departure. No, Aunt Clara could not remain a day or two with them, nor would she even stay to dinner ; her time, she said, was at the moment extremely precious ; she must make haste back again to the south. And what surprised Briseis still more was that no reference of any kind was made to her ofEer. Even if a refusal had been decided on, she might fairly have expected a word of thanks ? On AUNT CLABA 45 the contrary, a complete and incomprehensible silence prevailed with regard to the business that had brought Aunt Clara all the way to Sanchory ; and in a few moments further she was in the fly that was to take her to the station, on her way to Aberdeen and London. CHAPTER IV WIDBK WANDEEISTGS Now Briseis was well aware that, the moment this poor, distracted Aunt Clara had gone, her uncle woiild plunge into the correspondence awaiting him on the side table; accordingly she turned to the window; and there as it chanced she encountered a spectacle that entirely suited her humor, the idle wretch that she was. For just beyond the payement, in the wide, empty, sunlit thoroughfare, two small boys were play- ing marbles ; and though of course she knew nothing of the mysterious fascination of commies, jarries, whinnies, and chenies (if these be the terms fashion- able among the Aberdeenshire youth), she could at least guess at the fluctuations of the game, and she could watch the eagerness of the urchins with a vaguely sympathetic interest and with a serene good- nature in her smiling eyes. She was thus employed — and it was an employment completely in accord with her indefensible disposition — when her uncle men- tioned her name. "Briseis," said he — "Briseis — I have something to tell you — that — that may surprise you a little — " She turned quickly ; she found that he had drawn in a chair to the central table, and was seated there with one arm hanging down, an open letter in his hand ; and then she noticed that the usual fresh tints of his complexioa had given place to a curious ashen- WIDER WANDEBINGS 47 gray hue. It was wonder rather than fear that pos- sessed her : what further astonishments had this day in store for them ? " And yet it is not of much importance — ^perhaps — perhaps not of much importance," he went on, in an absent kind of way, as if he were thinking of a hun- dred different and distinct things. " A good deal of trouble, of course — ^but with a little patience it can be set right — in time everything will be set right again, and no harm done — " " But what is it, uncle ?" she demanded. Then he looked up, in his anxious, apprehensive way. "Now you must not be angry, Briseis," said he. " You must not make too much of it. Only a bit of a practical joke, after all. There's no harm done — not much harm done — a little trouble, and it will be all set right — " " But I don't understand, uncle — " " The Silene alpestris," he said — and he seemed to talk as if there were some kind of weight on his chest. "You know the Silene alpestris, Briseis — well, it ap- pears that two or three of the young fellows in Edin- burgh had got to hear that I was likely to be round by Dee-side this summer — and — and of course they made sure I would be up Scoulter Hill — and so they got some seed of the Silene alpestris — sent to Austria, perhaps, for it — or perhaps got it from some garden — and they sowed the seed on the top of Scoulter Hill. Nothing more than a kind of joke, you know — nothing more — ^nothing more. No doubt it will be a little awk- ward — a little humiliating — to take back my imagined discovery — " And then she understood — and her face grew quite white. 48 BEISEIS " The hounds ! — the scoundrel hounds !" she said — and her Toice was vibrating with passion. "If I were a man, I would lash them ! I would take a horsewhip and lash them ! — " And then in the blindness and bewilderment of her indignation she seemed to look all around for help. To whom could she appeal ? Who would come forward to take her part ? Who, for her sake, would exact ven- geance for this cruel trick that had been played on an unofEending old man — an old man of exceeding sen- sitiveness of mind ? Oddly enough, at this moment, and if only for a moment, her thoughts involuntarily turned to Frank Gordon of Grantly. But of course that was out of the question. Young Gordon was al- most a stranger, notwithstanding the marked friend- liness he had shown them ; besides, he was probably by this time on his way to London. And meanwhile old John Elliott had risen from his chair and was walking up and down the room, showing a good deal more of perturbation in his manner than he allowed to appear in his pacific words. "No, no, Briseis," he was saying — while he nervous- ly clutched the letter that had brought the news — "you must not be angry. You must not make overmuch of it. You see, I was too certain. I had convinced my- self that no garden escape could have found its way to the top of Scoulter Hill ; and I carelessly imagined that that was enough. The possibility of a trick did not occur to me. But where is the harm done ? Of course I shall have to write to the various Societies, and explain. I dare say most of the people know that I have never been in the habit of proclaiming false dis- coveries, or jumping to rash conclusions. I have never laid myself open to suspicion before ; and this time it is hardly my fault — it is hardly my fault, Bry, is it ?" WIDER -WANDERINGS 49 " Your fault, uncle ?" She burst out crying ; and turned away to the windoiv again. " If — if I were a man — if I were a man — I'd let them know whose fault it was ! The hounds — the cowardly hounds ! — " He went after her and took her gently by the arm — his own fingers trembling a little. " Come, come, now, Bry," he said, " you must not make too much of it. It was only a kind of joke, you know, among two or three of those young fellows in Edinburgh. And there can be no permanent harm done. The Linnaean and the Andersonian and the rest of them are well aware that I have never tried to push myself forward ; I think they would give me credit for that; they will not accuse me of having claimed the discovery with any intention of deceiving. I think they would tell you that what little work I have done has been done in a quiet way; I have never pushed myself forward ; I don't think they will suspect me of having tried to snatch false honors. Come, Bry, you must not pay too much attention to a mere trick of this kind—" She pulled herself together — and dried her eyes. "Quite right, uncle," she said, firmly. "It is too contemptible a thing to be thought twice of." And then she added, cheerfully : " Why, what a long time we have been in-doors, on such a beautiful afternoon ! Let us get out — ^let us go for a stroll somewhere: uncle, you can attend to the rest of your correspondence and papers when we come in again." For it was she who would play the part of comforter — perceiving clearly enough how deeply he had been struck ; she was talking blithely to him as she fetched him his hat and cane ; she opened the door for him, and together they passed out. And yet amidst all her forced vivacity they had not left the inn a dozen yards before 50 BEISBIS she became conscious that a change had come over Sanchory on Dee. It was not the same place, somehow, that it had been an hour before. There were the famil- iar features, to be sure — the sunlight of the wide, open, empty street, the dark blue-gray stone of the old-fash- ioned houses, the glancing and shimmering of the yellow-green foliage, with now and again a glimpse of the soft, ethereal rose -purple of the western hills. Yet this was not at all the same Sanchory through which they had driven on their return from Grantly Castle — her heart full of gratitude because of the kind- ness shown them by the young laird and the gentle- mannered Miss Jean. And perhaps Briseis too had been looking forward with quiet satisfaction to this an- ticipated correspondence. She liked to see her uncle's name in printed Transactions ; she liked to see his con- tributions to botanical lore suitably acknowledged; these were modest honors and dignities in a harmlessly simple life. But now — well, the little hamlet of San- chory seemed all different now : something had changed its aspect. As for old John Elliott, he walked on as one in a dream, apparently paying no heed whither they went. But of a sudden he stopped. Eight in front of them was the stone bridge spanning the Dee ; and beyond that was the road leading to Scoulter Hill. "Not that way — ^not that way, Briseis — some other way — let us take some other way." She guessed what this shrinking reluctance meant ; and immediately she turned. But when they had re- traced their steps towards the village, he said : " I think I would rather go into the inn, Briseis. You see, I must begin and write out those explanations — " " Oh no, uncle, no, no," she pleaded. " Leave that till to-morrow. " What is the hurry ?" WIDER WAiq^DERIKGS 51 "I would rather go in, anyhow," he said, in a tired fashion. Indeed, he seemed all broken down and disheartened ; and sometimes he sighed heavily, as though the mere act of breathing gave him pain. And yet when they had returned to the little room, he did not resume his seat ; he kept restlessly moving hither and thither, staring absently into the grate, or out of the window, or at the sideboard with its unopened newspapers ; and hardly listening to the attempts that Briseis made from time to time to break in upon his reverie. Then dinner was served ; and he took his place at the table ; but she could not induce him to touch anything, though he made a pretence. "Uncle," she remonstrated, "you must really eat something, or you will be ill." " Oh, I am doing very well, my dear — I'm doing very well," he said ; and then : " Briseis, you don't think they will suspect me of having intended to deceive them ? They wouldn't think that, would they ?" "How can you imagine such a thing, uncle !" she exclaimed. "And why should you worry about a mere trifle ? The explanation will clear it all away." " I should have been more careful," he said, breath- ing heavily. " I should have doubted. Hooker is very explicit about the alpestris — ' One of Don's reputed discoveries ; never confirmed.' I was too eager. And now some of them may be thinking that I was trying to palm ofE a sham discovery on the Societies, and that I have been found out — " " And those that are so base as to think that, what is their opinion worth ?" she demanded, scornfully. But he paid no heed to her : he was absorbed in his own self -torturing thoughts. Ere long he complained of being tired. It had been 53 BBISEIS a fatiguing kind of day, he said ; he thought he would get o£E to bed at once ; and so he bade her good-night, and left. Then, that she might not disturb him, she also stole up-stairs to her room, which was next his, and in silence made ready for the still hours of sleep. But very soon she discovered that he had not gone to bed at all. As she lay and listened, she could hear him walking to and fro — perhaps framing the apology that he would have to send to the various Societies, perhaps merely brooding over the underhand blow that had been dealt him. Her heart was full of grief, and sym- pathy, and burning indignation; but what could she do ? And in tinie the healthy constitution of youth claimed its rights; her eyelids closed; and her spirit was free to wander away into the poppyland of dreams. Next morning, when John Elliott came down, there was a worn and shrunken look about his features, and his eyes were wearied. He took his accustomed place at the breakfast table ; but in spite of all her entreaties he could not be persuaded to eat anything — he had half a cup of tea, that was all. Yet he declared there was nothing the matter with him ; only, he had not slept very well. Then he regarded her in a curiously timid and furtive manner. "Briseis," he said, hesitatingly, "I — I would not like to cause you any inconvenience. Perhaps I have not always been considerate ; perhaps I have been so engrossed in my own pursuits — selfishly engrossed — that I have forgotten to try to keep you interested as well. And Deeside is a picturesque neighborhood — oh, yes — there are many places you could visit yet — and Loch-Na-Gar always looks fine when you climb up one of the other hills. I — I would not like to inconvenience you, Briseis^f you would rather stay and see some- thing more of this country-side — " ■WIDER WANDEKINGS ' 53 " What do you mean, uncle ?" said she, promptly. " Do you want to leave Sanchory ? For I can be ready in ten minutes." Then he confessed that the district had grown dis- tasteful to him somehow ; he had lost interest in it ; would she go with him in to Aberdeen, where they could mature their future plans ? And this Greek girl, idle and easily good-humored and pleasure-loving as she might be, had nevertheless her wits about her ; she di- vined readily enough why he wished to get away from this neighborhood, so she said at once and with much cheerfulness : "Uncle, I will make a bargain with you. If you will remain here and try to eat at least that one piece of toast, I will undertake to have my small belongings packed in less than a quarter of an hour." And there- withal she went off to her own room. And thus it was that by the very next train they left Sanchory and made their way in to the Granite City, where, for the sake of economy, they took lodgings in- stead of going to a hotel. Their rooms were over an old curiosity shop — a storehouse of all sorts of miscel- laneous oddities — dirks, claymores, cutlasses, ostrich eggs, stuffed birds. Delft-ware, eighteenth-century tea- caddies, and the like ; and among these Briseis would sometimes linger, examining ; but generally she was more intent on taking her uncle for circuitous walks in the environs of the town, chatting to him the while, and trying to rouse him from the fits of brooding into which he had fallen. Frequently they went out by St. Machar's Cathedral, and over the Old Brig of Bal- gownie, and then back by the seaward road, with its glimpses of the blue-green water and the white line of foam curling up on the sand. But very soon he began to restrict these excursions. They grew shorter and 54 BKISBIS shorter, until at length he would rather sit in-doors, in an arm-chair, silent, his head downcast — and well she knew what was gnawing at his heart. Then one even- ing he said to her : " Briseis, surely it's very cold — very cold. I'm all shiyering. I don't understand it." Indeed, he was visibly trembling with this attack of chills, though there was an unusual flush of color in his face. Well, she was not much used to dealing with illness of any kind ; but she did what she thought best ; she got him to bed at once, and sent for a doctor. The doctor's report was reassuring. There was some degree of fever, no 'doubt, and an abnormally quick pulse ; but there was little immediate cause for alarm ; perhaps she had better get in a trained nurse ; and with proper care and precautions all would come right. The following day there was a different story to tell. Old John Elliott lay breathing laboriously, utterly ex- hausted, dozing sometimes, yet restless and nervously sensitive to the slightest noise, and muttering to him- self on occasion, whether incoherently or not she could hardly make out. "Has he been in any trouble of late ? Has he had any mental worry ?" the doctor asked. "Oh yes — ^yes, indeed," she said; and her hands were clinched behind her back — as if that could pre- vent the tears welling into her eyes. " This nervous fever is sometimes serious," said the doctor, guardedly. "And you are young to have so much responsibility thrown on you alone. Has he any other relatives about here ?" ''You do not think there is any danger ?" she ex- claimed, in a low voice — with a quick look of unimag- inable dread. WIDEE WANDERINGS 53 "Not yet— not yet/' said he. "I will tell you be- fore you need send for any one." And so a day or two passed without apparent change, the fever running its usual course. But one after- noon, while Briseis was seated by the bedside, pa- tiently watching, the old botanist suddenly flung him- self out of his comatose trance, his eyes all burning and brilliant with excitement. " Briseis, Briseis," he said, or gasped rather, in an eager, breathless way, "haste now — ^haste, haste ! — tele- graph — ^telegraph to them to keep back the papers — they must not be read — keep them back from the meet- tings — ^there will be time yet if you telegraph at once — ^keep them back — tell them — explain — it was all a mistake — I nSTer tried to cheat any one — I never made false claims to discoveries — never — never — " She laid her cool hand lightly on his hot forehead. "That is all right, uncle — the explanation has been made — they understand perfectly — " " I never thought of imposing on them," he panted. " But — but if they wish to remove my name from the lists of membership — well, I cannot object — that is quite just — though I did not wish to deceive any one — " "No, no, uncle — they understand perfectly — they understand you were not in the least to blame," she said, softly and smoothly-r-and if ever there was per- suasive charm in the music of a human voice, it was in hers. So that in a little while the hectic fire ap- peared to fade out of those restless and eager eyes, and he had relapsed into a kind of dozing state, while the fell disease continued its work. But later on in the evening he began to talk again, in a less excited mood. " Briseis, I want to tell you something. Your aunt Clara seemed to reproach me — and quite fairly, too — yes. 56 BEISBIS yes, quite fairly. I should haTe put the little money I inherited into some business, or tried some profession. But, you see, it was this way. When I was a lad I was allowed to do pretty much as I liked ; and what I liked most of all was to go wandering away among the hills, with a vasculum slung oyer my shoulder. The hill-side was my love. The other young fellows, they would talk about girls ; but I never had any thought that way ; and the young women seemed to have some sense of it ; they had never a word or a look for me. Well — I was content — when I was away by myself — in Glen Eosa or Glen Sannox. Briseis," he continued, in this hard-breathing, rambling, confused fashion, "before I was out of my teens I had some fairly good things in my herbarium — the Drosera — I mean the anglica — and — and the Hypericum duhium — and the Saxifraga stel- laris — the Pinguicula alpina — and many another — I cannot remember at the moment—" " Of course not, uncle," she said, her voice tranquil and soothing. " Why should you trouble yourself ? I know how valuable your collection is." " But this is what I meant to tell you — Briseis ; it is a kind of explanation — and — and perhaps an excuse," he went on. " When I was quite a lad, I discovered among the slopes above Gourock a little dell in which the Osmunda regalis was growing in great luxuriance. The Osmunda i& rare on that coast — and — and I was proud of my discovery — and kept the secret to myself ; and many a time I used to go and sit in the little hol- low, under the birch-trees, and listen to the trickling of the burn. And then — well, you see, I was foolish and romantic — and my only love in those days was the hill-side — I took it into my head that I would spend a night in that dell, with the Qsmundas as my only com- panions. It was not a cold night either ; but I found WIDER WANDERINGS 57 the ground very hard and damp before I could get to sleep. I remember the stars through the birch-trees overhead. I thought I could hear the sea, too, along the shore — though I was some distance up the hill-side, and in a hollow, too. I remember the stars well — I lay and looked up at them^— twinkling white and clear through the branches of the trees. And there was the sound of the burn close by — not two yards away from me. I had no wrap of any kind — a boy is careless of such things, you know — but anyhow in time I got to sleep. Well, the weather must have changed during the night ; for when I woke, just about daybreak, there was a fine, thin rain falling, and I was wet through to the skin, and shiyering" with cold. And I was miles and miles away from home. You may guess what followed — rheumatic fever — and all its worst conse- quences ; so that from that hour my life was broken." He tried to raise himself a little, so as to address her more directly ; but he fell back, through sheer weakness. "Do you understand now, Briseis ? — do you under- stand why I have kept out of the struggle, and been like an Ishmaelite wandering in the desert ? It is only within the last few years that I have had anything like health, and that with constant watching. But, all the same — your aunt Clara was quite right in accusing me—" " Uncle, I do not accuse you !" she said, passion- ately. "Not I ! — and I wonder who knows you better than I do ? If every one were living as blameless a life as you have lived, I think it would be a considerably different kind of world !" "Ah, but your aunt Clara was right," he insisted, in this painful fashion. "I should have given a better account of my stewardship — I have been selfish — and absorbed in my own pursuits — " But at this point he 3* 68 BEISBIS seemed inclined to turn away his head ; and instantly she was silent — scarcely daring to breathe, indeed ; all the desire of her being was that beneficent sleep should descend upon him, to still that troubled brain. Another day or two passed ; the fever showed no signs of abatement; but now, strangely enough, his confused mutterings had no reference to his concern about the Societies and what they might think of his alleged discovery : mostly they were about the botani- cal wanderings of his youth — Glen Eosa and Glen San- nox in Arran, the hills above Lochgoil, Ben Lomond and Ben Voirlich, the v/inding shores of Loch Achray, the ' banks of Allan Water,' the far Braes of Balquhid- der. Sometimes he knew that Briseis was by his side ; sometimes he did not ; he would frequently talk as it were to one of his boyish companions — talk of his tramping through a rainy day towards Aberfoyle, or his waiting for the steamer at the breezy quay of Greenock. And pervading these reminiscences and rambling confessions, there was the greatest self-depre- ciation and gentleness ; he seemed to have treasured no recollection of any harm done to him by any one ; there was no aggression or resentment ; rather a kind of gratitude towards all the people whom he had en- countered in his journey through the world. Then there came one evening — Mrs. Alexander Elli- ott, who had been urgently telegraphed for, was in the room, and so also was Briseis, stricken faint and numb with long tendance — on this evening he appeared to waken out of the profound coma that had followed upon the violence of the fever. And now there was no unnatural glitter in the eyes ; no hectic color in the pinched and wan face ; he regarded these two with a calm recognition. " You will look after Briseis, Aunt Clara," he said. WIDER WANDEEIKGS 59 in a Toice that was just audible and no more. " She will be grateful to you for your kindness — she has a heart of gold. And Briseis — my dearest — oh, indeed, my dearest — remember this — you must not think too hardly — of the young fellows — who played that trick on me. They — meant no harm — meant no.harm — only a frolic of youth — I am sure they meant no harm." He relapsed into silence. But a second or two there- after there came a sudden change — and Aunt Clara sprang .to the bell. " Send for the doctor ! — send for the doctor at once !" she cried in her frantic alarm. But there was no need to send for any doctor. Old John Elliott had quietly passed away, and was now free from all earthly cares and wrongs. And perhaps — who knows ? — there may be rare plants to be sought for among the lonelier of the high hills of Heaven. CHAPTER V AVE DEE HOHB Okb evening early in July Sir Hugh and Lady Adela Cunyngham entertained a distinguished com- pany at their house on Campden Hill, the dinner being given in honor of the Prince and Princess of Montevel- tro ; and although the party was rather an elderly one, being chiefly of a diplomatic character — Ambas- sadors, Ministers, Attaches, and the like — nevertheless a comer had been found for young Prank Gordon, as was but natural, seeing that he was the only son of the Princess by her former husband, when she was Lady Gordon of Grantly. Likewise Lady Adela had been considerate enough to provide the boy with a com- panion more of his own age — a Miss Georgina Le- strange. Now this Miss Lestrange — who generally was called Georgie by her intimate friends — was a ruddy - haired, rebellious - nosed, fresh - complexioned, merry-eyed lass, who wore a pince-nez ; and being of a lively and audacious spirit, she opened the ball at once, the moment the people had taken their seats. ''I've heard a good deal about you, from Lady Adela," said this frank young damsel ; " and Fve often wondered why you didn't go into the great world of state affairs, when you have such opportunities. Your mother the Princess is quite an important person in Eastern politics, isn't she ?" " Yes, I believe she is," he made answer, with rather AUF DER HOHB 61 significant emphasis on the she. " As for the Prince, his chief ambition seems to be to get his two black poodles to sit up on their hind legs, each with a pipe in its mouth." "Then, if that is his disposition," continued this bold young creature, " all the more reason why you should go and make a name for yourself. "What is the use of salmon-fishing and shooting rabbits ? — " " Would you like to know how many thousand spruce and larch trees I planted last year ?" he de- manded — for even the most modest youth does not liked to be trampled upon. "Oh, but what is that — when you have great chances ! If I were a man, I should like to know that I had done something — something to distinguish me from everybody else — something that people could re- member me by. Oh, I beg your pardon — really — really, I beg your pardon — because of course you have — you have, at all events. You rowed in the Oxford Eleven, didn't you ?" "Well," said he, ingenuously, " there weren't quite so many of us as that ; but we managed to beat Cam- bridge all the same." She looked puzzled for a second. " Oh, how silly of me — how very silly! Only eight, of course." And then she sheered off — her conversa- tion taking the form of a series of rambling questions, that hardly waited for an answer. "It's an awfully pretty table, isn't it ? — maiden-hair-fern goes so well with silver, doesn't it ? And Fm certain there's noth- ing suits a dinner table so well as candles ; they are so soft and quiet ; don't you positively detest the electric light ? — it's only fit for gin-palaces. And don't you think it is much better to have the Hungarian Band out in the garden rather than in the hall ? They play 63 BEISEIS awfully well, don't they? That's Waldteufel — the 'Pliiie d'or' — I simply worship Waldteufel. Oh, I forgot. When I mentioned the electric light, I did not mean in a garden ; in a garden it's quite charm- ing ; when you get out after dinner you'll find all the grounds lit up. For you don't mean to hide yourself away in the billiard-room, do you ? — on a night like this it will surely be ever so much nicer for you to haye your cigarette in the open air. And mind, there's a treat in store for you ; don't forget to ap- plaud ; the band has been instructed to play Sibyl Bourne's ' March.' You know, she is just wild to get it adopted by the band-masters of the different regi- ments — the ' Soldiers' Marching Song ' it is, when it's sung ; and I fancy she hinted something about it to the Duke of Cambridge, and to Sir Eyelyn Wood when he was at Aldershot ; but nothing seems to haye come of it — " "I'll tell you what Lady Sibyl ought to do," ob- served young Gordon to this loquacious maid. " She ought to approach my august step-papa, and suggest that the ' March ' should be adopted as the national air of the Principality of Monteveltro." " Oh, my good gracious. Sir Francis, what a splendid idea !" she cried, eagerly. " What a perfectly ripping idea ! I will tell Sibyl the moment we leave the room. Or I wouldn't mind making the suggestion myself. Only — you see — I don't quite know — " She glanced towards the personage seated next to Lady Adela Cunyngham : he was rather stout and elderly, good- natured - looking, with a long mustache carefully waxed at the drooping ends. "Faut-il le monseig- neuriser ?" " Oh, you needn't be particular," said the Prince's step-son, smiling maliciously. " Get him into a good- AUF DEK HOHE 63 humor by asking about his black poodles, and you might even call him Monty or Veltry. He's a very good kind of chap ; but I think the Principality bores him. He would rather sit on a bench in the Prater, and have his poodles go through their performances — " ''What an awfully handsome woman your mother is," said Miss Georgie. "And so distinguished-look- ing. I don't wonder at the influence she is said to have. They tell me it was she who really planned out King Milan's return to Belgrade." "Yes, but her life isn't altogether roses," responded young Gordon. " I'm always wishing she would catch her dress on the door." " On the door ?" said the ruddy-headed lass, turning and staring at him through her pince-nez. "Well, I should have a chance of firing off Lord Palmerston's epigram — don't you remember ? — when the Princess of Servia met with that kind of accident — 'Vous voyez, Princesse, c'est toujours la Porte qui vous incommode.' Eather neat, wasn't it ? But even that isn't as good as what the Attach^ said — I forget his name — when the Shah of Persia was over here. His Majesty on some evening or other had been re- freshing himself a little too freely, whereupon this gay youth remarked : ' Oh, every one knows the French proverb — La nuit tons les chats sent gris.' He made a reputation on the strength of that — ^it went the round of every court in Europe." "But tell me now about Monteveltro," she said — after she had been talking to her other neighbor for a little while. "I am really quite ashamed — I hardly even know where it is — " "Very well," he answered her, obediently, amid this prevailing hum of conversation, while the Blue Hun- garian Band outside in the garden was playing softly 64 BKISEIS and melodiously Batiste's Andante in Gr. "As yon are sailing down the Dalmatian coast — " "That sounds rather wicked/' interpolated the im- pudent minx, demurely, though probably he did not hear her. " — you come upon the entrance into a long inland gulf — something like a Norwegian fiord, only the mountains are higher, and brighter in color — in fact, as you go winding round promontory after promontory the whole thing looks like the drop-scene of a theatre. Then at the head of the gulf the steamer comes to an- chor, and directly rowing-boats put off from the shore — the most gorgeously painted boats, and the men and women exceedingly picturesque — and they want you to buy Albanian embroidered jackets and waist-belts of leather and cornelians. Then you jump into one of the blue and red boats and go away across the green water — it's all exactly like a theatre — and you land at Dattaro, a clean-looking, white little place. Olean- looking, yes ; but, oh mong jew ! — Hare you been to Constantinople ?" "No." " Then you don't know the slums of Galata and the dogs. Venice, perhaps ?" " Oh yes, I have been to Venice." " Then you remember the short-cut between the Ki- alto and the Riva degli Schiavoni — past the Post-of&ce, I mean — and there is a corner of the canal just before you reach the Bridge of Sighs — " " I know it well — oh, don't I !" said Miss G-eorgie, in a sad kind of way. "But if you were to take a year of that corner and compress it into iive minutes, you would hardly match the odors of Dattaro. Never mind. You are soon away from the little seaport, and driving up the most AUF DEE HOHE 65 amazing road that was ever cut — a zigzag np the face of the mountains, but it's more like going up the side of a house. Very well. You have six hours of that dizzy climb, and then you arrive at the capital of Monteveltro. It's the remotest, strangest-looking lit- tle place, away up there in the mountains : there's the Palace, and a Monastery, and a Telegraph office, and the house of the British Charg6 d' Affaires — by-the-way, he has an excellent tennis-lawn, and it's the oddest thing to see the ladies of his family, English girls, dressed as you would find them in Surrey or Sussex, playing -lawn- tennis with the young Monteveltrin officers in their embroidered caps and jackets and long riding-boots. Because of course there's an army — a mimic army — comic opera kind of thing — only, the fellows can fight — oh yes, they can fight — perfect devils for fighting : it's my step-papa's younger brother. Prince George, who commands them ; and I can tell you they make it par- ticularly warm for the Albanian brigands, who are con- tinually coming across to plunder and kill the inoffen- sive peasantry. Very brave fellows indeed, and very proud of their independence : if either Turkey or Aus- tria were to try to annex Monteveltro, there's not one of those hardy mountaineers who wouldn't die at his post rather jthan surrender — there would simply have to be a universal massacre — nothing else." " Oh, that is very interesting, very," said she. "And I suppose when your mother married the Prince, it was considered she had made a very proud alliance." Now he was a most modest, and ingenuous, and courteous youth ; but this unhappy remark seemed to nettle him a little. "Well, I don't know," said he, with some trace of reserve. "I don't know. There are several of the Gordon families who can trace their descent back to 66 BKISBIS the daughter of James I. of Scotland, who married the son of the second Earl of Huntly ; and if there is to be any claim on account of birth and blood, I think that may rank as against a twopenny-halfpenny East- ern prince, who only lives by the sufferance of his big neighbors — " " Oh, of course, of course !" said the penitent Miss Greorgie, with a quick flush springing to her forehead. " I ought to have known, of course. But I'm mak- ing a dreadful fool of myself this evening. I generally do, in fact. Have you heard that Madame Albani is coming to sing to-night ? And Lionel Moore — and his awful pretty wife — Nina Ross she is called on the stage, you know ; Lady Rosamund is painting her por- trait for the next Academy — that is, if they'll accept it ; and Sir John Mellord has been so kind and gen- erous in giving her all the hints and assistance that he can. Oh me," continued- Miss Georgie, with a sigh, " it must be delightful to belong to such a clever fam- ily. It's really horrid to be stupid. You cannot im- agine how horrid it is unless you are out-and-out stupid. Of course I don't think the public have taken up Lady Adela's novels as they ought to have done — you have no idea what trouble she expends on them — I know something about it, for now and again I am her model — I shriek, and fling myself on a couch, and she describes it so as to get it natural — but it does disarrange one's hair so — if you have to be in a tempest of passion — and tearing things. And after all the flattering mention that has been made about her books by the newspapers — well, at least some of the news- papers. It's too bad. It isn't fair. I think the pub- lic's an awful fool : don't you ? Why, in Lady Adela's books, on every other page, you come across people you can't help recognizing — and the talk is real talk — AUF DEK HOHE 67 just what people say — But I will tell you about that later on." For at this moment a mysterious signal went round the room ; all simultaneously rose ; the ladies left singly or with an affectionate arm linked in arm ; and on this occasion at least the Porte did not incommode the Princess of Monteveltro. Somewhat later in the evening Lady Adela received a more numerous company of guests — a quite notable assemblage, indeed : the Eussian, Austro-Hungarian, French, Italian, and United States Ambassadors, the Portuguese, Danish, and Norwegian Ministers, the Swiss and other Charges d'AfEaires, were all present, with a goodly sprinkling of our own statesmen and politicians ; and it is to be presumed that in the brill- iantly lit drawing-room the conversation was not alto- gether about the recent proceedings in the Bulgarian Sobranye when from time to time one could listen to Madame Albani singing the ' Piano, piano,' from Der Freischiitz, or Mr. Lionel Moore (the accompaniment played by his wife) giving ' On Lido Waters ' in his rich barytone voice. But there was something besides that. At the further end of the long room the tall French windows stood open ; there was a little stone balcony ; there were stops leading down into the gar- den ; and any one descending these found himself in a kind of fairyland, for the black trees and bushes were all bestarred with colored Chinese lamps, while the electric light shone in the more open spaces. And as Miss Georgie Lestrange was about the first to suggest that the cool air outside would be preferable to the hotter- atmosphere in-doors, and as it chanced to be Frank Gordon she was talking to, he promptly acqui- esced ; so she went and got a lace scarf to throw round her head — a delicate piece of adornment that neither destroyed the symmetry of her costume of cream-hued 68 . BEISBIS brocade nor yet altogether hid her extremely pretty Venetian necklace of filigree gold and pale coral. Then those two — though they were not quite the first to make the experimerit — ^passed out from the yellow radiance of the drawing-room, and went down the steps, and began a perambulation of the shubberies, which were all festooned with parti-colored lanterns, while the Hungarian Band, under the blue-white glare of the electric light, was playing, with exquisite finish and charm, Thome's " Simple Aven." Now Miss Georgia Lestrange happened to be in a particularly merry and mischieyous mood, as they wan- dered through these alleys, listening or not listening to the music ; and amongst other things she was de- cribing to him certain aspects of the Grosrenor Square Ladies' Athletic Club — for example, the shyness of the novices over their unaccustomed attire, the des- perate valor of the elderly matrons, and the like. " But are you a member ?" he said, interrupting her suddenly. " Oh yes ; I have been ever since the Club was started," she answered him. "Well, that would be an interesting sight — that would "be something to see !" he exclaimed, with in- nocent fervor. " In all London nothing more inter- esting — " " Why, what do you mean ?" she demanded. " The very idea of such a thing ! Of course no gentleman is ever admitted !" " But if it came to that," said he, boldly (for she had been bearing rather hardly on him with her quips and cranks) — "if it came to that, and if you would take me, I could go dressed up as your waiting- woman." " What — you ?" she retorted, laughing. And then AUF DEE HOHE 69 with her forefinger she made a dainty and dexterous little movement as if she were painting something on her upper lip. " I'm afraid you forget a trifling detail that would rather interfere with your dis- guise." " Oh, but I'd soon have that removed," he declared, " if there was a chance of my being allowed to pene- trate into these mysterious arcana." " Not to be done. Sir Francis — ^not to be done," she replied, decisively. " You would make as tall and as ungainly a waiting-woman as Prince Charlie did ; and the Grosvenor Athletic Club is not like the Isle of Skye — you would be found out in a moment. But I'll tell you now—" Here she paused ; for the Hungarian Band had be- gun to play Mascagni's well-known Intermezzo, and she listened for a second or two to the familiar strain. Then she resumed : " I'll tell you now : if you would like to see a La- dies' Club, why not come and have some tea to-morrow afternoon at the Hypatia ? It is to-morrow afternoon that we receive visitors ; and you'll find Lady Adela there, and Sibyl and Kosamund Bourne as well — al- most certain — " " It's extremely kind of you — I shall be delighted !" he responded at once. " But — but the Hypatia, did you say ? What kind — " " Oh, well, you know," she proceeded to explain (but in a half-absent sort of a way, for the band was playing most beautifully), "it's supposed to be a club for authoresses and lady journalists, and so on — rath- er advanced, you know — rather emancipated — they thought of calling it the Forward Club — the equiva- lent of the German Vof warts, don't you see ? — and then they considered that that name might be misun- 70 BKISEIS derstood — Forward might be jfcaken to mean something else — don't you think so ? — " " Well, the Hypatia is a very pretty name," he re- plied, discreetly. " Of course you are supposed to have done some- thing to qualify for admission," she continued; "but really it's not so difficult to get in, if you have a friend on the Committee ; and Miss Penguin has been so ex- tremely kind — " " Miss—?" " Miss Penguin. Oh, surely you must know ! ■ The poetess — she writes under the name of Sappho — " " I'm such an ignorant brute," he pleaded. "And she was so kind about getting Lady Adela and her sisters into the Club — and poor me too," said the ruddy -haired damsel, only half listening to the music. "You see, I wouldn't for worlds say any- thing against Adela Cunyngham, but the truth is, she is just mad to find her name in the papers ; and there's a lot of writing people at the Hypatia; and naturally she thinks, when they get to know her, they will make little paragraphs about her. Of course it's quite horrid the way the public have taken so little notice of her novels — awfully clever they are-^oh. Just everybody you know in them — you can go from page to page recognizing this one and the other — most aw- fully interesting. And Lady Adela does like to see her name mentioned in the papers ; I must admit that. It's rather a weakness of the family, don't you know — Adela the author, and Sibyl the musician, and Eosamund the painter ; but what I always contend is that if you want to get yourself advertised, if you really want to keep yourself before the public, you should recommend a soap. It's so simple ! Lady Adela goes to this Hypatia Club, and pays court to all sorts of AUF DER HOHE 71 women whom she doesn't know in the least, and other- wise wouldn't want to know ; and sometimes, but very seldom, they give her a bit of a paragraph — nothing to speak of. But now, if she were to recommend a soap, her name would be in every newspaper in England ! And it's so easy ! They would say : ' Lady Adela Cunyngham of Aivron Lodge, Campden Hill, writes — Your soap is the most fascinating I have ever tried.' Don't you see ? Then she would get her name in big type into all the weekly illustrated papers ; and people would say, ' Well, but who is Lady Adela Cunyngham ?' — and other people would say : ' Oh, don't you know ? She writes novels. . She is the authoress of so-and-so.' And that would secure her fame. It would draw at- tention to her work, Then she wouldn't be dependent on that horrid creature Mr. Octavius Quirk and his gang of self-puffers to give her a little contemptuous cold encouragement now and again when they're not engaged in bepraising each other. I'm for soap. Don't you think it's reasonable ? Isn't it more independent ? I wouldn't ask horrid, ugly men to my house, in the hope of getting a favorable notice of my new book. And I wouldn't go to the Hypatia Club either, talking to inky-fingered young women, and secretly looking forward to small paragraphs. Lady Adela is really the dearest creature in the world ; but she does strive a little too much for notoriety. I don't think it's dig- nified; I don't, really. Do you?" This was an unexpected gybe ; and the swinging over of the boom (so to speak) rather frightened him. "But — but — " he stammered, "how can there be any harm in belonging to the Club you mentioned — why, you yourself are a member, you said — " She burst out laughing. 72 BBISEIS '' Oh, I go there for fun. Sometimes it's awful fun. The discussion nights, especially — " " And what do you discuss ?" "Well, we generally discuss Man; and I can tell you we give him what for. Then there's education — and stupid things of that kind — " These glades and alleys were becoming almost crowded, so many people were lingering about in the cool air of the summer night ; and as he did not know at what moment this talkative young person might consider it her duty to go and join one or other of the nebulous groups, he thought it better to clinch the bargain about the Hypatia Club by asking the number in Suffolk Street, Pall Mall, and the hour at which he would be expected to make his appearance on the fol- lowing afternoon. She told him. "And mind you put on your best bib and tucker — metaphorically speaking," said she, saucily. "For they'll write paragraphs about you." " About me ?" he said, in astonishment. " Why about me ?" " Because it's their business ! Literally their busi- ness. They live by it. Oh, I know the kind of thing that will appear — among the little snippets divided ofE by three stars : ' Sir Francis Gordon of Grantly does not at all look the tyrannical landlord he is reported to be — ' By-the-way, are you a tyrannical landlord ?" " I'm not a landlord at all ! — ^nothing to speak of, at least. I keep nearly all the farms in my own hands." "Very well," she went on, with much complacency. "'Sir Francis Gordon of Grantly, who is well known as the crofter's friend — ' " "Bless my souj, there's not a crofter in the whole district !" he exclaimed. " What does that matter ? One must live. But AUF DEE HOHE 73 don't be alarmedj Sir Francis. They're not so bad as they're painted. And it's generally the people who want paragraphs who get paragraphs. I'll protect you as well as I can." And with that the engaging nymph put her hand on his arm, and said she would like to be taken back to the drawing-room now ; Lady Adela might notice their lengthened absence ; besides, she wanted to see and hear something of the great folk as- sembled there. It was between two and three in the morning that Prank Gordon set out on foot for his rooms in Jermyn Street : this invariable walk home was about the only exercise that the busy life of London left him. And if the pert and charming young lady who had been do- ing her best to entertain him was pleasing herself with the idea that she had secured another captive, she was — on this occasion, at least — mistaken. As he passed along by the sombre spaces of the Parks, he was think- ing of some one very difEerent : he was thinking, and quite involuntarily and perhaps unconsciously think- ing, of a Greek girl — so sweet, so serene, so self-pos- sessed, so bland in the smiling of her dark eyes. And perhaps, in a vague kind of way, he may have been speculating as to the direction in which those two, uncle and niece, might now be distantly wandering — whether they were searching the lone hills around Glenavon, whether they were following the windings of the silver Spey, whether they were on remote ' Loch Loyal's side, or up by Mudal Water.' He did not know that the old botanist had gone on a far wider quest ; and as little did he dream that Briseis Valieri, become a mere slave and drudge, was here in this very town of London. CHAPTER VI THE HTPATIA — AND THEREAFTER Now Sir Francis Gordon of Grantly had about as much courage as most people (the Gordons have never been conspicuous for cowardice) ; but it must be ad- mitted that when he entered the door of the Hypatia Club, in Suffolk Street, Pall Mall, and beheld a dim vista of feminine forms, an indefinable apprehension occupied his mind. However, here was the hall-porter, and him he was glad to recognize as a man and a broth- er ; and he inwardly blessed the little page-boy who took from him his hat and gloves and cane. Then, just as he was hesitating at the very last moment as to whether he should not turn and fly, he became aware of the figure of a young person on the staircase — a fig- ure gracefully clad in biscuit-colored Indian silk, and surmounted by a portentous Gainsborough hat ; and at the same moment he was conscious that Miss Georgie Lestrange was laughing at him. The ruddy-haired damsel descended a step or two. " Aren't you awfully frightened ?" she said. "I am," he said. " Well, come up into the drawing-room. They re- ally don't bite. She led the way into a spacious suite of apartments ; and presently he found himself in the midst of a large assemblage of fashionably dressed ladies, who did not in any wise differ, as far as he could see, from the ordinary THE HYPATIA — AKD THEEEAETEE 75. folk that one would expect to meet at an afternoon re- ception. Moreover, they did not take any notice of him ; apparently they were chiefly concerned in wor- shipping at the shrine of a well-known actor, whose benevolent airs of patronage might have made a cat grin its ears off. So gradually, while the vivacious Miss Georgie kept talking to him, he began to recover his nerve. " When does the shocking begin ?" he said. "What shocking ?" she demanded. " Well, I wanted to be shocked," he went on. " And there isn't anything. They're mostly pretty women, with very pretty dresses. Don't they ever — do some- thing — to — to make a stranger jump ?" " Of course not !" said she. " Why, what did you expect ? They're just like other people — " "You hinted that they were rather advanced — emancipated — " "Oh, well," she confessed, "you might once in a blue moon come upon an elderly lady wearing divided skirts—" "And is that all? Is that all? Divided skirts? That's nothing. I wear them myself." "Come away now. Sir Francis, and talk to Lady Adela, and Sibyl and Rosamund Bourne — I can see them in the next room — and we will all go down and have tea together. And if you would only take that detestable creature, Octavius Quirk, and fling him out of the window, I would give you an additional slice of bread and butter." Young Gordon did not wish to throw anybody out of the window; but he went with her to seek Lady Adela Cimyngham and the Ladies Sibyl and Rosamund Bourne ; and the three tall and handsome sisters he found paying assiduous and humble court to about as 76 BBISEIS ill-favored a person as he had ever encountered — a podgy person, of unwholesome complexion, with eyes the color of boiled gooseberries — who was explaining, with a sort of feebly boisterous glee, how he had just been appointed to the control of the literary depart- ment of an important morning paper. " The fact is. Lady Adela," he was saying, when the playful Miss Georgie and her companion drew near, " the Editor doesn't care a hang about literature ; all his interests are in politics and the Church — the House of Commons debates and the Ecclesiastical Intelligence — ecclesiastical intelligence! — why don't they read Gibbon ? — and then as the Manager is entirely occu- pied with his Special Correspondents and his foreign news, the two of them between them have agreed to hand over all the books to me. And I can tell you I mean to make some of those fellows sit up ! There's a great deal too much of mutual pufEery going on — " At this moment Miss Georgie's mischievous eyes be- came demure and inscrutable ; she dared not laugh ; she would not offend one from whom Lady Adela Cun- yngham was always expecting a little judicious help. " — especially among the bardlets — the small poets — who keep bandying verses the one to the other. And some of them in Government offices, too ! — pocketing the public money — and scrawling their wretched sentimental trash on her Majesty's stationery^ with her Majesty's pens and ink. I tell you I mean to make them hop ! — ^like a hen on a hot girdle — " " Oh, Mr. Quirk," said Lady Adela, " I'm sure you wouldn't do anything unkind !" " Well — well," he said, doubtfully shaking his head — his extremely unprepossessing head — "that is as it may be. I intend to keep my section of the paper lively. The public doesn't read books ; but it does THE HTPATIA— AK D^ THEREAFTER 77 delight in slashing reviews ; and it shall have them. And I am going to start a literary causerie as well : some of those pretentious dolts who pose as wits and philosophers — ^philosophers catching at the coat-tails of Comte — a lot of those fellows want taking down a peg — several pegs — " "But just think, Mr. Quirk," Lady Adela pleaded, "about the reviews : you might be doing an irrepara- ble injury to some poor struggling aspirant — " " Then let them stop struggling and aspiring," he said, with his boisterous hilarity. "We have quite enough authors already, of recognized position. You yourself. Lady Adela, have acquired your status : you are no longer an amateur." Of course that clinched the matter : Lady Adela, looting as proud and pleased as if she had been pre- sented with the Crown of England, had no further thought for the poor struggling aspirant. And mean- while young Gordon, who had been eying with a vague curiosity this mouton-enrag6 sort of a creature, and who was not much interested in his shop-talk, had been inwardly saying to himself : ' My fat friend, it would do you a world of good if you were made to crawl six miles up the Corrieara burn, with a rifle in your hand. And perhaps two or three days' starvation wouldn't do you much harm either.' Then they all went down to the rooms on the lower floor ; and they were lucky enough to secure a small table for themselves ; and they had tea, amid the mov- ing and murmuring crowd; while Frank Gordon, glancing round him from time to time, so far from finding anything to shock him (he rather wanted to be shocked, the scoundrel), thought he had never seen anywhere a more pleasant-looking, intelligent-looking, and well dressed set of folk. And then Miss Lestrange 78 BMSEIS said to the lady who was presiding at this little festiv- ity : "Addie, listen. Do you think it would be a dread- ful breach of confidence if I showed you some lines that Miss Penguin dashed off yesterday morning, when she was in here ? You know, I rather think she likes these pieces handed about — especially when they're just a trifle strong — I mean, when an editor would probably fight shy of them — " " Come away with it, Georgie," said Lady Adela, laughing. "Never mind about Miss Penguin." " Oh, but really I think the little piece is very fine," replied Miss Georgie, with much seriousness, as she dived into the recesses of her purse. " The fact is, what she aims at is passion — passion — ^passion. She declg,res there is no passion in our modern literature — " " Let's see what she has to say for herself — " At this point Miss Georgie found the fragment of paper she wag seeking ; and it was handed round ; and when it arrived at young Gordon this was what he read : We stagger through blunders and errors — Be it ill — be it well : Till we come to the lightnings and terrors — And we quail not at Sell! " Yes, it's rather choice," he observed, with a criti- cal air. " Oh, there's no impressing you," said Georgie Le- strange, impatiently, and she snatched back the paper. And then she smiled. "Well, Sir Francis, if Miss Penguin turns up this afternoon, I will introduce you to her. And you mustn't mind much what she says. The truth is, since some brute of a man threw her pet pug overboard — it was somewhere in the Black THE HYPATIA — AND THEREATTEE 79 Sea, I believe — she has been just a wee, tiny bit cross with things in general. But she means well ; and she's a dear, unreasonable, quixotic kind of creature ; and be sure you remember that she writes under the name of Sappho." Georgie was as good as her word ; for hardly had they risen from the table, after their brief refreshment, when she exclaimed, "Why, here is Miss Penguin just come in !" And the next moment young Prank Gordon found himself being presented to no less a celebrity than the poetess of fire and fury, of spasms and gasps. She was a somewhat elderly and rather dowdily dressed woman, who had a baleful eye ; and the meaning of that ag- gressive eye he was soon to discover ; because it now happened that certain friends of Miss Lestrange came up to claim her, so that he was left at the mercy of Sappho. "Hadn't we better go into the court -yard?" she said, abruptly. "It is pestiferous here." This was a command rather than an invitation ; and meekly he followed her through the open French win- dows. The stone court-yard was a bare-looking place ; but there were a few scarlet geraniums in pots, and there was some ivy on the wall. "Have you read my 'Mirrorings'?" she demanded forthwith. " Well — eh — not yet," he said, in utmost trepidation. "I have not been so lucky. But — but I have heard that the poems are very beautiful — full of fervor — " "They are not poems," she observed, calmly (and he wished the paving-stones would open and swallow him up). "The book is a novel. And it is a novel of fashionable society as it exists at the present day ; and I wished to ask you if the picture is not a true one." 80 BKISBIS " Oh, but I am not a fashionable person at all I" he exclaimed, with momentary relief. " Far from that. I know hardly anything of London life. My interests are all in the country — " " But you must be well aware of what is going on," she said, with a severity that brought him to his senses, and scattered to the winds his trembling subterfuges. "You go enough into society to know what exists there. And it is time that some one should speak the truth. It is time an exposure should be made." And from this starting-point she proceeded with such a denunciation of the vices of fashionable society as nearly took his breath away ; and not only that, but she appeared to hold him responsible for this appalling condition of affairs. At first he only mildly protested, "Miss Penguin," he said, "how can you believe such things ? And how can you know ? I must put it plainly — how can any unmarried woman know ?" " The married women of my acquaintance are my authority !" she retorted. And with that she made a statement still more sweeping and preposterous than any of her previous allegations. It shall not be repeated here, for the sim- ple reason that the morbid imaginings of a neglected and elderly and ill-conditioned spinster would be inter- esting only to doctors — as the symptoms of a familiar disease. Young Gordon could but say : " Oh, that is absurd. Pardon me, but it is quite absurd. I have as wide a circle of friends and ac- quaintances as most people ; and I am certain no such state of things exists — there may be isolated cases here and there, of course. Why, even if the men were so base, do you imagine their wives would allow such a system to continue ? — they could not be kept in igno- rance !" THE HTPATIA — AND THEBEAFTEK 81 " Gh, I dare say their wives are just as bad as they are !" she answered him, tauntingly. Now at this there arose in Frank Gordon's heart something that was not to be repressed ; he tried to choke it down, but he could not ; for it seemed to him that all the women whom he knew and honored — all the mothers and wives whom he knew and honored — were being slandered by this frowzy fool, this Sappho of the Seven Dials. " If these are the stories," said he — and he averted his eyes, for he knew that they were hot with indigna- tion — " that the married women of your acquaintance tell to you, an unmarried woman, I can only wonder amongst what set of people you live." Then he checked himself hard. Her language had been brutal ; but he had no right to reply with brutal- ity. And at this moment a heaven-born inspiration sprang into his brain. " Oh, Miss Penguin," said he, with affected cheerful- ness, " do you know that Mr. Octavius Quirk is here ? — and he has just been given the control of the reviews of a daily paper ; and I suppose he must be forming a staff of contributors. Wouldn't you like to talk to him about it ? Shall I go and fetch him to you ?" " Oh, will you — will you ?" she said, eagerly ; and without another unnecessary word he left. As he was passing through the first of the lower rooms, he came upon Miss Georgie Lestrange, who turned aside from her small coterie to find out how he had been getting on. " Why did you introduce me to that woman ?" he said, rather angrily. "She's a brute !" But at. this juncture Lady Adela Cunyngham came up. " Sir Francis," said the tall, and smiling, and comely 83 BEISEIS young matron, " would you like to join in a little bit of a frolic ?" His mood changed in a moment — he had a quite boy- ish love of diversion. " Certainly — certainly !" " "Well," said she, " this is what I propose. Sir Hugh has gone down into Devonshire ; and I have just dis- covered that Georgie, and my sisters Sibyl and Eose, have no engagement whatever for to-night ; and my idea is to have an evening in Scotland." "What ?" he said — ^fearing she had gone mad. " We will have all the shutters shut," she went on ; " and all the lamps and gases lit ; and I've telegraphed home to see if they can let us have dinner at seven — with cockaleekie, if possible ; and we are all to be in tartan things, or at least homespun ; and we are to imagine ourselves in Strathaivron — at the lodge, you know — with the guns, and the keepers, and the ponies, and the panniers just come down from the hill — " " Delightful— delightful !" he cried, with enthusiasm. " What a grand idea ! And so awfully good of you to give me a chance of joining in'! But, Lady Adela, if you don't mind, I would rather have twenty minutes at my rooms, to change these hateful garments for some- thing more sensible — " " Why, we're all going home now for the very same purpose ! You come along as soon as you can. Sir Francis. It's getting late, you know. And we must not have the cockaleekie cold." Sad it is to say that he forgot all about the perf ervid Sappho whom he had left pacing the solitary court- yard ; and he never bestowed a thought on Mr. Octa- vius Quirk ; he went out, and jumped into a hansom, and drove to his rooms in Jermyn Street, and there he quickly exchanged his town costume for Norfolk jacket THE HYPATIA — AND THEKEAFTEB 83 and knickerbockers. Then he got into another hansom, and was rapidly conveyed out to Aiyron Lodge, Camp- den Hill, And here the dra-wing-room, with the shutters closed, was all lit up; and Lady Adela, and her sisters the Ladies Sibyl and Eosamund Bourne, and Georgie Le- strange, were disporting themselves in such scarves or bodices of tartan as they had been able to find — Miss Lestrange, indeed, had a dark blue Tarn o' Shanter curbing her rebellious ruddy tresses ; and each of them had at her neck a brooch of cairngorms or a ptarmigan's foot set in silver. Young Gordon of Grantly threw himself on to a chair. " Lady Adela," said he, in an exhausted kind of fash- ion, ''will you forgive me if I don't dress for dinner to- night ? I'm completely done. We've had an awful stalk. Three hours up the Corrieara burn before we could .get to leeward of the beasts ; and then the stag I hit disappeared ; we hunted and hunted ; and do you know where we found him — about an hour and a half ago ? — why, he had been able to run as far as the Black Kecks, and then he had tumbled dead, and rolled right down into Glen Shuna. We found him in a peat-hag — ^his feet sticking up — " " You are a lovely liar," said Miss Georgie Lestrange, half audibly ; and then she went over to the piano, and sat down, and sonorously struck two handf uls of keys. What was this ? ' Cam ye by Athol, lad with the philabeg, Down by the Tummel, or banks of the Garry ? Saw ye the lads wi' their bonnets and white cockades, Leaving their mountains to follow Prince Charlie ? Follow thee, follow thee, wha wadna follow thee ? Lang hast thou lo'ed and trusted us fairly : Charlie, Charlie, wha wadna follow thee 1 King o' the Highland hearts, bonnie Prince Charlie 1' §4 BEISEIS She sang with extraordinary spirit, whatever a trained musician might have thought of the quality of her voice ; and this first verse was greeted with cheers of approval and encouragement. And then she went on : ' I'll to Lochiel, and Appio, and kneel to them ; Down by Lord Murray and Roy of Klldarlie ; Brave Mackintosh he shall fly to the field with them ; These are the lads 1 can trust wi' my Charlie 1' But SO infectious was the martial call that they all broke out into the chorus : ' Follow thee, follow thee, wha wadna follow thee 1 Lang hast thou lo'ed and trusted us fairly : Charlie, Charlie, wha wadna follow thee ? King o' the Highland hearts, bonnie Prince Charlie I' In the midst of this tumult the door was opened. " Dinner is served, your ladyship," said the grave and unseeing butler. So they all stopped, and burst out laughing; and Lady Adela drove the younger folk into the din- ing-room, herself following last with Frank Gor- don. The soup was cockaleekie ; and if there is any form of food more nutritious, and appetizing, and whole- some, then one person who has wandered about the face of the earth a little bit is ignorant of it> But it was not of the viands they were thinking. " Georgie," said Lady Adela (in grave continuation of 'the make-believe), "do you know what Honnor has done to-day ?" " I know what she did in the morning," said Miss Georgie (who also was a tolerable liar), "for I went up to the Geinig to share her lunch with her — not much of a lunch either — biscuits, an apple, and a bottle THE HYPATIA — AND THEREAFTER 85 of milk — and she had got a fifteen-pounder out of the Horseshoe Pool. But it's no use speaking to her — she's just daft with pride about her new waders — " Here the fair damsel suddenly turned to the guest of the eyening. " I wish to explain, Sir Francis, that although Honnor Cunyngham — I mean Lady Eock- minster — ^goes fishing in waders, she preserves perfect decorum ; for she wears a skirt over them — a simple skirt, that doesn't drag, don't you know. And when she has them on, she's as fond of the water as a Newr foundland dog ; yesterday she wouldn't let old Kobert pull the ferry-boat across — she got hold of it by the bow, and dragged it over to the other side — " " Well, really," said Lady Adela, in a most serious manner, "we must have somethiug done at the Bad Step. It is getting to be a more breakneck place than ever, for the shingle is gradually falling to the foot of the precipice ; and how Honnor can clamber down, with a loflg salmon-rod over her shoulder, I don't un- derstand. She won't let old Eobert carry anything now — except the lunch-bag and the gafE — " And so they chattered on — these happy children-^ up here on the still heights, with all the great mur- muring world of London quite forgotten. Then, when the simple banquet was over, young Gordon rose. " I'm going to propose a toast," said he, " and in Highland fashion. I want you all to drink with me to the health of the Lady of the House !" He got up on to his chair, and placed one foot on the table ; the three girls, giggling over the diflSculty of the performance, followed his example, holding their glasses very shakily; Lady Adela, blushing a little, remained seated. And then he called to them : " Suasa ! suasa ! Nish! MsA! To the Baintighear- 86 BEISEIS nal"* He tossed off the claret; he threw the glass over his shoulder, shattering it on the floor ; and the three merry maidens did the like, though they seemed rather glad to get down from their unstable position. And then Lady Adela stood up, shyly, and made a pretty little bow. "It's awfully good of you," said she. "I'm sorry I can't make a speech. I'm awfully sorry. But if you will allow me, I will propose another and a more important toast that I think will appeal to you — if you recall bygone days it will appeal to you — maybe — maybe it will even raise a lump in your throat — as it's like to do in mine — well, I can't say more — but — but — Here is to Bonnie Scotland !" At this there was a perfect whirlwind of cries. "The land of the hills and glens !" " The land of the heather !" " Strathaivron — and all the friends who have been with us there !" * Then again Lady Adela interposed. "Sib," she said to her sister, "you know, Scotland isn't all skylarking. Come away now, and play some- thing for us — ' Caller Herrin,' perhaps." So they all of them trooped into the drawing-room, and Lady Sibyl got her violin out of its case, while Lady Eosamund sat down to the piano. There was a little tuning ; then the air began ; and the two sisters played very well, for' amateurs ; as clearly as might be the vi- brating strings of the violin spoke their pathetic mes- sage : ' Buy my caller herrin, They're bonnie fish and halesome farin', Buy my caller herrin, * Up with it, up with it ! — Now, now ! — to the Lady of the House !" THE HTPATIA — AKD THEBEAFTBK 87 New drawn frae the Forth. Wha'U buy my caller herrin, They're no brought here without brave darin'. Buy my caller herrin, Ye little ken their worth. Wha'U buy my caller herrin — O you may ca' them vulgar farin' : Wives and mithers, maist despairin', Ca' them lives o' men.' But no sooner had Lady Eosamund risen from the piano than Georgie Lestrange took her place. " Oh, that kind of thing will never do !" she ex- claimed (though her own eyes were brimming with tears), and thereupon she dashed into the lively strains of ' Hey, Johnnie Cope, are ye waukin yet, And are your drums a-beating yet 1 If ye were waukin, I wad wait, To meet Johnnie Cope in the morning !' She suddenly stopped. She pretended to hear some- thing. She ran to one of the windows. " Listen, you people, listen !" she cried. " It's Kod- erick — and Colin — they've brought home the stag!" Then she called out into the dark : " How many points, Eoderick ? Twelve points ? A Royal ? Well done ! And why are you so late ? Couldn't catch the pony ? Wasn't it hobbled ? But it had to be chased all the same ? And you couldn't stop it till it got down to the Glaisyer burn ? And in the dark the strapping of the stag on to the saddle wasn't easy ? Well, I should think not ! Now you go round to Jeffries and tell him that you and Colin are to have an extra glass of whis- key to-night ; and I've no doubt, seeing it's a Eoyal, that Sir Francis will give each of you a couple of sov- ereigns in the morning. And in the mean time," con- 88 BEISEIS tinned this giddypated lass, turning to her audience, "ladies and gentlemen, since there are just enough of you for a reel, we must celebrate the coming home of the stag." , She went quickly back to the piano, and again struck her hands on the keys. What the frantic reel or strathspey was they did not stay to consider ; the well- known air had all of them at once to their feet, facing their partners ; and before they knew what they were about these laughing folk were going through elabo- rately intricate evolutions, with many a wild 'hooch !' thrown in to stimulate Georgie's intoxicating music. It was at this -point that the drawing-room door was opened, and once more the calm-visaged butler made his appearance. "Lord Rockminster," he said, in an absent kind of fashion.. There advanced into the room a portentously tall man — a man in his way Just as handsome as his three beautiful sisters ; and when he had recovered from his momentary bewilderment, and when the confusion had been quelled, he said : " Very sorry to interrupt ; but I've some news — I hope for every one of you. I've been writing and writ- ing for the last fortnight ; but the final telegram only came this evening. I've taken Glen Skean Castle for the autumn. Now, look here, Addie, to begin with you : Cunyngham is perfectly well aware that the Strathaivron moor must be let alone for the next two years — it will take all that time to recover. So I con- sider that he and you are booked. I won't take any refusal. And you. Miss Lestrange — may we count on you ?" " The prospect is Just heavenly !" said Georgie, with her eyes gleaming delight. THE HTPATIA — AND THEREAFTER 89 "You, Sft)?" " Of course !" " You, Rose ?" " Me, too, please !" said the youngest of the sistiers. "As for Gordon," continued this tall person, who was generally known as 'Eock,' "we simply can't do without him on the Twelfth ; and besides, there are two beats on the Skean— ^with a sprinkling of forty- pounders, I am told; and he can exchange with Hon- nor just as they may choose. And then I'm going to ask the Prince and Princess, if they haven't gone back to Monteveltro. What do you say as regards yourself, Gordon ?" * " I'm on — awfully good of you," was the instant response. " So that's all settled," said Lord Eockminster, plac- idly,. " And now, drop your tomfoolery, and let's go into the dining-room, and have some cigarettes, and soda-water, and things." What time that party broke up (for they were not yet done with Bonnie Scotland) it is needless to inquire ; but at last, at the door, the ladies came along to bid Eockminster and Frank Gordon farewell ; and the younger of the two men said : " Lady Adela, I really don't know how to thank you. It has been the grandest night I ever spent in Lon- don." "And about the maddest, I should think," said she, laughing, as she gave him her hand. CHAPTER VII A GEEEK SLAVE "N'ow, Briseis, dear/' said Mrs. Alexander Elliott to her niece, as these two were seated in the somewhat dusky dining-room of a large house in Devonshire Place, Kegent's Park, "you must not think me unfeeling if I try to explain a few matters to you, though no doubt you are tired after so long and fatiguing a journey. You see, it is absolutely necessary. I fear you did not pay much heed to what Mr. Murray the lawyer told you ; you were so completely overcome by what had hap- pened — naturally ; you did not seem to understand that your little fortune was as good as gone ; and not only that, but your uncle appears to have been eating into his own small capital to give you the six-per-cent. in- terest regularly, and keep you in ignorance. Well, he has made you what reparation he could ; he has left you every penny he possessed ; though I did think he was going to do something for Olga and Brenda — if it was impossible about Edward — " " Aunt Clara," cried the girl, " my cousins shall have the money ! — they must take the money. I can earn my own living. I can go back to Athens — and teach English—" " Leave me a little self-respect," said the pale-faced, anxious-eyed widow, with some semblance of pride. "You were confided to my care; and I have always endeavored to do my duty. And sometimes the struggle A GREEK SLAVE 91 has been a hard one — yes, sometimes very hard — harder than you might imagine. But now, Briseis, I wish to explain further : the interest on this money that your uncle has left you will not do much more than keep you in clothes, with a trifle for your pocket — and so far you are independent ; while here is a home for you, and a hearty welcome ; only, I — I was going to make an appeal to you — ^whether you would mind lending a hand about the house — " " I will do anything — anything. Aunt Clara — and be delighted!" cried Briseis, most cheerfully. "I have been so idle and useless^nothing but amusement. Tell me what I can do !" " Of course I would not ask you to do anything me- nial ; but it is different when family affection is the motive — " " Tell me what I can do !" "Well, for example," continued Aunt Clara, rather apprehensively, "there are your cousins Olga and Brenda : they are the dearest and sweetest girls ; but their temperaments are extremely sensitive ; and they have to be studied, in the smallest particulars, or some serious illness might ensue. Each of them has to have a cup of tea taken to her room every morning at seven — " " I will take up the tea to them !" exclaimed Briseis — as if it were a privilege. " Oh, would you ? — would you be so very obliging ?" said the widow, with the somewhat sad and yet resolute face showing instant relief. " That will be so good of you ! And then at nine each has her breakfast in her own room — and it is such a busy hour — ^there are so many of us — " " But I will carry up breakfast to them !" said Briseis, with the beautiful black eyes wondering. Was this all that was to be demanded of her ? 93 BRISEIS Of a sudden the door was thrown open, and there marched into the room a flabby-faced, flaxen-haired girl of about eighteen, whose naturally pallid skin was flushed with anger and vexation. " I will stand this no longer," she said, hotly. " I will not be insulted by lodgers. Either they leave the house or I do. Why should I be insulted by lodgers ? What else are they ? Oh, yes, I know ! Young ladies of good family, who are to be introduced to polite society — and this big house is kept up on their account — and every one put to the greatest inconvenience and worry — " " My dear Olga \" — but no heed would she take of the feeble protest. "Young ladies of good family ! Country bumpkins who come to town to be taken to a few concerts and private views ! And I will not stand it any longer. I will not be insulted — I will not — I will not ! I will not be told that I have the temper of a hedgehog ! That Bingham girl — that cat, Ada Bingham — must leave the house — or I do !" And therewith she flounced out of the room again, slamming the door behind her. The poor mother was all trembling. Presently she said, in a limp kind of way : " It's so dreadfully inconsiderate of any one to cross her, if you think of her sensitive temperment. If she was as dull and commonplace and thick-skinned as most girls, I dare say she wouldn't mind ; but now this will just break her down. I know what she will do ; she will go straight to her bed, in complete col- lapse ; and every hour she will have to have scrambled eggs and tea sent to her — keeping a maid coming and going the whole day long. It's so inconsiderate of Miss Bingham. And yet I cannot afford to quarrel with her. I must find some means of soothing Olga's wounded feelings — " A GEBBK SLAVE 93 " Shall I go Tip to her room. Aunt Clara/' said Briseis (who was insensately anxious to be of use, no matter iii what direction), " and try to pacify her ?" " Oh, no — oh, no !" exclaimed the mother, in great alarm. " She would fling things at you — 1 mean — I mean, she might not understand — she wants some one who knows her ways. And I suppose I must go now and see about the scrambled eggs." As she said this, she sighed, and rose from her chair. But the next moment all her countenance lighted up with an expression of the greatest kindness and affec- tion ; for there came into the room — or rather hobbled in on crutches — a poor small lad of twelve or thirteen. This was the only one of her cousins whom Briseis had not as yet encountered ; and she had no sooner set eyes on him — regarding his friendly glance, his modest de- meanor, and the gallant efEort he made to shake hands with her, despite the crutches — than she knew that here was a little gentleman. She took a liking to him from the first instant. "Cousin Briseis," he said, eagerly, as soon as his mother had gone away to look after the afflicted Olga, " you are from Greece : have you seen the Plain of Marathon ?" "Oh, yes, many a time," she said, in her pleasantest manner ; and she could be extremely pleasant, both with voice and looks. " When you go up Pentelicus — you know that is where the quarries are, where they got the marble for the temples on the Acropolis — you look right across the Plain of Marathon." "And Salamis ?" said this poor chap with the pinched features and the wide-staring blue eyes. " Oh, yes ; you can see the Bay of Salamis from any of the heights about Athens. Quite close by." "And Thermopylae ?" 94 -BEISEIS "Ah, that's much further away — and one doesn't often go round by that part of the coast." "I suppose you haven't been as far as Troy ?" he said, with the same wistful, imaginative intensity. " You couldn't tell me what the country is like ?" "Well, I have sailed past it," said she, good-nat- uredly; "but there's not much to be seen from the steamer. First you come in sight of Mount Ida — " " Many-f ountained Ida !" he exclaimed, breathlessly. " — that's inland from Cape Baba. And then you have Tenedos on your left — Tenedos is a yellowish- looking island. But the shores of the Troad are ruddy, as far as I remember'; and what you chiefly notice are a number of queer little wind-mills — at- tached to the wine-presses, you know — " "Briseis," said he — for his mind was extraordinarily alert, jumping from one subject to another with as- tonishing swiftness — "what is the meaning of 'Zoe mou, sas agapo ' ?" " That is ' My Life, I love you !' But you seem to have read a great deal, Adalbert." The boy's lips quivered, and his eyes filled. "What else have I had to do, Briseis ?" he said, looking down. " I have never been allowed to go to school — I have never had any games." But the next moment he had plucked up his courage. " Briseis, do you know the story of General Gordon at Khartoum ? They say that when he knew he was going to be killed, he put on his full uniform, and took no weapoit of any kind with him, no revolver or sword, and he went and stood at the top of the staircase, and waited for them, and faced them in that way when they rushed in." He looked at her for a moment. " I believe you could have done that. Cousin Briseis." " What ?" she cried, in amazement. A GREEK SLAVE 95 "Yon know, you are very pretty," he said, in a simple and yet earnest kind of fashion. "You won't mind my saying it — for I'm only a boy — and I want you to be a chum of mine ; but there's something more than that about you. I think you should have a gold helmet on your head — and you should have a double- handed sword — and you could hew them down !" " I ?" said she, laughing outright. " I ? Why, I jump on to a chair if I catch sight of a mouse !" " That's different," he said, doggedly. " That's dif- ferent. I believe you would have held a shield in front of Horatius when he kept the bridge. Of course you must be brave. You have been brought up within sight jaf Salamis, and Marathon, and Thermopylae. Of course you must be brave. I think you could stand at a door, with a double-handed sword in your hands — if you were defending any one you cared for — and it would be a bad lookout for the other people — " "Well, well, Adalbert," said she, with the beautiful, soft, dark eyes smiling, "who would have thought that I could be so ferocious ? I'm afraid you haven't guessed rightly this time. It won't be long before you find out what a coward I am. Only, you and I are going to be chums — that's agreed." Just then Mrs. Elliott returned — despondent and almost despairing. " Oh, it's dreadful !" she said. " The poor darling child is quite broken down. And Miss Bingham re- fuses to send a single word of apology. And that means a maid's services lost for the whole day," But at this she pulled herself together — for she was a woman with many cares, who had little time for repining. "Briseis," she said, "would you be so extremely kind as to take Adalbert out now, for a turn in the Park ? He generally goes out at this hour — I am so sorry to 96 BBISEIS trouble you — but things seem to be going against me—" " Why, Aunt Clara/' said Briseis, at once jumping to her feet, "you should have told me before I" And away she went to fetch her hat. When she came down again she discovered what was expected of her. There was an invalid-chair in the hall, and the poor lad was waiting. She did not hesitate for a moment. She got the chair out and on to the pavement ; she assisted hei* cousin to his place; she carried back his crutches into the house ; and then she set forth, she pnshirfg the chair, while he directed its course. It never occurred to her to ask whether this was a menial task or whether the motive was family afEectioji ; and as little did she stay to consider whether the people in the Marylebone Eoad might fancy she was a nursery- maid in charge of a perambulator. She was happy in having something to do ; and she was interested in this small gentleman, whose intrepid valor, unluckily, had all to be of the subjective kind — a mere mirror and reflection of what he might have wished for in actual life. And then the day was quite cheerful — for London ; a breezy day with blue and white skies shining down through the prevailing pale mist ; and when they had passed in by York Gate and entered upon the winding avenues of feathery ash, and sturdier sycamorcj and tall, rustling, swaying poplars, throughout this world of leafage there was a perpetual soft murmur as of the sea. Then they made their way to the lake ; and there was a shimmering silver on the water, with olive-green reflections under the banks ; and there were bobbing ducks and stately swans ; and all the busy life of the small boy-mariners adventuring their tiny craft on the bosom of the rippling and glancing main. Not at all ONLY, YOU AND I AKK GOING TO BE CHUMS A. GREEK SLAVE 97 a dismal place — for London ; and her crippled cousin seemed to know its quietest nooks and recesses ; pres- ently they had drawn up by a wooden bench, where there was comparative solitude, and she could sit there while he talked to her. " Cousin Briseis," said he, " you are an Elliott too, you know ; did you ever hear of the Lion of Liddes- dale?" She confessed her ignorance. ""Well, if you will look in the pouch at the back of the chair, you will find a volume of ballads ; and in it is ' Lock the door, Lariston ' — I wish you would read it aloud to me — ^it sounds so much better when you hear some one else repeat it." She did as she was bid ; she searched in the cunning receptacle, that she discovered to be filled with books and magazines, chiefly of wild adventure ; and at last she was ready to begin her recitation : 'Lock the door, Lariston, lion of Liddesdale — Lock the door, Lariston, Louther comes on ; The Armstrongs are flying. The widows are ciying. The Castletoun's burning, and Oliver's gone.' She did not in the least know what the story was about; but as she proceeded she could see that this poor lad's sensitive physique was all tremulous with excitement, and his look was keen and exultant. ' Why dost thou smile, noble Elliott of Lariston 1 Why does the joy-candle gleam in thine eye ? Thou bold border-ranger. Beware of thy danger. Thy foes are relentless, determined, and nigh.' Nay, as she finished — 5 98 BKISEIS ' See how they wane, the proud file of the Windermere, Howard, ah ! woe to thy hopes of the day, Hear the rude welkin rend While the Scots' shouts ascend : "Elliott of Lariston, Elliott for aye !'" — he turned to her, his face quite pale with emotion — "Are yon not proud of being an Elliott, Briseis ?" he demanded. > "I had never read the ballad before," she said, more calmly. ' ' And yo a have such a beautiful voice V he exclaimed. " You could read anything — I mean, you could put the right sound into it. I can hear your voice now — ring- ing. It is wonderful. Briseis — if you don't mind — there's Campbell's Poems in the bag there — if you were to ^et them out — I think you are the only one I ever knew who could recite ' Ye Mariners of England ' — would you mind ?" She hunted about, and found the book. "I hope I am not troubling you too much," said the small gentleman. "I only want you to repeat one verse. It's ' Britannia needs no bulwarks ' — " And so she pronounced the lines — as nobly as she could : 'Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep ; Her march is o'er the mountain-waves, Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak. She quells the floods below, As they roar on the shore When the stormy winds do blow ; When the battle rages loud and long. And the stormy winds do blow 1' " But you make one mistake," said he, rather disap- pointedly. " It should be winds, not winds. Am I A GREEK SLAVE 99 bothering you too much, Cousin Briseis — will you read it again ?" She was a most biddable creature. Again she read the Terse, this time altering her pronunciation to give the sonorous winds : "As they roar on the shore When the stormy winds do blow ; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow !" "Isn't it splendid I —splendid !" he cried, his frail frame almost panting with enthusiasm. "And aren't you glad you are of English blood ? And Greek blood, too, of course. Briseis, tell me about Greece. Were you ever near the island that Ulysses came back to, when his dog recognized him ? That was — well, I for- get — but his dog knew him — " "Oh, that was Ithaca — Thiaki they generally call it now : I used sometimes to go and stay there for a week or two with a cousin of my father's — " "And what is it like — what is it actually like now, Briseis ?" he said, with his eyes again grown eager and visionary. " Why, the most beautiful island you' ever beheld !" she went on, only too glad that she could amuse him. "Very mountainous in most parts — with sheltered bays down at the coast — and gardens round the villas — and white terraces — and olive groves along the hill-slopes. I used to climb up through these olive groves until I could get a wide view of the other islands ; and it was just like fairy-land, the color was so fine and clear — you would think ever3rthing was transparent, though here and there was a sprinkling of tall black cypresses. And then you can't imagine how intensely blue the sea is — and you watch the gayly colored boats with their 100 BRISBIS double sails like the wings of a bird — and sometimes the sails are white, but mostly they're a rich ruddy brown. I never did get so high up as the summit of Mount jSltos — that is where the ruins are that they call the Castle of Ulysses ; but I may be more fortunate some other time ; and then I hope you may be there too—" She suddenly stopped — and a flush of frightened em- barrassment sprang to her- forehead. How could she have been so heedless and cruel as to talk to this poor maimed lad — even in the innocent prattle with which she had sought to entertain him — of any attempt on his part to scale the rough slopes of Mount iEtos ? How- ever, if he had taken notice, he would not reveal the fact. He betrayed neither mortification nor resent- ment. He only said, gently : "I think we ought to be going back now, Briseis. Mamma does not like any one to be late for luncheon." They did get back in time ; and a very queer meal that luncheon proved to be. First of all, just as Bri- seis had assisted her cousin Adalbert to get into his chair at the table, there came into the dining-room the younger sister, Brenda — a stout, lumpish girl, with yellow hair, white eyelashes, and about the sulkiest mouth that mortal man or woman ever beheld. She had met Briseis before, so she passed on without a word. Then Mrs. Alexander Elliott appeared, followed by three young ladies — three pleasant-complexioned, rather countrified misses, who, as they were introduced to the foreign stranger, wore a look of unaccountable shyness, not to say dismay. What that extraordinary expression betokened Briseis could not imagine ; but she was soon to learn. Meantime they all took their places ; and then ensued a period of constrained wait- ing, almost in silence. The anxious mother kept glanc- A GREEK SLAVE 101 ing nervously towards the door ; the maid at the side- board was evidently listening. And at last, after a considerable delay that every moment became more de- pressing, there lounged into the room, with his hands in his pockets, a tall, cadaverous, supercilious-lookiilg youth, who lazily strolled along to the chair at the head of the table, without a syllable of apology to any one. It was his mother who spoke for him. "You must excuse Edward," she said in a low voice to Briseis. " He is so busy with his studies. And he does not like us to begin without him." Then the frugal luncheon was served ; and again Aunt Clara turned to Briseis — this time talking in tones that all should hear. "Do you know, Briseis, I have been told that you are a most accomplished linguist ; and I am sure you will agree with me that there is nothing more valuable, for a young girl going into society, than fluent French — not the French of the school-room and grammars, but the French that people actually speak. And it has occurred to me — you are so friendly and obliging — that if our conversation at lunch-time were to be ex- clusively in French — " " What rot !" muttered the medical student at the head of the table. " — and if you would be so kind as to suggest any more correct phrases or elegant idioms to the dear girls there — " The fear on the faces of the three young ladies deep- ened to fright ; and now Briseis understood. It had been the dread of having to talk to her in French that had been at the bottom of their incomprehensible shy- ness when they came into the room. Nevertheless, Briseis bravely buckled to her task ; she tried to en- courage them; she asked them, in sufficiently simple 102 BEISBIS phrases, about their pursuits and occupations, and so forth. Each of them kept her eyes resolutely fixed on her plate, doubtless hoping that one of the others respond ; and as all three were of the same mind, the result was a most ghastly stillness. At last Mrs. Elli- ott made a piteous appeal to Miss Bingham, who had caused the tragedy of the morning. "Ada, why don't you answer Miss Valieri ? You need not fear criticism. You know French well enough — dnly, of course, you have not had much practice." And then, indeed, the poor lass — with her face grown all rosy-red — made a desperate plunge. " Je suppose, mademoiselle," said she, in a gasping sort of way, "qu'on parle Prangais k la cour d'Ath- 6nes ?" Briseis politely informed her that no doubt that must be so sometimes ; but that the favorite language of the Court of Athens was English. The next girl was not to be outdone : " Comment prononcez-vous, mademoiselle, le nom de I'lle oil vpus etiez nee — ^gina, ou jEgeena ?" In reply the obliging Briseis (if she was inwardly laughing, she made no sign) gave her the modern Greek pronunciation of the name of the island — which the wise virgin was too prudent to attempt to re- peat. Then the youngest must have a try as well. " Dans les rues d'Ath^nes, mademoiselle — est ce que vous avez le — le — le lit 61ectrique ?" There was a prevailing puzzlement for a brief sec- ond, until Miss Ada rather angrily nudged her young neighbor. " La lumi^re — ^la lumi^re !" she said, under her voice. But the youngest was so overcome with confusion that she did not seek to retrieve her blunder ; she col- A GREEK SLAVE 103 lapsed into an ashamed and hopeless silence. The .other two, howeyer, having gained a little courage, went on with their Ollendorflan questions ; while Miss Brenda remained sulkily apart, and the medical stu- dent, muttering in half -heard English, grumbled about the hardness of the cold boiled beef. Immediately lunch was over, the company broke up, the young ladies dispersing to their several rooms to get ready for a walk in the Park, accompanied by Miss Ada's maid — for Miss Ada's parents were kind enough to let her have a maid all to herself. And then Mrs. Elliott asked Briseis to go with her to the drawing- room, where they found themselves alone. " I think you will soon begin to perceive how I am situated, Briseis, dear," said the much-enduring widow. " I have a hard fight to make both ends meet ; but then, as I often say,- 1 have my reward ; there are few mothers have such reason to be proud of their children as I have of mine. At the same time, it is a hard striiggle. It takes a great deal of planning, and man- agement, and tact — especially as regards the servants ; they know they have too much work for their number ; but I cannot afford to engage more ; and yet I must keep up this big house — with its large drawing-room — for my receptions ; and also for — for — these young ladies who stay with me. But I was speaking of the servants : well, they have to be treated with the great- est consideration, or I don't know what might not hap- pen. For example, I never ring the bell in this room. That would bring a girl up to see what was wanted ; then she would have to go down to fetch it ; then a third time coming up, and a fourth going down again. Whereas, if you go to the top of the kitchen stair, and call to them, you get what you want at once, and they don't keep grumbling." 104 BEISEIS " I quite understand. Aunt Clara," said Briseis, after this ingenious preamble. "And that is what I was coming to," continued the harassed widow, with rather a timid and apprehensive look; "you see, the maids sit down to their dinner presently, and. they do not like being disturbed. I was thinking — whether you would mind going and asking cook to prepare some more scrambled eggs and tea for poor dear Olga ; and then, when they are ready, I'm sure you wouldn't object to taking them up to her room. It is more than an hour since she has had any- thing ; and the poor darling is quite upset if she thinks she is neglected. It preys on her mind so ; and the worry simply destroys her nerves — something quite dreadful might happen — " " Oh, I will go at once, Aunt Clara !" said Briseis — for of course this was no menial duty ; the motive was family affection. " And now I can get off to my tradesmen's books," said Aunt Clara, at once hurrying away. So Briseis went down and saw the cook, and ingra- tiated herself with that important person, and finally obtained the wherewithal for Miss Olga's repast. Then she proceeded up stairs to her cousin's room. She knocked at the door. " Come in ! — oh, it's you ? Put the tray down on that little table, please." The flabby-cheeked girl, with her dull straw-colored hair dishevelled on the pillow, was lying in bed, read- ing a ladies' paper that appeared to consist chiefly of fashion plates and advertisements ; and as soon as she had issued her > orders she resumed her devotion to those luxuries. But the next instant she had changed her mind. " Has that cat Bingham been turned out of the A GREEK SLAVE 105 house ?" she demanded, turning her vindictive gray eyes upon Briseis. " I believe she has gone for a walk in the Park, with the others," was the placid reply. " I did not ask you that — I asked you whether she had been turned out of the house — yes or no I" she said, with considerable insolence. "Kow, Olga, be reasonable — do be reasonable!" Briseis pleaded. " Think what that would mean to your mother ; for the others would most likely leave as well. And I'm sure Miss Bingham did not mean any harm — " " I will not endure being insulted," she said, fierce- ly. "1 don't care whether they all leave or not — a blessed riddance ! I will not be insulted by a cat like that ! — I will not ! — I will not ! And here I remain until Miss Bingham sends me a formal apology. And if she doesn't, very well, then I shall be ill. I know it. It has happened before — I shall be ill — and then what will they do ? — " " Come, come, now, Olga," her cousin said, in answer to this threat, "be reasonable. And I am quite sure Miss Bingham will say she is sorry she vexed you. There's another thing I meant to tell you. I haven't had time to open my trunk yet ; and all my few belong- ings are in it ; among them some embroidered silk ker- chiefs that my mother gave me when we were in Broussa — of the strangest colors they are, and yet very beautiful — and I am sure they would interest you — and you might choose one for yourself if you wished. Will you come to my room and look at them ?" The coverlet was whisked aside in a moment ; and as soon as Miss Olga was on her feet, she undid the buttons of her white dressing-gown, which forthwith dropped on to the floor. It was now manifest that she had 5* 106 BEISEIS never really gone to bed at all ; she had merely slipped this upper garment over her ordinary costume, and hidden herself beneath the coverlet. And it was in her ordinary costume that the still impenitent Olga now followed her cousin to her room. That was but one of the many events of the day, so far as Briseis was concerned ; but there was an abun- dance of others ; the next of these being her endeavor to propitiate the reluctant Miss Bingham. Thereafter, all through the afternoon and evening, her time seemed to be continually under requisition ; she was asked to do this and do that, always as a favor ; until her final task turned out to be going to Brenda Elliott's room and reading to that sulky damsel until she fell asleep. But at last she was enfranchised, a little after eleven o'clock — she having arrived in London that morning at a quarter to eight ; and then she got away to her own small chamber, and went to bed happy (perhaps with some occasional back thoughts not quite so happy) ; for at least she had tried to do her best — and that in a right cheerful frame of mind. CHAPTER VIII BY MOOR AND KILL It was early morning on the Twelfth of Atignst — a, golden morning that spread abroad a soft and wistful radiance, so that all the surrounding landscape seemed ethereal and dreamlike : the deep, wide valley — the winding waters of the Skean, here a flashing silver, yonder a pale turquoise — away on the other side yellow- green slopes, with tiny white dots telling of crofters' cottages — above these the purple shoulders of the dis- tant hills receding into the cloudless sky — and then, still further away, towards the east, and south, and west, rampart upon rampart of giant mountains, grown almost visionary in the pellucid atmosphere — it was on this still, placid, golden morning that the Prince of Monteveltro, his host Lord Eockminster, Sir Hugh Cunyngham of the Braes, and young Frank Gordon were strolling up and down the terrace in front of Glen Skean Castle, each of them smoking a cigarette. The Castle was a large gray building, or rather pile of buildings, of quite modern date — though the square towers, the machicolated walls, and mullioned windows sufficiently revealed the origin of its architecture ; it was picturesquely situated, on a high plateau overlook- ing the broad and fertile strath ; while at the back it was sheltered from the western storms by a belt of dark green pines. There was not much sign of life about, though occasionally the glimmer of a skirt crossed the inner recesses of the hall. 108 BEISEIS Monseigneur appeared to be a trifle uneasy and im- patient ; now and again he twisted the waxed ends of his long and drooping mustache ; he kept glancing from time to time towards the portico, where no carriage was as yet visible. At length he threw away his ciga- rette. "When do we go?" he said, in excellent English. "Is it not time to start ?" "There's no hurry," said the tall, and handsome, and lazy Eockminster, in his impassive way. "The wagonette will be round shortly ; but the keepers and the dogs won't be up at the moor yet awhile." "It's the greatest possible mistake," said Sir Hugh — a short, powerfully-built, clear-eyed, brisk-looking man, with plenty of decision about his mouth — "the greatest possible mistake to make too early a start on the Twelfth. The birds should be allowed to have their breakfast comfortably, and get settled down in the heather. Faith, they'll lie close enough to-day ! Awful hard luck on the dogs. No scent. It's going to be a regular scorcher !" At this moment a rumble of wheels was heard, and the next moment a wagonette, drawn by a pair of beautiful bays, appeared at the end of the drive, and presently was pulled up in front of the portico. There was a little commotion — for the women-folk of the party were now coming out to the hall door ; and thus it was that Lord Eockminster managed to get a side- word with young Gordon of Grantly. "Look here, Gordon," said he, so as not to be over- heard, "when we begin work, what do you say as to our order of march ? The Prince tells me he knows nothing, absolutely nothing, of grouse-shooting — never saw a grouse. Shall we put him in the middle, and you and Cunyngham on the outside — to retrieve mis- BY MOOE AND KILL 109 takes ? I sha'n't bother you much — I don't care about it — I may as well be a middle-man — " " Oh, but you needn't be afraid of my step-papa !" Frank Gordon said. "Not a bit! He's a rattling good shot — a nailer ! — when he knows what kind of thing he has to expect. And that's what he doesn't know here ; he'll want a friendly lead ; and if you don't mind I'll look after him. Of course he may be a little bit nervous at first. His great ambition in this country is to do everything correctly, as an ordinary English gentleman would. You see, he is quite famil- iar with the silly burlesques of the foreign sportsman in England that appear in plays and comic magazines — idiots in Der Freischutz costumes, who shoot sparrows with rifles,; and all that rubbish has made him desper- ately anxious to be just like everybody else. Look at his get-up now — how's that ?" And indeed the Prince's attire was severely accurate, from the deer-stalker's cap and belted Norfolk jacket to the knickerbockers of homespun, the greenish stock- ings, the brown gaiters, and nailed shoes. But by this time all the ladies of the house had come out into the portico ; and a very charming group they formed, in their costumes of lightest material and brightest color ; a kind of flower garden they seemed to be, on this shin- ing summer morn. Then one of them — a ruddy-haired young creature wearing a pince-nez — as the sportsmen were getting into the wagonette, stepped forward, and there was a propitiatory smile on her pert and pretty features. " Monseigneur," said she, holding up between thumb and forefinger a small glittering coin, " you must take this with you." He could not refuse to accept the new sixpence ; but he was somewhat bewildered. 110 BRISEIS " That's for good luck," Frank Gordon explained. "Put it in your pocket, sir, and you'll have all the best chances ; you'll have everything your own way." But that was not in the least Miss G-eorgie Le- strange's idea ; for she, blushing a little, passed round the wagonette, giving to each of the others one of these brilliant .talismans; then the coachman removed the brake, there was a fluttering of handkerchiefs from the front of the portico, and soon the wagonette had dis- appeared from sight. The route to the moor lay at first alongside the steep banks of the river Skean ; and down through the hang- ing birches and the tall bracken they got glimpses of the deep gray chasms and the still brown pools — for there had been a long drought, and the stream had dwindled away almost to nothing. Here on board the wagonette there was not much mirth, or even talkativeness ; there was rather a sort of subdued- excitement ; even to an experienced sportsman the morning of the Twelfth brings an unusual sensation ; for one thing he cannot forecast whether he is going to shoot well or ill. Then they left the densely wooded valley, and gradually as- cended until they had reached a height almost on a level with the distant Glen Skean Castle ; a gate was opened, and they entered upon a rude track apparently leading up into the mountains : they were now with- in the outskirts of Corriefruin deer-forest. " A forest ?" cried the Prince, with his eyes staring. " Is that what you call in Scotland a forest ?" It was a still and sombre scene— that vast extent of bare and undulating moorland, seamed and scarred with deep peat-hags half filled with stagnant water ; then far away beyond this voiceless plain rose the al- most precipitous slopes of the lower hills ; and above these again the sterile peaks of Aonach M6r (the Great BY MOOE AND BILL 111 Solitude), with a glimmer of snow among the less-ex- posed crevices. Not a sound came from this barren wilderness ; not a living creature moved — for the deer, in the settled fine weather, had withdrawn to the seclu- sion of the higher valleys ; a brooding solitariness seemed to have gained possession of this lonely world, on which it seemed a kind of sacrilege to intrude. Yet here was a fair summer morning : what would such a place be like on a wild night of storm, with the winds sweeping over the desolate waste, and the thunder rumbling along the glens, and the shafts of splintered lightning striking down from the crags of Aonach M6r, and startling the black heavens and the black earth into a sudden and lurid life ? And so they made their way into this silent domain — the horses dragging laboriously — until, after two or three miles, . they arrived at a long, low building of wood and zinc that had been erected as a temporary stable, and also for the convenience of luncheon par- ties; and here the occupants of the wagonette got down and proceeded on foot. They had not gone very far, however, when it became evident that the still air and the ever -increasing heat in this vast hollow be- tween the hills were beginning to tell on Mgr. le prince de Monteveltro ; perhaps fashionable life in Vienna and Buda-Pesth had got the hardy mountaineer out of proper condition ; at all events, when they at last did join the picturesque group of keepers, gillies, ponies, and panniers waiting for them by the side of the track, instead of taking his gun from the youth who had been specially told off to wait on him, the Prince sat down on a big stone, and mopped his forehead, and brought forth his pocket-flask. " Get me some water," he said, panting, to young Angus. 113 BRISEIS The lad took the cup, and went down to the trick- ling little burn, and .brought back some water ; the Prince put a dash of whiskey into it ; and he was just about to drink it ofE when — When a most terrific explosion took place — and that apparently quite close by the very stone on which he was sitting: an indescribable Icr-r-r-rl that might have shattered the nerves of the Sphinx ; and the next moment a reddish-brown object was seen to be darting away over the heather with a swiftness as if all the fire-engines in the universe had got compressed into its whirring wings. Frank Gordon had been leisurely putting cartridges into his gun ; he had but half a second in which to snap together barrels and stock and take aim ; there was an echoing report ; and the gay muir-cock, now a considerable distance off, came plumping down. Very neatly done; for it was a nasty cross-shot ; and, moreover, he had been taken unawares. By this time the Prince was on his feet again. "Why," said he to the head keeper, "that bird must have been hiding there since ever you came !" " Yes, monsenior," replied the tall, grave, respectful keeper, "they whiles lie like that. And maybe there's one or two more about. It you'll put cartridges into your gun, I'll lowze the dogs." So they formed into line there and then — young Gordon on the extreme left. Sir Hugh on the extreme right, the Prince and Lord Eockminster (the latter with his gun over his shoulder) between ; the grave Malcolm uncoupled a brace of extremely handsome setters, that joyously set to work ; and the whole party moved warily forward. It turned out, however, that the grouse which had so startled the stranger -guest had been a kinless vagrant ; they descended into the BY MODE AND KILL 113 channel of the burn and up the opposite side without finding anything ; and as the dogs were now ranging freely, they stepped along with more confidence. Then of a sudden one of the setters, that happened to be right in front of the Prince, stopped short and rigid, with eager nostrils and outstretched neck. " Have a care, Wallace, have a care !" muttered the keeper to the other dog, that now also stopped, watch- ing its neighbor with half -frightened eyes. Monseigneur glanced towards his step-son as if to ask what he should do ; and the answer was a wave of the hand telling him to follow the setter ; for the beautiful silken - haired animal, trembling in every limb, was cautiously drawing on. All the guns were now moving slowly forward ; the keeper had stolen up, to encour- age the dog by patting its neck ; and the profound silence was full of a restrained expectancy. Then a wild rattle right in front — a ball of feathered lightning had sprung from the ground and was whizzing along — the Prince put up his gun quickly and fired — and the grouse came tumbling on to the heather, with a single rebound simply by reason of its own weight. At the same moment another bird got up some distance ofE and disappeared over the top of the knoll — and they could hear the warning uk — uk — uk! — comeback — come back — come back ! that he directed to his late com- panion. Nay, they were to see him again ; for while Malcolm was picking up the dead bird, which was a hen, the cock-bird, having made an unseen detour, re- turned to the crest of the knoll, and fluttered down among the heather, where only his small head, with its bright eye and scarlet markings, was visible. And now, if ever there was temptation to shoot a sitting bird, it was on this occasion — if one could avoid sym- pathizing with the faithful spouse who had again faced 114 BEISEIS danger in order to see what had happened to his mate ; for it was perfectly obyious that, the moment he was off again, he would drop down behind the hillock and get clean away. So once more Monseigneur turned with an inquiring glance towards his step-son — who instantly warned him, by gesture of head and hand, that no such thing was to be done ; while almost simul- taneously the grouse settled the matter in his own fashion, for he simply dropped away from his exalted position, and vanished. Perhaps they were all just as well pleased that he had not fallen a victim to con- jugal fidelity. And so they shot their way along these lower slopes, keeping well aside from the Forest ; and as they were now on better ground, the fun waxed brisker and brisker. Moreover, the birds lay very close ; sometimes the dogs ran past them altogether ; and as it was im- possible to say from which mound or dip a bombshell of a covey might not suddenly burst, scattering to every point, there was no lack of watchful exhilaration. As for Monseigneur, he acquitted himself admirably. Of course they did not expect him to observe the niceties of the game ; they did not expect him, when a covey hurtled itself into the air, to single out the old cock ; they looked after that themselves as well as they could; and left him to his discretion. Kr — kr — hr! — went the throbbing -wings ; crack! — crack! — crack! — went the guns; and as only smokeless powder was used, they could easily see what execution was being done. The bag mounted up apace, as the gillie with the pony and panniers came along to pick up the spoil. There was one drawback — nay, there were two ; and both told desperately on the poor Prince, who was some- what corpulent. The first was the overwhelming heat, BY MOOR AND BILL 115 that seemed to deprive one of the power of breathing; the second was a plague of midges, these demoniacal in- sects alighting on any unguarded portion of wrist, or neck, or forehead, and leaving a most vexatious wound, especially if one happened to be of a stout habit of body. Monseigneur suffered inconceivable torment. For even when they came to a hollow down which trickled a small streamlet, and when he would go to the burn-side to get some water (some whiskey and water) to slake his overmastering thirst, then in this sheltered place the midges would attack him more venomously than ever, even creeping under the peak of his cap and get- ting among the roots of his hair. He rubbed his fore- head hard with his handkerchief , and that only produced more pain ; he drank more whiskey to still the fever in his blood, and that appeared to create a kind of delir- ium of despair ; his companions could hear him mut- tering, they knew not in what language ; until at last, from the crest of a slope, there broke upon their sight a beatific vision — a long and narrow table placed out- side the stables, and abundantly set forth with cold meats and cooling drinks, while something very like a pail of ice stood by. " Thank God !" said the Prince of Monteveltro — and no one could object to that pious ejaculation. And here were the Ladies Sibyl and Eosamund Bourne and Miss Greorgie Lestrange, who had driven up in a landau hired from the Skean Bridge Hotel ; and these three were engaged in decorating, with such wild flowers as they could find — milkwort, tormentil, grass of Parnassus, and the like — the snowy cloth that con- cealed the rude construction of the table ; while for a centrepiece they had got a dish of freshly cut heather and sweetgale. "Why, Where's Addie ?" said Kockminster, speaking 116 EKISEIS of his sister, Lady Adela Cunynghani. "And Hon- nor ?" he asked again — speaking of his wife. "Honnor," said Miss Georgie, who was the know-all of the family, "is hurrying through her household affairs to see if she can get an hour on the river, though everybody maintains it isn't a hit o' good. And Adela is busy with her proofs — those fearful proofs ! "Why, she tells me they keep her awake at night : she lies and recalls page after page, dreading to think what she may have passed. I declare it's too bad of the printers," continued the bewitching young damsel of the pince-nez, as she graciously accepted a slice of gal- antine. "Do you know what they made her say in her last book ? — her heroine had to die of an overdose of opium, and they printed it opinion." "A book might die of an overdose of opinion," observed Lord Eockminster, in his dispassionate way, "but a heroine couldn't very well, could she ?" " The worst printers' blunder I ever heard of," Miss Georgina went on, in her demurest manner, " appeared in a Plymouth paper. The report began : ' Last even- ing a banquet was held on the body of a dead seaman that had been found washed ashore at Prawle Point. The coroner, in his opening remarks — ' " " Georgie, you're horrid — you are positively horrid," Lady Kosamund broke in. But at this moment Monseigneur Jumped to his feet, panting and gasping, and frantically rubbing forehead, and ears, and neck. "I can stand it no longer," he exclaimed. "These brutes are perfectly maddening ! — " " They are pretty bad," said Eockminster, calmly. " Here !" the Prince called recklessly to the footman who was doing duty as butler. "Bring me a tumbler BY MOOR AKD KILL 111 half filled with whiskey — quick^ if you please ! — quick, quick !" The- glass was brought, and at once he dipped his table-napkin into it, and began to sponge his face all over, until he was fairly dripping with the fiery fluid. " I don't think you'll find that of much use, sir," said Frank Gordon to his step-father. " I've tried it myself. They seem rather to like whiskey. ' "But I have got something," put in Georgie Le- strange. "I thought they might be plaguing us when we sat still," And away she tripped to the landau, returning therefrom with several layers of a fine silken gauze. "You must cut off Just what you want," she said, addressing the company generally, "and tie it round your head, or fasten it on with a hat. And mind you take plenty, and leave it loose, or else the little fiends will bite through." And thus it fell out that this luncheon was partaken of by seven white-headed ghosts, and that not without difficulty, for they had to be careful about raising their silken veil. But very soon it appeared that Mon- seigneur was impatient to get on again ; he seemed to have some frenzied idea that in movement he might escape from this insufferable cloud of persecutors, which, gauze or no gauze, managed to sting him about the wrists and along the junction of his cap and fore- head ; so the men of the party rose, and lit their ciga- rettes, and presently had summoned the keepers and gillies, leaving the three young ladies to dawdle over the fruit, and biscuits, and iced claret-cup. Now what happened on this afternoon will never be accurately known ; a vague secrecy was maintained by every one concerned ; but it is to be suspected that the hapless Prince, completely overcome by the unendur- able torture inflicted by the midges — ^and also being 118 BEISEIS entirely ignorant of the strength of Highland whiskey ■ — it is to be surmised that he may haye paused some- what too frequently by the side of the babbling little mountain rills, to seek a desperate relief. At all events, when they did get back to the Castle, and when, in his half-demented condition, he had called his valet to him, he declared that nothing would re- duce the fever in his veins but an extremely hot bath ; whereupon that was immediately prepared for him; while the other men went away, to their own rooms, to change and get ready for dinner. So that a consider- able interval occurred ; and it was not until about an hour thereafter that Lord Kockminster, happening to come along by the top of the hall staircase, encoun- tered the Prince's valet, who appeared to be agitated. " My lord," said this pasty-faced person, with his eyes starting out of his head, "I — I hope there's nothing wrong — but^but the Prince has been in the bath-room for such a long time — and I can't hear a sound — would your Iprduhip mind — " His lordship was a man of few words : he at once went along to the end of the corridor in which the Prince's apartments were situated, and there he knocked at the bath-room door. He thought he heard some mumbled sound in reply ; but was not sure ; accordingly he knocked again. This time there certainly was no answer ; so he tried to prize the lock ; and these efforts failing, he was driven to use his shoulder as a battering-ram ; and as he was of great muscular strength and weight, the door eventually flew open. It is a matter for devout thankfulness that on this occasion he was not accompanied by the Presi- dent of the State Council of the Principality of Mon- teveltro and his colleague the Minister for Foreign Affairs. For Monseigneur lay supine in the bath, his BY MOOR AKD KILL 119 head resting on the canvas belt at the upper end, each hand helplessly clutching on to the enamelled zinc. " Can't get out," he said, with a humorous smile. " Sides of the bath too zlippery — very zlippery. Never mind. Quite comfble. No mizzjehs here. Quite comf ble. Sides of the bath awful zlippery — " Eockminster had recognized the situation at a glance. " Oh, come along, Monseigneur, you must get ready for dinner \" he said — and he and the valet together managed to hoist the luckless Prince out of the bath ; and they clothed him in his dressing-gown, and con- veyed him into his bedroom, which fortunately was just next door. " Now you lie down for a while," Eockminster said to him. "And I will send you up some strong tea. You needn't hurry — I will put din- ner off till nine o'clock." Strangely enough, some hour and a half thereafter, when the house party had assembled in the drawing- room, there was no one more sedate, and calm, and outwardly self-possessed than the Prince of Montevel- tro. His forehead, indeed, showed what merciless treat- ment had been dealt him by the midges ; but neither in his manner nor in his speech (except, perhaps, in a certain pretentous and cautious solemnity) was there any trace of the wild relief he had sought for by the margin of the rippling burns ; and as he took his hostess in to dinner — Lady Eockminster was a handsome and distinguished-looking young matron, with chestnut- brown hair and clear hazel eyes — he comported himself with an excellent dignity and gravity. Then they all sat down. All save two. For this dining-hall, quite modem as it was, had been constructed and decorated in Eliza- bethan fashion — oaken panels, tapestry, large mullioned windows, and so forth ; while at the further end, ab'>vei 120 BKISBIS the immense fireplace, there was a small pillared gal- lery, in which were yisible a harp and two music-stands. And as the guests below took their places, the Ladies Sibyl and Eosamund Bourne came into the gallery, the former carrying her violin ; and Lady Eosamund" sat down at the harp ; and presently these two began to play, very softly and gracefully, a cavatina of Lady Sibyl's own composition. "Awfully good-natured of them, isn't it?" said Greorgie Lestrange to hei; neighbor, young Gordon of Grantly. " I call it a great compliment, don't you ? I hope the Prince will be pleased — " "Aren't they going to have any dinner ?" said the young man, with tender compassion in his heart. "Oh, they'll get something — or they've had some- thing," continued the ruddy-haired lass, with blithe in- difference. "That isn't the point. Sibyl is awfully proud of this cavatina, don't you know, and she wants us to hear it effectually. Eather nice, isn't it ? Sounds very well from the gallery, doesn't it ? I think it's a beautiful room, don't you ? And how handsome the Princess is looking to-night — so commanding-looking, so capable-looking — and yet as merry as any one : don't you think so ? Scotch eyes, I should say ; nothing for- eign about her appearance at all. I wonder what rent Lord Eockminster pays for the season — a ripper, I should imagine. Oh, by-the-way. Sir Francis, I sup- pose you've heard that Lady Eockminster has arranged a little dance for to-night — the keepers, and gillies, and Highland maids — in the pavilion — just to give the Prince some small idea of what happens when a stag is brought home ; for I suppose the Prince and Princess won't be able to stay until the stalking begins. And I have been wondering," proceeded the wily maiden, in her artless way, " whether any of us will be expected to BY MOOR AND KILL 131 join in — perhaps for a single reel. I'm rather timorous about it, don't you know — of course, I've often danced a reel, in a scrambling kind of fashion ; but I nerer feel safe unless I have a partner who can pilot me through — " " Will you let me try ?" he said, promptly. ,"0h, I didn't mean that," she made answer, with a pretty and ingenuous blush. " But we'll see what Lady Rockminster has to propose." The payilion of which she had spoken. was a large temporary structure of wood and canvas that had been erected in the grounds a year or two previously on the occasion of the visit of certain members of the English Eoyal Family, and had been allowed to remain ; and when Lord and Lady Eockminster's guests, rising from dinner, proceeded to thread their way through the dark shubberies, they found the great tent brilliantly lit up, and the entrance all hung round with festoons of heath- er. Nay, the merrymaking had already begun; sup- per was over, and the tables had been cleared away ; Eonald the piper, in all his kilted bravery, was up in front of the platform; and the lads and lasses were stepping out to the lively strains of ' Lord Breadalbane's March.' But directly that Eonald caught sight of the visitors he changed his tune ; the pipes broke into a spirited reel ; almost instantly there was a transforma- tion of the nebulous company into definite groups ; then at a given signal away they went in swift and glid- ing and sinuous movement, until the laughing partners faced- each other again, to do their best with pointed toe and uplifted finger and thumb. All this gay tur- moil — the stirring music, the rapid evolutions, the joy- ous 'whoop !' — was not long in throwing its irresistible seduction over certain of the visitors; a 'foursome' was speedily formed — Miss Lestrange and young Gor- don of Grantly, Sir Hugh Cunyngham and his sister- 133 BEISEIS in-law, Lady Rosamund ; and off they went — figures of eight, facing to partners, and round again in nimble manoeuTres — as dexterously as any. And Eonald the piper blew and trilled, and trilled and blew, and trilled and screamed and blew, as though he would have all Glen Loy, and Clunes, and Achnacarry know what doings were going on in Glen Skean. But of a sudden Lord Eockminster — who was merely a spectator — became aware that the Prince was missing ; and as he had not been able to keep an eye on him during dinner — for the Princess of Monteveltro was a brilliant and fascinating talker, and kept her host's attention fully occupied — he grew somewhat anxious. He looked about, and moved about, discreetly ; and at length, to his amazement, he perceived the Prince, at the other end of the pavilion, in a corner all by him- self, engaged in executing a series of the most extraor- dinary springs and gyrations, both hands held high in air. For it appeared "that he had found a partner, and he was imitating as best he could the steps and gestures he had observed in use among the general assemblage ; and as this fancied partner happened to be no other than his own shadow on the canvas wall, the most beautiful time was kept, and Monseigneur, proud of his~ own performance, and proud of the re- sponsive accuracy of his visionary companion, beamed with a bland delight. Eockminster caught him by the arm. " One moment," he said. " Sorry to interrupt. Awful Storm threatening. You'd better come away with me, and we'll get back to the Castle while there's time." The Prince of Monteveltro was a peaceable, good- natured-man ; he suffered himself to be led off, and fortunately there was a door at this end of the pavilion ; while they had no difficulty in finding their way back BT MO&E AND EILL 123 to the Castle, for now there was a ghostly white moon shining from over the crest of Ben-na-Van, and all the paths and terraces were of a silver gray. Hawkins, the pasty-faced vale't, was quickly summoned ; the Prince was easily persuaded to go to bed, when once they had got him smuggled up into his room ; and then Lord Rockminster left to return to the pavilion. There was no great anger and reprobation in his heart ; rather he had a kind of sympathetic pity for an innocent and unsuspecting stranger, who had fallen a victim to the sweltering heat of Highland glens, to the relentless ferocity of Highland midges, and to the insidious dan- gers of loitering by little Highland rills. And yet in throwing out threats of a possible storm, Eockminster had not been altogether romancing. When the ladies had retired to their apartments for the night, he strolled into the billiard -room, to smoke a final cigarette. "I say, Gordon," he observed, in his laconic way, " have you been looking at the glass since lunch-time ? Down a good half-inch. And there's a double halo round the moon. And the trees are beginning to talk. I rather fancy something's going to happen." CHAPTER IX " WITH HEY, NONKT, NONNY " And something did happen. For towards midnight a wind began to come up out of the west, moaning across the solitudes of the forest ; the trees around the Castle were no longer talking among themselves, instead there was an angry and ominous portent in the sway- ing branches ; presently the first heavy drops came pat- tering on the window-panes ; and then, after a wild and spectral glare that lit up all the dark, the growl of the thunder went booming along the hollow glens, fol- lowed by rain that came down in sheets, and continued to do so, hour after hour. Blissful tidings, no doubt, for the half -dozing salmon-fisher ; for of all the rivers in Scotland none rises more quickly than the Skean ; and so it was that he who looked abroad on the next morning— ^ on the tossing and dripping branches of beech, and ash, and rowan, on the stormy sunlight flooding the wide strath, and on the hills grown a heavy purple under the surcharged skies — ^f ound also that the stream was careering down in full spate, its ruddy- indigo surface streaked here and there with threads of foam. Everywhere motion, and vivid color, and rest- less, incessant, fugitive life and change: the startled curlews calling from the distant slopes, the peewits wheeling and circling with sudden alterations of flight, the swallows darting hither and thither over the oily eddies of the poojs. All the world was transformed, "WITH HEY, NONNY, NONNY " 135 and full of an eager activity ; all shining brilliantly, too, after this new baptism. And here was Miss Greorgie Lestrange flying through the house, from corridor to corridor, knocking at the rooms she knew. "Honnor! Honnor ! Haven't you heard? The river has risen two feet ; and Malcolm says you ought to get down at once, before the spate becomes too heavy." And again — at Lady Eosamund's chamber : " Eose ! — Eose ! . Do you know what you are miss- ing ? — ^the most wild and beautiful pictures you ever beheld — changing from minute to minute — Landseers — Peter Grahams — MacWhirters — on every hand. Come along ! — the clouds are down almost to the foot of Aonach M6r, and Ben-na-Van looks thirty miles away — you never saw such splendid effects of sunlight and mist — get up, you lazy !" And again — at Lady Sibyl's room : " Sib ! — Sib ! — it's monstrous you should be so late ! Now is your chance for your storm-symphony, if ever there was one — you should hear the river thundering down through the rocks — and you should hear the fir- woods on the hill. Wake up out of your snoozling ! I declare if only I had a broomstick I could go whirling across the whole breadth of Inverness-shire in about five-and-twenty seconds !" The next person she encountered somewhat mod- erated her mad enthusiasm : it was young Gordon of Grantly, who was on the terrace outside, engaged in fix- ing together an eighteen-foot rod. Here in the early light he looked a wholesome kind of a lad ; and the clear gray-blue of his eye and the sun-tan of his fair complexion caught the open glow of wind and weather, for he wore no overshadowing cap on his head. 126 BEISEIS " Oh, Sir Francis," said she — after salutations — " of course you are going down to the river. And are you taking the Upper Beat, or the Lower Beat ?" " The Upper, I believe," he answered her. " Mal- colm is waiting to go to the Lower Beat with Lady Eockminster. I understand that is the arrangement." " Then you will have that extraordinary old man with you — what is his name ?" "Tod — John Tod — and as ill-conditioned an old scoundrel as ever came up from the south country to malign the gentle Highland folk." Young Gordon could talk a little more freely now, for he had taken the last of the bits of silk thread from between his lips. " Because," said Miss Georgie, in a very shy and in- genuous way, " I have been quite anxious to see this side of the river — the Upper Beat, I mean ; and I have never dared — and for a very good reason. Do you know the forester's cottage just beyond the burn ? Well, there's a bull there ; and not more than three weeks ago he hunted a man up a tree, and kept him there for over an hour. Of course I daren't go near such a beast ; and he roams wild all about the neighborhood, so they say ; but if you and the old fisherman are going up that way, and you would let me walk with you until I was well past the cottage — then, you see — " And naturally he pitied her soft embarrassment, and hastened to assure her that he would be delighted if they could be of any assistance whatever to her : only, what time would she be ready to start ? Whereupon the young lady with the pert nose, and the pince-nez, and the tangled golden-red hair blurted out a still more audacious proposal. " I've been trying to rouse this household up," said she, " but it's no good at all. And it's past the proper "WITH HEY, NOSriTT, IJOKNY" 137 breakfast hour : what do you say — shall we go in and forage for our two selves ? We are quite, entitled to do it ; and Hallett is a great pal o' mine : he'll look after us — you'll see." So this impudent boy and girl went boldly into the dining-room ; and rang for tea and boiled eggs ; and began to cadge for themselves from ofE the sideboard. And meanwhile the fisherman, John Tod, had turned up in the portico : an extraordinary -looking, black-a- vised, elderly man, whose broad and stooping back, and long arms, and short legs gave him something of the appearance of a gigantic crustacean. He was mutter- ing to himself, too, as he began to overhaul the cast- ing-lines, the reels, and salmon -flies that Frank Gor- don had left lying on the table : it was clear that this Dee -side tackle did not wholly commend itself to his professional mind. And then, when all was ready, away through the wild, wet world went these three ; with the sunlight showering diamonds on the leaves of the birches, and the river roaring down between the steep banks, and the far cloud-wreaths, sweeping in from the Atlantic, intertwisting themselves along the lower hills, darken- ing here and lightening there, and occasionally show- ing, through the higher mists, a pale silver thread — a mountain-torrent sprung into existence after the long night's rain. Miss Georgie was in the happiest of spir- its ; she had forgotten all about the bull ; perhaps there was no bull ; at all events, when her companions left the pathway and plunged into certain woodland glades to make down for the stream, she unconcerned- ly went with them, laughing and talking the while. These glades, by-the-way, were not a bit like Scotland ; they rather resembled the Forest of Arden, as it is pre- sented on the stage — wide-branching oaks, tall ferns. 138 BKISEIS masses of meadow-sweety and the like ; while as for the Eosalind who walked by his side — but indeed she was too slight and slim for the part — there was not much of the swashbuckler about this light-hearted lit- tle Rosalind with the ruddy hair. And now they were come to the nearest of the swift-rushing pools. Here Miss Lestrange contentedly sat herself down on a big stone at the foot of an alder -tree, in placid expectation. Nor had she long to wait for the per- formance to begin ; for young Gordon — not wading Tery far in, because of the height of the water — had only made one or two casts when, just as he was about to recover his line, there was a ringing whirr of the reel ; he stumbled backwards (nearly throwing himself into the river) so as to preserve the strain ; and Miss Georgie clapped her hands in delight. " Well done !" she called to him. " A thirty-pound- er ? I'll bet you, a thirty-pounder !" And in truth this invisible creature, so great was the force of the current, did pull like a thirty - pounder ; but that was only for a couple of seconds ; the next moment there was a gleam of silver in the air — and a sea-trout of little over a pound and a half had flashed into the sunlight, and splashed again into the hurry- ing stream. The angler turned to the young lady, and therewas a rueful smile on his face. " How's that for a thirty-pounder ?" he called to her. " Better than nothing !" she replied, courageously. "I must have a bit of it for breakfast to-morrow." The sea - trout got short shrift ; it was hauled in by brute force, knocked on the head, and thrown con- temptuously on the shingle ; while in a minute or two the long line was again going whistling out. But the body of water in this pool was too great ; in vain he thrashed and better thrashed — always with a careful 'WITH HEY, NOKNT, NX)NKY ' 129 eye towards the shallows ; his assiduous labor met with no reward ; and at last he reeled up, and returned to the pensive maiden at the foot of the alder-tree. " Oh, for rain !" said she, looking at him implor- ingly as he drew near. " W-hy doesn't it rain ! Why doesn't it pour a deluge !" "What do you want rain for ?" he demanded. " To drown the midges ! Oh, they're dreadful ! Eain, rain ! — come rain! — come rain ! Just look at this." And therewith and piteously she held out her two wrists, where undoubtedly there were a number of tiny swellings between the delicate blue veins. Of course he expressed his sorrow ; but what else could he do ? "I've got a little bottle of eau-de-Cologne with me," said Miss Georgina, rather timidly, "and if you wouldn't mind taking my handkerchief, and soaking it, and trying whether that would be of any use — " Well, he was not accustomed to wait upon damsels in distress ; but this seemed a simple matter ; and ac- cordingly he took her handkerchief, and steeped it, and tenderly and softly bathed those grievous wounds. It did not occur to him to reflect (1) that she might just as well have done this for herself ; and (2) that if she had been looking forward to midges — as the bottle of eau-de-Gologne appeared to suggest — she might have adopted the precaution of putting on a pair of gauntleted gloves. No matter ; she expressed herself as profoundly grateful ; and then they set out on their travels again, this time in the direction of the Linne nan Nighean,* where there might be a more practicable chance. And as they proceeded through this tangled wilder- ness — the breckans breast-high, the dells of meadow- * Pronounced Leeny nan Nyean — the Maiden's Pool. 6* 130 BEISEIS sweet scenting all the humid air — Miss Georgie was amusing him with her gay and careless prattle ; nor did she pause for an instant to receiTe answers to her artless questions. " I do hope Honnor will get a fish — don't you ? She's awfully nice — isn't she ? And there's a firmer vein of character in her than in Lady Adela and her sisters; you wouldn't find Lady Rockminster paying court to all sorts of nobodies in order to get paragraphs about herself put into the weekly papers. It's a little iindignified — don't you thing so ? But all the three sisters are just wild after notoriety — there's nothing they wouldn't do to bring themselves before the public — they would take an engagement at the Folies Bergfere — to shoot glass balls — any mortal thing. Mind, I'm saying this in strict confidence — you understand ? I wouldn't say it to any one else ; of course not. And at the same time, you know, in spite of that one little weakness, they are the very dearest people — so gener- ous — they would do anything for you ; besides, they are so bright, and clever, and perfectly accomplished — why can't they be satisfied with themselves ? — without little newspaper notices about their books, and their pictures, and their music ? And I'm certain these caravanserai dinners — that's what Sir Hugh calls them — ill-dressed women and ugly men — are just as often thrown away as not. I am convinced of it. Do you suppose Miss Penguin goes to Aivron Lodge to help Lady Adela with her novels ? Not likely ! She goes there for her own purposes — wants to get glimpses of fashionable people, so that she may lash the whole tribe of them for their fearful iniquities. Poor old thing, I suppose she's rather dotty on the crumpet — " "What?" " Slate off, don't yon know ? Oh, by-the-way, Sir "WITH HET, NONNT, NON-JSTT " 131 Francis," continued this debonair lass, but somewliat more demurely, " Miss Penguin has just sent me the new number of the Unmuzzled Magazine ; and the first article in it is from her pen. "Well, it is — yes, it is — precisely so — ^' "What do you mean ?" " There's some plain talk," she observed. " You must let me see it !" But at this she burst out laughing. " Show such a thing to you. Sir Francis ?" she cried. " To an innocent boy like you ? I couldn't accept tlie responsibility ! Why, do you know the title of her essay ? — ' On the Eadical Incompatibility of the Sexes.' And do you know how it begins ? — ' Let the reader imagine for a moment what Eve must privately have thought about Adam' — " " Oh, that's nothing," said he, lightly. " I can imag- ine, too, that Adam had his own little opinions about Eve, when he was smoking his pipe in a quiet corner — " " Ye'U begin jist here, sir," said John Tod, in a fine, broad. Lowland accent ; and with that the colloquy ended. They were now at the top of the Linne nan Nighean — a long, wide, deep pool formed by the junction of the rivers Skean and Rua. And indeed it was an ex- tremely picturesque scene that Miss Georgie found before her — after she had, so to speak, evaded the bull; for the Rua was roaring and racing over its shallows of yellow-red gravel ; the darker Skean went headlong by, tossing tawny wavelets here and there ; the enor- mously tall larches on the opposite bank swayed in the varying gusts ; while now and again a burst of sunlight broke over the brilliant green pastures. But Miss Georgie, when she had called aloud for the rain to come and destroy the midges (which it cannot do) had 133 BKISEIS not counted on her prayer being so speedily answered ; and she had not observed that in the wild mist-land heavy masses were trooping np from the Atlantic^ each with a wine-stain of shadow underneath it as it stole along the darkening hills. And then this darkness increased ; there was no longer anything of azure or indigo in the further reaches of the river ; the gloom deepened and deepened ; until all at once the storm burst — in torrents of rain that thrashed the surface of the stream into a white smoke, and that even drowned the rush and roar of the Eua channels. Miss Lestrange fled and took shelter under some thick alder-trees ; and, after a brief space, young Gordon, unable to with- stand this whelming downpour, laid his fishing-rod on the bank, and made for the same cover. " Why have you no water-proof ?" she demanded, in panting and breathless and reproachful tones. " Because I can't be bothered with it," he answered her. " It makes casting too hot work. Why haven't you one ?" " Oh, this cape will keep out anything." They were silent for a minute or so — while the wind howled, and the rain tore the river into a silver-gray spindrift. At length Miss Lestrange said, in a most pathetic way — " I shouldn't mind — I really shouldn't mind — if it didn't trickle down my neck." He turned to her. "Why don't you put up the collar of your cape, then ?" " Because my back -hair is all wet, and if I put up my collar, it would only be more miserable." And then she said — oh ! so sweetly, and shyly, and prettily : " Sir Francis, I am quite ashamed to trouble you again — but would you be so very kind — so awfully kind — as " WITH HEY, NONNY, NONNY " 13S to take my handkerchief, and see if you could dry my hair a little, and then perhaps I could put up my collar ? I can't get at it very well myself — would you be so awfully kind ? — here is my handkerchief — " " But it is soaking wet, with the eau-de-Cologne," said he, " whereas I happen to have two with me, both perfectly dry. And if you don't mind my making the attempt — " Nevertheless this new service she had required of him was a very different matter from merely sponging a few midge-bites. It was with something more than timidity that he approached the unwonted task ; when he had to fold back an inch or two of the cape, and when he could not choose but notice the beautiful pure whiteness of her neck, and the pretty waifs and wisps of the dishevelled ruddy-golden hair that clustered around it, a kind of sensation of awe and fear came over him; nay, it was" literally with half -averted eyes that he proceeded to do what he could, while she kept murmuring — " So sorry to trouble you — awfully good of you — I'm ever so much more comfortable already." And then, when he had in a manner finished, he folded a dry handkerchief into a band, and put that round her neck, and raised the collar, and asked her to fasten it in front, so that at length she was quite secure and warm and happy. By this time the sudden storm was perceptibly lessening ; the clouds were lifting, and there was a gleam of silver here and there, though nothing of blue had come back to the river ; presently the pasture-lands on the other side of the stream shone out with a vivid and golden radiance : it was time for him to be back at his work. And perhaps — though the Gordons are not supposed to be deficient in courage — he may have felt a certain subtle relief in being once more on the bank, with the long line whistling out. 134 BEISBIS There are experiences — a thrilling^ inadvertent touch or two, for example — ^which are bewildering, and even alarming, to a modest youth. What happened next was this : Miss G-eorgie had wandered on a few yards to have a word with the black- a-vised and round-shouldered gillie when all at once she saw Frank Gordon stagger back in a wild endeavor to keep his line taut, while he was reeling in in a fran- tic manner, the mere haste and desperation causing an occasional bungle. For the fact is, the fish he had hooked had run directly towards him ; and for a flurried second or two there was extreme danger ; but rapid manipulation — or perhaps a change in the salmon's tactics — soon restored the safety-giving curve to the top of the rod : they could all of them breathe again, for the moment at least. "And — and what is it, John?" she said, almost in a whisper — and with her eyes intent. " A salmon ?" "Weel, I didna get glint or glimmer," said John, composedly, "though I jalouse it's but a bit sea-trout, being so near the bank. Ay, and where is he off for now? — what ails the crayture? — fegs, he'll find oot what a Skean spate is like, if he makes for the mid- dle." But as John stared and stared, he became more interested, and even excited. " Losh bless me, d'ye see yon ? That's nae sea-trout — that's a fish ! — ay, and a heavy fish — d'ye see'm makkin steady across, and him wi' the whole wecht o' the Skean on 'm ! Ay, and borin up a' the time — ^borin — borin — the dour rascal that he is — dod, if he keeps on that gait, a' the tackle in Scotland winna.haud him — " And now a startling thing befell. Her eyes had been fixedly watching that thin gray thread of a line as it slowly cut its way through the swinging torrent ; but it was fifteen or twenty yards higher up stream "WITH HEY, NONNY, NONNY" 135 that a huge fish — ^looking about as big as a pig — threw himself out of the water, and fell again with a mighty souse. " Oh, John,, is he ofE !" she exclaimed in heart- broken accents. "No, no, he's no off," replied John, "but soon he will be. Eh, my, my, a fine fish — a grand fish ! — five- and-thirty pounds, I'm thinking — a fine fish — and nae chance wi' him ava — " " But no chance ?" she demanded, in almost feverish agitaition. "There must be a chance! I tell you. Sir Francis must get that salmon — he must get him — eh, he must get that splendid salmon — or — or I declare I shall cry with vexation — " "Ye needna fash," said John, in a more resigned way — the resignation of despair. " Sir Francis is doin' his best, but it's no a bit o' use. There's thirty yards o' a bagging line ahint that fish, wi' a' the wecht o' the water on it ; and there's forty yards oot forbye ; and how is onybody to pit a strain on 'm ? It's the spate that's pitten the strain on — and it's the spate that '11 — ay, I thocht sae^" At first she did not understand what had taken place, for the long and heavy line, held by the cur- rent, had not released the top of the rod ; but the next moment she perceived that the angler was quietly reeling up. She ran to him. " Oh, Sir Francis, is he gone ?" "He's gone, and no mistake," was the sufficiently cheerful reply. " I had little hopes of him, so long as he kept away to the other side, and would go boring up stream. I had no control over him—" "It is enough to make one cry with disappoint- ment !" she exclaimed, almost stamping the ground. "Oh, you get used to these things in salmon-fish- 136 BRISEIS ing," he said, placidly. " And now we'll move on and see if there's any better luck waiting for us at the Mill-dam ; or perhaps we might go right up to the Priest's Bridge Pool, for it's a pretty place to have luncheon — " " Oh, luncheon ?" said she, rather drawing back. " I was quite forgetting. I shall have to go away home now — " "You can't." "Why not?" "Because of the bull." " Oh, well — " She hesitated — and it was a winning kind of hesitation. " If you could spare me a biscuit — just one biscuit," she said, with a most becoming bashfulness. "But your luncheon is in the bag !" he informed her. " I made sure you would come up the rirer with us, if there was any amusement going on — not that there's much; and I told Hallett; and I myself saw the packets put in — " " Oh, then, if I may !" said she, promptly and blithely — and there was no more talk of a return to the Castle during the remainder of this day's excursion. The Priest's Bridge Pool — '"which they arrived at after a devious meandering by ferny glades and through copses of oak and hazel — lies in a long and deep hol- low ; and here the waters of the Skean, having come dashing, and boiling, and foaming through the narrow and rocky chasms above, collect themselves, and (in ordinary seasons) begin to moderate their headlong pace. The banks are lofty and steep; that on the north covered with heather and short birch-bushes; that on the south with hanging woods that descend almost to the river's edge. And here, on the trunk of a felled tree, young Gordon discovered a comfort- "WITH HEY, NONNT, NOSTKy" 137 able seat for his fair companion, while he proceeded to help John Tod to get out the contents of the luncheon-bag. This done, John withdrew to a little dingle hard by, where unseen he could hastily get through with his mid-day meal, the sooner to reach the far more important solace of a smoke. And thus it was that these two young people, seated side by side on the trunk of the felled ash, found them- selves practically alone in this strange and solitary world — alone with the wet and silent woods, the surg- ing and swinging river, the steep banks of heather and green birch burning in the sunlight, the silvery cloud- phantoms of the sky, and the mysterious distances of unnamed hills. And it may have been some sense of this isolation and remote seclusion that made Miss Georgie begin to talk of the crowded gayeties of the London season now left so far behind. " Just to think," said she — as she briskly munched her sandwich of salmon-and-lettuce-leaf, and daintily sipped her claret and water — "just to think that it is only a matter of weeks since you and I were in the big whirl — and meeting very often too — I don't know how it happened we were always coming together — at dances, dinners, theatres, garden parties — the Academy Soiree, the Grosvenor Club — up at Lord's, too — and several times in the Park, and once or twice at the Zoo — why, we were meeting everywhere : it almost looked like a fate, didn't it ?" " Oh, yes," he added, inadvertently — for a fish had shown itself at the end of the pool. " Ill-natured people," continued Miss Georgie,. with her eyes downcast, "might have said there was more contrivance than accident in it — mightn't they ?" " Oh, yes," he answered her— still watching for the fish. 138 BEISEIS "I wonder if yon recollect that night at Lady Coltsborough's, when Cardinal Pepys took Madame Varitza in to dinner ? I've never seen such a tall combination of color at any table — the Cardinal's gor- geous scarlet robes and Madame Varitza's white satin dress embroidered with silver, and her jet-black hair — rather a startling combination, wasn't it ?" "Oh, yes; oh, certainly," he replied; and then he got quickly to his feet. "You won't mind," he said, "if I go along and put a fly over a fish I have seen gambolling about down there ? You keep on with your lunch — I shall be back in a few minutes." Now if Miss Georgie was at all inclined to be vexed and cross over his desertion of her, she soon had her revenge. For young Gordon, beginning well up, and working down to the fish, was wholly absorbed in his oc- cupation ; and the nearer and nearer he got to the spot where he had seen the salmon leap, the more and more careful and concentrated he became ; so that what now occurred could hardly have been guarded against. For he had just made a good long cast, and was allow- ing the fiy to come quietly across the water, when out of the smooth-rolling flood there suddenly and silently arose an awful and terrifying object that had been hitherto quite invisible. It was a branch of an oak- tree sweeping down with the current; and the mo- ment that Gordon saw this hideous thing going right on to his line, he made a violent effort to jerk the fly into the air. But in vain. He was fast. Then he tried another sharp tug, to see if the leaf or leaves would not come away : they would not. Then he at- tempted to haul by main force that brutal branch in to the side ; this also was clearly hopeless, by reason of the strength of the stream. Nay, there was nothing for him but to run madly along the bank, reeling in a " WITH HEY, NONlfY, KONNT-" 139 yard or two when he had the opportunity, while he kept yelling — " John ! — John ! — ^where the deyil are you ! — hring the gafE, man !" Indeed it was Miss Georgie herself who had to rout John out of his secret shelter ; and then he, too, set off in pursuit, with his unwieldy, crablike movements ; but eventually they did get hold of that maleficent branch, and managed to drag it ashore, and release the fly, without much harm being done. Then Frank Gordon came slowly back to his companion. "Nothing but mishaps to-day," he said. "This pool's spoiled, at any rate ; so we may as well go down to the Mill-dam now." " Oh, do you think I have brought you bad luck ?" asked Miss Georgie, with the air of an erring and re- pentant child. "You ?" he made answer. "I should think not! Besides, what does it matter ? There are other things than salmon-fishing — and the whole of this morning has been delightful !" "It's rather nice of you to say so," remarked this demure maiden, as she moved aside to let John pack up. " I thought you cared for nothing but fishing and flies." At a somewhat late hour that afternoon the Prince and Princess, the Kockminsters, and Sir Hugh were all of them seated out on the terrace, having tea — Lady Adela and her sisters had doubtless been detained in- doors by their earnest devotion to literature and the arts. This side of the Castle, facing east, was now in cool, clear, silver-gray shadow ; but beyond the plateau and the policies all the wide valley was filled with a warm and mellow radiance ; for away in the west — over Loch Eil, and Morven, and Arisaig — the .heavens 140 BEISEIS had entirely opened, and the golden-white light was streaming across the hills by Glen Loy and Clnnes, and even touching here and there a shoulder or peak of the lofty Aonach M6r. And it was amid these pleasant surroundings — and with the grateful hush of the even- ing not far distant — that the Princess was entertaining her friends with an account of the celebrated dinner at which the young King Alexander of Servia, then a boy of seventeen, tricked his grave and elderly Ministers and threw off the yoke of the Kegency. Of course she must have had the main story at second-hand ; but she was able to embellish it with many particulars derived from personal knowledge ; and a very amusing tale it turned out to be — how the unsuspecting Eegents and Ministers sat down to dinner ; how, while they were at the soup, their houses were occupied by soldiers ; how, midway through the banquet, guards were placed out- side ; and how, as dessert was about to be served, the youthful Alexander rose and announced to his guests that he rather wanted to be King on his own account now, and that he would be much obliged if the Ee- gents would forthwith resign. Then consternation — refusal — the doors thrown wide, and the officers and soldiery calling " Long live the King !" while the point to be considered by the Kegents and Ministers was whether they should rush out into the corridor to meet an almost certain death, or whether they should sit quietly down and go on with their fruit, and cigarettes, and cofEee and cognac. The Princess was making maliciously merry over this legend when of a sudden the expression of her face slightly changed. For beyond the carriage-drive there was an extended avenue of ash and rowan ; and as this part of the road- way was out in the open it was barred across by bands of alternate sun and shade. And into this picturesque "WITH HEY, NONNY, NONNY" 141 setting came two figures, followed by a third ; the two leading figures — a tall and handsome young fellow, and a laughing -eyed lass — looking rather well in the glow of light. "Lady Eockminster," said the Princess, with some- thing of a calm air, "has Miss Lestrange been away all day with Frank ?" "I suppose so," was the answer, "for I saw them start in the morning. And she has had distinctly the best of it." " In what way ?"• "Well, he can have had but little fishing, the riyer being so high ; while she has had a fine picnic excur- sion." At this moment the two young people came up ; and Miss Georgie was easily persuaded to take a seat at the tea-table ; while her companion had to give a report of the persistent ill luqk of the day. Then he left, to get his brogues and waders hauled off ; and as he was going, his mother called to him — " Frank, I see there's a letter waiting for you from Grantly. If Aunt Jean has anything to say that con- cerns me, don't forget to let me know." Aunt Jean, however, had but little news to send from Dee-side. What held his prolonged attention most was the postscript — " P. S. No, I have never heard of the old botanist and that beautiful Greek girl you have asked about once or twice. Of course I assumed that I should meet them again ; for you said they were going to ramble about the neighborhood for some time; but they seemed to have disappeared altogether, leaving no trace behind. I am sorry — I was interested in both of them.— J. G." CHAPTEE X FEOM MOEN TILL EVE Olga Elliott flounced up from the piano, and went and threw herself on to an adjacent couch. " Bother that trash !" she said, impatiently. " Brill- iancy — delicacy of touch — expression: rubbish! I can't play ; and I never shall be able to play ; and I don't want to be able to play. You sit down yourself, Bry, and bang ; hammer as badly as you can manage — and Ma '11 think it's me. Oh, I suppose you consider it's my duty. It's my duty to practise so many hours a day — and read 'Paradise Lost' — and dam my own stockings — and twenty dozen other things. But I know what all these duties are ; they're simply a lot of ridic- ulous nonsense invented by the elderly people to keep the younger people within strict bounds. And I'm not going to be kept within strict bounds ; I must have my freedom ; I mean to have my whack, if I can get it. Sounds selfish ? — ^but it's honest. You've got to fight for your own hand in this wicked world. It's all very well to say, ' Do unto others as you would that others should do unto you'; that's all very fine; but I want to see the others begin. They don't appear to be in a hurry, do they ? Now Bry, I wish you'd sit down and bash away at the piano — or else Ma '11 be here." She had hardly uttered the words when the door was opened; and Mrs. Alexander Elliott, finding Briseis FEOM MORN TILL EVE 145 standing irresolute by the piano, while Olga lay supine on the couch, looked reproachfully from one to the other. "Keally, Briseis," said she, "on a day like this — when every minute is of value — " But the poor, tired widow with the care-worn face and sad eyes was no termagant, notwithstanding her thin and resolute mouth ; besides, she was much too dependent on the alacrity and good-will of her niece to risk giving offence. So she altered her tone. " I wish you would come down to the school-room, Briseis, dear, and help me with Olga's and Brenda's dresses that they are going to wear at dinner to-night. When Mr. and Mrs. Bingham come here this evening, I hope they will see that everything is done properly in the house. And you have such taste, Briseis, dear — such natural good taste — and you are so clever with your needle — and familiar with the best styles, in dif- ferent countries — it will be so easy for you to plan out a few little alterations that will bring the dresses up to the present fashion. There's not much time, to be sure — it was so inconsiderate of Mrs. Bingham to give us such short notice — " The clock on the chimney-piece struck a silver chime : the alabaster cherub, swinging in his golden swing, had arrived at the hour of half past ten. She glanced at the dial. " But I must first go and take Brenda's tempera- ture—" " Mayn't I do that for you, Aunt Clara ?" said Briseis, promptly. " If you would — if you would !" said the much- harassed mother, and she handed over the little glass instrument to Briseis, who thereupon left the room. And then Mrs. Elliott went to her daughter, and patted the dull flaxen hair. 144 BBISEIS "I hope my pretty Olga isn't going to be ill too," she said, in caressing tones. " Oh, no. Ma, dear," replied the pasty-faced young lady, with great suavity.- "I had only one helping of toasted cheese at the end of dinner last night. But Brenda had two ; and then she went to sleep, as usual ; and only woke up in time to ring for her glass of port wine and biscuit; and then she went to bed— and I wonder her temperature this morning isn't 140." "At six o'clock it was 100.2," said the mother, half absently. "And that's not very high. If there are any signs of a decrease, then we needn't send for Dr. Thomas — doctors' visits do mount up so !" She turned again to the procumbent damsel. "So you are rest- ing, dearest, to prepare yourself for the bustle of the evening ?" she said, affectionately. " Quite right — quite right. For my two bonny darlings must be at their very best and brightest to-night, to show the Binghams what happy companionship their daughter enjoys. And I shouldn't wonder if they asked us all to dine with them at the Langham — " Miss Olga jumped up from her prostrate position — her gray-green eyes staring wide. " Oh, would they ? Are they likely to ?" she ex- claimed, eagerly. "It is at least probable," said the mother. "But lie down again, dear one, if you are really tired ; and send Briseis to me the moment she comes back with the report." So in a little while thereafter Briseis found herself, in the so-called school-room, busily occupied in snip- ping, altering, and stitching at her cousins' dinner gowns ; and very well content was she with the soli- tary task — solitary, because her aunt had almost im- mediately been summoned away by other domestic du- FE03I MORN TILL EVE 145 ties. Moreover, she knew she had a free hand in these embellishments. The two sisters were not likely to complain, whatever she did. They had formed a dim idea that she was endowed with a certain distinction and refinement ; she had seen far cities and stately ceremonies ; nay, had she not in her possession, at this very moment, what was the very summit of their souls' desires — a fancy dress ? Again and again they had begged her to show them once more this wonder- ful treasure — though it was only the festival costume of a Greek peasant girl ;. and with longing eyes they had regarded the pale blue Albanian jacket and its elaborate silver embroidery, the head-gear of rows of pendulous coins, the silken veil showing tremulous threads of gold through the diaphanous texture, with girdle, bracelets, and necklace all complete. When they went out shopping together, her cousins would, if somewhat reluctantly and sulkily, defer to her taste. Not unfrequently they would ask her to choose for them ribbons, neckerchiefs, gloves, and what not — especially as she had a common trick of paying for such trifles, out of her slender pocket-money. And they were not likely to take umbrage at any of the alterations she was now making : they would be satis- fied to be spared the trouble. At noon there came a slight tap at the door. "Master Adalbert is ready. Miss," said the maid, who immediately hurried on. She went to the door, and found her boy cousin in the hall. " I'm afraid we can't go out to-day, Adalbert," said she, " every one is so busy — " "But look at this, Briseis — I'ook — look!" he cried; and he was regarding with an intense curiosity a fine assortment of golf clubs, all burnished and shining. 146 BRISEIS that lay on the hall table, the shafts strapped up in the brown canvas bag. " I suppose they're Edward's," he added, wistfully. "Oh, no, they're not," she answered him, in her gentle fashion. " They're yours." " Why, what do you mean, Briseis ?" " They're a little birthday present I got for you," she explained, " only I did not expect them to be sent home so soon. You may as well have them now as to- morrow." * He was an extremely sensitive lad. He could not speak. It was a brief twitching of the muscles of his face that told how hard he was trying to keep the water from welling into his eyes. And then, mastering him- self, he pretended not to be overwhelmed by her kind- ness ; he pretended to be wholly engrossed and de- lighted with the clubs. "Look, Briseis," he said, as he undid the strap, and drew one after the other out, " aren't they splendidly made ! Did you ever see such finish ? This is the driver, you know — he's the fellow to send the ball whizzing ! — one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, you count, and then it drops — clean away over all the dangers. And this is the cleek — and this is the iron niblick — that's the one if you're in a fearful bunker! — and this is the brassey — and this is the putter — " But at this point Mrs. Elliott, bustling through the house on her manifold errands, made her appearance ; and when the whole situation was explained to her, she thought that Briseis might after all take her cousin out for a turn in the Park, if only for half an hour ; so, in a few minutes, these tfwo set forth together, the tall, slim, beautiful Greek girl pushing the invalid-chair as usual. And while as yet they were amid the noise of FROM MO EN TILL EVE 147 the streets, he was silent ; but when they had crossed the Marylebone Eoad, and passed through York Gate, and entered into the quietude of the Park, he said — "' Briseis, I never thanked you for the clubs." " Why should you ?" " I wanted to tell you something," he went on. " You are so different from any one else. You seem to know what other people are thinking ; and you take the trouble to find out ; and you think along with them. And that's why you bought ine the golf clubs. It was to keep me imagining that some day I might be a golfer." Now it was quite true that she had a profound sym- pathy with the pathetic enthusiasms of this poor lame lad — about golf, cricket, football, and all manner of athletic exercises ; but she was not going to allow him — even at this moment of confession and almost of ap- peal — to assume that there could be anything fictitious or hopeless about his passionate interest in such affairs. "And what better can there be than imagining?" she said, boldly. " Look at me. I can't play cricket. I can't play football. I have never even seen a game at golf. And do you think it probable I shall ever pull in a college boat at Henley ? But all the same, merely through reading the accounts to you, I have become as deeply interested in them as any one — as even you yourself ; I know the names of all your heroes ; and I follow the doings of the various teams — why, I can al- most understand a game at football now — from the re- port, I mean — " "It's a shame I should ask you to read for me, Briseis," said he. " But this is how it is. If I read for myself, I see little except the newspaper ; but when you read for me, I can make up the picture before my eyes—" 148 BEISEIS "Very well, then," said she, "and who objects to my reading to you ? And do you think I don't like to hear of brilliant achieyements — and all the people at Lord's clapping their hands at a good catch — " "But I wanted you to know, Briseis," said he, still unsatisfied, "that I quite understand what you were thinking of when you bought me the golf clubs — " "And you will hang them up on the back of your bedroom door," said she, cheerfully. "And every morning, when you awake, you will wonder whether Mr. Ball, or Mr. Horace Hutchinson, or Willie Park is likely to be out on the links, and what kind of weather they are going to have." These brief excursions with her boy-cousin were the one break in the continuous drudgery of the long and dreary day — the one opportunity permitted her of get- ting a glimpse of the sky, the clouds, the trees, and the pale London sunlight shimmering on the placid lake. And by this time she and he had explored all the se- cret nooks and byways of the Park ; and they had chosen their favorite retreats — one, in particular, fronting a kind of back-channel, where there was a wooden bench sheltered by bushes, and whither they could easily, when they chose, summon a congregation of clamorous ducks, that would come breasting through the rippling waters, and even waddle up the grassy banks in jealous competition for crumbs. But on this occasion they had brought no bread with them; so, when the invalid-chair had been placed by the side of the bench, Briseis took out a newspaper from the ca- pacious pocket. " Well, what shall I read to you this morning, Adal- bert ? There will be the First Round for the Associa- tion Challenge Cup — " "No, no, never mind about that," he said, hastily. FROM MORN TILL EVE 149 " I've got something better for you, Briseis — some- thing that will stir you ; I found it last night in a vol- ume of Tennyson that Miss Bingham lent me, and I copied it : if you take out my MS. book, you'll see it is the last piece. I want to hear you read it aloud — I know it will be splendid, Briseis — just splendid !" She was a willing slave to this poor chap ; she hu- mored him, petted him, and obeyed his every whim ; and if he was occasionally a little exacting she did not mind very much. She got out the copy-book, and turned to the last piece ; and a single glance down the page told her something of the proud indignation of the opening verses, so that she was in a measure pre- pared when she began — ' My Lords, we heard you speak : you told us all Tliat England's honest censure went too far ; That our free press should cease to brani, Not sting the fiery Frenchnaan into war. It was our ancient privilege, my Lords, To fling whate'er we felt, not fearing, into words.' He listened in absolute silence, though already he seemed somewhat breathless ; but when she had fin- ished the fifth verse — ' Shall we fear liim f our own we never fear'd. From our first Cliarles by force we wrung our claims. Prick'd by the Papal spur, we rear'd, We flung the burthen of the second James. I say, we never fear'd 1 and as for these, We brolie them on the land, we drove them on the seas.' — he could restrain his enthusiasm no longer. "How grandly you read, Briseis — how grand — ■ grand !" he cried. " You ought to be in a great hall — and multitudes — cheering you and cheering you — " 150 BKISEIS "But who are 'these'?" she asked — for her edition of Tennyson did not contain this poem. "'These'?" he repeated, triumphantly. "Why, the French ! 'as for these We broke them on the land, we drove them on the seas.' Yes ; and that's what England could do again to-mor- row, if there were need ! But, Briseis," he went on, "would you mind turning back a few pages, and you'll find another piece called 'The Charge of the Heavy Brigade at Balaclava ' — I won't ask you to read it all — I'm quite ashamed, you know, to trouble you — but only one verse, the one beginning 'The trumpet, the gallop, the charge ' — for one of the three who fol- lowed Scarlett right in amongst the Eussian cavalry was an Elliott — Scarlett's aide-de-camp, you know — " Again she followed his directions ; and she knew, rather than saw, that his face was mantling with color and his large eyes 'glowering' as she declaimed the swinging lines — 'The trumpet, the gallop, the charge, and the might of the flght ! Thousands of horsemen had gather'd there on the height. With a wing push'd out to the left, and a wing to the right. And who shall escape if they close ? but he dashed up alone Thro' the great gray slope of men, Sway'd his sabre, and held his own Like an Englishman theie and then ; All in a moment foUow'd with force Three that were next in their fleiy course, Wedged themselves ia between horse and horse. Fought for their lives in the narrow gap they had made — Four amid thousands ! and up the hill, up the hill, Gallopt the gallant three hundred, the Heavy Brigade.' FROM MORN TILL EVE 151 "For you are an Elliott too/' he said — perhaps as a kind of vagne apology for demanding so much of her. But this breathing-space had to be curtailed, for they had come out late ; and soon they were leaying these misty glades, and the wooded islands, and the shimmer- ing water, and were returning to the roar of the streets again. They got home just in time for luncheon — which, indeed, was an ordeal that Briseis would fain have avoided ; for she had not been living long in this house before it became apparent to every one that she had found favor in the eyes of the supercilious and ca- daverous medical student ; and the patronage that he bestowed upon her, especially at lunch-tiine, took the form of asking her incessant and idiotic conundrums, and propounding all sorts of fatuous quips and catches. JN^ow conundrums only bewildered her ; she never could find the proper answer ; and especially was she unable to perceive the simian japes that depend for their point on an imitation of Cockney speech. Then the young gentlenian who was dallying on his way to Caius addressed her and her alone ; he wouljj take no notice of the others at table ; so that they were forced to become spectators — amused and malicious spectators — of her desperate embarrassment. Sometimes the face of the small lame boy flushed with anger ; but he dared not dispute with his elder brother. And on this morning, as usual, the lanky, gray-faced student had allowed the whole of them to take their places before he deigned to saunter in with his hands in his pockets ; then, the moment he was seated, he called down the table to Briseis. " Briseis," said he, "are you good at finding rhymes?" " Oh, no — oh, not in the least," she answered, in- voluntarily shrinking back — for she knew that all eyes would be upon her, in wait for her confusion. 152 BKISEIS " You must try," he proceeded — but whether to tor- ment her or to entertain her who could say? — "FU give you three lines of a Terse ; and you must find the fourth ; and the fourth must rhyme and scan with the second ; only, you are limited to two words : do you understand? Now, listen — ' She took some tea— a pound of tea— And put it in a l^ettle ; And then slie went and boiled it — ' Do you understand ? You've got to find a fourth line that will rhyme and scan with the second — seven sylla- bles — but only two words, mind — only two words — " " Oh, I'm sure I can't !" Briseis protested — conscious of the prevailing giggle. " Well, I'll give you until to-morrow," said he, gayly, " and then, if you haven't the answer, there must be a forfeit. Always a forfeit in such cases ; it's a law of the game ; the forfeit to be named by the propounder of the riddle." "Edward, dear," the poor widow put in, plaintively, " I wish you wouldn't worry your cousin so." " But I must be off now, if you will excuse me. Aunt Clara," Briseis said, rising from her place. " There is so much to do to those dresses." ''My dear child, you have had no luncheon at all !" the widow cried. " Oh, yes, yes," she made answer, blithely enough — and indeed she had had two spoonfuls of soup and a bit of bread. She was glad to get back to the musty and dusky school-room; nor did her task seem so very monot- onous, once she had got everything planned out, with only the mechanical sewing to be got through ; for in FROM MOEN TILL EVE 153 tliis still seclusion there were many pictures rising be- fore her brain, however she may have been occupied with the swift stitches — tremulous and nebulous pict- ures that came before her in an unknown and unsum- moned fashion, and that carried her leagues and leagues away from this lonely chamber. The glancing blue waters of the Gulf of Aegina; the saffron-white col- umns of the Parthenon, dim and far on their high plateau; the steep slopes of Pentelicus, glaucous-green and scarred; the solitary Santa Maura, and the out- jutting golden cliff that heard Sappho's farewell cry ; Corfu, and the luxuriant palms and magnolias of Mon Repos; the brown plains surrounding Acro-Corinth ; the ruddy soil, the rich vegetation, the forts and bas- tions bristling with cannon at the Euxine mouth of the Bosporus : these and many another magic-lantern slide passed slowly before her eyes as she worked on at Olga's and Brenda's gowns. Sometimes her ears de- ceived her ; it was as if she could hear a distant sing- ing — "When we set out from Megara — Megara — Megara" — and the white fustanellas were twirling about with frantic energy, and there were laughing faces under the tasselled caps, out there in the blaze of the sun. Or rather was it not the lapping of waves along the side of a boat — with the moonlight silvering all the wide bay of Phalerum — and Hymettus black against the stars — and some one, delicate -fingered, touching the tightened strings — ^while there stole into the listening air the low cadences of a love-song of Zante ? Cape Colias gray and distant in the ghostly radiance — and all the long line of shore murmuring like a sea-shell — " How are you getting on now, Briseis ?" said Aunt Clara, bustling into the room. "My bonny darlings must come down and look at what you have done, just 7* 154 BRISEIS to make sure. I wish all our other difiQculties could be as easily got over. What to do I hardly know. You see," she continued, and now she was regarding Briseis with something more of hesitation, " it is of such im- portance that Mr. and Mrs. Bingham should be favor- ably impressed with Ada's surroundings ; and yet, if there is only the one maid waiting at table, I am afraid to think what awkwardness may happen. . Of course there are the two ; but one of them must — simply must — be told ofE to bring the dishes up from the kitchen to the hall table. Cook can't be expected to do more than her own work; she can't keep running up the stairs; and old "Wilkinshaw is useless — she'd tumble and bring destruction on everything. Yet if it could only be managed that we had both the maids in the dining-room, what a relief it would be — even as regards the handing of vegetables — " " But, Aunt Clara," said Briseis, glancing up from her needle — and there was usually a touch of wonder in the beautiful, dark, friendly eyes when she raised her head in this way — "why should you have any diffi- culty ? Meeting those strangers wouldn't interest me, I'm sure : why not let me carry up the things from the kitchen to the hall table ? — then you can have both maids to wait in the dining-room." " Do you mean that, Briseis?" said Aunt Clara, almost too quickly. "It is so kind of you ! — so thoughtful! — so considerate ! And your own suggestion too — that makes it all the more good-natured ; for of course I never would have proposed such a thing — not for worlds would I have proposed such a thing ; but when it comes so naturally and spontaneously from yourself, why, then I say that I have no right to refuse such a — such a — magnanimous offer. Oh, I know. It isn't every one who would do it — and who would be the first FEOM MORN TILL EVE 155 to suggest it. Thank yoUj thank you ever so much ! And then, when it comes to dessert, you see, Briseis, you will have time to slip up-stairs, and get dressed, and be waiting for us in the drawing-room. For we must have, you in the drawing-room — we could not do without you in the drawing-room, you know — you play so exquisitely. And, Briseis, there's still another thing : if you saw your way, in the general conversation, to bring in an occasional sentence of Italian or Greek — " But at this the pale, clear forehead of the girl flushed a little ; and Aunt Clara instantly perceived that she had made a mistake. "Oh, I didn't mean pretence — I didn't mean any vulgar show-ofE," she said, somewhat hastily. "Far from that. For how could there be any pretence in your case ? Every one knows you are such a wonderful linguist; and how could there be any affectation in your making use of such phrases? To Adalbert,' for example : haven't I heard you and Adalbert talking Greek together ?" "Adalbert," responded Briseis, calmly, "can say nai, alethos — agapete moi pliile — and a few words like that. But I am quite sure he is much too honest and straightforward to pretend to know a language that he doesn't know." "Oh, yes, of course — yon are quite right — quite right — certainly : only — only — I did so wish the Bing- hams to understfind that their daughter was living among people of culture — though, as you say, one wouldn't have any pretence — oh, no — not on any account. But at least you will play for us, Briseis ?" "Whatever you please. Aunt Clara !" So Briseis was once more left alone, with her patient toil ; but she was gradually getting to the end of it ; and eventually — as the dusk of the autumn day was 156 BRISBIS stealing over — she had finished ; and Olga and Brenda were summoned. They condescended to express a, cold approval. Nay, there was more than that ; for having asked of their cousin what dress she herself meant to wear at dinner, and having been informed as to the share in that festivity that had been allotted to her, Olga at least showed some trifle of indigna- tion. "It's a beastly shame," said she, frowning angrily. "You're being put upon, Bry; and you don't see it. It's too bad — it's -simply disgusting — the way Ned rots you at lunch'time. , lind as for carrying these things up from the kitchen, why wasn't Ada Bingham's maid turned on to it ? — she can't always be frizzing the hair of that spitfire cat !" "Never mind," said the sullen-mouthed Brenda — whose tempera'ture was no longer alarming her — "you'll be able to snick the best of the pastry when it's waiting on the hall table." And now Briseis, who was completely overwrought — for she had been at these unceasing occupations and employments ever since seven o'clock that morning — now she thought she might steal away to her own little den and lie down for a few minutes, before the labors of the evening began. But she had not taken into account the indomitable activity of her ubiquitous aunt. " Where are you going, Briseis, dear ? Will you come here for a moment ? I've arranged the flowers on the dining-room table — in a kind of a way; but you have such excellent taste, you inow — if you wouldn't mind putting a finishing touch — I shall just have time to dress now. And you might have a look round the drawing-room, too — do just as you like — just as you like — it's sure to be an improvement — " FROM MOKN TILL EVE 157 Which was all very well ; but in the ornameiitation of her house Mrs. Alexander Elliott acted on these two fundamental principles — first, that each and every article in the drawing-room must be adorned with a large bow of silk ribbon, as if it were a white poodle- dog, and, secondly, that flowers, whether cut or potted, were simple, feeble, ineffective things, and must therefore be swathed round about with masses of satin, either pink or yellow. And as Briseis did not know how far she might dare to impinge upon these traditions, her tentative little efforts at decora- tion were considerably restricted ; however, she pro- ceeded as well as she could ; and, in fact, had only done restoring some measure of freedom to the cramped-up flowers of the dining-room table when a ringing of the door-bell warned her to fly and seek shelter down in the kitchen. The carrying up of the dinner dishes did not prove to be much of a hardship, after all ; and when, at intervals, she caught some glimpse or echo of the rather funereal banquet going forward in the dining- room, she did not much regret being on the wrong side of the door. Then by-and-by dessert arrived ; and this was the signal for her to get off to her own apartment, to dress for the later ceremony. When, she descended to the drawing-room, she found herself alone ; so she occupied the spare moments in loosening out a few of the bows of ribbon, and in shaking free some of the tied-up curtains. Miss Bingham's papa and mamma turned out to be a rather distinguished-looking couple, both of them of a countrified complexion, with good manners, and considerable reticence of speech. But, well-bred as they may have been, neither could altogether conceal a slight glance of surprise when they were introduced 158 BKISEIS to Briseis Valieri. Who was the mysterious stranger, then, who had not been granted a place at the dinner table ? A niece ? But she was so singularly unlike the rest of the family ; she was tall — dark-eyed — and gracious of bearing ; and when, at her aunt's request, she went to the piano and began to play something — soft and low, so as not to disturb the conyersation — Mrs. Bingham at least knew that that was no school- girl's touch, no, nor any music-mistress's either. And then, when Briseis had done what had been demand- ed of her, she rose and retired into an adjacent corner, where there chanced to be a small side table, and a lamp, and some photographs ; and here no one inter- fered with her ; indeed she even ventured to open and read a note that had stealthily been placed in her hand by the little lame boy. It contained only these words — "The line is ' On Popocatapetl ' ; but don't tell Edward I told you. — A." She had a vague impression that this might refer to some one or other of the medical student's fatuities ; but which of them she couldn't recall at the moment. The Binghams did not stay late ; but there was much to do after they had gone ; and it was not until well past eleven that Briseis was allowed to retire finally to the solitude of her own room. By this time she was about done to death ; and perhaps inclined to be a trifle hysterical after the long and unintermittent strain; and to calm herself she went and sat by the window (the stars were faintly visible above the roofs of the opposite houses) and repeated to herself — and repeated more than once, too — Goethe's pathetic Nachtlied. The translation (of the untranslatable) was her own, and no doubt was bald and bare enough ; but she had used the litte fragment ere now as a kind of spell or charm in moments of despondency. PEOM MOEN TILL EYE 159 Our all tlie mountains Is peajx; Along file far summits nearest thou Hardly a breath; TJie birds are hushed in the forest. Wait thou only, and soon Thou also -Shalt sleep. This time the charm proved to be of no avail. She was restless — ^nervously excited — sleep was out of the ques- tion — ' ihr war, sie wusste nicht wie.' And at length, hardly knowing what she did, she went to the side of the bed, and threw herself on her knees, and laid her forehead on her clasped hands. It was an attitude of prayer — though this was a strange kind of prayer : " Mother — father — uncle — where are you all ?" she murmured, amid wild tears and wilder sobbing. " Where are you ? Can you hear me ? Do you know that — that I am trying to do my best ? — I try — to do what you would approve — but — but I am so lonely — so lonely. Mother — mother — surely you can hear me — cannot you say something — to let me know — that you approve ? — " But there was no answer from the wide, and sad, and silent spaces of the stars. CHAPTER XI A SECRET OF THE WOODS 'Now no one who had met Miss Georgie Lestrange coming lightly down the staircase and across the hall of Glen Skean Castle, on this fresh, and brilliant, and sweet-scented morning, would have suspected that there was aught of evil, or mischief, or malice in her extremely pretty eyes. And perhaps there was not. Per- haps she had only the natural wish to get out-of-doors for a minute or two — to look abroad on the wide valley with its azure ribbon of a river, on the rose-purple slopes of heather stained to a claret color here and there by the passing clouds, and on the sunlight weaving sil- ver into the mists of Aonach Mor. That was simple and- natural enough. The dew was trembling and glinting on the grass ; the rowan-trees were a glory of scarlet ; the black shadows of the limes and beeches moved slowly, this way and that, on the vivid green of the lawn : there were plenty of things to engage her pleased attention, out here in the open air. But Miss Georgie did not at once step forth into the sunshine. For it so happened that in passing through the por- tico she caught sight of the luncheon-bag, already packed and lying on the table ; and as this bag was made of netting, the contents of it were for the most part visible, among those being a couple of small tum- blers, one within the other for safer carrying. She paused only for a second ; and even now there was no A SECKET OP THE WOODS 161 indication that any devilment had occurred to her nim- ble brain. Nay, it was with a fine affectation of care- lessness that she went outside and looked all about her — her dark blue Tam o' Shanter set jauntily on the re- bellious tangles of her golden-red hair. And then she passed across the terrace ; and tripped down the wide steps ; and strolled along to the nearest flower-plot, and proceeded to gather a few pansies. These pansies were of an uncommon kind — dusky orange and russet, with manifold streaks and blotches ; and perhaps that was why she wanted them ; at all events, when she had secured the little nosegay, she returned with it to the portico, and placed it for a moment on the table. Then, and more rapidly (and after a quick and furtive glance into the interior of the hall) she undid the clasp of the luncheon-bag ; she took out the two tumblers, and separated them ; she wrapped the paper round one ;of them and restored it to its place ; the other received the tiny bouquet ; and with that in her hand she walked into the spacious and empty dining-room, where break- fast was laid. This was but a trifling decoration to place on the massive Elizabethan sideboard, in front of the great salvers arid tankards ; nevertheless she seemed satisfied ; and when she went out once more to the terrace, she was demurely whistling to herself as she walked up and down — with a watchful eye for any new-comer. And that, as it chanced, was none other than Frank Gordon, who had been down to see what the river was like. " I'm afraid. Miss Georgie," said he, as he came up, " it's no use your going with us to day. The water has dwindled away to nothing. Not a ghost of a. chance — " ''But you said you would show me the big fish in 163 BRISEIS the pools above the Priest's Bridge," said Miss Georgie, in rather an injured fashion. " Oh, well, if you like to go as far, for the pleasure of sitting and looking at them — " "And the photographs," she continued. "You said you would help me to get some instantaneous Tiews of salmon-fishing — you casting, you know, out at the end of the jetty — and John standing by you, with the gafE— " "Gh, certainly, by all means," he said, " if you think it's worth while coming for that." "And you promised to try the new rod the Prince has had sent him — " " Take a salmon-rod out to Monteveltro !" "But you promised. And besides," she added, tri- umphantly and conclusiyely, "the luncheon-bag is al- ready packed for us — for some of the English servants have been allowed to go off to see the Highland Games at Fort Mary, and they did everything they could be- fore they left. What time would you like to start ?" "Whenever you please." " Oh, well, I'll go and get the plates put in my cam- era ; and if we set out immediately after breakfast, I dare say there will be plenty of time for us to photo- graph all the way up to the Priest's Bridge." It seemed a satisfactory arrangement ; but it did not so entirely commend itself to all the members of this household. Some little while after the setting forth of this expedition. Lady Eockminster went along to her sister-in-law's boudoir, knocked, and was bidden to enter. " Adela," said she, when she had shut the door be- hind her, " I want to speak to you." "What is it ?" asked Lady Adela in reply, looking up from her writing. She was dressed in a most charm- 'W " PERHAPS THAT WAS WHY SHE WANTED THEM ' A SECRET OF THE WOODS 163 ing tea gpwn : it was a compliment she paid to her work, and indirectly to the public. "Do you know that Georgie Lestrange has gone away up the river again, with Frank Gordon ?" "Yes?" " "Well, that's nothing in itself, perhaps," continued Lady Eockminster, who seemed somewhat vexed, "but really the way she is going on is too bad — " " She is a mischievous wretch," observed Lady Ade- la, calmly. " It is really outrageous !" the tall and handsome young matron protested. "And I am certain the Princess is deeply annoyed, though she is too proud to say any- thing. Why, do you know that more than once I have caught the maids sniggering among themselves ? N^ow that is abominable. That is perfectly abominable." "Really, Honnor," her sister-in-law retorted, "I don't see how you can blame Georgie for the bad man- ners of your servants. And as for her little frolics, what harm is in them ? It's only her fun." " It's a kind of fun that sometimes has very serious consequences," said Lady Eockminster, impatiently. Her sister-in-law laid down her pen. " What is it you are afraid of, Honnor ? A boy and girl amusing themselves, like a pair of kittens : what harm can come of that ? Is it Master Frank you are concerned about ? Leave him alone : he can take care of himself — trust him ! He wasn't born yesterday. Nor was she, for the matter of that. Georgie has had at least one little affair of a more serious kind. There was Jack Cavan — the Oavans of Kilcrana — I never quite knew how that was broken off — " "All the same," rejoined Lady Eockminster, "I do say that Georgie Lestrange is carrying things too far j and I consider that you ought to interfere. I can- 164 BKISEIS not. I am her hostess. But you are her particular friend—" "And I will give you a very siifficient reason why I cannot interfere," Lady Adela made answer, with not a little dignity. "Are you aware that I am making a study of the situation ? These two are my models, at present. I am drawing from the life-^" "And do you mean to tell me," exclaimed Lady Rockminster, with only half -concealed indignation, " that you are ready to sacrifice the interests of your friend — that you refuse to warn her of her danger — because of the requirements of your novel ?" Lady Adela Cunyngham was not in the least put out. "My dear Honnor," she said, with much self-pos- session, " you mistake the point of view. I am trying to make my book a minute and faithful picture of Eng- lish life as it is lived to-day, in all its varied phases ; and I trust that the record may have a permanent value long after these temporary escapades are forgot- ten." In asserting her position the authoress had become almost convincingly sententious : Lady Rockminster hardly knew what to say. She left the room wonder- ing whether she herself would have to ask Miss G-eorgie to be a little more circumspect in her methods, or whether those gay cantrips were to go on entirely un- checked. And at this very moment Miss Georgie Lestrange was out in the middle of the river Skean, cautiously making her way along a knifelike edge of rock, while Frank Gordon was by her side, splashing through the shallows, and holding on by her arm to balance her. Presently she stopped. " I think we are far enough," she said, looking back A SEOKET OF THE WOODS 165 towards the bank they had left behind— where John Tod was in charge of the little black box of a camera perched on a big gray bowlder. "Yes, this will about do. Now you get up on that stone." He did as he was bid. " You must reach over and grasp my hand," she continued, " as if you were going to help me to jump on to the rock beside you — do you see ? And take a firm grip — my fingers aren't made of whipped cream — and that will steady us both. If we're all in focus, cas- tle and hills and all, I think it will be rather nobby." 'Nobby' is not perhaps the word one would have chosen; but there is no doubt she had planned this composition with considerable skill. For here were the foreground figures, out on the rocks amid the sil- yer-glancing waters ; and behind them was a still, clear, tea-brown pool that made a perfect mirror for the over- hanging rowan-trees and hazel-bushes; beyond that, in the distance, rose the plateau on which the gray walls of the Castle stood out from their background of dark green pine ; while over all towered the peaks of Aonach M6r, the threads of snow in the shadowed crevices losing themselves in the hovering clouds. That, at least, was what she had arranged through the medium of the 'finder'; and there remained now but to signal to John Tod to press the spring. " Sure you won't wobble ?" she said to her com- panion, as she reached out her hand. " Hold on firm now. Sure you won't wobble when I cry ' Go !' ?" " I liave braced up my nerves," he answered her. " Go !" she called— and the sound rang clearly away across the soft murmuring of the stream. The next moment she had straightened herself up again, still clinging to his hand ; and then he stepped down from the stone into the water, to pilot her ashore; 166 BRISEIS and in a little while they had resumed their leisurely pilgrimage along the river-bank. It was quite wonderful the number of picturesque backgrounds that Miss Georgie managed to discover, on this idle morning; and there was no need to initiate John Tod into the mysteries of time-exposure, for the sunlight was vivid on bank and brae; so that here, there, and everywhere she was forming her little group of two, and having it snapped for her. But there was one spot in especial that she set her heart on ; just be- low the Priest's Bridge it was — a deep and slumberous pool dark alinost to an ebony blackness, on the further side a wall of water- worn rock with overhanging woods, on the hither side steep slopes smothered in heather and bracken and scrub-oak, while out into the glassy surface of the stream ran a small russet-yellow jetty, rudely constructed of split pine, for the convenience of the fisherman. " Now, Sir Francis," said she, " you must go right to the end of the jetty, for your gray figure will do splen- didly against the black shadow, and there will be the reflection in the water as well. You must take your rod, too, and pretend to be casting — " " And you ?" said he. " Oh, I am coming out, too," she answered, blithely. " I am going to stand by you as your gillie, gafE in hand—" " That's rather reversing the natural order of things, isn't it ?" he made bold to remark. " Now be a good boy, and do as you're told," said she, in a businesslike manner, as she proceeded to poise the camera. " This is the very last one I am going to take — and it must be perfect." Of course the result of all these experiments could not be known until much later on ; but in the mean A SECBET OF THE WOODS 167 time she seemed well content ; and as they continued on their way up through the woods to the heights abore the Priest's Bridge, she appeared to be in excellent spirits. And yet she said — as she absently plucked a bit of heather and began to nibble at it — " It's horrid to have no soul — positively horrid. Don't you think so ? I call it loathsome — distinctly loath- some." " No soul ?" he repeated in amazement. " Who has no soul ?" " I," she rejoined, deliberately. "I am conscious of it all the time I am with Lady Adela, and Sibyl, and Eose. Their aspirations, their passionate yearnings, their noble ambitions — all that arises from their hav- ing souls; they are in earnest, and enjoy a kind of spiritual exaltation ; and I feel so awfully ashamed — and mean — and — and empty. I am convinced I have no soul ; and it's really and truly horrid." " Oh, but there are other qualities," said he, boldly (for he must needs comfort this poor creature in her vague despondency). "You wouldn't have everybody writing, and painting, and composing music ? You wouldn't have the world filled with people of that kind ? Surely there are qualities in human life quite as valu- able as the enthusiasm of amateurs ! There's cheerful- ness, for example ; and there's good-nature — and good- comradeship — and straightforwardness — and brightness — and merriment — " " Oh, is that me ?" she said. " Do you mean me ? Really ? Perhaps, after all, I may be a blessing in dis- guise !" " I don't see the disguise," said he. " Hm ! — that's rather nice," she observed, reflect- ively ; and by this time they were out in the open again — high above the Skean Narrows. 168 BEISEIS And then, and cautiously, he led her forward to the brink of the deep and sombre chasm ; and, resting his hand on a birch-tree, he peered over, and continued his intense scrutiny, for a few seconds. Then he with- drew his head. "I can only see two down there, but they are huge brutes." " Where — ^where — where ?" she exclaimed, excitedly ; and .she also would crane her head and neck, gazing down through the bushes into the deeps of the river far below. But at first she could see nothing at all — ^nothing save the dark, clear, still water, with here and there some faint indication of the gravel or rock at the bot- tom. She stared and better stared — eager — ^impatient — and then she uttered a slight cry. " Oh, I see him ! — ^I see him ! — " For a duU-hued, olive-green object, hitherto lying motionless above a flat yellow stone, had made a slight movement ; there was an obscure gleam for the fiftieth part of a second ; but that was sufficient to direct the eye — and now she could dimly make out the enormous fish, which was almost motionless again, and not too easily discernible unless one's attention were kept steady. " There's another about a yard and a half further down," Frank Gordon said to her, " but he's closer in to the rock : you won't make him out until your eyes get better accustomed. In the mean time, what do you say to having lunch, just here ? You can sit and watch the fish : very likely you may see one or -other of them throw himself out of the water — and these two are forty-pounders if they're anything." Well, she was nothing loth ; for the long rambling by glade and stream had made her hungry ; John was A SECRET OF THE WOODS 169 summoiied to bring along the bag ; the little white par- cels were opened ; and there was a display of tongue and turkey sandwiches, vinegared lettuce, and other commodities. Then he drew the cork of the claret- bottle ; and proceeded to remove the paper that ought to have enwrapped two tumblers. There was only one. " Look at this I" he exclaimed angrily. " Did you ever see such carelessness ! Hallett has sent us only one tumbler I" N"ot the faintest tinge of color appeared on the shell- like purity of her forehead. " Oh, really ?" she said, with great sweetness. " But it doesn't matter, does it ?" " Of course it doesn't matter," said he, gloomily. " I can get the loan of the cup from Tod's flask." This startled her : it was an unforeseen check. " Oh, Tod's flask ?" she repeated. " Some battered old zinc thing — why should you want to have that ? Surely this tumbler can do for both of us ? I am not too proud, if you are not." It was a challenge — a command, rather. " If you don't mind ! — " he said. " Of course I don't mind !" she said, with robust good-nature ; and therewith they set to work on the small packets ; and when it came to the question of claret, they drank alternately, like two love-birds, from the same cup. The familiar hobnobbing, here in these remote and sylvan solitudes, seemed to delight her ; she picked the nicest sandwiches for him ; she recom- mended this and recommended that; and finally, luncheon over, she cleverly pared an apple, and duly presented him with his proper half. And yet she was not wholly happy. Ever and anon she had been glancing down towards the still pools at the bottom of the wooded gorge, where she could now 170 BEISBIS make outj not only tlie two large salmon^ but three or four smaller ones, equally immobile in the shadows of the rocks. " It's an awful swizz seeing those fish lying there, isn't it ?" she said, somewhat enigmatically. " Makes you want to throw stones at them, doesn't it ? They're no use to anybody, are they ?" Then she looked him straight in the face. "Sir Francis," said she, "did you ever hear of such a thing as ' snatching ' a salmon?" " A shabby trick," he said, as he lit a cigarette. "Oh, yes, that's all very well," she proceeded, un- d^ntedly. " I know that snatching is considered to be very disgraceful — at least, that is what people pre- tend — and you wouldn't do it while there was a keeper or a gillie near by. But if I were a man, I would not be afraid of the opinion of keepers and gillies !" "I am not afraid of the opinion of keepers and gil- lies," he humbly protested. " I am afraid of my own opinion." " Oh, that is all quixotism," she insisted. " Kow just let me count up the reasons why you should snatch one of these fish, so that we may take it home with us. First of all, I want to see how it's done : that's one reason. Then I know the housekeeper at the Castle, or the cook, or whoever it is, will be glad to have a salmon for the kitchen — that's two more : three rea- sons. Then the fish for the time being belong to Lord Eockminster : eight reasons. Are you counting ? Then it's a secluded place : no one can possibly see us : twelve reasons. That's already twelve undeniable rea- sons. But the twenty-first, and the original and im- perative one, is that I must and shall see how it's done !" Now if he had looked any other way he might have been saved ; but he looked the very worst way of all ; A SECRET OF THE WOODS 171 he looked at her eyes — and these were full of a mali- cious and audacious mirth. He fell. "Do you mean' it ?" he said. " Of course I do !" she answered him. " John I" he called aloud. " Bring me my fly-book, and a small japanned box you will find in the fishing- bag, and the Prince's rod." " Why the Prince's rod ?" she demanded. "Do you think I would contaminate my own rod with any such iniquity ? — whereas the MonteTcltrin conscience won't mind." Then, when John Tod had brought the japanned box, he opened it. " I wish to draw your attention. Miss Georgie, to the fact that I have not a triangle in my possession : I shall have to make one by destroying three valuable flies." "And why not?" said she. "Haven't I given you thirty -seven strong reasons why it is right and just and absolutely necessary that you should snatch a salmon ! — " " Oh, let that go — let that go," he said, doggedly. " When one is embarking on wild wickedness, it's no good trying to salve one's soul with excuses." He took three large Jack Scotts, and ruthlessly cut the dressing off them ; he placed them back to back, and bound them together with brass wire ; he affixed a bit of string and a leaden sinker ; he ran a piece of gut through the eyed shanks — But enough : the ex- ecrable implement was at length complete. And by this time the Prince's brand-new rod had been put to- gether. " Now, John," he said, " you go away down to the water-side, and hide behind a rock ; and you needn't see what's going on till I yell to you to be ready with the gafE." He himself descended the steep bank some little 172 BKISEIS way, clambering through tall heather, and broom, and birch ; and ever at his elbow was Vivien the temptress, far more resolute and set on this atrocious enterprise than he was. "Try for one of the big ones," she whispered eagerly. " Won't it be splendid to take a forty-five- pounder back to the Castle !" Which was all very well ; . but the difficulty of swinging and pitching that unholy implement, in this narrow chasm, was much greater than she understood ; besides, it is not stiggested that he was an adept. At last, however, he managed to drop the triangle on to the smooth-worn face of the opposite rock — he kept jerking it slightly — and finally it flopped into the water, just beyond one of the great salmon. The next moment there was a vacancy where that fish had been. It made no wave ; it showed no sudden flash ; it simply vanished; and the yellow stone over which it had been hanging was a yellow stone, and nothing more. " Sir Francis, swear for me !"' said Miss Georgie, with her teeth set. " We must try further down," said he, more camly, "But those rowan-trees are the very mischief." They were the very mischief ; for more than once he got caught up, and had to risk the whole of his tackle in hauling away the triangle by main force ; but eventually most unmerited success crowned his efforts — ^he was fast into a fish, that first dashed up the pool, and then dashed down again, and then went to the bottom and dourly remained there. This was but the beginning of the most desperate series of adventures that ever befell an unfortunate angler. To start with, he was surrounded with dif- ficulties. He dared not move from his place, so sheer was the descent beneath him. Bushes hemmed him A SECEET OF THE WOODS 173 in on this bank ; on the other were overhanging trees. Worst of all, the long and dark pool, towards its lower extremity, narrowed until the water flowed between two almost contiguous walls of rock ; and it was a matter of certainty that if the salmon entered that channel, he would depart on a farewell Toyage. And of course, as is the wont of salmon, as soon as this fish had tired of sulking, it was for the neck of that channel that he deliberately made. More and more strain was put on him ; and more and more strain ; and still the brute kept boring down ; ruin seemed ineyitable — When there was a most appalling crack : the rod had snapped clean in two ! — half-way up the middle joint. Gordon (with an inward ' mother of Moses, what's going to happen now !') had just time to seize the upper half before it slid down the slackened line, so that he now found himself with half a rod in each hand, the line being the only connecting link. " Here," he said quickly to his companion, " take this — and reel up when I tell you — and let out when I tell you—" With trembling fingers Miss Georgie receired the lower half of the rod, and breathlessly awaited com- mands. The marvellous thing was that the sudden slackening of the strain had apparently altered the determination of the fish to go down the narrow channel : he began to come steadily back — while the fisherman; holding his half of the rod with the left hand, with the right pulled in the line through the rings. " Eeel up ! — ^reel up !" he cried to his companion — and Miss Georgie, with her heart in her mouth, and her eyes hot as fire, and her fingers shaking, fought with the small horn handle as best she could. 174 BKISEIS "Oh, Frank," she said (not knowing what she said), "what's going to happen ?" "Yes, that's what I want to know," he answered her, grimly, with his eye fixed on the gray thread that was slowly cutting the water. " I never before played a fish with the top half of a broken rod. I suppose it's a judgment — Let out ! let out !" he suddenly called to her — for now the salmon was making a vigorous dash for the head of the pool, and the poor, quaking lass had to let the line run free, though her knees were now almost unable to support her, " Oh, what's it going to do !" she said, pantingly. " Oh, I can't hold this thing-any longer — I cannot — I cannot — " And then she uttered a piercing shriek. In her blind agitation and terror she had somehow managed to get the reel released from the rod ; the moment it was loose it fell away from her tremulous grasp ; and then in helpless dismay she saw it gradually and beau- tifully roll down the steep incline, ending by a splash into the water. " Well, I think that has about settled the matter this journey !" observed young Gordon, -vrith a rueful laugh. But not yet. The crustacean gillie, his back bent double, came swiftly and crouchingly along ; he caught the line and tried to jerk the reel to the surface ; he failed at first, but ultimately, by gentler means, suc- ceeded ; and then he rapidly wound in. " Will I fling it up t' ye !" he called. "No, no I" she screamed in her alarm. "Keep it yourself, and do what Sir Francis tells you !" " Slide the butt down to him," young Gordon said to her, quietly, and without even looking at her : all his attention was concentrated on the point where the A SECEET OF THE WOODS 175 scarcely moving gray thread met the mysterious brown deeps of the pool. " The butt," he exclaimed — " your end of the rod — ^let it slip down the line, and he'll get hold of it." Then she understood; the butt was launched, and safely delivered ; John Tod reaffixed the reel ; and then stood awaiting orders — in the most astounding predicament that had ever fallen to his lot. And what was the salmon about all this time ? Well, the salmon, not knowing that a single decisive move- ment must almost certainly have ensured its escape, had again gone below to sulk ; and there it had re- mained, perhaps trying to persuade itself that nothing had occurred. And then, getting tired of the monot- ony of this performance, it began slowly to return to the middle of the pool, while Master Frank pulled in the line through the rings, keeping such strain on as he dared. " Eeel in, John, reel in !" he shoiited to his hench- man underneath — so that the line between the two pieces of the rod should be kept taut. And again : " Let go ! — let go !" — for the salmon had now taken it into its head to wander away down by the opposite hank, where the water was deep and black - brown un- der the smooth gray rock. And all this while the fish had not shown itself once : they could form no idea of its possible size. " If we ever land this fellow," said young Gordon to his compatuion, "there'll have to be a poem written about it." " Oh, don't talk. Sir Francis, don't talk !" she said, piteously. " Get him !" "Yes, that's all very well," he answered her, coolly enough. "But what control do you suppose I have over him, with this bit of stick ? I wish the Prince 176 BKISEIS had tried his rotten old rod for himself. There nmsfc have been a flaw right in the middle — thunder !" This ejaculation, under his breath, was quite in- adequate to meet the exigencies of the case ; for what happened now was simply bewildering. The salmon, suddenly resolved upon freeing itself from this vicious thing that had got hold of it, rushed up stream for some dozen yards or so ; then threw itself thrice into the air, in rapid succession, each time coming down with an amazing report; then it lashed out on the surface — head and tail going — sides gleaming — the churned water flying about in every direction. And still, through all this, the gray line held '.—and still it held through subsequent and weariful periods of sulking — and still it held until the fish, roving again, came incautiously near the bank and the crouching John Tod : there was a wary reaching out of the gafE — a quick stroke of the steel — and here, on the stones, lay and struggled a magnificent, brilliant - shining creature — near to thirty pounds, they guessed. Miss Georgie sank down on the heather : she had not breath left for the faintest ' hurrah !' There ought to have been a reaction after all this wild excitement, especially as they were ' far, far frae hame,' with the afternoon wearing on. Nevertheless, as they made their preparations for the return journey, it was with a light heart ; and when at length they set out to seek their way through the woods, and along by the still pools and silver shallows, back to Glen Skean Castle, Miss Georgie had quite recovered her breath and also her considerable powers of speech, while ghe was unmistakably proud of the share she had taken in this achievement. * Blithe, blithe, and merry was she ' ; and the evening was fair, and clear, and golden : when they got through the woods and out A SECRET OF THE WOODS 177 into the open, they found that the distant hills about Clunes and Glen Loy had become mere roseate trans- parent films against that glow in the vest ; only up by Aonach M6r was. there something of a darker bulk and grandeur, in the sterile shadows facing the east. "What a story I shall have to tell at dinner to- night !" cried Miss Georgie Lestrange, her laughing eyes and cherry lips radiant and smiling. Her companion was less enthusiastic. " If you're wise," said the young laird of Grantly, to his partner in crime, " you'll keep the whole affair a profound and ghastly secret. And you'll find out how John Tod can smuggle that fish into the kitch- en, by some back way." 8* CHAPTER XII "WHEEB THE DUN DEEE LIE" It was the religious scruples of the Margravine ot Pless-Gmtinden that threatened to break up the house party at Glen Skean Castle. For it appeared that a certain youthful Monarch, recently elevated to the throne, had been casting about for a bride; and as chance would have it, his fancy had fallen on the daughter of the said Margravine — the beautiful Alexia ; the only drawback being that before any formal be- trothal could take place it was necessary that the young lady should change her religion, or at least the out- ward form of it. She, having a practical turn of mind, was perfectly willing ; but her mother, d6vote to the last degree, recoiled ; while during this period of sus- pense a considerable section of the King's ministers were secretly endeavoring to get the match broken ofE altogether, hoping that their master would form a much more important alliance. Now as the Margra- vine of Pless-Gmiinden and the Princess of Montevel- tro were known to be bosom-friends — indeed they had been so ever since their school-girl days in Dresden — and as the compelling and resolute character of the Princess was also well known, it was but natural that those whose interests favored the marriage should turn to her, with the idea that her frank remonstrances and her personal influence might induce the hesitating mother to do her duty by her daughter. Hence ur- "WHERE THE DUN DEEE LIE 179 gent messages and telegrams — from Buda-Pesth — from Belgrade — from OrsoTa; insomuch that the poor lass in the post-office at Skean Bridge, laboriously and me- chanically spelling out the foreign words, had wellnigh taken leave of her wits. But on the other hand the Prince was desperately loth to leave, just as the deer-stalking was about to begin. This was the summit of his ambition now : an honest, uncompromising, legitimate stalk : no blazing into detachments of driven animals — with that he was abundantly familiar ; but an honest piece of circum- vention, and skill, and nerve. He thought he could stand the test ; at all events he was anxious to try ; and eventually a compromise was effected between the importunate Princess and her dilatory husband. Hu- mors came in one evening of a large stag — a splendid beast of twelve points or more — having been seen in the neighborhood of the Corrieara burn ; it was ar- ranged that the Prince should attempt his first stalk the next morning ; while on the following day he and the Princess were to set out on their return to eastern Europe — though, to be sure, they were first of all going round by Grantly on Dee-side, to pay at least a few hours' visit to Aunt Jean. And thus it was that on this fateful morning, while as yet the great gray building seemed plunged in pro- f oundest slumber, a small procession set forth from the front of the Castle : at its head the red-bearded gillie, Eoderick, riding a shaggy brown pony ; then there was the stalwart young lad, Hughie, on foot, with a bag slung over his shoulder ; and finally came the Prince, mounted on the white mare Maggie, the rein hanging loose on her neck, for Monseigneur was engaged in lighting a cigar to cheer him on his lonely road. And a lonely road it was, when once they had ggt away 180 BKISEIS from the Castle and had entered upon the solitudes of the forest : oppressively and mournfully silent too, for they had soon left behind them the familiar sounds of the valley — the continuous murmur of the stream, the velvet " whufE-whufE " of the peewit's wings, the startled "coo-ee!" of the long-beaked whaup. None the less was it an auspicious morning. The sky was veiled over by a net- work of silvery-gray, the clouds re- ceding in soft gradations of perspective until they al- most seemed massed together over the billowy moun- tains about Glen Loy; and if the interstices appeared to be widening — if there were further and further gleams of blue — if the sunlight began to lend a warmer tone to the rose-purple of the heather — still, there was a cool air stirring that promised to temper the heat. Above all, the hills towards which they were bound were clear to the top ; there was little chance of their being baffled by slow-descending mists. What dark premonitions of 'buck-ague' — what stern resolves — what recurrent misgivings — what wild visions of a stag Eoyal — were now warring with each other in Monseigneur's brain it is unnecessary to guess ; per- haps it would have been better for his nerve if Ronald the head forester, who was a companionable kind of man, had been with him ; but Ronald had left long be- fore daybreak on a reconnoitring expedition ; and it was to the rendezvous he had appointed that they were now making their way. And so the mute little pro- cession toiled on — across these voiceless wastes of peat- hag, and bog-myrtle, and heather — until the rude track they were following began gradually to ascend ; and now the wise mare Maggie, craning her neck forward, was left to pick her footing, for ever and anon the bridle-path would seem to disappear in this rough wilderness of rock and scanty herbage. Up and up "WHERE THE DUN DEEE LIE" 181 they went, into the silences of the hills ; and the higher they got the wider and wider grew the great world be- neath them, spreading out on every hand to the horizon, until far in the west the ethereal mountainous ram- parts were visible all the way from Ardgour to Glen- garry, and in the east the shadows of Ben Alder had become of a pale and clear and perfect ultramarine be- yond the undulating, intervening straths. Mile after mile they traversed in this fashion — splashing through swampy hollows, and climbing up barren heights — until on the summit of one of these ridges the gillie on the brown pony began to go more warily, with whispered communications, in Gaelic, to his companion Hugh. And then of a sudden, as it seemed to the startled eyes of Monseigneur, a man sprung out of the ground — a short, thick-set man, with bushy black eyebrows and extraordinarily clear gray eyes ; and he was shutting up his telescope-case as he stepped forward and touched his cap. "Have you seen him?" said the Prince, eagerly. " Have you seen the big stag ?" Eonald answered in a slow, and measured, and de- pressed manner — as if he were speaking of some calam- ity that had befallen him or his in bygone times. "Yes, I am thinking that. Anyway there's a grand beast, along with a wheen more, on the other side of Ben-na-crasg ; but before we could get to them, they will be lying down, and mebbe they will not be rising to feed again for hours yet. But there's a lot of hinds and two or three small beasts just beyond the water- shed; and we would be going in that direction what- ever. Will ye please to get down now, Monsenior ?" So this was the arrangement, then ? — the two ponies were led off by the red-bearded gillie towards some un- known destination ; the stalwart young lad put a rifle 183 BEISEIS over each of his shoulders; the head forester proceed- ed to lead the way, Monseigneur obediently following. And little indeed did the hapless Prince know what was now before him. For first they went down these steep and rugged slopes until they reached the glen be- low ; then they got into a winding channel filled with oozy peat-water, and that they followed for half a mile — sinking into the dark brown mud at every step; then (after vigilant circumspection) they crossed an open piece of morass that was more of a quaking bog than anything else, with patches of bright green that spoke of holes ready to engulf them ; and at last they found comparative shelter in a rocky ravine, up which they painfully toiled. By this time the spick-and-span attire with which Monseigneur had started away in the morning was in a deplorable condition, and he himself was little better. He was black up to the thighs ; his face was bespattered (for he had stumbled once or twice on hidden stumps and come down heavily) ; his hair was matted and streaming with perspiration ; his long mustache was now all loose and ragged and for- lorn. And yet he held on courageously, with never a word of complaint ; now and again he was forced to pause in order to take breath and mop his forehead, but it was with no thought of remonstrance ; and not once had there even been a siiggestion as to the open- ing of a flask. For over an hour not a syllable had been uttered, nor was there any uttered now as the deep-chested forester stopped, took the rifles from Hughie, put car- tridges into the barrels, gave one of the weapons to the Prince, retaining the other for himself, while again their laborious onward progress was resumed. Pres- ently, however, after a long and cautibus survey of the ground, he left the bed of the ravine, and began to "WHBKE THE DUN DEEB LIE" 183 clamber up the sheer incline — an. operation that was rendered doubly diflScult for Monseigneur, for the rea- son that he, having some one in front of him, was bound to keep his rifle in a transverse position as he clutched and climbed from one stone to another, from one heather-tuft to that just above. And even here the same overwhelming silence prevailed. A death- like stillness ; not a bird chirped, not a leaf stirred : there was a curious impression that one could hear sounds miles and miles away, only that there were no sounds to listen to, in this forgotten land. And so it was that when all of a sudden into this mysterious hush and peace there sprang an appalling " Brah !" surely that was enough to shake the heart of any mor- tal man ! The terrified Prince grasped the heather to steady himself, and looked up — for the astounding roar or snort seemed to proceed from just over his head ; and there for one wild second he beheld on the sky- line above him an awful creature — a dark creat- ure with large and startled eyes and pricked-up ears — that was intently gazing down upon him. The next instant the apparition had vanished — dissipated itself into air — without a rustle or the patter of a hoof. " Was that — a stag ?" Monseigneur gasped, with his heart thumping and thumping as if it would burst out of his chest. "'Na, na, just a hind," replied the forester, in a low voice. " I was seeing a good big herd of them close by here. — and mebbe she'll no have frightened them much — " " Hinds ? — hinds ?" said Monseigneur, with impa- tience. " I do not wish to shoot hinds ! — " " But there's two or three stags I was seeing as well 184 BEISEIS — smahl beasts — if Monsenior -would try a shot before going on — " "Small — small, did you say ?" " Oh, yes, indeed, but Monsenior might get an easy shot—" " Come, come, now, Eonald,'^ the Prince said, impera- tively — ^for he had not suffered all this indescribable torture in order to waste his attention on ' rubbish ' — "it's the big stag we're after, and nothing else — " " As ye please, Monsenior," responded Ronald, coolly. " We'll just baud on then." And therewith their heavy labor was resumed — Monseigneur blindly following, re- solved upon enduring to the end, so long as a breath was left in his body. But at length, towards noon, they had arrived at the crest of a hill, or ridge of hills, overlooking a wide ex- tent of lonely and featureless country — ^featureless save for a small and sluggish burn that crept noiselessly through these sterile wastes ; and here Eonald, lying on his back, and balancing his telescope on his knees, began a careful scrutiny of the ground. Presently, with his forefinger, he beckoned Monseigneur to worm himself up to his side. " They're in a terrible bad place — " " And the big stag ?" the Prince whispered, eagerly. " Ay, he's there — he's a bit nearer the burn than the others. Take the glass, Monsenior." It was no easy matter to manage this unwonted in- strument ; but eventually, after long searching, the Prince did come upon the herd — hardly distinguishable from the dun hue. of the valley except by reason of their antlers that were here and there in motion, lazily flicking off a fly. All these stags were lying down, out there in the open ; while the monarch of them, of a somewhat darker color than the others, lay a little "WHERE THE DUST DEER LIE" 185 distance apart. It was on him^ of course, that Mon- seigneur directed the wavering glass; and it was in an awe -stricken kind of fashion that he turned to Konald with smothered questions as to the chances of their being able to get anywhere near that splendid quarry. " They're in a terrible bad place," Konald repeated musingly, as he scanned every feature of the country and watched the ' carry ' of every shred of cloud. " But there's no hinds wi' them ; and that's in our favor. And mebbe we could get down to the bed of the bum. Anyway, Monsenior, they'll no be getting up to feed for a good hour or two yet ; and you might as well be having your luncheon." A terribly tantalizing meal this was ; and eqiially tantalizing was the period of weary waiting that ensued — while the cool wind of these altitudes was steadily and mercilessly freezing blood and bone. When finally Konald deemed it prudent to make a move — lying on his back, and pushing himself feet first down the hill- side — Monseigneur could hardly follow his example, so stiffened had his joints become ; nevertheless he manfully persevered ; and in course of time, by a cir- cuitous route, they managed to reach the bed of the stream, where their progression took another and still niore agonizing form. Face down it was now ; and water that runs in at one's neck and chest is colder than any other kind of water. More crawling and spying ; and now even the pro- fessional Konald was beginning to betray a little sub- dued excitement. " A grand beast !" he muttered, dipping down again from one of those guarded surveys. "Just a famous head ! And they're all up and feeding now — if they draw over the ridge, ye ought to have a chance, Mon- 186 BEISEIS senior. A grand beast — thirteen or fourteen points, Fm thinking — and a fine span : a noble beast in- deed." Monseigneur could hardly listen : he knew that the crisis of his life was approaching. And as it happened, at this perilous juncture, they were fayored by singular good fortune; for as they stealthily got nearer and nearer, slouching along by the bed of the burn, they found that the herd were slowly withdrawing over the ridge, while the big stag, with two smaller ones, seemed rather inclined to keep to the valley. And at last the fateful signal was given. Monseigneur, his head scarcely raised above the sandy grass and the knobs of heather, drew himself forward, pushing his rifle in front of him ; he paused to take breath, for he was like to choke with apprehension ; warily he crawled on again ; and now he could make out a little plateau, russet-hued in the warm afternoon sunlight, and quietly feeding there a magnificent and graceful creature with great wide- branching horns. He raised himself slightly on his elbows. He put the rifle to his shoulder. He tried to steady the trembling barrels ; then he held his breath ; he pulled the trigger — and the dull, soft thud of the bullet into the slope beyond proclaimed that he had missed clean. What followed now was so sudden, so unexpected, and so brief that it gave no opportunity for considera- tion. The stag, alarmed by the loud report, and not seeing where his enemies lay hid, dashed forward, and as luck would have it came galloping directly down upon them. Ronald, having no time to think, thrust his head into the heather, and put his arm around the back of his neck ; Monseigneur — well, Monseigneur did not know what was happening to him, as this huge animal came bounding along: the next moment the "WHERE THE DUN DEER LIE 187 stag had sprang right over them, and was making straight for the burn. "Now, sir! — ^now !" yelled Eonald; and the bewil-' dered Prince mechanically obeyed — he swung himself round — he took aim — he fired — and the stag was seen to go crashing down, right in the middle of the shallow stream. But again the gallant brute was on his legs — he struggled through the pool — he tried and again tried the opposite bank — and that was the end of him : all at once he lurched heavily on to his knees, and then fell of a heap, apparently stone-dead. The face of Monseigneur was of the color of vellum. The next minute the three men were in the water, splashing their way across to the other side ; but it was Hughie who had first grip of the branching antlers. " Fourteen points, sir !" he called, with a grin. " Fourteen points ! — du lieber ! — fourteen — fourteen points !" And indeed when the Prince got up to the noble prize he had secured (by an infamous fluke) his recent paralysis of consternation completely fell away from him, and he broke into an absolute paroxysm of delight. He went daft. He threw his cap in the air. He was loudly laughing and chuckling. " Fourteen points !" he cried — and he also would raise the massive head, to examine and admire, "I tell you, Eonald, that is fourteen sovereigns in your pocket the moment we get home — and seven in yours, Hughio : so that's a fair day's work for all of us ! A grant beast ? — yes, you were right there, Ronald, you rascal! And how far away are the ponies now ? — and will you be able to get him down to the Castle to-night ? Why don't you cry hurrah, man ? — why don't you cry hurrah ?" "Monsenior," said Eonald, shyly, "if there was a smahl tasting of whiskey that no one would be caring for—" 188 BRISEIS Monseigneur got out from the lunclieoii-bag his ca- pacious flask. "There," said he, with soyereign magnanimity, "take what there is — divide it between you — I shall not want a drop — not a drop. Only, Konald, I rely on you to get this splendid fellow down to the Castle to- night." It was just about this time of the afternoon that the young laird of Grantly, Miss Georgie Lestrange, and John Tod were returning from a fruitless expedition up the river, and they had arrived at the mouth of the Corrieara burn, when it occurred to Frank Gordon that if Tod were to be sent ofE home with the fishing impedimenta, these other two — Miss Georgie and him- self, that is — might go for a bit of a stroll into the for- est to meet the stalking - party on their way back to the Castle. Now there was nothing that the blithe damsel with the pince - nez was not ready for ; the ar- rangement was forthwith made ; and presently the two of them were scrambling up through bushes and bracken until they were in sight of the vast, treeless plain and the surrounding hills. But on the crest she paused, and turned, and in tragic tones she addressed the river they were leaving behind them. " Farewell, dear, dear stream !" she said. " Fare- well, farewell ! ' No more by thee my steps shall be, for ever and for ever !' " " Why ?" asked her more prosaic neighbor. " Why ?" she repeated. " Why ? And you leaving to-morrow morning with the Prince and Princess !" "Yes, but there's Lady Kockminster," said he. "You could go down to the pools with her." "Honnor has lost all her enthusiasm," Miss Georgie replied. " She won't budge a foot while the water's "WHERE THE DUST DEER LIB 189 as low as it is at present. And yet I do think it's so jolly to sit on the bank — and eat apples — and watch the big salmon — whether there's any fishing going on or no." By this time they were crossing the morass, making for one of the bridle-tracks leading into the hills. " I say, it's rather nice to be quite by ourselves, isn't it ?" Miss Georgie proceeded, as she picked her steps among the rough heather and peat-hags. " I call it spifiing, don't you ? John Tod is a nuisance. I de- test him. He's quite unlike the others — don't you think so ? All the others — I mean the Highland keep- ers, and gillies, and servants are so reserved and polite, and they have so much quiet self-respect too ; but Tod — Tod considers himself clever, and attempts to make fun of them — " "Yes," observed her companion, "and a facetious Lowlander trying to be humorous at the expense of the Highlanders is about the most painful sight that Providence permits in this unfortunate universe." "And his imitations — imitations, indeed! 'Her nainsel's a shentlemans': did ever any one hear a Highlander talk like that ?" Miss Georgie demanded, indignantly. " Stop, stop !" he cried, laughing. " So far I have refrained — " "Eef rained from what ?" "Prom throwing him into the river. You see, it's a delicate matter. If he were your own gillie, a duck- ing in the Priest's Bridge pool might have an excellent effect on his little pleasantries — " They had now struck upon the rude bridle-path, and could continue their route without paying so much at- tention to their footsteps. And if as yet they could make out no sign of the return of the stalking-party, they wandered on very contentedly through this golden 190 EEISEIS evening, the still air around them sweetened with the honey-fragrance of the heather and the resinous per- fume of the bog -myrtle. Already, among the lonely corries of Aonaeh M6r, shadows of a wan and pale pur- ple were beginning to draw over ; but far in the west the heavens were all aglow ; and the hills around Grlen Loy had become almost transparent — ^they seemed like huge phantom billows receding outwards and outwards to the sea. It was a wild and solitary scene ; and the silence was impressive ; but Miss Georgie Lestrange did not allow herself to be overawed. She was laughing, talking, jesting, with occasional little touches of pensive senti- ment ; and if there was any mischief in her mind, her manner betrayed nothing but a demure and attractive innocence. "Where can those people be ?" he kept asking ; but her eyes refused to follow his to the distant slopes and heights : she seemed to care as little for the return of the stalkers as she did for the shadows slowly gather- ing on Aonaeh Mor. "Say now. Sir Francis," she proceeded, "wouldn't you like a little souvenir — a souvenir that might some- times recall to you the happy days we have spent on the banks of the Skean ? I've been thinking, you know. Do you remember telling me about the keeper on the Awe, who wa,nted to dress a new salmon-fly, and part of the dressing he used was a bit of red hair from the head of a girl in the neighborhood? Awfully clever of him, wasn't it ? And the fly turned out suc- cersful, didn't you say ? Didn't they call it the ' High- land Lassie ?' " He was hardly heeding her — so intent was his scrutiny of the remote undulations and gullies. " They must have gone back by some other way," he "WHEEB THE DUN DEBE LIE" 191 said, "umless they're had a long chase after a wounded stag." But her next abrupt question brought him to his senses. "Is my hair red enough ?" she demanded. "Miss G-eorgie," said he, reprovingly, "questions like that provoke indiscreet answers. Your hair isn't red. I daren't say what I think it is — because you would think me impertinent." " Is it red enough to put on a salmon-fly ?" she perse- vered. " Because, if it is, you're quite welcome to cut ofE as much as would dress three or four flies; and then, in days to come, you know, you might think of the happy times on the Skean." He did not accept her invitation : he was frightened. "You don't happen to have a pair of scissors ?" she asked next, in an off-hand way. "I think I saw a small pair — in your fly-book — " " Well, yes, I have," he admitted. " But I couldn't clip off any of your hair — it would be a disfigure- ment — " "Not at all," she insisted. "Have you your fly- book in your pocket ? Very well ; take out the scis- sors. Behind the ears, don't you understand — under- neath — you can easily snip bits that will never be noticed." " But really," said he, " I — I could not take such a liberty—" " It appears to me," she said, proudly, "that I am as much entitled to have a salmon-fly called after me as any red-headed girl at Taynuilt. Why not the ' Eng- lish Lassie ' as well as the ' Highland Lassie ?' " Well, his fingers were not very steady as he took out the scissors and set about this unnerving task ; and he was extremely modest in the exactions he made on 193 BRISEIS those ruddy-golden wisps and tangles that curled and clustered about her milk-white neck ; but at length he had put the tiny quantities together, and carefully smoothed them, and with a religious care had placed them in one of the pockets of his fly-book. She, also, seemed to be satisfied as they resumed their walk. " The ' English Lass,' " she repeated, lightly. " But no names, mind — no names — should any stranger be turning over the leaves of your fly-book. A secret is between two. And you can write and tell me if I have brought you any luck." Meanwhile there was no trace of the stalkers ; and the golden glow in the west was paling ; and a strange, clear, metallic-hued twilight was stealing over the land. " Come, we must get away back now," he said to her, with something more of authority ; and she was obedient ; so they turned and set out for the Castle — the gray towers of which were just visible above the belt of dark green firs. And yet their solitary walk home was not to be with- out an adventure, of its kind. As they were following this rough track across the wild moorland, he stopped of a sudden, and began to peer earnestly into the mysterious dusk. " Do you see them ?" he whispered. Her eyes took the direction indicated ; and as they grew more and more accustomed to the faint haze hanging over the russet-brown of the plain, she could make out certain spectral creatures, that were appar- ently motionless. But they were not quite motionless ; and as she gazed they grew more -and more distinct — seven hinds and a stag, quietly feeding, and wholly un- conscious of the presence of any stranger. "Stand where you are, and watch," he whispered "WHERE THE DUN DEER LIE 193 to her again, "and I will see how near I can get to them." Thereupon he set out to crouch and steal along by the deeper of the peat-hags, this being, the only method of approach possible, the deer feeding right out in the open. Of course, ijE he had been engaged on a real, instead of an imaginary, stalk, he would have crawled along serpent-wise, shoving his rifle before him ; but he was only making a little experiment, out of curi- osity, and perhaps, hoping to interest the solitary on- looker. And still the children of the mist remained unsus- picious of any danger, so that he had ample opportunity of watching them and admiring their elegant propor- tions and graceful movements. Then, after a while, he rose to his full height. At that, one of the hinds, stand- ing some distance apart from the others, suddenly tossed up her small head, pricked her ears, and 'glowered' at him. She siared for about three seconds ; then, with her slender legs scarce seeming to touch the heath, she tripped lightly across to her comrades, and turned, and stared again. But by this time they were all of them on the alert ; even the stolid stag had raised his antlered head and shaggy neck, and was fixedly regarding the intruder. This was the point Frank'Gordon had sought to reach ; and so long as he remained perfectly still, moving neither hand nor foot, they also were immobile, the group of upthrown heads strikingly picturesque in the dim twilight. He knew what would happen next. The moment he turned away to rejoin his companion, they were off like arrows from a bow, and almost in- stantly had disappeared in the pale blue mists lying along the base of the hills. Miss Georgie he found seated on a clump of heather, her face somewhat averted : had she not been watching 194 BKISEIS the deer, then, after all ? She rose as he approached, and they at once set out on their homeward way. " A pretty sight, wasn't it ?" he said. There was no answer. "Didn't the stag look grand when he threw up his antlers and stared ?" he continued. " Yes — I suppose so — " There was something unusual in her tone. He vent- ured to cast a sidelong glance towards her ; and to his amazement discovered she had been, crying. " Why, what is it?" said he, stopping short. "What is the matter ?" "It is nothing," she said, in a low and choked voice. " Only-^this is the last day of our being together — and — and I have been looking back — and I know what you must think of me." " If you knew what I think of you," he said, gravely, "it would be nothing for you to cry over. I should hope not ! — " «. "Ah, but I do know — I do know !" she said, vehe- mently ; and then she went on in a kind of half-reckless, half -despairing fashion : " Well, we've come to the end of the game ! — the play is played out ! — and, if you go away now thinking me bad and wicked, it's no more than I deserve. Sometimes — I thought I would try to amuse yon — but — ^but a plaything is easily cast aside — and for- gotten. Easily enough — it is easy to throw aside — a plaything — and serves her right — " She burst into tears, and broke away from him, and hid her face. But he took her hand, and put both of his round it, and held it, as though he would convey to her some pacifying, some reassuring influence. " I don't in the least understand you," be said, sooth- ingly. "Why, what can you have to reproach yourself with — you of all people ! — " ''WHEBE THE BUN DEEK LIE -" 195 " Oh, don't speak to me so !" she sobbed. " I have seen all along that you are not like the rest — you are BO unselfish — and forgiving — and generous — and that made it all the worse. Never mind ! Think of me — what you please : you will soon forget — " She raised her eyes, tear-filled and piteous, to his; and then somehow — ^who shall say at whose instigation or under what mad, uncontrollable impulse ? — somehow their lips met, in a passionate, delirious kiss. And so two lives were signed away. There was no further speech between them just then. Perhaps his brain was overmastered by the wild wonder and joy of this unexpected — and unthought-of — con- quest and possession ; as for her, her maiden fears and vague alarms and foreshadowings might well hold her in silence at such a crisis. They passed through the grounds and entered the Castle : in the hall, as they were about to go their several ways, she once more raised her eyes to his, and there was the strangest wistf ulness and questioning in them. He saw her no more that night. CHAPTER XIII NORTH AND SOUTH The tall limes and the serried firs were black as ebony against the dark, clear skies ; but when, having slipped out from the Castle immediately after dinner, Frank Gordon had passed through this belt of trees and en- tered upon the solitudes of the forest, a faint, spectral, gray mist lay over all the land ; while a full white moon was sailing through the clouds that hung in shreds above the sombre vastness of Ben-na-Van. The air was moist and scented with the odor of the sweet-gale. There was no sound but the soft sh — sh — sh of the dis- iant river ; though once he heard a strange cry over- head-^the call of some unseen sea-bird to its mate on their way out to the western main. With his head bent somewhat forward, and his hands in his pockets, he strode slowly on, in no wise dreaming what a terrible necessity it was that drove him to argue with himself, and prove to himself, that he was the very happiest and luckiest man in the whole realm of England. And yet he was able to convince himself, easily and triumphantly enough. AVhy, where could he have found such another prize ? Here — amid these mysteri- ous wastes — ^in the wan moonlight — he could summon up a vision of her, with all her brightness, her winsome- ness, her gay humor, her happy-go-lucky disposition overbrimming with merriment and audacious good- comradeship ; and he thought of the radiance, and KORTH AND SOUTH 19^ color, and sunlight she wovild introduce into the dull old rooms of Grantly Castle. Nevertheless — neverthe- less — there was something else haunting, him that he could neither understand nor whdlly dismiss. Middle age, surveying the future, counts by years, and has a fairly clear perception of limits. Youth, on the other hand, sees nothing but a succession of eternities, filled •ffith boundless possibilities of fascination and glamour ; and when the young man or the young woman, press- ing forward into this unknown and entrancing world,- is suddenly brought Up, as it were, by some crisis that speaks of finality, the shock is apt to be startling- No doubt young Gordon, as he could conclusively prove to himself, was she happiest of men ; but his amazing good luck had been sprung upon him somewhat un- expectedly; and he was bewildered; and perhaps a trifie afraid. There were to be no more vague wander- ings and imaginings, then ? — no more pensive ques- tioning of eyes in the dusk of London conservatories ? — no timid, half-wistful words during a homeward stroll through the June lanes ? It was all fixed and final now ; and there wais nothing for him but to assure himself, for the hundred-and-fiftieth time, that his auspicious fortune was immeasurably greater than he deserved. Of a sudden, far away in the gloom lying over the Corrieara burn, he perceived a red spark of fire, and he paused, wondering. That could be no will-o'-the-wisp, for the Corrieara burn comes down through rocky alti- tudes ; besides the light was crimson, not an opalescent blue. Who, then, could be traversing this voiceless country at such an hour of the night ? And then he began to recall the events of the day — which had been entirely driven from his mind by recent agitations. This must be the stalking-party come home at last. He 198 BEISEIS pushed forward. Presently, emerging from the pro- found shadows under Ben-na-Van he beheld the small procession — ^the Prince riding in front, and smoking a cigar ; then the second pony, with the slain stag bound on to its back, Eonald walking by its head, and Hughie keeping him company. It was a picturesque little group that came out of the mirk into the soft wan ra- diance of the moonlight ; but Monseigneur was not thinking of that ; the moment he saw who the stranger was, he pulled up his pony, and slid to the ground. "Here, Eonald," he cried, "you take a turn in the saddle ; you've had a long day of it." And then he eagerly caught his step-son by the arm. " Frank, my boy, I've something to show you — the grandest four- teen-pointer that's been taken in this forest for many a year ! "What d'you think of that now ? — and my first stalk ! Look here, man, look ! — look at the span of them ! — what do you call these for points, eh ? And you don't think they'll have gone to bed when we get back to the Castle ? — no, no, surely not ! — I've waited with the men on purpose, to make certain we should get the stag home — and they can't have gone to bed — the ladies must come to the hall door — Frank, honor bright, now, isn't it a splendid head ! — " ", It's a fine head," said Frank Gordon, absently : his mind had been full of other things. And yet, when the stalkers resumed their journey — Monseigneur now on foot — young Gordon was not loth to have the whole story of the wild day's sport dinned into his ears. Having proved to himself all that he wished to prove, it might be wiser to accept that conclusion once and for ever. Why pay heed to any lurking doubts or dim forebodings ? So he tramped along silently, listening to the wondrous and excited tale ; and even in the smoking-room, later on, Monseigneur's astonishing ad- NORTH AND SOUTH 199 ventures so m6nopolized the talk that the preoccupa- tion of any single member of the party was not likely to be observed. Between one and two o'clock in the morning, while he was still lying broad awake, he heard a slight rus- tling noise somewhere in his room, and paid little atten- tion to it, thinking it but the patient endeavors of a mouse ; the next moment, however, there was a knock at the door — a single rap — and thereafter he thought he could detect the faint sound of retreating footsteps. At once he reached up his hand and turned on the electric light ; and then, looking about, he saw that a white envelope had been passed underneath the door and was lying conspicuously enough on the smooth parquetry. He was not long in possessing himself of this missive ; and a very strange document it turned out to be — written in pencil, and incoherently scrawled over several sheets of paper. ' You will be going away early in the morning, and there wUl be all the people about ; I cannot take leave of you that way. Frank, I did try to tell you some- thing this evening ; but I could not tell you everything ; you would have thought too hardly of me. And all the same I deserve whatever you may choose to think of me ; but then it began with my wishing to amuse you ; and there were too many opportunities for mis- chief — too many opportunities — and I was silly — and of course you despise me — and I haven't a word to say in my defence. Only, it wasn't all mischief — Frank, you will believe that ! — I declare on my honor that what happened to-night was honest and straight, what- ever it may lead to — / swear to you I wasn't shamming then. You will believe me, Frank, won't you ? I don't mean about the clipping of my hair — that was 200 BRISSIS nonsense— I confess to that. For I put your fly-bOok with the scissors into my pocket when Johnnie left us at the Corrieara burn ; and then I pretended to find it, and gave it to you to carry, so that you would have a pair of scissors in your pocket when I offered to let you cut my hair. Think of me what you please ; but that's the truth ; and there's lots more I could tell you ; only a girl doesn't like to demean herself too much j and be- sides, you are going away. But the other thing — ^what followed — ^was true : oh, Frank, you surely won't im- agine I was shamming then! I know I have been wicked — for the sakei of fun ; ever since my brother Percy went to Florida, I've been left to my own guid- ance, and maybe I've gone over the line a bit now and again ; but if you would only consider this, that per- haps I may prove iruer in the long run than some of your serious ones, that have such high and exalted notions. No, I won't even say that ; I have my pride too ; -you may despise me as much as ever you like — and I can take it — and no one will find me complain. But, Frank, it wasn't all shamming — ^it was, not all shamming — ^you won't believe that of me ! Or perhaps you think I would let myself be kissed by anybody ? I know what men — sotne men, I mean — imagine about women. Very well. Think it, and welcome. I don't care. Why should I care ? Frank — Frank — I don't know what I'm saying — and that's the truth ; but you're not like the others ; you are so generous and forgiving — and perhaps — ^perhaps — you'll be a little merciful in judging. And please don't write — that would only frighten me ; just say ' Good-bye ' the min- ute before you start — and I shall understand. G.' Indeed he had no wish to judge harshly — or to judge at all — this poor distracted lass, who seemed to'be suf- NORTH AND SOUTH 301 fering so acutely on account of her venial sins. Mis- chief ? — the playfulness of a kitten ! This scrawled letter, he could see easily enough, was honest through and through. It was even pathetic in its way. What could he do or say to reassure her — in that brief second hefore the driving off of the four-in-hand ? "Well, it was little more than a moment he had with her on the next morning; for amidst the bustle of packing the luggage she did not put in an appear- ance ; and reluctantly he was almost about to mount into the brake when she came timidly forth from the porch. " Good-bye," said she, offering him her hand, her eyes cast to the ground. " Good-bye," said he, much more cheerfully ; and then he added in an undertone : " Don't let your head get filled with these absurd fancies. It isn't the least like you !" " Will yon write to me ?" she said, and she managed to raise-her eyes a little bit. "Of course — as soon as we reach Grantly," he made answer ; and then he said good-bye again ; and got into the brake — hoping that no one had noticed that not protracted farewell. For he had resolved upon keeping this all too happy secret to himself, in the mean time at least, although his mother was on the point of leaving England ; and not even when they had arrived at Grantly, and when he had private speech with his old confidante, Jean Gordon, did he utter a word as to the prospective change in his life. It was Miss Jean who had news for him — ^news that startled him not a little. " Frankie," said she to him, when the Prince and Princess had gone away to their own apartments to prepare for dinner, " do you remember an old gentle- 9* 203 BRISEIS man, a botanist, and his niece, a Greek girl, who came out here last May ?" " Do I remember ?" he repeated. " Why, how often have I asked'you about them ? And never once have I thought of them without remorse — " " Kemorse ?" she said, staring. " Eemorse — and nothing else," he said. And then he went on quite bitterly : " That I should brag to them of Dee-side hospitality ! ' Come as soon as you Can, and stay as long as you can ; and that's a Dee-side welcome' ! Dee-side hospitality ! — a cutlet, a glass of claret, and a shake of the hand at the door — that's Dee-side hospitality ; and you let them go out into the world again — strangers to the country — and you never see them again — " " My dear Frank, what more could you have done !" Aunt Jean protested. " You were leaving for London the same night — " "If I could find them aow," said he, warmly, "I would at least try to do something to redeem my promise. "We may be what you like on Dee-side, but anyway we do not brag of our hospitality, and then sneak out — " "Frank," said Jean Gordon, gravely, "you need not speak of those two as being together any more. The poor old man died quite shortly after their visit here — I fancy they left Sanchory the next day or the day aftej — and went in to Aberdeen. Indeed it's a pitiable story : I would have written to you, but I knew you were coming through." For now it appeared that Aunt Jean, having occasion to dine with some friends of hers in the Granite City, had by accident met Mr. Murray, the Edinburgh law- yer, who had had the settlement of poor old John Elliott's worldly affairs ; and by further accident he IfOKTH AND SOUTH 203 had begun to tell Miss Jean Gordon something about the old botanist and his niece, when she grew intensely interested, explaining that she had already met these two, out at Grantly. So she got all the particulars which the Edinburgh W. S. could furnish ; and these in turn she now communicated to yoimg Frank Gor- don, who seemed unusually perturbed. "Her aupt — a Mrs. Elliott — Devonshire Place ?" he repeated. "And he fears she has been made into a kind of household drudge ? Aunt Jean, I will go and see her the moment I get to London !" " My dear Frank," said the kindly but practical Miss Jean, " what could you do ? How could you in- terfere ? — even if all that Mr. Murray says is true — and he judged merely by one or two casual visits he had to pay on business. You can't go rescuing dis- tressed young ladies — " "Dee-side hospitality !" he said, with returning bit- terness. " And the girl is allowed to go away into a big and friendless town like Aberdeen — and the poor old man dies — of a broken heart, as I guess — and then she is taken away to London — among strangers^— Well, Aunt Jean, I am not in the habit of rescuing distressed young ladies — it's not my line — I know nothing about it ; but as soon as ever I get to London I'm going to call on her — and perhaps make some little apology — and show a little sympathy, at all events — and I don't care who says I shouldn't." "Frank Gordon, ye're a wilful laddie," said Aunt Jean, shaking her head ; and she rose, for the dressing- bell had rung. But all the same she lingered at the 'door a second ; and she added, in a sort of shy way : "Well, Frankie, if you're saying a kindly word to the girl, you might just put in another one as coming from me." 304 BKISEIS Dinner over, he got away to his own room, to write to Miss Georgie Lestrange ; and this he found to be not such a desperate business, after all. It was a good - natured, simple, natural sort of letter, without any melancholic appeals or poetic sentiment. He made fun of her coiifessions and her self-reproaches. He was earnest in begging for all of her photographs she might have with her ; and he gave her the address of his chambers in Jermyn Street, whither they might be sent. He wanted to know when she was likely to re- turn to London, explaining that he would very soon be thrown on his own resources there, for his mother was extremely anxious to get hold of the hesitating Mar- gravine of Pless-Gmilnden, and the probability was that she and the Prince would not remain in town beyond a few days. "Would she (that is. Miss Georgie) renew his thanks to Lady Eockminster for the pleasant time he hiad spent- at Glen Skean- Castle ; and would she write and tell him what luck Sir Hugh was having with the stags. A friendly letter, without pretence or affectation of any sort. Only, he experienced some little sense of relief when he had got it finished, and when the envelope was sealed and directed. On the very next day the Prince and Princess of Monteveltro left Aberdeen for the south, travelling up to London by the night mail from Perth ; and ow their arrival in town they drove to Brown's Hotel, while young Gordon went to his rooms in Jermyn Street, which he kept in permanency. Then, when he had thrown into the fire the circulars awaiting him,, there came breakfast — the newspapers — dressing ; fol- lowing which he went out to purchase for himself a tall hat, an umbrella, a pair of gloves, and one or two similar articles not usually worn on Dee-side ; and pres- ently he found himself, all properly equipped and ar- NORTH AND SOUTH 205 rayed, with the vhole of London to choose from, on this cool, bright, sunny morning. He had no particu- lar plans. He thought he would stroll up Bond Street, and look at the latest photographs of the popular ac- tresses. Then he went round to Brown's Hotel ; but the Prince and Princess had already gone out — they had to make the most of their brief stay. Finally, having absolutely nothing else to do, he wandered on towards Regent's Park, with some vague idea of get- ting a glimpse at the house in Devonshire Place where sooner or later he should have to call at a more reason- able hour. It was a large house, amid houses still larger and of considerable pretensions ; and he casually, noticed that it might have been improved as to its outer appearance had the pots of flowers and shrubs in the balcony of the first-floor windows been a trifle less dingy. But of course he could not stare ; some one might be looking out — perhaps even Briseis Valieri herself; so he aim- lessly passed on — ^possibly thinking in idle fashion of a certain spring morning on the banks of Dee — of th© speedwells and gorse around the foot of the massive Scotch firs — of the shimmering sunlight on the rip- pling stream — of a tall, and slim, and graceful stranger who seemed to come to him out of the unknown, with her great, dark eyes smiling, not with embarrassment. He was thus sauntering on, rather blindly, perhaps, when in turning into the Marylebone Eoad he very nearly ran into what seemed to him a perambulator that was being shoved along by the customary nursemaid. " I beg your pardon," a voice said to him. " I beg your. pardon," he said in reply ; and he raised his hat slightly — for he was of Highland birth and blood, and his native courtesy did not distinguish be- tween a housemaid and anybody else. 206 BEISEIS But the next moment something happened. " Miss Valieri !" he exclaimed. " Sir Francis !" she said — a little surprised, but in no wise disconcerted. The small lad in the Bath chair looked vonderingly from the one to the other. "I was so sorry to hear of the sad news/' the sun- tanned young gentleman said — and he turned and walked with her, for they could not block up the pave- ment. " I did not know until the day before yester- day. We were always expecting to see you and your uncle again at Grantly ; and I wrote several times to Aunt Jean — you remember her — and she could not learn where you had gone. It troubled me more than you can imagine-^for we were hoping to see or hear of you again — and you must have considered us so neg- lectful—" "Indeed, no. Sir Francis," Briseis said, in rather a low voice. " My uncle was taken ill almost as soon as we reached Aberdeen ; and of course there was nothing else to be thought of — " " It was only the day before yesterday that I got your London address," he continued ; " I came up to town this morning — and I had been proposing to call on you-" " Sir Francis," said she, " may I introduce to you my cousin Adalbert—?" "How do you do ?" said the little gentleman in the Bath chair, and he held out his thin, blue- veined hand. " I suppose you are Sir Francis Gordon. Cousin Briseis has told me all about the claymores and the targes in the hall at Grantly Castle." " And are you interested in such things ?" said young Gordon, in a kindly way. " Oh, yes, yes," the lad made answer, eagerly. NORTH AKD SOUTH 207 " Very well. Some day or other, when I get back to the north, I will look out one or two and send them up to you. They're rather picturesque things in the hall, you know." By this time they were in DcTonshire Place ; and from one of the ground-floor windows a middle-aged, sandy- haired woman, with careworn face and tired eyes, was looking out. The moment she saw the Bath chair, she left the window, and hurried to the front door — ^for that would save summoning up one of the servants. The lame boy's crutches she had also brought into the hall. " Shall I lend you a hand ?" young Gordon said to this unfortunate chap ; and he got him out, and helped him up the steps, and deposited him on the landing. Then he turned to see why Briseis had not followed. Briseis was tugging and straining at the Bath chair, and evidently dealing with a difficult job ; so the next mo- ment he was down at the pavement again ; he quietly put her aside ; and with one arm (only this was the arm accustomed to the casting of a 38-yard line) he had hauled the chair right up to the door. It was an un- usual way of arriving at any one's house ; and great was the distress of Mrs. Elliott on learning — through Briseis's introduction — that the stranger who had thus played the part of footman was Sir Francis Gordon of Grantly. " I am so sorry," she said, almost breathlessly ; " — so stupid for no one to be about — and my niece is so inde- pendent — she is always for doing everything herself. Briseis has told me. Sir Francis, how kind you were to her and my poor dear brother-in-law when they were in the north ; and though we cannot ofEer you Highland hospitality — still, if you wouldn't mind an informal in- vitation — we shall be having luncheon almost directly — and it would be a great pleasure, Sir Francis, to us all — " 208 BRISllIS Nay, she pressed him ; for this poor woman was ever conscious of her dear girls, and of the letters they would send home to their parents ; moreover, might she not secure Sir Francis Gordon of Grantly for her reception on the following Saturday evening — to add a little lustre to that rare and rather expensive form of advertisement? She was persuasive ; and the smiling, timid eye's of the Greek girl plainly said, ' Oh, yes, why not ?' ; so he as- sented without more ado. ' " This way. Sir Francis," said the widow, conducting him along the hall and up-stairs to the drawing-room. "I fear you will find us rather untidy, for we have all been busy making things for dear Lady Hammersley's fancy bazaar— in aid of her Mission to Draymen, you know. Briseis," she continued, as they entered the room — which appeared to contain a perfectly riotous assemblage of half -dressed dolls, unfinished pen-wipers, and embroidered pillow-slips — "do remove some of these things — ^put them on the piano — anywhere out of sight : the fact is. Sir Francis, my dear girls are so in- defatigable in the cause of charity that sometimes they hurry on from one task to another. And, Briseis, if you would be so kind as to tell Olga and Brenda, and the young ladies, to come in here on their way down to lunch ? I do hope everything is ready ; for we must not keep Sir Francis waiting." Sir Francis had now the honor of being presented to, in succession, the five young ladies of this establish- ment ; for the rumor had flown from room to room that a baronet had descended among the sons and daughters of men ; and they flocked in out of curiosity, if with no more ambitious aims. But Briseis? She did not ap- pear with them. He guessed — for he remembered cer- tain hints he had received from Aunt Jean as coming from Mr. Murray — that. Briseis had gone down-stairs to K KOETH AND SOUTH , 209 see that luncheon was in proper trim ; and he guessed rightly. He was further confirmed in his surmises when they had all trooped down to the dining-room, and taken their places. Here he was introduced to Edward the medical student ; and conceived no liking for that ca- daverous and sardonic youth ; especially as he began to notice that his playful little sarcasms were mostly lev- elled at Briseis. She — gracious, sweet, apparently well- pleased with all the world — did not seem to mind. She settled the lame boy more comfortably in his chair. She fetched the bread-tray, and forked out a piece for each : the solitary maid-servant could not see to every- thing. Mrs. Elliott's conversation (between anxious glances directed hither and thither) was chiefly about the old families of Scotland ; and she managed to inti- mate to young Gordon of Grantly (what he knew al- ready) that she and her surroundings were connected with the Elliotts of the Lea. Then, when they had all been served with hot or cold, the parlormaid left the room, and for some reason or another did not immediately return. Mrs. Elliott grew more and more embarrassed and disconnected in her replies ; for all the glasses were empty — ^there was not even a jug of water on the table. At last, growing desperate, she said — " Briseis — would you mind — I think Agnes has been detained? — would you mind handing round the sherry and claret ?" With the utmost cheerfulness and complacency Bri- seis Valieri got up from her seat, and went to the side- board', and possessed herself of the two decanters. " ' Serva Briseis, niveo colore,' " murmured the niedi- cal student, with a bit of a snigger ; and whoever may or may not have caught the phrase, young Gordon did> 210 • BKISEIS and thought (with angry eyes) that he would remem- ber. It .might be the beginning of a score. Meanwhile Briseis, having got hold of the wine, was naturally returning to the chief guest of the occasion, to proffer the usual question. But Frank Gordon had been inwardly chafing and fretting ; there was a flush on his forehead ; besides, he was a ' self-willed laddie,' as Aunt Jean had called him. And so, on Briseis draw- ing near, he abruptly rose from his place. "Will you allow me ?" he said ; and he took the de- canters from her ; and deliberately went round the table, asking each which he or she preferred, until at length he reached the medical student. There he planked down the two decanters, without any question at all. "Oh, Sir Francis," saidthe poor widow, "how could you give yourself so much trouble ? I'm sure I don't know what servants are coming to nowadays : I'm al- ways changing them — and changing for the worse, I think." After luncheon they returned to the drawing-room ; and as Briseis at once set to work on the unfinished knickknacks for the fancy bazaar, while the other girls devoted themselves to such desultory occupations as allowed them covertly to scrutinize the handsome young gentleman from the north, Mrs. Elliott had her visitor all to herself. And at once she plunged in medias res. " I hope, Sir Francis," she said, in her most winning way (the poor, tired woman, with the almost hopeless eyes !) " that you are not engaged on Saturday even- .ing. We have a few friends coming — these dear girls we have with us must have a little society to lighten their studies — and I am sure you would be charmed with Lady Hammersley — she is so bright and clever, and has known so many famous persons in her time. KORTH AND SOUTH 211 She has not definitely promised, it is true," the widow continued — for she preserved her honesty even amidst these many and sore perplexities and trials — " but when she sees all these things we have been making for her bazaar, I am sure she won't refuse ; and I am sure you would be charmed with her — " " Oh, but, Mrs. Elliott," said the young man, modest- Ijj ''you need not ofEer me any inducements. I shall be delighted to come if I can ; the only thing is, that my movements at present depend on my mother and the Prince — I don't know when they may be starting for Buda-Pesth — " And then, seeing that she seemed somewhat mystified, he had briefly to explain to her the relationship between himself and the Prince and Princess of Monteveltro, and the reasons why he should be at their beck and call during their stay in London. Mrs. Elliott's heart beat quick, and wild visions swam before her eyes. A Prince and Princess — a reigning Prince, too : if she could but secure these distinguished personages for this one evening — for ten minutes on that one evening — would not a seal be set on these little festivities of hers for ever and ever ? Would not this or that family communicate with others — at rectory dinners and the like ? Could not a few paragraphs in the 'society' papers be secured ? Well, to make this proposal demanded courage ; but the poor woman was brave ; and much need had she to be brave, during her long struggle with vacillating fortune. " Oh, Sir -Francis," said she, with a pitiful eagerness that he could not but perceive, " do you think you could persuade the Prince and Princess to come with you on Saturday evening, if only for a few minutes — it would be such an honor ! — " He laughed, doubtingly. " My step-papa is rather lazy," he said ; " but as for 312 BEISEIS the Mater, she will do anything I ask of her ; and I am sure — if they are still in town — and if they happen to have no definite engagement for that evening — I am sure it will give her very great pleasure." "Should I send the Prince and Princess a card of invitation ?" she asked, quickly. " Oh no," he said, "don't trouble. I will ask them this afternoon how long they are to be in London. And that reminds me : if you will excuse me, I must be off to my duties ; for I rather fancy they expect me to trot about with them, until they set out for Buda-Pesth." So he rose to take his leave ; and the last of them with whom he shook hands in the drawing-room was Briseis Valieri. "I must write and tell Aunt Jean I have seen you," he said to the beautiful, tall Greek girl, who regard- ed him with no conscious shyness,- but rather with a pleased and smiling and perhaps grateful friendliness. " I know she will be most interested to hear," And therewith he left, lighting a cigarette as soon as he was outside, and good-naturedly thinking that he might just as well try to get the Prince and Prin- cess to confer this small favor on the poor widow, as to whose situation and straits and efEorts he had formed a pretty correct conjecture. As he leisure- ly strolled from Portland Place and Langham • Place down into Regent Street, he could not help noticing the attractive young English ladies who with their sisters and mammas were crowding round the milli- ners' windows — fresh - complexioned maidens, with beautiful hair, and pretty bonnets, and sweetly tinted profile of cheek and chin. Very attractive, no doubt — But his eyes, as he knew, were closed now. His fate was sealed. He had conclusively proved to himself KOKTH AKB SOUTH 31* that he was the luckiest and happiest of men ; and he could always fall back upon that assured and com- fortable conviction ; although, to be sure, at times — at some odd hour — at some unexpected moment — a quick- spasm of unknown and unreasoning dread would seize him, with something almost like suffoca- tion of the heart. But then again, these uncontrol- lable, these irrational flinchings from the future were of short duration ; he put them aside with angry impatience ; nay, at this very moment was he not going calmly and confidently away down to Jermyn Street, to see if the packet of photographs had arrived from Miss Georgie, so that he might make a proud display of them all along his mantel-shelf ? CHAPTER XIV A DEPAETUEE The photographs were not there ; but the Prince was ; and forthwith young Gordon found himself haled off to a shop in Piccadilly, where he was bidden to choose a complete set of golfing implements, all of the most approved type. " Golfing in Monteveltro !" he protested. "Well, you won't want for hazards ! How many mountain- peaks to the course ?" "Oh, we shall do excellently," said Monseigneur, with much confidence. "I know where will be a very good links. As for bunkers, plenty ; as for turf, why you have not in England a better tennis-lawn than Stephenson — ^you remember, the British Charg6 c^' Affaires — has adjoining his house. We shall make out a golf-course well enough, do not you fear !" Next Prank Gordon was dragged ofE to another shop in Piccadilly, where inquiries were made about a stag's head of fourteen points that had been sent to be stuffed and mounted ; and minute instructions were given as to the safest method of transit by which the much-prized trophy could be conveyed to Sattaro on the Dalmatian coast. And then again they pursued their way until they drew near to Brown's Hotel. Carriages were driving up ; and from these there descended to cross the pave- ment, one after another, a number of distinctly foreign- A DEPARTURE 315 looking personages, for Madame the Princess was at home this afternoon to certain of her friends. " Pah !" said Monseigneur, peevishly. " What is it now ! They will never get their £15)000 a year pen- sion for King Milan, though they try to talk over each and every member of the Skuptschina, and his wife, and his mother, and his sister. He is a good man. King Milan, and he has done great service to his country, and better than all he is a well-wisher to Monteveltro ; but look at their finances — how are they to meet the next coupon ? — " They entered the hotel. "Frank," said Monseigneur, in an undertone, "you come up stairs with me. We will slip by unnoticed. I wish to show you what Wienerschnitzel and Gurken- salat can do now : Wienerschnitzel, when he lays down the pipe, gives a bark — that is his thanks for the smoke ; and Gurkensalat she can get the pipe into her mouth with her paws, putting her head close to the table—" But of course an afEectionate and obedient son could not play such a shameless trick on his mother; so Frank Gordon, not to be seduced away from his duty, at once went into the drawing-room, and mixed among these strange folk, and endeavored to make himself as polite and agreeable as his not very fluent French or German allowed. The Prince had for the moment dis- appeared — no doubt to make sure, first of all, that Wien- erschnitzel and Gurkensalat were not being neglected. On this evening the Prince and Princess were dining at a certain Embassy — and young Gordon of Grantly had also received an invitation ; and it was while the three of them were driving down to Belgrave Square that he got his earliest opportunity of putting in a word for poor Mrs. Elliott. 216 BKISEIS " You see. Mater," he pleaded, when he had partly explained the circumstances, " blood is thicker than water — Scotch blood especially; and the old Scotch families should show a little clannishness ; and not many of them have better claims than the Elliotts of the Lea. And you needn't think it's snobbery on the part of this poor woman; I don't believe there's an ounce of snobbery in her composition ; but one can see how your going there might give hfer a bit of a lift, don't you know ; and I think she is in pretty hard straits — " " Saturday ?" repeated his mother. "It is practi- cally a holiday-night for us, as it chances : we dine with the Von Hohenecks — and there was a talk of our trying to see an act or so of Carmen — but that is hardly pos- sible—^' "In any case you could look in at Mrs. Elliott's on your way home," young Gordon pointed out directly. "What do you say, Michael ?" she asked, turning to her husband. "If you wish it, yes," he answered, with easy in- diiference : he generally submitted to be taken about, wherever she wanted, by his more energetic consort. " Most likely there won't be any one you know," her son continued. " But at least I want you to meet the Greek young lady about whom I told you — you re- member — " "Oh," she exclaimed, with her eyebrows elevated a bit, "is this, then, the house where the divine one scrubs the dishes ?" "It isn't that — or anything like that !"he rejoined, in tones of distinct annoyance. "Why do you put things so harshly — and so wrongly ? You have merely heard what Aunt Jean had to say about her — along with some rumors coming from an Edinburgh lawyer. A DEPARTUKB 317 But if she is in that position, or anything approaching to it, I know the reason : it is simply because she has got a sort of kindly and good-humored acquiescence in her disposition ; she doesn't know her own value ; she doesn't stand on her rights ; she seems so happy in herself that she would take any trouble to do anything for any one." And then he altered his manner altogether. "Well, Mater, I'm not going to insist. You'll see and judge for yourself. But if there was any generosity about you, or sympathy, or a single spark of humanity or fellow-feeling, why, you'd just take this girl away with you, and keep her beside you as your companion and friend ; and you could introduce her at Court — Vienna or anywhere ; and I don't think you woiild have much reason to be ashamed of her ! I should imagine not ! She has every accomplishment ; she speaks all kinds of lan- guages ; and she's just the most beautiful creature you ever set eyes on, with the most unselfish nature, and a charm of manner that is indescribable — Oh, you may take my word for it you wouldn't have her long on your hands I The majority of men may be fools ; but they're not such mortal fools as that. She's fitted to marry into any society ; and of course she would marry well — instead of dragging out her life as a drudge in a sort of genteel boarding-house." "Frankie, my lad," said the Princess, a little more gravely, " I fear my hands are a little too full for me to make any such experiment — at present, at least." " But you'll be kind to her on Saturday night," he pleaded. " Oh, no. Certainly not. I will taunt her with her poverty ; and ask her by what right- she has come up from the kitchen." " You will, will you ?" said he, with a laugh. " Very 10 218 BBISEI8 well, what I know is this : she'll make a poor, soft, ridic- ulous idiot of you before you've been three minutes within the influence of her eyes and her smile." " Frankie," said the Princess, as they were going up the Embassy stairs, "is this a trap you've laid for me ?" " When and where ?" he exclaimed. " Saturday night," she replied. " Your language is rather warm about that young Greek lady — " " Oh, nonsense, nonsense," he said. " I was giving you a most unbiassed opinion. Mater, wait till you see. You know Aunt Jean is not very impressionable ; and yet she just won Aunt Jean's heart away from her." But stirring events were to happen before that Sat- urday night. When he got home from the Embassy, the first thing he saw on entering his rooms was a tele- graphic envelope placed prominently on "the mantel- piece. He opened it and read the contents — and these he found to be sufficiently surprising. "Come down by first train to-morrow morning. Urgent. Rockminster, Adelphi Hotel, Liverpool." And in an instant he had jumped to the conclusion that this mysterious summons was in some way con- nected with Georgie Lestrange. She had been too shy to telegraph to him herself ; so she had asked Lord Eockminster to do that for her — Eockminster who had been her host and in a manner her guardian at the date of her last writing. And were these two now in Liverpool ? And why ? Well, the only thing that remained for him was to hunt up Bradshaw ; there he found that the morning train for Liverpool left Euston at 7.15 ; and then he sat down and wrote a note to his mother explaining that she must excuse his absence on the following day — until the evening, at all events ; A DEPARTURE 219 he would send her a more definite message as soon as he could ascertain what was wanted of him. His sleep that night was restless ; and his waking moments full of uneasy suspense. It was a little after noon when he reached Liverpool ; •and he went straight to the Adelphi Hotel ; Lord Eock- minster, as he perceived from a distance, was on the pavement outside, idly looking about him, and smok- ing a cigarette. "Awfully good of you to come down," Eockminster said, when Frank Gordon arrived. "Fact is, I sent that telegram on my own responsibility — " " But what's the matter ?" the younger man de- manded abruptly. "If you want it cut short, then: Miss Lestrange sails to-day in the Barbaric, for New York ; and I thought you would like to know — I mean, I thought you might wish to see her before she left — Now, look here, Gordon, one word of clear understanding," he went on — ^for Frank Gordon appeared too bewildered to put any questions, "I fancy there is something between Miss Georgie and you ; but it is none of my business ; and I don't want to be told anything about it. You understand ? I know nothing — don't want to, know. Only, she has seemed preoccupied and distressed out of all reason ; and I was certain she hadn't sent you a telegram — mightn't like, perhaps — . or may have thought writing would explain better — she's writing now, in the Ladies' Drawing-room ; and last night I thought I would act on my own responsi- bility, without asking her any impertinent question — hope I haven't made an infernal mess of it — " "But what is it all about ? Why is she going to America ? Why did she not tell me ?" young Gordon demanded, with wide eyes. 320 BKISEIS " No time. Everything has been so hurried. Here, come into the coffee-room, and sit down : there won't be anybody about." And indeed the long and spacious coffee-room was practically empty, save for a passing waiter. These two took seats at a window table. " You know her brother Percy," Eockminster began, in his usual imperturbable fashion : whatever whirl of incidents might be about was not likely to upset the equilibrium of his brain. "I've heard of him — I've never seen him," Frank Gordon answered. " Very nice fellow — clever, you know — awfully good at private theatricals and that sort of thing. But he got tired of loafing about Campden Hill and South Kensington ; went to Florida ; bought a partnership in a big fruit-growing concern, and was getting on well enough with his figs and oranges. and bananas. Been to Florida ?" "Never." " You may thank the Lord. Consists of oranges and swamps ; and on a show of hands the swamps would have it. From this letter of his partner's it ap- pears he was seized with some sort of malarial fever ; got it precious bad ; then I suppose they flooded him with quinine and bark ; eventually they chased out the fever ; and looked to his getting all right again as a matter of course. But he hasn't got all right — fearful depression and weakness — nervous system all broken down — cares for nothing — will not try to get up — sink- ing into a kind of hopeless apathy — cries for no reason whatever — and only asks for rest — rest — until I can see they are afraid of his slipping oil into a kind of rest that isn't in the reckoning. And he has been talking about his sister — in his half-delirious state imploring A DEPARTURE 331 tliem to send for her. Well, of course all this upset Miss Georgia terribly, and she hardly knew what to do ; when right on the heels of the letter comes a telegram saying that a Mr. and Mrs. Martinez de la Pena, neigh- bors of theirs out there in Florida, were returning by the Barbaric, and would bring her along with them if she were disposed to come. So you may imagine what telegraphing, and packing, and travelling has been crammed into the past thirty-six hours ; but here we are at last — cabin secured,. and everything; and all that lies before us now is an early luncheon and a lei- surely getting aboard the tender." Rockminster had been lazily playing with the handle of one of the forks. He suddenly looked up. "I say, Gordon, if you think I've put my foot in this affair, by telegraphing for you, there is time for you to skip out and get back to the station ; and I shall never breathe a word about your having been here." "Of course not — of course not !" Frank Gordon made answer, almost indignantly. " I must see her — of course I must see her. And I may tell you this, Eookminster : you're not so far out in your surmise about her and myself — only — don't you see — nothing has been formally communicated to any one as yet. And I think it's awfully good of you to have taken all this trouble, and come right away down from Iverness- shire with her — " " My good chap, what else could I do !" his compan- ion protested, in his half -indifferent way. "But I must go and find her now." He had not to go very far ; for at this precise mo- ment Miss Georgie appeared at the door of the coffee- room, timidly looking round. When she saw who this was who was rising to meet her, along with Lord Rockminster, she stood stock-still — she almost shrank 233 BRISEIS back — as if she did not know whether to advance or retreat — as if she did not know what to think or what to say to him. And then again she pulled up a certain courage — though her face was flushed and embarrassed in a most unusual manner ; she went forward and said ' How do you do ?' to him, as if this were quite an or- dinary occasion ; and then she turned to Lord Eock- minster. "Mr. and Mrs. De la Pena," said she, "are asking when you propose to have lunch ; they seem anxious to be in good time on board the tender — " " We will have luncheon here and now," said Rock- minster, promptly — perceiving a chance of leaving these two together for a moment. " Where are the De la Penas ? — in the writing-room ? I will go and fetch them," And then as soon as he was gone she looked up, "How did you know?" she said. "I have been writing to you — most of the morning — but the letter is in my pocket. I did not think telegraphing would be of any use — I could not explain. How did you know to come here ?" . "Eockminster telegraphed to me last night," he an- swered her, simply enough. " Lord Eockminster ?" she repeated — and the em- barrassment in her face did not grow less. " But — but did Lord Eockminster suspect — how did he come to assume — " " He was quite right in assuming !" her companion said, boldly. " Of course he could not ask you ques- tions you might think impertinent ; but if he guessed that you would rather have me come to see you off, he was quite right in sending for me — " " Oh, Frank, it's so kind of you — you always are so kind !" she said, in a low voice. A DEPARTURE 233 " And is your brother so very ill ?" he asked. " I will show yon his partner's letter presently/' said she, as she somewhat drew away from him — for Lord Eockminster and the swarthy-visaged De la Penas were now visible at the cofEee-room door. This unwonted constraint and timidity lasted all through luncheon. Perhaps she resented the infer- ences that these strangers would naturally draw from the sudden arrival of this young man. Perhaps she was secretly wondering if the rest of the people at Glen Skean Castle shared in the assumption that had in- duced Lord Eockminster to telegraph for Frank Gor- don. Or again she may have been tired with the long travelling ; her mind was doubtless full of unrest about her brother ; and she may have contemplated the un- known voyage and the subsequent journey with some natural nervousness. At all events, she was no longer the light-hearted, gay, audacious Georgie Lestrange ; even when they were going out on the brisk little ten- der, she paid no heed to the eagerly talkative people about her, nor did she care to look at the wide and busy river, with its innumerable small craft darting about in every direction, while the smoky sunlight was splintered in glints and gleams on the tawny surface of the current. She was as one dazed when she got on board the great ship, with its hurrying passengers, its officers, and the long row of stewards marshalled in array. It was Mrs. De la Pena who took her below, and found out her cabin for her, and deposited there the small parcels she had brought with her. And then she returned on deck again. "Prank," said she, in an undertone, "were you annoyed that — that Lord Eockminster should have guessed ?" " Good gracious, why ?" said he. 234 BEISEIS "And — and do yon think the other people at the Castle have been imagining the same thing ?" " I don't know — but they are entirely welcome I" said he, with a decision that ought to have given heart of grace to this poor trembling lass who was half cling- ing to him. " Here is the letter I meant to post to you," she continued, and she covertly handed it to him. " You will find Percy's address in it, if you care to write to me—" " If I care to write to you !" " And, Frank, don't think of me as you see me now !" she pleaded. " This isn't me at all. I'm frightened by the confusion. Long before we reach New York, I know I shall be as merry as a grig ; and when I get to Branch Valley I shall cheer Percy up in no time and set him quite right again. Don't think of me as I am now — " A bell rang for the second time. " I must get back to the tender," said he. She moved with him to the end of the gangway, where Lord Eockminster was waiting to bid her fare- well ; and it was to Rockminster she said good-bye first. Then she turned to young Gordon. " Good-bye, Frank !" said she — and she lifted her face towards him — her eyes full of tears. He said good-bye and kissed her — ^not caring how many commercial travellers, of Liverpool or New York, might be looking on : indeed, these merry gentlemen were mostly engaged in calling messages to their friends on board the other vessel. Then he, too, had to pass along the gangway ; and almost immediately there- after the tender set off for the wharf, while the great ship began slowly and steadily to creep down stream. He stood on the paddle-box, waving a handkerchief A DEPARTURE 225 until further recognition was impossible. And that was the last of poor, wild, wicked Georgie that he saw for many a long day to come. Meanwhile an intimation that the Prince and Princess of Monteyeltro really meant to honor by their presence Mrs. Elliott's reception on Saturday night was sufficient to arouse a profound if partly concealed excitement throughout the house in Devonshire Place. Even the sullen and sluggish Brenda woke up to the possibilities of the occasion ; the intractable spitfire Olga became quite submissive in her appeals for advice and assist- ance ; and the three young ladies from the country secretly and separately telegraphed down to their rela- tives, announcing the momentous fact, and demanding authority for unlimited millinery outlay. But it was on the poor widow's shoulders that the burden of anxieties fell ; insomuch that at times she was almost sinking into despair, and wishing she had never been so audacious as to prefer her breathless request. And then again she would pull herself together, determined to make the most of her great opportunity. She could not now issue invitations "To meet the Prince and Princess of Monteveltro " — for her cards had already been issued ; but she could go to such of her acquaint- ances as had not yet been asked, and in a casual kind of way mention that these august personages were likely to illumine her poor house on Saturday evening, and would Mr. and Mrs.' So-and-so, if they happened to have no other engagement, care to look in for a little while ? Indeed, she asked everybody she could think of ; for she knew that the bigger the crowd the less attention could be directed to worn carpets and shabby furniture. Then she went to a florist, and made a bargain with him about the loan of flowers for the supper table and the staircase landing. She had almost 10* 336 BEISEIS pathetic conversations with the confectioner about this or that small economy, and the resulting price per head. And all through these few and hurried days there dwelt in her mind a never-ending, rather an in- creasing, perplexity as to who among her more dis- tinguished guests should take down whom to supper. Here are some of the solutions that presented them- selves from time to time, amid all this wild worry of preparation : — Sir V. Gordon — The Princess. The Crowd. The Prince — Hostess. * * * The Prince — T/ie Princess. Sir F. Gordon — Hostess. The Orowd. » » * The Prince — Hostess. Tlie Orowd. Sir F. Gordon — The Princess. * * * Sir F. Goi-don — The Princess. Tlie Prince — Hostess. Tlie Crowd. Nay the longer she considered this problem the more hopeless it became, until in her desperation she resolved on doing nothing at all. Some accident would happen. Some involuntary movement among the people would lead them to choose such partners as were near them ; and while the crowd, descending to the dining-room, would swarm along the buffet or occupy the scattered chairs, the small table at the upper end reserved for the Prince and Princess, Sir Francis Gordon, and their hostess would remain secure. She would talk to her illustrious guests on their way thither, as if not noticing A DEPARTURE 327 what had occurred or was occurring. They would drop into their places as a matter of course ; the white- gloved waiter would open the first bottle of champagne ; and in a few moments a benignant and reassuring clam- or would everywhere prevail. And at length the great night arrived ; all the gases and candles had been lit ; the flowers arranged ; the supper table laid out in fair display ; everything that mortal could do on scant means and within the strict confines of solvency had been done by the apprehensive but indomitable little widow ; only — only — as quarter of an hour after quarter of an hour went by, and her rooms had got almost chokefull with the murmuring crowd she knew that if after all she was disappointed of her exalted guests then her very heartstrings would crack. She talked to this one and the other ; but her nervous glances invariably returned to the door. She did not heed what was said to her; she forgot to no- tice whether her bonny darlings Olga and Brenda were looking their best ; she could not even send Briseis off on some final errand of decoration : all her thoughts were concentrated on that empty doorway. And then, of a sudden, her longing eyes seemed to recognize a fa- miliar face — handsome and sunburnt — out there in the semi-dusk ; there was a tall young gentleman whose arrival was of the most joyous import ; almost by his side there was a vision of a lady of imposing presence, all in white satin and lace and pearls ; and following her came a stout gentleman who wore a broad blue rib- bon across his waistcoat and a conspicuous diamond star close -to the lapel of his coat. A kind of hush fell over the general conversation of the room — and that was in itself unnerving ; but the little widow had steeled herself against this crisis ; she advanced to the Princess, and took her hand, and welcomed her with a few pretty 228 BRISEIS words ; and she was introduced to the Prince ; and these two remained talking with her, while young Gor- don passed on to pay his respects to Miss Olga and Miss Brenda. All the same, he was looking about a little. Where was Briseis, then ? He could see no sign of her. And yet he had brought the Prince and Princess mainly that they should get to know something of Briseis Valieri; and who could tell at what moment Monseigneur, who was a whimsical sort of person, might not insist on getting away home ? And then he went back to Mrs. Elliott, meaning to ask her downright what had become of her niece. But just at this moment there slipped in at the doorway a tall and slim and graceful figure dressed ^entirely in black; and the new-comer seemed inclined to linger there, to be out of observation, as it were, while she could see all that was going on. Frank Gordon at once went up to her — delight in his eyes. "I have been looking for you everywhere, Miss Va- lieri," said he ; "I want you to know my mother. Shall I bring her to you ?" " Oh, no, I will go with you." Indeed it was but a step or two ; and the beautiful young Greek girl showed no hesitation in accompany- ing him : the next moment found her being presented to the Princess and her husband. Then Gordon, con- sidering that Briseis Valieri might well be left to make her impression in her own way, withdrew from that little group, and wandered back to Olga and Brenda, and their chatter about the new pianist whose red head had set all feminine London on fire. Now in what manner or under what direction her swarm of guests got themselves down to the supper- room, the agitated and all too happy Mrs. Elliott her- self hardly knew ; but the end of it was that the long A DEPARTUKB 239 apartment was speedily filled with an amorphous throng — the dowagers claiming the occasional chairs, the younger folk foraging at the buffet, or being attended to in quiet corners ; while the Prince and Princess had been successfully navigated to the small table. They and their hostess took their places ; but young Gordon remained standing — looking down the busy room. " Won't you be seated. Sir Francis ?" the widow said to him — she was anxious to have the little party of four complete. " Oh, no, thanks," he said. " I would rather make myself useful— if I knew how — " " Then go and fetch Miss Valieri," his mother said to him, promptly. '' Here is a place for her — and we were interrupted when she was telling me about Tri- coupi — " " Oh, Briseis ?" interposed the little widow. " She is so very kind ! She offered to remain in the drawing- room, with my youngest son — the poor lad is lame, you know, Princess, and cannot get about very well — " With that Frank Gordon moved away. He did not seem to have any particular aim. In fact, he had to move slowly ; for the place was crammed ; and young men carrying oscillating things on plates were to be avoided. But at length he got out into the hall ; he ascended the vacant staircase ; he reached the landing. And here he paused. For the door of the drawing-room was open an inch or so ; and while he stood hesitatingly still there came to him a sound such as never before had fallen upon his ears. Piano-playing in general he rather detested ; its mechanical, staccato tinkle-tank produced no effect on him — except irritation and a desire for quiet. But this strange melody that now he heard seemed to run and ripple in continuous cadences : measured, it is true. 230 BRISEIS for it was clearly a dance — a joyous dance — soft, and elusive, and distant at times, and then again full and glad and clear as a thrush's song on a May morning. Then it ceased ; and there followed a kind of mysteri- ous chant — a solitary voice, as musical as the music, pronouncing the wor.ds almost in monotone : Tlw young maidens are merrily dancing. Out in the sun the young maidens are dancing, Their hands are linked around the olive-tree: Little one, Marianoula, why dost thou weep? Again the dance-music : one can almost see the lithe limbs and the flowing draperies, the outstretched arm and swift-glancing foot, in the dappled shade under the olives. And again the low-voiced, plaintive recitative : Ser lover came to the well. With soft words Jier lover came to the well, The red and white flowers of her Jieart were opened. The red and white fUmoers of her heart were filed with dew: Little one, Marianoula, why sittest thou apart? But now those running and rippling chords become more buoyant; the passing note of sadness is aban- doned ; the sinuous melody weaves itself into a hap- pier strain. And the recitative that follows speaks wel- come words : Lo! a stranger upon the road — The road that comes winding from Zagora; He hears in his liand a beautiful necklace: Little one, Marianoula, tlie necklace is for thee. The music grows louder and more joyous ; and then again it droops — it seems to draw near — it seems al- most to whisper — it is a whisper that a maiden may un- derstand : A DEPAETURE :331 What are the jewels on the necklace ? The Jewels are tears, the tears of absence : Arise, Marianoula, and greet thy lover! Little one, Marianoula, tlwu must dry his tears. Then there were a few notes of farewell — fading into silence. The strange and extraordinary charm of this com- position — the fascination and mysticism of the music, and the impression of dim remoteness, and pity, and tenderness conveyed by that low-toned voice — held him. spellbound for a second or two ; and he could not move. It was as if sleep were around him — and dreams — and an inexpressible consciousness of the tragedy of human life. And then — ^for he was here on a mission — he strove to throw off this magic web of entrancement ; he stepped up to the door and opened it ; and looking into the large and empty room he found that Briseis had turned from the piano and was talking to her boy-cousin Adalbert. "I have been sent for you. Miss Valieri," he said. " My mother wants you to sit by her — she has kept a place for you — " "I cannot do that, Sir Francis," she answered, smiling-eyed, "for I have been left in charge. But if you wouldn't mind staying with Adalbert for a few minutes, I should like to go down and get some sup- per for him — I know the things he prefers — " Young Gordon accepted the post with great good- will ; and Briseis left the room. "What was that your cousin was singing and play- ing before I came in ?" he asked. " Oh, that ?" replied the lame lad. " That ? That was one of the things she makes out of her own head, you know. You see, she and I go into the 333 BEISEIS Park every morning at twelve ; and she reads to me ; but it would be rather scudgy of me, wouldn't it, to keep her always at those reports of cricket and foot- ball that a girl can't care about ? And so I some- times read for myself ; and then I can see that she sits thinking — but not very seriously either — it's about the verses, you know — sometimes they're little Polish songs, and sometimes Hungarian, and sometimes Ar- menian — but there's always an English version for me. And although she's kept awfully busy in the house, now and again the others are away at an afternoon concert, or something of that kind — and she's gen- erally left at home with me — and she asks me to come in here for a little while — and she plays — well, did you ever hear such playing ? — she can make the piano speak — it says anything she wants to say — and then between she recites the verses — so low — I wonder you could have heard — " At this point the door was again opened. But it was not Briseis who appeared ; it was Olga Elliott, carrying a plate and a spoon and fork ; and the mo- ment that Gordon set eyes on her he saw that some- thing was wrong. " Yes, you may well stare !" said she — and her lips were pale with passion. "That I should be ordered to fetch and carry things like a kitchen-maid — sent away from the room — while Briseis Valieri is singled out, and taken up, and put at the Prince's table ! The— the upstart ! She and her shabby black rags — when all the rest of us had been at such pains — " " Cousin Briseis," said the small lame boy, with his face afire, " dresses better than any of you — and that always — always ! — " "Here, take this rubbish — and I hope it may choke you \" exclaimed the scowling - eyed fury, and she A DEPABTUEE 333 tlirust the plate upon him. "A seat reserved for Briseis Valieri, at the Prince's table ! — and I dare say she wasn't asked at all — I dare say it was her own downright impudence that made her force her way — " " Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Olga," said Frank Gordon — but mildly, for he had never seen a girl of decent upbringing in such an ungovernable rage be- fore, and in fact he was rather frightened. "The Princess sent me to find Miss Valieri — " "Then does the Princess know in whose house she is ?" demanded this sallow-complexioned virago with the flaming eyes. " She was invited here by a family called Elliott. I am an Elliott. I'm not a foreigner. But I've got to go for aspic jelly — I am sent away from the room — while a foreign creature in a dingy black dress is taken to the Prince's table — with every- body looking on ! — " "It is not a dingy black dress — it is the prettiest dress in the whole house !" the lame boy retorted, pant- ing a little. But this stormy scene had to end ; for there were sounds outside, of people ascending the staircase ; and the very first to put in an appearance was the Prince himself, who was accompanied by Briseis Valieri — the Princess having been detained below by Mrs. Elliott, to run the gauntlet of introd-uctions. Monseigneur was talking in German; and he was laughing con- sumedly ; and so occupied was he with this subject of Wienerschnitzel and Gurkensalat that he seized two chairs, and made Briseis sit down with him, that he might the better describe to her the irresistible droll- eries of his two black poodles. But when the Princess came up, Briseis was released from durance ; for Frank Gordon's mother seemed to have a great deal to say to this Greek girl, and to be much interested in her. 234 BEISEIS and charmed with her, as all this miscellaneous as- semblage could clearly perceive. As they were driving down to Brown's Hptel^-and, indeed, almost as soon as they had left the house — Frank Gordon said to his mother : "Well, Mater, what have you to say about the Maid of Athens?" The Princess of Monteveltro — as she sometimes did, for caprice or amusement — lapsed into the Scotch tongue. "Frankie, lad, I thought ye were just bletherin when ye spoke of her ; but I find ye were not. She's just a witch of a lassie, that — ^with her great, big eyes, and the smiling daintiness of her, and her pretty voice: she'll make many a man's heart sore, will that one. Keep out of her way, Frankie ; keep out of her way ; that's my advice to ye." "I?" he said, in some little astonishment. And then he added, quietly : "You don't understand. Mater. I shall be sending you a letter one of these days." CHAPTER XV A SQUIEE OF DAMES A FEW days after these occurrences^ and between one and two in the afternoon, Frank Gordon drove np to Mrs. Elliott's house in Devonshire Place, jumped out of the hansom, ascended the steps, and rang the bell. After a little delay a maidservant appeared. "Can I see Mrs. Elliott ?"he asked. "They're at luncheon," she said, looking troubled. " Yes, I know. But I want to speak to her for only a moment. Will you tell her, please ? No, thanks, I won't go up to the drawing-room ; I will wait here.'* He remained in the hall, while the girl disappeared into the dining-room, leaving the door open. Appar- ently there was some disputatious argument going on within ; but, as he could plainly hear, it was wound up by a contemptuous declaration on the part of the fiery- tempered Olga. "It's all rubbish this trying' to talk French among ourselves !" she maintained, with scornful emphasis. "We ought to be taken over to Dieppe. or Boulogne for a month or two months every year — then we might have a chance. As it is, we simply go blundering on without knowing it ; and what fools we should make of ourselves if we went to Paris ! I wonder what the Parisian dentist thought when the English girl went into his place and said to him : ' Monsieur, s'il vous plait, examinez mes dentelles,' " 236 BEISEIS At this moment the much-harassed mother made her appearance ; and directly she saw who her visitor was her face — the poor, worn, enduring face — lit up with pleasure and gratitude. "Won't you come in. Sir Francis ? — we are just hav- ing luncheon — " " Oh, no, thank you," he said. " I have called only for a second. But it is to ask a great favor of you, Mrs. EUiotl^" And what favor could he ask that she was not eager to grant ? It was he who had assisted her in a higher ambition than any she had ever dreamed of ; already, as the fruit of an industrious sowing of little para- graphs, several of the morning journals had announced that on the previous Saturday evening the Prince and Princess of Monteveltro had been present at a recep- tion given by Mrs. Alexander Elliott, of — Devonshire Place ; this piece of intelligence, she knew, would be copied into many of the weekly papers, especially those devoted to the doings of womankind ; and there was no end to the flattering hopes that had now got possession of her brain. She saw more applicants for introduc- tion to fashionable society ; she saw her terms raised from £400 to £600 per annum ; she saw her darling girls made much of and asked to go everywhere ; she saw Edward the medical student entered for his three years at Caius College. And what indulgent kindness or courtesy should she withhold from the young man who had done so much for her ? "Mrs. Elliott," said he, "I want you to put all your young ladies under my charge for an hour or so this afternoon. An artist friend of mine has just come back from China — been house - boating and sketching there for over eighteen months — and his drawings are now hung in Lucas's exhibition-rooms in Bond Street. A SQUIRE OF DAMES 237 This is the opening day — private -yiew day, rather — and he's an old friend of mine ; I should like him to hare a good crowd, to show that there was public in- terest ; and I'm sure, if you will entrust me with your young ladies, I will take every care of them — " " Oh, but they will be delighted to go !" she ex- claimed, cheerfully — it was such an easy way of grant- ing a favor ! " Shall I call for them at three, or half past ?" he inquired. "Perhaps half past three would be better," said the widow — for she knew what a tumult of preparation would shortly prevail throughout the house. Then she hesitated. " Did you say all of them. Sir Francis ? There are Olga and Brenda — I know they are free ; and Miss Bingham, and Miss Tressider, and Miss Holmes, I'm sure they will be most pleased to go. But as for Briseis — Miss Valieri, you know — she and I had planned out some bits of household work for the after- noon ; and perhaps you would be so kind as to excuse her—" He flushed — flushed like a school-boy ; and for a moment seemed quite taken aback. But the next in- stant he had adventured upon a course that admits of neither palliation nor excuse. "Oh, but didn't I tell you," he stammered (invent- ing as he went on) " that my friend Heatherstone has some Scotch sketches too — Aberdeenshire — it was in Aberdeenshire I first met him years ago ; and these are almost sure to be on exhibition — perhaps in a separate room — or on screens, you know. And I am certain Miss Valieri would be so interested in them — ^^if you don't mind, Mrs. Elliott — if it isn't putting you about — I should so much like Miss Valieri to renew her ac- quaintance with the Aberdeenshire hills — " 238 BRISEIS " Oh, very well. Sir Francis," said the widow, rather wondering at his unnecessary insistence. "But what a handful you will have !" " I shall be here punctually at half past three," said he. "And thank you ever so much !" And with that he departed — directing the cabman to drive him forth- with to a certain restaurant in Bond Street. It was not of his own personal requirements he was thinking. And perhaps he had not entered into any minute analysis of the motives that had led him to embark on this project. For one thing, his time was entirely at his own disposal, now that the Prince and Princess were on their way to Buda-Pesth ; and then again Mrs. Elliott was a countrywoman of his, and here was an opportunity of paying her a little compliment ; and no doubt Fred Heatherstone would be glad of any addition to the assemblage meandering through the exhibition- rooms. But behind and apart from these considera- tions there was a vague recollection of his having spoken indiscreetly to the old botanist and his niece about a Dee-side welcome ; and he wished Briseis Va- lieri to know that Dee-side folk were not neglectful ; generally speaking, he wanted to make atonement — for a wrong that had never been committed. And so he was most exacting in his arrangements with the head waiter at this restaurant ; and he had little sprays of flowers provided to be placed on the table, one for each young lady, when they should come out to have tea ; and finally, in course of time, he returned with two four-wheeled cabs to Devonshire Place. Then, as the half-dozen girls went three and three into the two ve- hicles, he had his choice ; and he chose that one in which Briseis was seated — perhaps because she was a sort of half -stranger in London and thus especially his guest; or perhaps because her eyes chanced to meet A SQUIRE OF DAMES 239 his, and they were full of a kindly pleasure and thanks ; or perhaps because he had got into a way of rather lik- ing to hear the sound of her Toice, which was extremely soft and musical. Anyhow he and she sat opposite each other on their way down to Bond Street ,• and it was mainly to her that he gave an account of his friend Fred Heatherstone, his position in the art world, and the class of people who for the most part formed his patrons. It (Was Fred Heatherstone himself who received them — a youngish man of extraordinarily clear blue eyes, a fresh complexion, and clipped brown beard and mustache ; and very polite he was to Frank Gordon's little group — though it was to Briseis that his regard was continuously and covertly returning ; and when a move was made towards an examination of the pict- ures, it was Briseis with whom he ranged himself, proposing to go round with her. " The sketches can't tell everything, you know," said he, in a modest, shy way. "And we had a few adventures on the Chinese canals." As for Miss Bingham, and Miss Tressider, and Miss Holmes, and the two sisters Olga and Brenda, the ever- arriving crowd and the more striking of the costumes afforded them sufficient occupation ; but of course they had to make a perfunctory survey of the framed drawings ; and it was while they were so engaged that Frank Gordon chanced to espy, near the turnstile, a young lady to whom he had been introduced at the Hypatia Club. Being of a bold, not to say reckless, nature, he ventured to approach this damsel, al- though he knew her occupation, and could perceive that she held a little note-book half hidden in her hand. " I'm afraid you won't remember me. Miss Caledon," 840 BEISEIS he said, as he raised his hat. " It was Miss Lestrange who was kind enough to — " " Oh, but I've got you down, Sir Francis," said she, with a half-sarcastic smile r she evidently t«ok it for granted that his object in addressing tier was to get his own name into the newspapers : she had had an early and sad experience of the ways of the world, had this comely young lass^with the wild blond hair and the alert gray eyes. ' ' But perhaps you can help me — would you mind ? — there are one or two whom I ^on't recognize, though they appear to be attracting some attention. Who is the short, soldierly man with the grizzled mustache^do you see him over there in the corner — the lady with him can't be his wife, for he's so awfully attentive to her — " Weill, Frank Gordon's acquaintance with the fash- ionable or artistic circles of London was far from being over-extensive ; but at least he knew a number of those present as friends of his friend Heatherstone ; and he did what he could to assist this frank-spo- ken and pleasant- looking young person. Then she said — " You brought in quite a big party with you." "Yes," he made answer — arriving at last at his real object in going up to her. "And there are two of them you might put down in your list. Miss Galedon — it would be so good of you — their mother would be so pleased — " "Yes, but is there anything special about their cos- tume ? — or have they done anything ?" she said, rather petulantly. "Oh, never mind about that," he said. "There they are — just beyond the marble figure — Miss Olga Elliott and Miss Brenda Elliott— their mother would be so awfully pleased—" A SQUIKE OF DAMES 341 She scribbled down the names, rather unwillingly. Then she said — • " But didn't that beautiful girl come in with you — that tall, foreign-looking girl who is going round with Mr. Heatherstone ? She is carrying everything before her — don't you notice ? — every one following her with their eyes whenever there's a chance — didn't she come in with your party ?" He rather drew back in manner. " Oh — well — yes — she did," he admitted, in a dis- tant kind of fashion. "Who is she ?" was the next prompt demand. " Oh, I wouldn't put her in your list," he said, un- easily. " Oh, no, never mind I — I'm sure you've got enough down — " " But I tell you she promises to be the chief feature of the afternoon : I must have her name !" the lady journalist protested — and the little jaote-book was again opened. "I've forgotten it," he said, in desperation. "Forgotten her name ? And she is one of your party ?" the young damsel exclaimed, staring at him. " Oh, no, I did not mean that. What I mean is that it is so difficult to spell — Greek names are very difficult to spell in English — changing the u into y and the ch into X and all that kind of thing. I really couldn't undertake — But I see my young people are looking about for me — good-afternoon. Miss Caledon, and thank you ever so much !" He shook hands with her, and raised his hat, and turned away to lose himself in the crowd. And thus it was that in the account which appeared in one or two evening papers — to be copied in numerous weekly publications — of the distinguished throng who had flocked to Mr. F. Heatherstone's Private View, there were to be found the names of 342 BBISEIS, Miss Olga and Miss Brenda Elliott, but no mention was made of any Greek young lady having been pres- ent. Perhaps Erank Gordon could not have explained to himself the origin of this little bit of proud reserve on his part. In the mean time Briseis, having gone the round of the walls, was now engaged in talking to the artist's mother — a singularly refined-looking old lady, with silvery-white hair and an almost girlish freshness of complexion ; and it was at' this point that young Gor- don came up with the proposition that as he was about to take his small troop of guests to have tea at the restaurant where he had had a table reserved for them, Mrs. Heatherstone and her son might as well come too. The invitation was at once accepted ; the girls were noiselessly summoned ; and a short time thereafter they were all of them seated together in the tea-room, chat- ting and laughing as if newly released from bondage. To be sure, there were only six sprays of flowers ; but the moment she saw how matters lay, Briseis, on pre- tense of putting her gloves and catalogue on the window- sill, passed round the table to Mrs. Heatherstone's chair and slipped her own tiny nosegay in front of the old lady. No one noticed — except young Gordon of Grantly ; who thought that sooner or later he might have an opportunity of making up to Miss Valieri for that little act of self-sacrifice. As it turned out, this expedition from end to end proved to be a complete success ; and when eventually he had convoyed his charges home, and when he turned away to walk down to his club, he was very well con- tent with the experiment. He did not stay to consider whether there might not be a certain dangerous facility about it. He was in London, thrown very much on his resources ; most of his friends and chums and out- A SQUIRE OF DAMES 343 lying kinsmen were away in the country ; he him- self did not propose returning to Aberdeenshire until Christmas, for he had several shooting engagements to get through, in Norfolk and Sussex ; and meanwhile there was a kind of odd amusement in taking a drove of girls about, while he was doing a good turn to his countrywoman, Mrs. Elliott, in leaving the house quiet for her. The spitfire Olga was almost kind to him ; the sulky and sullen Brenda was quite clearly trying to be amiable ; the three bucolics were as merry as crick- ets ; while as for Briseis Valieri, her bright intelli- gence, her serene sweetness, and the compelling splen- dor of her eyes were obvious to every one, and why should he alone of mortals refuse to yield to their at- traction ? He treated her as he treated the others — or he thought he did. And at the present moment he was on his way down to the Sirloin Club, where he in- tended before dinner to write a long letter to Georgie Lestrange — poor Georgie who, instead of wandering round picture-rooms, and looking at- pretty costumes, and having sprays of flowers placed for her at the tea table, was now away on the wild Atlantic, with a world of uncertainties before her. He might have gone down to the Oxford and Cam- bridge and taken his chance of finding some one he knew ; but the Sirloin is a small and extremely exclu- sive club ; no stranger or guest is admitted within its doors ; members are expected to talk to each other, if they are that way inclined, whether they have met be- fore or not ; accordingly he was sure of having com- panionship at dinner, even if his neighbor puffed ciga- rette smoke into his soup — for the one chamber at the Sirloin serves as dining-room, smoking-room, and read- ing-room combined. As he entei'ed the long and high- ceilinged apartment it looked invitingly snug on this 344 BRISEIS chill October evening ; there was a big fire blazing at the further end ; there were rose-shaded lamps on the snow-white table ; everything seemed neat, and trim, and well-appointed ; and the row of old silver jugs and tankards and snuff-boxes — the gifts of loyal members — lent a certain richness of look to the eighteenth-cen- tury sideboard. There were but three persons present as yet : the ducal founder of the institution was seated at a small table, scanning the pages of the candidates' book ; a famous musical entertainer lay at full length on a sofa, perhaps trying to make up for late nights ; a callow youth, elegantly dressed, and chewing a tooth- pick, was blankly staring at this or the other of the valuable engravings that were ranged along the walls. A profound silence reigned : young Gordon of Grantly would have undisturbed seclusion for the writing of the letter that was to follow Miss Georgie across the far Atlantic. It was a frank and friendly letter — and extremely sensible : there were in it none of the endearing banali- ties, the secret meanings, the ' little language ' that lov- ers are used to send to each other. He said he was anx- iously awaiting her telegram from New York ; he hoped she would find her brother much better ; he looked for- ward to the time when he should be walking up and down the wharf at Liverpool to welcome her on her re- turn. And then, having finished this communication — and being still in a dutiful mood — he took another sheet of paper, and composed a brief note for his mother. According to promise, he said, he was writ- ing to her; and the object of his writing was to tell her that he was engaged to Miss Georgie Lestrange. Prob- ably, he hinted, it was no great news to her — after the constant association she must have observed at Glen Skean Castle ; nevertheless Georgie would be so pleased A SQUIRE OP DAMES 345 if the Princess would send her a kindly little message, and he would see that it was duly conveyed to her. When Frank Gordon had closed and addressed these two letters and deposited them in the box, he rose and looked round about him, with something of the air of being a free man. The first new-comer he noticed was a well-known ac- tor-manager, whose picturesque and effective Hamlet was just then the talk of theatrical circles ; and this gentleman, when he had ordered the bit of fish and glass of claret he permitted himself on the way down to the theatre, came over to Gordon. "I saw you leaving Heatherstone's show this after- noon," said he ; "there were a lot of you." "Yes, rather a responsibility, all those girls." Then of a sudden an idea sprang into Frank Gordon's brain. He had nothing to do in this town of London ; and taking those girls about was a kind of harmless frolic. " I say," he observed to the actor-manager, who was drawing in a chair to the table, "I should like to bring that little crowd to see your Hamlet ; and it would be an additional point of interest — it would interest them tremendously — if they could be admitted behind the scenes for a minute or two — " "Against all law and order," was the very definite response. " But who makes a law can break it," said Gordon, enigmatically. " And I'll let you off easy ; I'll bring only three instead of six. And only a couple of min- utes — we should not interfere with anybody — " This modem representative of Hamlet the Dane was a reflective person. He was also an angler ; and occa- sionally he took his holidays in Scotland. Further- more, he had heard that Sir Francis Gordon of Grantly 246 BEISEIS was the fortunate possessor of some fine stretches of water op the Dee. "What evening do you propose ?" he said. "Well — to-morrow — or the next — if I find they are disengaged." " Make it Thursday evening if you can," said the Prince Hamlet, as his frugal repast was being set before him. " Bring the three young ladies to my box— I will leave your name— and we will see what can be done." It seemed so simple and natural that he should again think of these pleasant companions. And Mrs. Elliott — ^who was devoted heart and soul to the young man, and ready to do everything he asked — made no objec- tion when he explained to her that on this occasion he could only take Miss Olga and Miss Brenda and Briseis, because he did not wish to overtax the mana- ger's forbearance. When Olga and Brenda learned that they were going to a private box at the famous theatre, and also that they were to be introduced to the mys- teries behind the scenes, they were out of their mind with importance and delight ; but all the same they were shrewd enough to guess that this was in reality only another compliment to their cousin Briseis, paid her by the handsome young gentleman whose acquaint- anceship she had made in Aberdeenshire. And the worst of it was that Briseis — who was not at all a vain person, but who had quick perceptions, along with the fine and subtle sensitiveness of a woman in respect of any attention paid to her by one of the opposite sex — the worst of it was that Briseis thought so top. Indeed it was this very swiftness of apprehension on her part that in the present stage of their -compan- ionship constituted for him her chiefest charm. She seemed to divine what he had to say before he had half said it ; she was instantly responsive to the least hint A SQUIEB OF DAMES 247 or suggestion ; there was an answering look — a smile of recognition — as if further words were unnecessary. And then he never appealed to her, for confirmation of his own views, or for further intelligence, and found her wanting. For one thing she was far more widely read than he — in many literatures ; she had a more catholic appreciation of the arts (he cared for little be- yond landscape, and for statuary hardly anything at all); young as she was, she had travelled more and seen more than he ; she had more of the accomplishments and manners of the great world — though indeed his modesty, and good-humor, and manliness were suflQ- cient to make up for any defect. And Olga and Brenda had soon got into the way of leaving these two to their half-uttered interchanges of confidence and comment. Here, for example, in the famous actor's box, the two sisters were well content to occupy themselves with the glow and pageantry of the stage, while Briseis, in her curtained corner, could without being overheard talk to her companion about any feature of the performance that seemed to call for remark. It mattered little to Olga and Brenda whether they had, or had not, been brought to this theatre really on account of their cousin Briseis ; it was enough that they were there — and in a prominent box ; and they were making the most of a great opportunity. Then came the fateful summons from the lord Ham- let himself; and at once the two girls were on their feet, and eager ; while Frank Grordon got down Briseis's opera-cloak. She, however, put up her hand with a little gesture, and indicated her dissent. " Aren't you coming with us ?" he said. "Oh, no, thank you; no, thank you," she answered him, and her eyes gave him one of their sweetest smiles. " I prefer to remain with the illusion. Why should I 248 BKISEIS wish to see Ophelia dabbing her face with a powder- pufi ? I understand that such things are ; but I do not wish to see them ; I would rather stay here — to look at Shakespeare's dream of Denmark." " Ohj do come !" he said, in obvious disappointment : for surely it was for her sake alone that he had begged for this faTor ? But she was obdurate, in her suave and gentle fashion. " I am like a child, I prefer illusions," she said, good- naturedly. "And I am old enough not to tear open my toys." "^ And so, with an unwillingness that he was polite enough to conceal, he proceeded to escort the two sis- ters as they followed the attendant who was still wait- ing for them. When, after the lapse of a quarter of an hour, Olga and Brenda reappeared, they were laden with sumptuous boxes of chocolate and signed photographs, and they were quite excited and breathless over the wonders they had beheld. And so it went on from day to day, or rather on al- ternate or occasional days : art-galleries, exhibitions, concerts, theatres; and sometimes the bucolics were asked, and sometimes the two sisters, but always Briseis; while as for the poor, tired-eyed little widow, so far from putting in any protest, she was glad enough to see her young people being taken about and amused. Briseis became of importance in this household. To all of them it seemed sufficiently clear that, although Sir Francis appeared to maintain an attitude of easy im- partiality, these continuous plans and entertainments were unmistakably so many little presents offered to Briseis ; and in private conclave they decided that she also must be well aware of the fact ; and perhaps they envied her a lover who could be so lavish of his time and trouble. A SQUIEE OF DAMES 249 Moreover, they could not but observe, as time went on, that there was something gradually being added to the girl's expression. Beautiful she had always been, even in her saddest, and loneliest moments ; but now that rare loveliness of hers seemed to bask in a sort of sunlight. To kindness of any description she had al- ways been extraordinarily sensitive and responsive ; but now the happiness that shone in her eyes seemed a spe- cies of radiance, even as she went about her ordinary duties. And she was busier than ever, of her own free- will ; anxious to do a good turn to this one or that ; as if her whole nature were pervaded by a sort of joyous and secret gratitude, that she must express in some way or other to her, fellow-creatures. Of all the bits of em- broidery and finery that she had brought with her from Eastern climes, hardly one remained : she had given them all away, to the other girls in the house. But if Frank Gordon, as he carelessly thought, had preserved an attitude of unbiassed and benevolent neu- trality towards these young ladies who had been so kind as to lend him their society, there was one point on which he was desirous of establishing a dark and esoteric understanding with Briseis alone : he wished to get to know more about the mysterious little songs or chants which she was in the habit of composing when she had an idle moment or two, and which for the most part she kept hidden away in her own memory. He wanted her to write down some of these things for him. But she laughingly put him aside. " It is all plagiarism," she said to him one afternoon as they were walking home from a concert at St. James's Hall : he and she were in front, the three bu- colics behind. " I know many of the airs of the folk- songs ; and I take one of them, and play round about n* 250 BRISBIS it, and make foolishness of it ; and what use would such a rambling kind of music be to you ?" " I don't so much mean the music : I mean the words," he said. "And these too are only echoes," she went on. "I know so many of the ballads — Polish, Eussian, and Greek especially — and so many of them are alike; so that if I wish for a refrain, it is easy to put together a few words — a little story — a suggestion — " " Then won't you write down one or two of them for me ?" he begged of her, renewing his prayer. " Those I have heard are most exquisite — so simple and ten- ^der— " She laughed again, and shook her head. " Oh, then you wish me to become like the poetess you met at the ladies' club — giving scraps of her com- positions to her friends ?" " "W^hat, Miss Penguin ?" he exclaimed. " Oh, yes, you are likely to resemble the draggle-tailed ' Sappho ' in any way whatever ! Besides I hear that ' Sappho ' has given up gasping poetry for the present ; her hys- terics have taken another form — infuriated magazine- articles; and she is raging and howling and lashing the vices and follies of mankind with whips of scor- pions — ^the gay old spinster that she is !" " And then, you know," said Briseis, with blithe un- concern, "these songs are all so sad ; and why should one seek sadness unnecessarily ?" Indeed, any passer- by, chancing to notice the happy eyes and the free and buoyant step of this girl, would have found it difficult to associate her with any form of sadness. Youth, and a serene sweetness of look, and the satis- faction of pleasant companionship — these were visible in her face ; but not sadness. It would have been hard to believe that those beautiful, smiling eyes had A SQUIRE OF DAMES 351 ever burned hot with tears, or were ever likely to do that. "There is one of the Russian songs," Briseis continued, "that they sing at a wedding — the friends of the bride sing it as a kind of chorus — and that too is sad — why? Why should it be so ? The bride is represented as trembling for fear, and she hides for safety in her mother's love — ah, but it is too tragic to be spoken of. And why — why ? Why should there be dread and evil presentiments on a wedding-day ?" For a moment something seemed to clutch at his heart. But only for a moment : he had acquired the habit of shutting out the future from him. " Dread and evil presentiments on a wedding-day ?" he repeated, absently. "Why, indeed ?" CHAPTER XVI AN AWAKEKING The cold and clear October sunlight shone over Ee- gent's Park ; from the rustling branches an occasional yellow leaf fluttered down and floated on the silyery and shimmering waters of the lake ; the wide open swaths and undulations of greensward were almost empty ; and far away beyond these the encircling belt of chestnut and sycamore and elm had grown dim and distant in the pale blue London haze. In a sheltered nook within this great solitude Briseis and lier lame cousin had sought out their accustomed retreat ; and she was reading to him, with that proud thrill in her voice that could make of his tremulous, emotional nat- ure a sort of stringed instrument answering to her every touch : ' Now, God be praised, the day is ours. Mayenne hath turned his rein. D'Aumale hath cried for quarter. The Flemisli count is slain. Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail — " Some one approached ; and, as was her wont on such occasions, she merely lowered her tones, and continued her reading, without looking up. The stranger was a young man of about flve-and-twenty, of a complexion AK AWAKENING 253 SO bloodless that its waxen pallor had a suggestioiL of green here and there in the shadows ; his eyes were small, black, furtive, and abnormally close together ; his small black mustache was carefully pointed at the ends ; his features were of the degenerate Hellenic type that one frequently observes in the streets of Algiers or on the quays of Syracuse. As for his cos- tume, there was a sort of Bank Holiday display about it ; he wore a broad turned-down collar, a pretentiously arranged tie, prominent cuffs with large silver links, and a straw hat with a black band round it : there was also a black band round his arm. He had been sur- veying this little group of the two cousins before he ventured to draw near ; but now he came close up, and stood motionless ; so that Briseis was forced to raise her head. "Andreas !" she exclaimed. There was neither welcome, nor misgiving, nor alarm in the look with which she regarded him : only blank astonishment, even bewilderment. " Yes, no doubt you are surprised ?" he said, speak- ing in Komaic. " May one sit down ? Thank you. No, I do not suppose you have heard anything of me since the time that Irene was taken away from us. Poor Enie ! — poor Enie I" He glanced at the black band on his sleeve. "And yet it was her death that was the beginning of my misfortunes. I had got a very good post in the French consulate at Smyrna ; but I had to give it up when I left to administer the family affairs at home ; and since then I have — " He threw out his hands with a little expressive gesture. "1 have drifted — drifted until I find myself here in London, talking to my old friend Briseis Valieri, as if we were once more on the beach promenade at Phale- rum." 354 BBISEIS She did not seem overjoyed. " I was very sorry to hear of poor Bnie's death," she said, " but she had been suffering for so long, had she not ? And you — what are your plans ? Have you come to London on business ?" The coldness of her tone seemed to indicate that she was not anxious to detain this young man with the shifty, watchful eyes and the showy neckerchief and cuffs. " Business ? — ^yes !" he said, slightly shrugging his shoulders. "If so great and rich a city as London can find enough to satisfy the very humble require- ments of Andreas Argyriades. But in the mean time — at this moment — I am here on a little friendly errand to yourself." " To me ? Why to me ?" she demanded. She could scarcely conceal her dislike — her impatience to be quit of him. "Your young companion here," he asked, as a cautious preliminary, " does he understand our lan- guage ?" " No," she answered, shortly. "Ah, then, so much the easier," he said, in a suave fashion ; and he seemed to settle himself comfortably down to tell his story. " You know, my dear friend, how methodical our poor Enie was— so perfect in all her dispositions; and the same orderliness I found when I had to examine her effects, for that duty also devolved upon me. So that, in going through her escritoire, when I came upon a packet neatly tied up and labelled outside 'The Love-Letters of Briseis'— " Briseis started. But he appeared to take no notice. "—I said to myself : 'Ah, then, Irene wished to be an authoress : here is the MS. all prepared and ready to go to the publisher.' Nevertheless, wheni opened the AN AWAKEKIKG 355 package, I discovered that the writing was not Irene's writing, but that of her dear friend and companion, Briseis Valieri ; and I said to myself : ' Well, if it is she who aspires to be an authoress, that also is very- good.' And I read a little=^oh, such beautiful lan- guage — such elegant French — such impassioned de- scriptions of stolen interviews — moonlight — in the groves of Zante — and I said to myself : ' Surely this little book, when it is published, will create some stir : it will show to all the world that our Greek girls of the present day have fire, imagination, enthusiasm ?' But when I read further and further, what was my astonishment ! These love-letters were not exercises in literature — ah, no ! — ^they were addressed to one whom we all know very well — to George Lamprinos — " A crimson flush had mounted to her forehead : the little lame boy in the Bath chair, looking and listening and wondering, had never before seen his pale and beautiful cousin so confused and distressed. *' Where are those letters ?" she said, in a low voice. " They are in London," he answered her, gently. " And in your possession ?" He nodded assent. " Have you brought them with you ?" " Ah, no — they are too valuable to carry about with one — " " Valuable ?"• she repeated, indignantly. "They are valuable to no one ! But they are mine ; and I demand to have them sent to me at once. By what right do you keep them back for a moment ? It was most wicked of Irene to preserve them — " She checked herself — for she was speaking of the dead. "At least she knew they were to be destroyed — " " But poor Bnie was always so methodical," Argy- 256 BEISEIS riades murmured, as he played with the silver links of his red-striped cuffs. " I must have those letters, and at once," Briseis said, peremptorily. " They belong to me : I demand that you send them to me at once." " Oh, yes, truly and certainly, my dear friend," he responded, in a placid manner. " But consider for a moment. In this world it is every one for himself ; especially when one is in hard straits, as I am. And it is so fortunate for you that those letters fell into my hands — ah, now, if it had been my brother Demetri who had got hold of them, what a position would be yours ! Demetri has a heart of stone ; he would have said to himself, ' With these compromising letters in my possession — ' " " They are not compromising letters — as you know perfectly well !" she broke in, scornfully. "They speak for themselves," he replied, with a quiet smile. "But calm yourself, my dear friend. It is not Demetri who has the letters ; it is I. Deme- tri would have said, ' Here is a rich young lady, who has rich friends and relatives : with these confessions in my hands, I can extort what I please : my fortune is made.' But I am not such as that. No. I only ask for a little consideration. It has been at great cost to myself that I have brought these documents all the way from Athens—" She had recovered her composure by this time. " You could not have sent them to me !" she said, in open disdain. "There is no service of posts be- tween Greece and England !" "Ah, but the papers were too valuable," he pleaded. " And if they were so compromising,'^ she contin- ued, " if you thought they were so compromising, it never occurred to you that you could burn them ?" AN AWAKENING 257 "But in that case," lie rejoined, with an adroit plausibility, "you would never have known that I wished to do you a favor. No, I had to bring them personally — and at great expense. Then there is the further large expense of my being in London : it was long before I could find you, and become acquainted with your habits, so that I could communicate with you in safety. And therefore I recommend myself to your gracious consideration, before I can hand over the letters to you. I have done my best — and at large expense ; and I have no wish you should suffer any exposure — any humiliation — " Some sudden revolt of feeling got possession of her : she sprang to her feet, her splendid eyes flashing. " Ai da! — enough of this!" she exclaimed. "I know you, Andreas Argyriades. I know you for a liar and a thief. I know that you robbed your moth- er and sister of every coin they could earn or borrow for you. And now you come to threaten me, because you think I am alone and unprotected. Well, I may be alone and unprotected, but I am not a coward — believe me, I am not a coward. I tell you to do what you like with those letters ! Make whatever mischief you can with them ; but you shall not have a lepta from me — not one single lepta — " She paused, for she was all trembling, and the quick coming and going of her breath was like to choke her. The terrified lad in the Bath chair could only interfere with a few bewildered phrases. "Briseis — what is this man saying to you ? — is he insulting you ? — why don't you bring a policeman ? — I wish — I could help you — " But Argyriades had put his hand on her arm ; and she failed to liberate herself from his grasp. " Listen," he said, with soft persuasion. " Listen 358 BKISEIS to reason, my good friend. I have no wish to make any mischief — not I ! But one must lire ; and these papers are of value ; and if I were to show them now to some one — some one like the Lord Fragkis Gordon — ah, why do you look startled ? — do you not under- stand that I have had to wait some time, some good long time, to find out your circumstances, so that I could approach you without danger of publicity ? And the Lord Fragkis Gordon, he at least has plenty of money, and he might be a little curious to see such beautiful French writing. Come now, sit down, my dear friend Briseis. It is so much easier to be amiable. And it is a simple thing for you to re- gain possession of the package — so very simple ; and never a word heard of it any more ; and no risk of any one misunderstanding what you have written when once you have put the bundle of sheets into the coals — " She resumed her seat ; she had grown outwardly passive ; her eyes were intently preoccupied. "Do I understand you, then," she said, presently, in a subdued voice — but of course her boy cousin could not understand a word — " that you will not give me back those letters unless I pay you ?" "If you wish to put it that way," he answered her, with another deprecating little gesture. " How much do you want ?" A gleam of satisfaction, not wholly concealed, shot into the small black eyes. " Ah, that is a point now. That is a point to be ex- amined. If it were Demetri — if it were Demetri who had the management of this affair, he would probably say five hundred pounds — " She answered him with a look — of impatient con- tempt. But all the same she had grown cowed and AN AWAKENING 259 sn]biiiissiYe, perhaps overmastered by her one desire to get these papers back forthwith and have done. ''I agree with you," said he, though she had not uttered a word. " That is absurd. But you do not know Demetri ; he is a man of iron ; he flinches from nothing. With me it is different. I wish to treat you honorably. If I were not in hard straits, do you think I would ask you for a single drachma ? No, truly ! But you are rich, and you have rich rel- atives ; while I am poor ; and one must look to one's self—" " How much do you want ?" she said, in the same hurried undertone. " Fifty pounds," he answered, slowly ; and the small black eyes furtively watched her. " I have no such sum !" "Thirty?" "Nor that!" "Twenty?" " Perhaps, if I wrote to Edinburgh, I might get as much—" With an unexpected movement he threw up both hands, as if scattering away from him all this sordid business ; and he laughed. " Come, now, I am about to surprise you," he said. " You give me bad names : in return I will show you what it is to be magnanimous. I will have no further bargaining. The letters shall be restored to you at once ; and I leave it to you to send me subsequently what you please — only what you please — exactly what you please — in consideration of my expenses, and my care and trouble — " "Yes, yes," she said, eagerly. "Let me have them back at once ; and I will send you what I can, from time to time — " 360 BEISEIS "And meanwhile," he said, with a propitiating air, " if I might beg a small loan — " " I have nothing with me !" "But at home — in your house," he went on, insidi- ously. " Two pounds — three pounds — ^you see how my stay in London has impoyerished me; and you can send it to me — I will give you my address." He took from his pocket a card that had the name of a street in Soho and a number scribbled on it in pencil. He handed it to her, and she quickly folded it up. Then he rose. " Farewell for the present, my dear friend ; and be just when you reflect on the little transaction of this morning. Be just and considerate. Kemember how fortunate it is for you to have these papers returned to you without having been seen by a single eye. And in such a friendly manner. Ah, if it had been Demetri now, what a terrible position would have been yours. But as I tell you, Demetri has a heart of iron, of steel, of diamond. Adieu, then, and au revoir !" He raised his hat, and was gone. But even when she was rid of his presence Briseis was far from being herself again ; she was altogether perturbed and shaken ; a prey to doubts and anxieties, and conflicting resolves. "Briseis," her boy-cousin said, with his large eyes full of a vague apprehension of evil, " what did that man want ? What is it that has troubled you so ? Did he insult you that you were so scornful of him ? Of course I could make out nothing — only the name of Sir Francis Gordon — yes — these were the only words I could make out. But if this man has been frightening you. Sir Francis Gordon would — would — kill him !" The lad spoke in panting accents. And then his eyes filled with tears. "You see. Cousin Briseis, I am so useless— so helpless — if any one wishes to harm you, AN AWAKENING 261 what can I do ? But Sir Francis Gordon — if you were to tell him that this man had threatened you — or in- sulted you — then you would have some one who could take your part — there would be no more threatening then, I think !— " " Hush, hush, Adalbert," she said. " You do not understand." She rose from the bench, and glanced swiftly around to see if there had been any on-looker or eavesdropper : no one was near. " Come, we must be going home now. And, Adalbert," she added, with some earnestness of appeal, " I have confidence in you ; I can trust you not to say a word as to what you saw or heard this morning — not a word to any living creat- ure. Indeed, it is nothing ; it will all pass away and be forgotten. Not a word, Adalbert, mind ; it is a secret I can trust you with ; and yet what a little secret ! Soon it will be all forgotten." And with that she replaced the books and newspapers in the familiar receptacle, and presently they had started off on their way to Devonshire Place. Luncheon on this morning was marked by a most unwonted phenomenon ; the poor little widow had be- come quite merry and facetious — that is to say, when she was not occupied in conciliating fractious tempers, and trying generally to keep the Queen's peace. It was the strangest sight, and almost pathetic in its way — the worn face and the tired eyes betraying a sort of occult gaiety, while she even adventured upon a little joke or two, as the talk went on. They hardly knew what to make of this unusual flow of spirits ; but Briseis was soon to learn ; for as soon as the others had dispersed she was summoned to follow her aunt to her own room. " My dear Briseis," said Aunt Clara — and for once the wearied eyes looked pleased and complacent, " I 262 BEISEIS have good news this morning ; the telegram came al- most immediately you had left with Adalbert ; and yet I could not tell them at luncheon, for a reason. But you have a wise head on young shoulders, dear Briseis ; you will understand. Well, then, it has been settled that Miss Bingham's younger sister — she is only a year younger, after all — is coming to stay with tis, and on considerably increased terms. I would say very con- siderably increased — only — you need not talk about it to Olga or Brenda ; for the poor darlings know so little of the world and its ways, they know so little of the value of money that they might form perfectly wild ideas about what their dress allowance should be. And I will not conceal from you, dear Briseis," continued Aunt Clara, with the faintest color suffusing her pale face, ''that it is probable the Binghams may have been led to this decision by — by hearing of the little party that the Prince and Princess were so good as to honor ; and how shall I ever be able to thank that dear Sir Francis for his kindness ? Of course Ada wrote home and gave a full account ; and although you or I may not be in- fluenced by such considerations — ^f or, after all, any one connected with the Elliotts of the Lea is not likely to make too much of rank and titles — still, you know, people in the country who send their girls to town are pleased to hear that they are moving in good circles, however small these circles may be. And now, Briseis, now I am coming to the point," she proceeded, almost excitedly, yet taking care that her voice should not reach out to the staircase. " The younger girl, Car- lotta Bingham, will be here in a week or ten days ; and I have been wondering whether we could not get up a little dance — a quiet little Cinderella sort of thing — just about that time ; and yet not with the appearance that it was given on her account. Indeed, that is why AN AWAKENING 263 I did not tell them at luncheon of this matter having been settled : we will arrange about the dance first, if it is practicable — what do you think ?" " I, Aunt Clara ?" said Briseis. "You are so helpful — you are so quick with your suggestions. And indeed it is no use giving such a thing at all, however inexpensive 'we may try to make it, however we niay scrimp and save, unless we have a few people of distinction — a few somebodies. And I'm sure our dear Sir Francis will be able to bring his friend Mr. Heatherstone — his name is in all the papers just now, over that exhibition ; but first and foremost we must have Lady Hammersley. And really she owes it to us, after what we did for her bazaar, with your kind assistance, dear Briseis ; and if there is any one who could persuade her ladyship to fix her own even- ing, I am convinced it is yourself, for I saw the marked way she made much of you the last time we went there. Now do you understand, Briseis — I want to have the dance decided on before telling the girls about Ada's sister ; and if you would only go now, and take a 'bus or the underground out to Netting Hill and call on Lady Hammersley — " "Aunt Clara, it is only a little after two !" Briseis said. " Precisely," answered the intrepid little schemer, " and by the time you get there you will find her and her daughter at home — ^between lunch and their after- noon drive. And if you put it in that informal way — asking her to choose her own evening — and saying pretty things — she won't refuse you — she can't refuse you — it's the very least she can do after what we did for her bazaar." So Briseis (who was thinking of widely different things) had to undertake this delicate mission ; but 264 BKISEIS before setting forth she went to her own room and counted out her small store of ayailable wealth. It amounted to a little over five pounds ; and when she had bestowed it in her purse, she sat down and wrote the following note — "Dear Andreas, I am sending you £5. It is all I have at present. I hope you can post me the packet of letters to-night, so that I may receive them to-morrow morning. — Briseis." And then, when she had left the house, she walked on until she came to a post-office ; and there she procured an order, value £5 ; and that she folded and placed in the note she had written. When the letter had been dropped into the box outside she resumed her journey with some slight feeling of relief. She could ill afford to lose the £5, which was the last remnant of her quarterly allow- ance ; nevertheless she would free herself, once and for all, from these insufferable menaces. Her interview with Lady Hammersley turned out to be wholly successful; the jolly, red -faced, good-hu- mored - looking woman said she would be delighted to bring her daughter on such-and-such an evening ; and forthwith Briseis hurried home with the important news. Then, and for some days thereafter, a profound if secret commotion prevailed throughout the house in Devonshire Place. A programme of dances had to be drawn out and confided to the stationer ; a violinist and pianist were engaged — Mrs. Elliot declaring that she could not think of asking Briseis to play the whole evening, especially as she would be so useful in many other ways ; cards of invitation were printed — " Mrs. Alexander Elliott ... At Home . . . Dancing from 8 till 13 " ; and dear Sir Francis was overwhelmed with gratitude because he had undertaken to bring one or two dancing-men with him. As for the young ladies, it is to be feared that Polyeude, Minna von Barnhelm, AN AWAKENIN^G 265 and I Proniessi Sposi, with their respective dictiona- ries, receiyed but perfunctory attention ; while the masters, calling at the appointed hours, found their pupils incomprehensibly absent-minded. It was milli- ners rather than masters who were in request now. Briseis did not sleep much on the night following her encounter with Andreas Argyriades. She was har- assed by doubts as to the wisdom of her own conduct. Ought she not to have held by her first impulse, and defied him to do what mischief he might with those letters ? Had she not declared to him that there was nothing in them that could compromise her ; why not, then, have absolutely declined any negotiation what- soever ? She knew what blackmail was ; she knew how commonly it was practised in some countries — in France, for example, where the levying of chantage has come to be a recognized and generally a safe profes- sion ; the rascally character of Argyriades was as clear to her as daylight ; and no doubt (she said to her- self) she ought to have dared him to the end. But then this other way seemed so simple and easy. The pay- ment of a few pounds — the letters back in her posses- sion — and there could be no possibility of further trou- ble. Thus she lay through the long hours of the night, striving to reassure herself, torturing herself with mis- givings, and craving for the coming of the new day and the postman's ring at the bell. When the bell did ring she was standing by the door, which she instantly opened. There was no packet for her of any kind. But there was a letter ; and that, re- treating into the dusk of the hall, she proceeded to read. It was from Argyriades. He began by expressing de- vout contrition. In saying that the package he had discovered among his sister's effects was now in his possession, he had, he said, erred by anticipation. It 266 BBISEIS had not yet arrived ; but doubtless it would be fortli- coming within the next few days ; failing that, it might be assumed that it was being held back by his brother Demetri, who would be expecting a small present. If she were impatient, and wished to have these docu- ments without delay, would she send him another £5, to be forwarded to Demetri, who would no doubt re- spond ? — She hardly read the rest : she knew the man lied. And with eyes burning with wrath and scorn she went rapidly to her room, and wrote a note, telling him that he lied. She demanded to have the letters returned to her at once. She would give no further £5 ; she pre- sumed he knew what punishment was reserved in this country for scoundrels attempting to obtain money by threats. She wrote this letter in French — so that cJiafi- teur and chantage occurred pretty frequently in it. But no reply came. Then she wrote again, and again — with a like result. And at last she adopted a proud- er attitude. She would' bother herself no more with this hound of a creature, who had stolen from his dead sister's desk. He might do what he pleased with the letters. She would think no more of them. And she had enough to occupy her attention at the moment, with this whole household of girls coming running to her every now and again for advice and help. Nay, she herself was looking forward with more than interest to this joyous little festivity. She wondered at what hour Sir Francis Gordon would arrive. She would like to give him the first dance. And she had decided that as the sole ornament of her black dress she would wear in her bodice a bunch of yellow roses : he had greatly admired sonje yellow roses, on one occasion, when they were passing a florist's window in Kegent Street. And would he remember ? AN AWAKEKIIfG 267 That proved to be a fateful evening — for one of the persons concerned, at least. Prank Gordon was some- what late in arriving ; as he handed over his coat and hat to the manservant^ he could hear the hushed sound of the music overhead ; already .there were several couples hanging about the upper part of the staircase, either to avoid the infliction of a square dance, or to indulge in a little aimless prattle. And just as he was about to ascend and make his way through these loung- ers in order to present himself to his hostess, who else than Briseis should come out of the dining-room. She seemed in a hurry ; it was by a sort of accident that she turned to see who this latest arrival might be ; but the next instant she had stopped short, while the look of welcome and gladness and kindness that leapt to her glorious eyes was surely enough to have turned any young man's head. And in that bewildering moment he thoug;ht he had never seen her so beautiful. There was a sort of semi-dusk here at the foot of the stair- way ; and the dark figure with its bunch of yellow roses appeared all the more efEective for it ; but the compel- ling attraction was the smile of her parted lips, with all that that meant of afEection and good-will. " You are late," she said. " I had intended to give you the very first dance — if you wished it — " " Then let us go up now," he said, promptly, " and we will call the next dance the first dance — " "Ah, no, no," she answered him, laughing. "I am too busy at present. Aunt Clara can't do everything — " "And you are not going to give me a dance at all ?" he said, reproachfully. "Oh, yes — perhaps a little later on — when all the shy young ladies have been provided with partners. But very soon I shall have to ask you to take Lady Ham- mersley down to supper — she says she wants to know 268 BEISBIS you — she has relatiTes somewhere in the. Highlands." And with that she went lightly and quickly up the staircase, disappearing into the crowded and brilliantly lit room ; while he, somewhat discontentedly following, had to seek out Mrs. Elliott, to pay his respects in due form. The strange thing was that until this very moment he had never even contemplated the possibility of his being permitted to dance with Briseis. If he had thought of the matter, he would have told himself that she must dance beautifully : her perfect figure, the gracefulness of all her movements, her sympathetic ear were all assurances of that ; but somehow it had never occurred to him that on him might fall the entrance- ment of finding her hand on his shoulder, her head close to him, while the cadenced rise and fall of the music carried them away together into a dream-world of forgetfulness. He had come to this chance little party in a perfunctory sort of fashion. Mrs. Elliott had been kind to hini ; he considered that he ought to put in an appearance ; and he was quite ready to pilot Miss Olga through the Lancers, or teach the livelier Miss Ada the latest evolution of the Highland Schot- tische. But that his fingers should be clasping Briseis's fingers — his arm partly round her lissome and yielding form — the yellow roses so near to him that he could perceive their fragrance : this wondrous happening seemed hardly to be in the nature of things. With all her sweetness and charm, and frank generosity, he had always felt that there was something mys- teriously unapproachable about her ; she was not as other girls, with whom one could be easily familiar ; when a goddess appears, smiling and benignant-eyed, prostration is the natural attitude. Serva Briseis she was not — to him ; rather Vrysais — Vrysais, the unknown AN AWAKElfING 269 queen whose dim memory still lingers about the Les- bian shores. He was startled out of his reverie by Briseis herself. She came up to him in a brisk and bright and friendly way, not in the least suggestive of forgotten queens and haunted towers overlooking the far Aegean seas. " The next is a waltz," she said, glancing at her pro- gramme. "I promised it to Professor Drewer — a friend of Edward's ; biit he is not in the room — per- haps he has left — " " Will you give it to me ?" he said, rather breath- lessly. "I must wait a minute or two — two minutes at the outside — and then — " The soft and melodious strains of the waltz began ; Briseis was looking down the long room ; and Gordon, with dim apprehension, had half turned towards the portiere concealing the staircase, when there appeared (whence he had come it was hard to say) a tall, thin man of about thirty with a pale face clean shaven save for short black whiskers. "This is ours, I think," he said politely to Briseis ; and she — well, perhaps there was" the least depreca- tory raising of her eyebrows as she parted from Prank Gordon — she had to receive the new-comer with a lit- tle smile of greeting. She put her hand on his arm ; he led her through the nebulous crowd ; and presently they had gained the central open space where several couples were already moving swiftly and rhythmically to the undulating pulsations of the music. And then these two also glided away. And now it was that Frank Gordon's punishment be- gan — a punishment for long afternoons and days and weeks of happy, careless, thoughtless self-indulgence a punishment the sternness and magnitude of which 270 BKISEIS were not yet to be imagined. For of course it was no mere pang of mortification over Briseis haying been carried off from him ; the loss of a dance was a com- mon ballroom incident ; he bore the man no ill-will whatever. But as he stood there looking on, watching with hungry eyes that ever-reappearing figure — so slen- der, so graceful, so bewitching in its allurement of sin- uous motion, there was a cruel pain at his heart. And why ? Any of the other girls might go whirling past with looped-up skirt and clinging hands and arms ; they were welcome ; he had not a thought for them. But the black figure with the yellow roses : why did the ever- recurring glimpses of her cause a dull, indefinable ach- ing, a deadened and hopeless sense of the unattainable, while the vitjrating tones of the violin spoke of nothing but sadness, and renunciation, and wild farewell ? As yet, standing there, he had no real conception of the tragic circumstances in which he had become involved ; but at least he knew that this vague suffering, this dark and unreasoning jealousy, this blankness of despair, were strange and unforeseen things, that might have consequences he dared not contemplate. And in the mean time ? Well; he was near the door ; and in a blind kind of way he pushed aside the curtains and got out upon the landing at the top of the staircase, whither some straggling folk had wandered to breathe a cooler air. His main intent was to find some plausi- ble excuse he could leave for Briseis and Mrs. Elliott, and then to seek the seclusion of his own rooms, to discover for himself what he had now to face. It was at this moment that he was seized upon by his hostess, who introduced him to Lady Hammersley, and asked him to take her down to sitpper. The roseate dame with the banked-up white hair was a talkative companion ; when, in the room below, he had got a AN AWAKENING 371 couple of cliairs, and procured some refreshment for her, she proceeded to entertain him with a voluble dis- course on many and diverse matters — her mission to draymen, her love of horses, her abhorrence of divided skirts, and her desire to visit Scotland. "And you, Sir Francis," she said. " I suppose you will soon be returning to Dee-side ?" He seemed to wake up as if out of a dream. " I ?" he said. " Oh, no— no. I think— I think I must take a little voyage across the Atlantic, first of all." CHAPTER XVII "NOW ALL IS DON'B" "Briseis," said her boy -cousin, here in Eegent's Park, "did you see any one as we were leaTing the In- ner Circle ?" " No one in particular," she answered him, carelessly. "Why?" " I suppose I must have been mistaken," he said — and with that she resumed her turning over the leaves of his MS. book, to choose some piece for recitation. But nevertheless he remained restless and dissatis- fied ; he kept glancing down the dim blue vistas be- tween the trunks of chestnut and sycamore ; indeed he was so preoccupied that at first he did not notice what this was that she had begun to read. And then of a sudden he became conscious. "Don't!" he said, quickly, his face burning red with confusion. " Don't read that, Briseis ! I did not know it was there. I'm awfully sorry. I beg your pardon. I forgot it was there, or I would have torn out the leaves. I beg your pardon — " "But what harm is there in Lord Byron's 'Isles of Greece'?" said she, wondering. "It is a reproach against your country — a long re- proach from beginning to end — and — and I don't want you to imagine — that any English person would think anything like that — or say anything like that to you-" "NOW ALL IS DOKE 1^ " Indeed/', said she, smiling, to this sensitive small gentleman, "it is no reproach at all, but an exhorta- tion ; and it may have had its effect, you know, Adal- bert. Anyhow, Greece has won her independence ; and she ought to be the last to resent anything Byron ever wrote about her — " " Give me the book, Briseis," he said, and she handed it to him ; "I will look out for something else." But even now he did not turn at once to the MS. pages. " Cousin Bry," he said, " you remember the man who spoke to you one morning last week ?" " Oh, yes," she made answer, lightly enough. "Is it to avoid him that we have taken to coming here ?" For the truth was they had forsaken their familiar retreat, where aforetime they had been half surrounded by bushes ; and they had sought out another secluded spot, also overlooking the lake. At this present mo- ment they were seated in a sort of open enclosure ; above their heads the spreading branches of an elm ; in front of them a breadth of greensward sloping down to the margin of the water; then the wide space of calm surface ; and beyond that, on the other side, a row of tall trees that did not stir a leaf on this windless morning. Under that bank of foliage the oily, olive- green shadows were still and dreamlike — until a swan came breasting along, cleaving the liquid mirror, and leaving behind it two flashing divergent lines of silver. Placid and silent was this haven of rest, though there was a distant rumble of omnibuses, and though a faint film of smoke telling of the great city rose into the mingled white and azure of a cirrhus sky. These sur- roundings of theirs were no doubt common enough ; and yet there was a certain sense of remoteness ; even 274 BKISEIS the rumbling of the omnibuses had at times a suggest- ion of the sea. When Briseis was asked whether she had chosen this isolated refuge in order to escape from Andreas ArgyriadeSj she laughed — a little uneasily. "Why, what do you take me for, Adalbert ?" she said. "Do I look as if I were afraid of him ? Have you seen me watching for him — and hiding ? But then, you know, there are sometimes horrid things to be met with, like black beetles, and mice, and earwigs ; and although one isn't actually afraid of them, one would rather keep out of their way — " "For if it was the same man," her cousin continued, " that I saw as we were leaving the Inner Circle, he appeared to be following us — " " So much the better — so much the better !" she re- sponded, with blithe assurance. "We shall get our interview over all the sooner. And you understand, Adalbert, that we must be back in good time this morning : Sir Francis is coming to lunch, to take some of us to the theatre — the Mother-in-law — very amusing they say it is — and it is a great chance, for there is such a run on the piece — but he said some time ago that he would look out. Adalbert, did you ever know any one quite so kind, and thoughtful, and generous as he is ?" Her manner had completely changed, and her expression too ; her beautiful, great, dark eyes were full of a happy light ; there was a soft and linger- ing music in the low tones of her voice whenever she chanced to speak (which was pretty often) of Frank Gordon. " And then he is so modest !" she went on. " Why, if I were he, I should be so proud — oh ! so proud as to bp unendurable — I should want everybody to know, not merely that I was Sir Francis Gordon, but that I was Gordon of Grantly. And I should expect "NOW ALL IS DOKE" ' 275 every one to know the history of the clan, and all the battles and fights of the old time. Why, when I was at G-rantly Castle, he seemed to make light of every- thing — the family portraits — the weapons in the hall — the ancient building itself; he seemed afraid to be thought a poseur ; ' he seemed to laugh everything aside, and to consider his visitors as all - important. But there," she said, with a sudden peevishness, " what is the use of my talking ? I know what your opinion is : I know you detest him !" " Oh, yes, of course I do," said her cousin. " Only — only I wonder where else you would find a grown-up man like that — one in his position — taking notice of a lame boy like me." " There now — that's what it is !" she broke in, eager- ly. " That's just where it is ! He is generously dis- posed all round; there is no time-serving and respect- ing of persons ; look at the trouble he must have been at to get you the Highland dirk, and the broadsword, and the targe — " "Of course, Briseis," her boy -cousin said, "every one understands why he is particularly kind to any one in our house — why he comes to the house at all. Every one knows : it is to see you." But at this she drew in a little ; and there was a touch of color on her forehead as she replied — "You must not say such things, Adalbert. They might be very much misunderstood." Some short time thereafter, happening to raise her eyes from the MS. book, she saw that Andreas Argyri- ades was approaching by one of the paths : even at a certain distance she knew who this was by the green- white waxen pallor of his face and the furtive and watchful look of his small black eyes, to say nothing of his jaunty costume, now supplemented by a cane and' 276 BRISBIS a pair of yellow kid gloves. She betrayed no surprise — took no notice, indeed. She resumed her reading, if in lower tones — ' Strike 1 and drive the trembling rebels Backwards o'er the stormy Forth; Let them tell their pale Convention How they fared within the North. Let them tell that Highland honor la not to be bought nor sold — ' " I beg your pardon for interrupting you, my dear friend," Argyriades said, in Komaic, and with a cere- monious bow he took ofE his straw hat. She looked up ; the recognition she accorded him was of the slightest ; but he on his part deliberately went to the foot of an adjacent tree, got hold of one of the small green-painted chairs standing there, and brought it back with him, seating himself beside her. "Now, my dear friend Briseis — " "I do not wish to hear anything you may have to say," she interposed, calmly and coldly. "Again I beg your pardon," he said, with studied politeness, "but it is necessary you should. It is of great importance to you — greater than you imagine. I did not answer the hasty notes you sent me ; no, for it is always unwise, it is useless, to reply to what is writ- ten in anger. To consider the situation quietly is the better way — " " I do not wish to consider any situation," she re- torted, with some greater warmth. " You know well how the case stands between us. You stole from your dead sister's writing-desk certain letters belonging to me. You offered to hand them over to me if I paid you ; and foolishly I sent you the money you demanded. Then you lied ; you refused to return them, hoping for "KOW ALL IS done" 277 more money ; and now you come here, again hoping for more money. But, sir, you have made a mistake. I tell you, you may do what you like with those letters. Show them to whom you like ! They are perfectly harmless, as you are aware — " " Perhaps — perhaps," he replied, with absolute equa- nimity. " Perhaps I might think so ; perhaps another might not think so ; it matters nothing. But in my present hard straits, if I cannot come to you now and again and ask you for a little friendly help — if I am forced, greatly against my will, to come to you in a different manner — I do not propose to avail myself of that packet of letters at all. .Oh, no. I may myself burn them ; they are of little use to me ; though I had hoped they might be the means of inducing you to give a little aid to an acquaintance of former times and a fellow-countryman. It was not to be so. Very well. But I have other resources. Indeed I may say that I have means whereby I can very easily secure your con- sent to any arrangement I choose to propose — " "Ti thauma!" she exclaimed, scornfully; but she was startled all the same ; his manner was so tranquil and confident. " Oh, yes, truly," he continued, crossing his gloved hands the one over the other, the cane being between. "Do you know why I did not answer the hurried and angry notes you sent to me ? Because I wished to have more of them — indignant, demanding, impera- tive, so much the better. But on reflection I have enough. And it is with these, not with the others, that I propose to secure your kindness, my dear friend. I can dispense with the passionate adorations of our good Lamprinos ; I can even burn them. But what have I in their stead ? My dear friend, you do not appear to perceive the situation in which you have 378 BBISEIS placed yourself. Supposing that I take only the first of these notes to any one particularly interested in you, and I say, ' Sir, behold here is a communication to me from the beautiful Miss Valieri ; and you will see that she pays a first instalment of £5 to procure back to herself certain letters : it is for you to judge whether these letters were likely to have been com- promising or not ?' My dear friend, you say I can work no harm. Is not that a little harm ? Is not that a revenge, a just revenge, in the case of your being impla- cable and refusing me assistance in my hard straits ? — " Her look had changed. She saw how she had been entrapped ; and for a. moment or two she was fear- stricken and palpitating. " But the truth is stronger I" she said, breathlessly. "Even if you tried such a base and wicked thing, the truth would defeat you ! For any one would im- mediately answer yon, ' Produce, then, the compromis- ing letters ' — " "And if these were destroyed ? — or missing some- where in Greece ?" he said, placidly. " If there re- mained only this plain and evident testimony that you were so anxious to get them back that you paid a first instalment of money — " At this moment there chanced to come along one of the workmen of the Park, carrying' some garden imple- ment in his hand. As soon as he was near enough, Adalbert Elliott, who had been watching his cousin's face with the intensest scrutiny, and who was almost voiceless, indeed, with excitement and indignation — Adalbert maijaged to call aloud from the Bath chair — " Gardener — gardener — come here for a moment I Or will you go for a policeman — will you send a police- man here — there is a lady being terrified by this ras- cal—" "NOW ALL IS DONE 279 The British workman does not like meddling in matters which he does not understand. The official in mole -skin stood staring with bovine eyes at the members of this little group, looking from one to the other, saying nothing, asking nothing. But Briseis herself addressed him hurriedly — " No, no, it is all a mistake. Never mind ; it is nothing. We were merely talking. This gentleman is my friend." — ' God, what a friend !' ^she said to her- self, as the gardener went leisurely on his way. "What does your young companion wish ?" asked Argyriades, calmly, with a glance at the lad's flushed cheeks and panting breast. "He wishes a policeman to be sent for," was her instant retort. " What, for me ?" he said, elevating his eyebrows slightly. "Ah, that would be impolitic. You surely do not court exposure, my dear friend ? If there is any exposure, if there is any lamentable result, then it is owing to you, not to me. Besides, what am I doing that is against English law ? Here I am sitting quietly, advising an old acquaintance as to what is best in her own interests. Not a single threat even — everything amicable. Now if it were Demetri that you had to deal with, ah, what a position would be yours ! Demetri recognizes that in the implacable fight for life it is every one for himself ; and he is merciless, relentless — relentless, merciless. Whereas I come to you and show you what danger you are in ; I wish to be your friend ; I wish to help you — " " Then give me back every one of those notes I sent you !" she said, imperatively. " Keep the letters ! And keep the money ! Or if it is money you want — " She hesitated. " Yes — to have done with you I will give you ten pounds — I will give you twenty pounds — 280 BEISEIS for eTerything — everything— everything !" Then again she said : "ISTo, I will not ! — not a farthing! Oh, I don't know what to do !" she exclaimed, almost wildly. " But this I do know, that if your brother Demetri is a meaner, a more contemptible scoundrel than you, then I am ashamed that my country should have given birth to such a pair !'' She rose to her feet, as if by some physical efEort she would throw of^ the coils she felt inevitably gathering round her. And Adalbert, who had been looking on in the greatest distress, struck in. " Briseis, is it not about time we were getting back home ? ■ If Sir Francis Gordon is coming to lunch, we must not be late, you know — " " Yes, yes, yes," she said, quickly, and she placed the M.S. volume in the leather pocket. "And may not I accompany you for part of the way ?" Argyriades said, blandly. " There are so many things I wish to make clear to you while I have the opportunity. It is not always safe to write, in delicate negotiations — " " Then you are afraid of the magistrate, after all I" she said. "Ah, no, no, not in the least," he responded, as he set out walking by her side. " For what am I doing ? In a language that no one around understands I am offering you a little advice — ^nothing more. I show you how you are situated ; and I ask you not to push me to extremities. I am not revengeful ; though you have refused help to a countryman, and called him many hard names. These I do not heed ; these do not hurt. ISTo, I give you my word of honor, I am not revengeful ; and I do not propose to show any one your written en- treaties to me, if you will be considerate, if you will give me a few pounds from time to time, until you can "NOW ALL IS done" 381 give me the large sum that is to redeem what you call everything — everything — everything. I am not merci- less, like Demetri ; I am reasonable ; but above all I am poor, and in hard straits — while you are rich." " I am not rich !" she answered him — but with some despairing consciousness that answering was of no avail. "My small fortune was lost, altogether lost; and the little I have to live on now — " "Ah, I know," he said. "I know something of that. But you have rich relatives, and rich friends, and, still more, you have rich expectations : do I not understand something of that too ? Eeflect, then. Might it not be worth your while to consent to some arrangement — some equitable arrangement — which would benefit me and harm none other — " " I have no money — I gave you all I had !" she said, desperately. " Ah, but how easy for you to obtain it ! There are always guardians, trustees, relatives who can be ap- pealed to ; they advance assistance, because of the rich expectations — how easy all that is !" And so he went on explaining her position to her, and defending his own conduct, with an insinuating and subtle ingenuity ; while her revolted judgment had hardly a word in reply — or perhaps she did not deign to reply. In this manner they left the Park, and crossed over, and got into Devonshire Place ; and still he hung on to her, with his crafty plausibilities care- fully avoiding any distinct introduction of a threat. But just as they were nearing the house, Adalbert called out — "Briseis, there is Sir Francis ! — won't you wait for him ?" Her eyes lighted up with pleasure and welcome — perhaps with some assurance of safety too. As for 383 BKISEIS Argyriades, he also seemed to recognize the new- comer. " You will let me hear from you ?" he said to Briseis, in an undertone. "Adieu !" And therewith he raised his hat^ turned away, and made ofE in the direction of the Marylebone Eoad. During the next second or two something strange and bewildering occurred. She was standing there, ready to put into words the more than friendly greet- . ing that. already shone in her face, and having no fur- ther thought at all of the baneful influence from which she had just been freed. As Frank Gordon came along she could see that his look was following the figure of the man who had so suddenly slunk away at his ap- proach. That was but natural. He may even have been surprised ; people do not usually beat so hasty a retreat ; it was enough to court observation. But what she was not prepared for — she who had studied, who knew, his every shade of expression — was the grave and reserved fashion in which Gordon, who ordinarily was so light-hearted and off-handed, received and returned her welcome. Was he in trouble, then ? It could not be that in an instant he had grown suspicious of her! Only — and all this happened with incredible swiftness — as he helped her as usual to get Adal- bert and the empty Bath chair into the house, her heart sank somehow. With some strange and vague alarm she felt that he and she were not as they had been. And she did not know what wrong she had done. Nor was it with much lightness of spirit that he now ascended to the drawing-room, leaving Briseis and her boy-cousin below. He knew that this must be his last visit — or at least one of the last — to a house whither he had been drawn by an unsuspected but all too "NOW ALL IS done" 283 powerful attraction. It is true he miglit have made some excuse and escaped from this theatre-engagement also, thereby enabling him to sever the connection at once and finally ; but he did not wish to do anything that would provoke remark. He would rather with- draw gradually. And he would take scrupulous care to show, on the one or two occasions on which he might still have to meet Briseis, that his attitude towards her differed in nothing from his attitude towards the others. He could keep his own secret — and dree his own wierd. But in those hours of anxious self-examination that had followed his startling discovery, during which he was asking himself whether he had unwittingly been guilty of exhibiting any special favor towards Briseis, there was one point that pricked him hard. In making up the successive small parties for concerts or picture- galleries or theatres, while Mrs. Elliott's convenience, or the size of the box, or some such consideration might rule out this one or that of the other girls, Bri- seis was always included. It had come to be a general understanding. It was 'Briseis — and who else with her ?' And now, at the last moment, here came an op- portunity of showing that he had never meant to treat Briseis differently from the rest. The box he had se- cured at the theatre was for four : if she — by some arrangement apparently accidental — were to be left out, would not that be a demonstration of impartiality ? Surely she would not feel hurt ? Surely she could not imagine that any slight was intended ? The other girls were accustomed to be left at home from time to time. And he knew that he was no traitor to Briseis in so scheming, in so acting ; it was what he was in honor bound to do ; and then — thereafter — let come what might ! 384 BEISEIS 'He gave his bridle-reins a shake, With adieu for evermore, My dear, And adieu for evermore.' Jfevertheless it was in no ^ay mood that he now en- tered the drawing-room, to receive the usual welcome from these gabbling girls. And at the very outset they noticed the alteration in his demeanor. Could this be Frank Gordon, who was always so full of fun, and devil- ment, and wild projects? Why, so preoccupied and ill at ease was he that he even condescended to talk about the weather. Beautiful morning — looking like a change, though — dark clouds gathering in the east — coming up against the wind — uncommon to have thun- der at this time of the year — But at this moment the little widow made her appearance, smiling upon her fa- vorite as was her wont. " I'm very sorry, Mrs. Elliott," he said to her, pres- ently, " but the only box I could get for to-day holds only four. Now I don't think it was quite settled — perhaps you could tell me who are going to be so kind as to make up the party — " "Eeally, Sir Francis," said the widow — and her tired and troubled face looked quite sympathetic and pleased as she regarded the young man — " they are all so much indebted to you ; but this time I do think my dearest Olga and Brenda were mentioned — I wouldn't dictate — it is for you to say — " "Oh, but that's all right," said he. "That's all right." And then at this point he hesitated, and very nearly broke away from his resolve. He felt as if he were about to strike Briseis— and that she would quiver under the blow. However, he went on. " There is the fourth place, Mrs. Elliott—?" She looked at him with some astonishment. "NOW ALL IS DOKB" 285 " Oh, yes — of course — I had assumed you would be taking Briseis — " "But haven't we been rather neglectful of Miss Cin- derella V he suggested. " There shouldn't be a Cinder- ella in any house — it isn't fair — " Carlotta Bingham, who was known by this nickname, and who was the youngest and latest addition to the household, colored up when she heard herself men- tioned in this connection : she had not hitherto par- ticipated in any of these little festivities. " Oh, our dear Carlotta ?" exclaimed the widow, with instant approval. " That would be so nice ! That would be so kind of you. Sir Francis. I'm sure you will be such a happy party. They tell me that The Mother-in- law is just too laughable for anything.'^ And so that matter was settled ; and as the gong now sounded they all of them trooped down to the dining-room, where Briseis had just established her cousin Adalbert at the luncheon table. To Frank Gordon this was a sombre meal : it seemed to be in consonance with the mysterious darkening of the day all around them, caused by the creeping up of the thunder-clouds that now hung overhead. There was plenty of chattering at the table, it is true ; but to him it sounded as if it came from a distance. He in- stinctively knew that at times Briseis's eyes sought his face, questioning ; and he did not dare to meet any of those timid glances. He rather tried to listen to the trash that the ansemic medical student was talking : it appeared to be some kind of cheap cynicism — ^perhaps sufficient to overawe a company of girls. " What does a man do when he's drunk ? Why, he don't know ! If he's got a stiff dose of rum into him, he'll turn his hand to anything. He'll quarrel with a policeman, and knock ofl his helmet ; and that means 386 BKISEIS a flTe-shilling fine the next morning. Or he'll run out from an earth-work and under heavy fire he'll pick up a wounded comrade, and carry him back into safety ; and that means that next day his colonel tells him he's going to recommend him for the Victoria Cross. It's all a toss-up — whether it's to be a five-shilling fine or the V. 0. ; and when he gets sober again he finds out what has happened !" The fond mother looked admiringly at the pallid youth ; and with unmistakable pride she turned to her neighbor. "Well, Sir Francis, what do you say to that?" she asked, with a smile.' " There's a good deal of scepticism going about now- adays," he answered her, with careless irrelevance. "Very soon they'll be saying that Balb'us never did build any wall." In fact he was paying but little heed to all this aim- less strife of tongues ; he was thinking rather of the moment when Briseis should discover that she was to be left behind, and he was wondering how she would take the unexpected change. As it turned out, some chance remark of one of the girls, as they rose from table, revealed the truth ; but he resolutely kept his eyes away from Briseis's face. Probably, he said to himself, she would show no sign at all ; she was not a school-girl ; and if there was any little surprise or dis- appointment, the general sunniness of her nature would soon throw all that aside. When, a little while there- after, they parted at the front door — ^for she had come to see the theatre-goers off — she shook hands with him and bade good - by to him just as usual ; and if she re- garded him with something of grave inquiry — per- haps of proud and injured and pathetic injury — it was mayhap as well that he did not notice. He was glad "NOW ALL IS done" 387 to get away and bury himself in this four-wheeled cab. It might haye been a hearse, as far as he was con- cerned ; and black as his thoughts were the louring heavens overhead, that looked all the more heavy and ominous because of the steely half-light shining along the house fronts. Fortunately the girls kept jabbering among themselves ; and he was left alone in peace. What he was mostly thinking of was this — Had the last farewell been taken ? — and in that manner ? The four of them got into the box just as the play began. It was one of those farcical comedies the hero of which courts the laughter of the audience by exhib- iting himself as a helpless imbecile in all sorts of im- possible situations ; and in this case he was neither better nor worse than his kind ; the house, from stalls to gallery, roared at the poor man's perplexities and fatuities — even though at times th^e was a sort of startled hush as the thunder growled overhead. But what Frank Gordon saw was the strangest thing: a phantasmagoria with no laughter in it at all — with no meaning even : a series of scenes without connection : an appearance of figures that had apparently no relation to each other. A fat, elderly gentleman was vocifer- ously irate about something ; two young women, with tragic gestures, wept hysterically ; the distracted tom- fool tumbled in on the .stage with his coat half torn off his back ; there was a wild conference of relatives, all of them in evening dress and all of them undoubt- edly insane : in short, the fun grew fast and furi- ous, and the audience kept up a continuous chorus of laughter, in spite of that low, muttering growl above the roof. And then, once and again, there was a sudden' light in the upper parts of the theatre — a pale and livid flash that made the other lights look 388 BKISEIS orange ; then a space of silence followed by an alarm- ing rattle that seemed to shake the gewgaw building and all its canyas simulacra; and after that a fierce hissing of rain that sounded as if it were descending in sheets. It was the oddest kind of accompaniment to this tangled web of nothingness that was being pro- duced on the stage ; perhaps it was some consciousness of this overweighing war of the elements that distracted his attention ; at all events these figures were to him as figures in a. dream ; and when at length he had to see about getting his companions safely taken home, he had not the faintest intelligible idea as to what had been passing before him. He had been present at the per- formance of a mystery. When they arrived at the house, the girls would have had him go in with them, for tea ; but he de- clined ; he resumed possession of the cab, and was driven down to the Sirloin Club, which snug little place he found he had all to himself. So he drew in an easy-chair to the fire ; and called for a reading-lamp to be placed on the small table ; and took from his pocket a number of letters that he had merely skimmed over in the morning. There was one from the Prin- cess, who had remarkably little to say about her future daughter-in-law, and a great deal to say, of a comical kind, concerning the worldly -pious waverings of the Margravine of Pless-Gmiinden. There was one from Lord Eockminster, containing an invitation for the first fortnight in December. There was another from Lady Adela, informing him that she was about to send him her new novel, and he was 'honestly — Jwnestly, now,' to tell her what he thought of it, and how many of the people he could recognize. If he knew of any free libraries, in the north or elsewhere, that would ac- cept a copy, she would be delighted to send one ; and "NOW ALL IS DONE 289 would it be considered a greater compliment if she add- ed her autograph ? But of course the all - engi'ossing communication was that from Georgie Lestrange — one of the first she had written after her arrival at her new abode ; and these pages he pored over, and read again and again, as if he were striving to learn something about the writer — something more than was possible-to be learnt during their lad-and-lass skirmishing among the hills and moors and river-valleys of Inverness-shire. Curiously enough, it was to these wild neighborhoods "that (as soon as she had said what she had to say about her brother's condition) the longings of her soul seemed to return. Already Miss Georgie was grown nostalgic. The sky of Florida, she declared, was too palely and uniformly blue, and it was too far removed away from the earth. She wanted clouds that came into the pict- ure — that were part of her surroundings — that lent light and shadow to the dappled straths, that gave splendors of color to the sunsets, and brought majesty into the moonlight nights. All of which considerations naturally led up to reminiscences, of a more or less pa- thetic cast. " Do you remember," wrote this ingenuous student of art and landscape, "one morning you were fishing the Priest's Bridge Pool ; and I was reading a book ; and when I began to read I thought the skies were per- fectly fine and flawless. Then in a little while I hap- pened to look up, to see what you were doing ; and lo and behold ! there had stolen into the sky, staring over the crest of the opposite hill, a great mass of white cloud, not shaded with any perspective, but a bolt-up- right mass, a blinding white against a blinding blue, and glaring at you as if it had come jumping out of another world. And then such keenness of color ; the purple slopes of heather, far ofE as they were, had come 290 BKISEIS quite near — ^you would have thought you could touch them with your parasol, which was all very remarkable and- admirable; but in five minutes the heavens were Hack, and the rain was whipping the Priest's Bridge Pool into smoke, and I was hiding my wee self under an alder-bush . . . Was that the day we startled the heron down by the Silver Pool, on our way home ? Oh, the gorgeousness of that evening ! — the hills out in the west like violet velvet against the gold ; and all the tops of Aonach M6r burning in crimson ; and then down in the still pools, beside the green alders, the crimson re- pea/ted again on the smooth water. And there was that gray phantom of a creature ; and we crept up behind the bushes ; and he was out on a stone ; and I think you could have touched him with the point of your rod, before he stretched out his great wings and went away down the river as silently as a moth . . . But best of all were the moonlight evenings — you remember ? — when we went a little way up into the open forest, and listened for the belling of the stags, and there was a golden moon just over Ben-na-Van, and a mist all along the moorland, and Lady Adela, and Eose, and Sibyl — the White Sisters — like three ghosts, and not a single word said because of the stillness. And once we heard the pipes — oh ! so far away — a faint, unearthly cry — I never heard the like of it before — it was the ban- shee ! Do you remember the magical nights with the moonlight coming through the trees on to the lawn, and the scent of sweet-gale, and the murmur of the stream down in the valley? — do you remember? — do you care to remember 1 — are you as anxious as I am to remember and recall ? Well, well, it's no use. Only, I'm sick of blue skies — skies that are monot- onously and uninterestingly blue ; and my heart flies away back to a country that I know — a country where "NOW ALL IS done" 291 there are clouds, and wild seas, and rain, and silver, and glorious sunsets, and mystic nights among the hills. DaJiin, dahin, Mocht' icli mit dir, mein Oeliebter, dehnl" Why, this was quite a burst of eloquence on the part of Georgie; and for the moment he, too, ex- perienced an upraising of heart in recalling their boy- and-girl escapades. Surely it was none so tragic a fate to which his honor had bound him ; that happy- go-lucky companionship in the northern wilds would lead naturally enough into the more serious, the life- long, companionship that lay before him. And all would be well. But there was something haunting him, even amidst these optimistic resolves and hopes : it was the recol- lection of a house in Devonshire Place — the front door open — and a last look from which he had turned away his eyes. CHAPTER XVIII A KESOLVE Now hardly had Frank Gordon and the three girls driven away to the theatre when the indefatigable little widow, seeking to console those who had been left behind, proposed that she and they should pay a visit to the Brewers' Exhibition at the Agricultural Hall. Perhaps, strictly speaking, this could scarcely be called introducing the young ladies to polite society — at least, to any great extent ; but the entertainment was cheap ; much information might be acquired ; and there was a Highland piper playing outside one of the distillery stalls. And so, despite the threaten- ing weather, a cab was sent for ; and Miss Ada, and Miss Holmes, and Miss Tressider were bidden to get ready. " I'm very sorry we can't take you as well, dear Briseis," said the widow. " The cab only holds four, of course. And besides I know you are anxious to get on with those dining-room curtains ; for I wouldn't let any one else touch them ; they might spoil your design ; and it was so clever of you to think of a stem of maize and the simple leaves ; the gold thread on the dark green cloth is so effective ; and such free, bold drawing — where did you learn to do all these clever things ? — or is it just a natural gift all round ? I'm so sorry we can't take you — " " Oh, but I would much rather get on with the A KESOLVE 393 curtains, Aunt Clam," said Briseis. She had looked dazed and scared all during luncheon — perhaps no one had noticed ; and now she seemed chiefly anxious to get away and be alone. But she remained in the hall, to help the girls on with their jackets and capes. The cab came up; the bustling, loquacious party got out upon the pavement — with many exclamations about the thunderous look of the skies; then they drove off; and the house again grew still. Briseis went into the school-room. Her cousin Adalbert was lying on the sofa, absorbed in reading football news ; but as soon as he saw her, he threw aside the paper. "Briseis," said he at once, "have you and Sir Francis Gordon quarrelled ?" She hesitated. What was the use of a boy confi- dant ? And yet she was sorely distraught ; her mind was all tempest-torn with fears and conjectures; to speak to any one was an immeasurable relief. And the lame lad had always been her chivalrous friend and champion. " What makes you think that ?" she asked, eva- sively. "He never left you at home before, when others were going." "Oh, that is nothing — ^that is nothing," she an- swered him. " Some one must remain behind — why not I ? I have had more than my share of those con- certs and theatres. He has been very kind to me — very — " " He hardly spoke a word to you at luncheon," her cousin continued; " There was so much talking !" she said. " Well, then, when he first saw you — I mean outside — when he came along the pavement — and the other man was going away — " 394 BRISEIS Her expression instantly changed. " Ah, did you notice that, Adalbert ? — did you notice that ? Was it so obvious that any one could notice it ? Indeed I knew I could not be mistaken ! And what had I done ? Why should he be angry with me ? Yes, I saw him look in that curious way after Argyriades ; but why should he blame me if any one speaks to me ? Why should he have changed so suddenly — why should he regard me with coldness and distrust ? And yet I cannot believe that he could suspect me — that he could be so unjust as to accuse me merely because he saw a stranger going away! No, no; there must be some- thing else," she went on, with growing excitement. "Adalbert, what is it that I have done ? What wrong can I have done ? Why did he not tell me if I was to blame ?" She was standing by the. table, her fingers tightly clasped in front of her ; her lips were trembling, and her eyes had filled with tears. It was a strange thing for the helpless lame boy to witness. Ordinarily the demeanor of this beautiful, tall cousin of his was marked by a perfect self-possession — a self-possession sweet and serene and well-wishing : now she was like some frightened child, who had been reprimanded or punished for an unknown ofEence. Yet how could the poor lad help her ? He had no wit or skill in such matters. Indeed, of late, when Briseis seemed, to be in trouble, it had always occurred to him that it was to Frank Gordon himself she ought to appeal. "Briseis," he said, almost at random, "what does that man want who has come twice to threaten you ? I cannot understand a word of what he says ; but I know he threatens you — you are so scornful and indig- nant — " "Ah, that is quite another thing," she answered A RESOLVE 295 him, quickly. " That is a question of money ; that is a trifle ; I am not so concerned about that, except at the moment. It is not of threatening or of money that one thinks when — And yet — and yet," she went on, after a second or so, " there are such strange possibili- ties. If Argyriades has already tried to make mischief — who can tell ? It is all a bewilderment to me — and I have no one to guide me — no one at all. And if there was any chance of mischief, d~on't you think it would be better to sacrifice anything — anything — to get rid of that man ? Don't you think so, Adalbert ? If it is only a question of money, what is money ? — what i& any sacrifice to get rid of such a threat ? I have no money — none at all at present ; but perhaps my trustee in Edinburgh could get some for me. Don't you think I ought to buy this man off at any cost, to make sure — to make sure? — don't you think so, Adalbert? — don't you think so ?" In her agitation she was really talking to herself; she did not wait for any reply ; and her cousin, embar- rassed and conscious that he was incapable of advising her, dared not speak. But she seemed to have made up her mind. She cleared a portion of the table. She fetched some writing-materials from the top of a chest of drawers. And then she sat down and hastily wrote two notes : the first of them, addressed to Mr. Murray, the Edinburgh W.S., begged him to advance her flve- and-twenty pounds, if that was within the scope of his powers ; the second conveyed a curt intimation to Argyriades that she would meet him at a quarter to twelve on the following morning, at the corner of York Terrace and York Gate, while she added that she hoped he would come prepared to state explicitly what sum he would take in return for all communications from her in his possession, including the one she was now pen- 396 BKISEIS ning. These two letters, for safety's sake, she herself carried to the nearest post-office box ; thereafter return- ing to the tranquil embroidery of golden steins and joints and leayes on the breadth of dark green cloth. Her boy-cousin, furtively regarding her from time to time, guessed that her mind might not be quite as tranquil as her occupation ; but he was too diffident to interfere, even with a shy word of sympathy. The day wore on, and she grew more and more sick at heart, because of all this doubt, and questioning, and anxious surmise. Frank Gordon's change of man- ner towards her had been so sudden, so unexpected, so inexplicable. ' Why — ^why ?' she kept asking herself. Surely he could not suspect or scorn her simply because a stranger in the street had slunk away at his approach ? Or had Argyriades been attempting to find a better market for his stolen wares ? Perhaps a sample had been shown ? And she was to be condemned unheard — by the one human being on whose opinion and regard she had come to set such perilous store. And then she drew a cloak of pride around her. Why should she be solicitous about any man's esteem ? It was for her to award favor, if she should so choose ; that was her prerogative ; they who valued her ap- proval, even to the extent of a good word or a friendly look, would have to come for it. The old ballads had told her what, the Gordons were — gay, gallant, and fickle ; ' he turned about lightly, as the Gordons does a' ;' and this one, the most careless-hearted of all the race of them, if he had suddenly resolved to become grave and serious and distant, was welcome so to do. Nay, if he believed her capable of this or that folly or infamy, it was not for her to defend herself. The world was wide enough for them both ; and she was no Lady Jean Melville, to take to her bed, and lie there pale A KESOLTE 397 and wan, because another of the gay Gordons had turned on his heel. That night was wet ; the rain kept softly pattering on the window of her solitary little room, up in the at- tic ; when she looked out, and down, she could see the lamps throwing reflections of quivering gold on the streaming black pavements. She had been crying a little, from time to time. For her cloak of pride had brought her but small comfort, and had long ago been discarded ; an anguish of dull foreboding held posses- sion of her ; sleep was out of the question ; she was all unstrung ; and she was abjectly penitent — ^for she knew not what. Now and again she went to her mirror ; perhaps with some pathetic desire to convince herself of the splendor of her youthful beauty ; perhaps mere- ly out of dread that this unresting grief might leave traces that she would find it difficult to explain on the morrow. At last, hardly conscious of what she was doing, she opened her writing-desk, and turned up the gas a little, and sought for and brought forth a sheet of M.S. scrawled and dotted over. On more than one occasion Frank Gordon had ex- pressed himself as greatly interested in her reminis- cences of Slavonic and Romaic folk-songs, and in the singular faculty she had for improvising, while she was seated at the piano, some little story of the same fash- ion, and adding to it a wandering, capricious accom- paniment by way of mystical refrain. He had even begged her to give him one of these compositions ; but she rarely committed them to paper ; perhaps she was afraid that by accident they might come under the eye of some professional critic. Nevertheless, his request had remained in her mind ; and happening one after- noon to find herself with a brief and unusual space of leisure she had roughly jotted down the haphazard lines 13* 298 BRISEIS and notes of a fragment ; and that she had put away in her desk, and forgotten. But now, as she took it out, she thought she would make a fair copy ; and she thought she would send it to him — as a timid kind of propitiation, if there was any unknown cause of quar- rel between them : in any case, by his manner of receiT- ing this poor little peace-ofEering, he would show how he still regarded her. And thus it was that the proud- hearted Briseis brought herself to humble contrition (for she knew not what) ; and in the dark and still hours of the night she proceeded to copy carefully and clearly the irregular Terses and the accompanying rip- ple of melody, though at the outset she spoiled three sheets of paper, because of tears that fell. It was a simple enough story that she had heard or read of somewhere : the story of a small band of brig- ands overtaken by the soldiery, and in the forefront of the fray the young wife of the chief of the brigands, a peasant girl whom he had abducted not many months before. This was how it began — Saddest bride is tlie stolen bride, and Elednaia is weeping. Happiest bride is the stolen bride, and Eleanaia smiles. Proud she stands by her husband's side, at bay in tJie moun- tains. Proud when the gendarme's bullet speeds straight to lier heart. {Creep closer, child, the moonlight is white in the forest.) And then it went on to tell how the brigand, when his band had escaped, disguised himself, and went down to the nearest village, to try to obtain a permit that his wife should be buried in consecrated ground ; and how his disguise was discovered, and himself taken and shot. But it was not of Eleanaia and her brave and luckless husband that Briseis was thinking as she went on with her transcription, scrupulously correcting here, and ex- A RESOLVE 299 panding there. Surely Frank Gordon could not be offended by her sending him this scrap of ballad-music, amateurish as it might be ? . He had asked for it, in- deed — though that was awhile ago. And anyhow it would establish some kind of link between them ; he would surely write in reply ; perhaps there might be an explanation. He could not take it amiss ! Next morning it was still wet ; but ere any of the household were up, she had been out and along to the pillar letter-box, despatching her wistful, half-reluc- tant, tentative appeal for reconciliation. And still it rained, on and on ; and hourly London became more gloomy, and squalid, and hideous. When it drew tow- ards noon, there was no thought of the lame boy go- ing out in his Bath chair ; the day was too distressing ; so he had to content himself with a seat at the window, and a bundle of those journals which he had found by experience gave the most dithyrambic accounts of the deeds of his heroes, whether on the muddy football field or on the windy and sea-haunted links of the north. And so it was that a little before twelve Briseis was enabled to steal forth alone and perhaps unobserved to keep her appointment with Andreas Argyriades. Protected by water -proof and umbrella she made her way through the swimming streets ; and at the corner she had mentioned to him she found her compatriot — looking very miserable, indeed, for though he also car- ried an umbrella, it had proved inadequate to shield his Bank -holiday attire, and he now presented a some- what damp and bedraggled appearance. Nevertheless his spirit was calm and unruflBied; his self-confidence had suffered no abatement ; and he received Briseis with a profound courtesy, watching her all the while. " Have you brought an answer for me, and a definite answer ?" she asked, abruptly and coldly. 300 BKISEIS " Pardon me, my dear friend, it is not so simple as perhaps you think," he replied, in his usual suave manner. "There are many points to be regarded. For example, I have just learnt that my brother De- metri is coming to this country. Very well. When he arrives, what is the first question he will ask of me ? He will say — 'Andreas, my son, what have you been able to make out of the Valieri-Lamprinos affair ?' He is so mercenary, is my brother Demetri ! Then if I tell him some paltry sum, he will first laugh at me for a fool, but afterwards he will stab me. Ah, he is ter- rible — terrible — a famished wolf is merciful compared to him ; he spares no one ; and you-^have you no fear for yourself if he is angry ? — " " Children's tales I" she responded, with contempt. "Do you think you can frighten me with such foolish- ness ?" " Akousate me !" he pleaded, in silken speech. "I wish to be your friend ; aind you will need a friend — when Demetri arrives. And how can I give you a defi- nite answer : how can I tell yon the exact value he might place on all these papers ? No, no ; my dear young lady, be guided by me ; furnish me with a small sum at present — ten pounds — twenty pounds — what you please — which will be a pacification for Demetri ; then subsequently we will consider — " "We will not consider!" she retorted. "Why should I give you anything ? Why should I give you a single drachma ? It is only to get rid of you, once and for all; and if you refuse to agree to this conclusion, what is the alternative ? The police, Mr. Argyriades !" He shook his head, almost mournfully. "Ah, no, you could not be so unwise," he said. " What have I pointed out to you before ? — that I have done nothing — " A RESOLVE 301 " You have asked for money ; you have threatened me ; you have threatened to show these letters — " " Where is your evidence, my dear friend ? Have you a scrap of my handwriting as proof ?" he said, in a kind of compassionate manner. "Ah, no, have done with that idea ! If you appeal to your police — to your English law — I can suffer nothing ; but you — ^you will have to suffer the publicity, the exposure ; and perhaps your story will be believed, and perhaps it will not. It is so much better to be amicable ! Give me twenty pounds — in the mean time — for pacification — " " I have not a farthing !" she exclaimed. "Ah, then we are wasting time," he said, a little more sternly.. " Shall I put the matter plainly to you, my dear friend ? I have certain goods to sell ; and they must go to the highest bidder. I have given you the opportunity ; but you allow one day after the other to pass, and you do not provide yourself with the necessary funds, though you could easily do so. Well ? Well, I must go to another market, that is all. I know who will redeem those compromising documents — oh, yes, and at the figure I ask ^ and if I have already shown him a little sample, to tempt him—" " Have you — dared ?" she demanded, with her cheek grown a trifle paler : some wild fancy had shot through her brain that here Tuight be the true key to the enigma that had been torturing her through the long dark hours. " I do not say yes or no, for I do not wish to commit myself," he answered her, calmly. "But at least you will consider what I have it in my power to do, at any moment. Oh, I confess to you that at first I was not so sure, when I was waiting and observing ; for there are several young ladies in the house, and the Lord 302 BBISEIS Fragkis Gordon he might be interested in one or the other : perhaps — shall I say it ? — it was some little touch of expression on your part, when the name was mentioned, that convinced me I was on firm ground. For you understand, my dear friend, that though all the world must recognize that you are extremely beau- tiful — beautiful with a youthfulness and a freshness and an animation that not all of the prettiest of our Greek girls are happy enough to possess — all the world must see that ; but all the world may not know how quick a tale-teller is the expression of your face, to one who has the skill to remark. So perhaps it was yourself who confirmed my earlier surmises ? — but that is of little consequence ; what I wish to make clear to you, perfectly clear, is that I am on assured ground. Those letters that you sent to me, are they not my property ? May not I do what I choose with them ? May not I sell them to whoever will give most for them ? Therefore you cannot harm me ; but I might harm you — if you were so imprudent as to drive me to extremities. Only, you will not do that. I am sure you will not do that. Ko ; you will take into consideration many things : your own position ; the serious costs I have incurred; and the advisability of pacifying Demetri. Is it not so ? You will be wise and reason- able ; and a wise and reasonable person accepts what is inevitable. Now, my dear friend,, I cannot keep you standing here in the rain — it is dreadful : tell me, what can you give me that will propitiate Demetri when he arrives ? — " " I have nothing to do with him," she said, hurried- ly — ^but her attitude was less defiant. " I want back the letters you have of mine ; and I ask you, once for all, what I must pay for them, to have an end. At present I have no money, as I told you before ; but I A RESOLVE 308 have written to my trustee in Edinburgh, to see if he can let me have twenty-five pounds — " " Yes ; twenty-five pounds ?" he repeated, in an en- couraging way. "That would do very well to pacify Demetri — " "I have nothing to do with Demetri !" she broke in again. " But if he is bringing with him the Lamprinos let- ters ?" he said, insidiously. " And you said you had them here in London !" " Ah, yes, I may have been a little premature — but that is nothing," he said, coolly enough. " Well, then, let us say that so far it is arranged : twenty-five pounds to propitiate Demetri. And after ?" "After? — not one lepta ! No, nor one atom of com- munication between you and me ! I must have the whole of the letters — every one of them : I will verify them myself; I will burn them myself; and then — nothing between you and me \" "And all that is to come about for twenty -five pounds \" he said, elevating his eyebrows in affected surprise. " Keally, if it were not so serious a matter, one might laugh. My dear young lady, you do not seem to comprehend: one does not undertake such trouble as I have encountered for a miserable twenty- five pounds — no, nor anything like that ! — " " What can I do more !" she cried, in a desperate kind of way — for the ingenuity of his arguments had confused her amidst her vague alarm and distress. " But no, it is not for me to dictate !" he said, bland- ly. "As I have told you, you have rich friends — and they must know of your great expectations — and if you wish for money, why — " " I cannot get more than that !" she protested — but more humbly now. 304 BBISEIS He shrugged his shoulders. "Ah, well, there is then the alternative. If one will not pay, the other must. I have only "to show these letters to the person you are thinking of at this mo- ment, and I have only to say to him ' If you are inter- ested in the young lady, would it not be generous of you to pay a considerable sum to withdraw such com- promising documents from being handed about ?' — " "And you say you do not threaten!" she inter- posed, scornfully. "Pardon me," he answered her. ""What I said was that you had nothing to show that I had threat- ened. — But" come, come, my dear friend, I do not wish to threaten at all. "Why should we quarrel ? "We are quite harmoniously agreed so far. You will send me the twenty-five pounds, to make the best bar- gain I can for you with Demetri. That is the first step—" "And the last," she said. "It must be first and last — or none. And if I send you the twenty - five pounds, how am I to know that you will return me the letters — every one of them ?" " You cannot trust me, then ? Ah, that is the worst of having to do with one like Demetri," he pro- ceeded, in a. regretful fashion. "If it had not been for him, you would have had -the packet long before now. But Demetri, he is insatiable. Never mind. You have done well. You have left me to deal with him. Do not fear. I will defend you against Demetri. Consider me the protector of your interests. You will send me the twenty-five pounds ; and I will make the best bargain I can for you ; ■ and there will be no need to show these very strange letters, these very damag- ing letters, to any other person. You have done well, my dear friend, rest assured. It rejoices my heart to A RESOLVE 305 find you so placable, so reasonable. I give you my word of lionor that you have resolved wisely. For what is the matter of a few pounds ? What is a trifling matter of money to a beautiful young girl when her good name might be called in question — " " My good name ?" said Briseis — with a flash of her eyes. " Ah, nO;, no — I meant by those who did not know her," he replied, softly. " That is a precious posses- sion for a young girl, her good name ; and of course you have acted with discretion. And it is so much pleasanter to have these amicable relations established. Need I tell you that if it had been war between us, it would have been a somewhat serious war ? The fam- ished wolf has no time to think of scruples ; and here am I, in the most desperate of straits, and with De- metri coming over to demand explanations. But that is all past now. All is to be amiable and pleasant. And when, if I may ask, do you expect to receive the twenty-five pounds ?" ''To-morrow, perhaps, or next day," she said, al- most mechanically — for her brain was perplexed and bewildered by the ingenuities of his representa- tions. "Ah, that is well," said he; "and may I as a last word congratulate you, my dear friend, on the wisdom of your decision ? "J^ou have done well. Confide your interests to me ; and I will secure you against Demetri Argyriades. Adieu, then — for the rain is terrible. Within the coming day or two I shall hear from you ; until then — adieu ! " " Sas proskuno," she answered him, absently ; and the next moment she found herself alone, standing there in the midst pf this wet and dismal Lon- don. 306 BEISEIS The following two or three days were for Briseis Valieri little else than a prolonged agony of suspense and dim apprehension. Eyery ring at the door-bell caused her heart to jump ; but the posts came and went, morning, noon, and evening, and not even a line arrived from Frank Gordon to say that her little pro- pitiatory offering had been received. And then her heart would grow hot, and her cheek would tingle with maidenly pride and shame. Had she humbled herself, only to be spurned ? Had she placed herself in the position of a suppliant, when indignant reserve and silence would have better become her ? The Edinburgh W.S. had promptly replied, enclos- ing his own cheque for the amount she had mentioned, and politely adding that it gave him pleasure to com- ply with her request. But she hesitated about send- ing the money on to Argyriades, not because of its value, but because she had a sort of despairing con- sciousness that it would not really and finally free her from the terrorism which he was endeavoring to estab- lish over her. If ay, it might even more hopelessly in- volve her in the toils he was obviously trying to wind round her. It was only when he was talking to her — when he was exercising a devilish cunning in describ- ing to her the helplessness of her position — that she felt ready to give him anything, to promise him any- thing, in order to get rid of him at once and forever : when she was outside the influence of his plausible speech, she could see clearly enough that whatever she might give or promise would only place her- more com- pletely within his grip. Unhappily she had already gone too far. She had sent him money ; she had writ- ten urgent notes demanding the return of certain papers ; she had referred to interviews, and made ap- pointments. And how was all this to be undone by A RESOLVE 307 her forwarding to him the suin of money she had just received from Edinburgh ? It would but place another weapon of coercion in his hands. However, that disquietude, harassing as it might be, was now eclipsed by a greater that in a way arose out of it. When day after day passed and nothing had been heard in answer to her timid little presentation of the Greek ballad, she began to convince herself that Argyriades, in some measure at least, must have car- ried out his threat. Had he, then, gone to Frank Gordon, and, without actually showing documents, in- timated that he had secrets to sell ? Or had he taken with him one of the letters and produced it to see if he could find a purchaser for such compromising wares — one who, from magnanimous friendship or from any other motive could be induced to buy these things that he might destroy them ? And what, she asked herself, in such circumstances would a straightforward young Englishman be likely to do ? Why, without doubt, he would forthwith kick the scoundrel out at the door. Yes ; but the knowledge would remain ; and might be dwelt upon, and perhaps magnified. And who could wonder if this same clean-minded young Englishman should decline to have any further association with a girl who appeared to have doubtful antecedents, whose correspondence was passing about as bank-notes in the hands of blacklegs and blackmailers ? All this fretting and guessing may have unhinged her judgment a little ; but gradually she became pos- sessed with the resolve, at once piteous and impe- rious, that at any cost she must set herself right with Erank Gordon. Whatever had happened, she must know the truth ; whatever had happened, he also must know the truth. And she would go direct to himself. It was an unusual, perhaps an unmaidenly. BEISEIS thing to do ; and it might involve a certain abasement ; hut it was too late to take such minor considerations into account. She would go direct to himself — and find out with her own eyes. CHAPTER XIX FACE TO FACE The bronzed November sunshine was streaming into a spacious and lofty apartment in one of the Northum- berland Avenue hotels ; and up at the end of the room stood Lady Adela Cunyngham and Frank Gordon, talk- ing to each other, and looking down the long tables that were laid out for luncheon, and that presented quite a pretty spectacle with their silver and fine linen, their glossy menu-cards, and their floral decorations of chrysanthemums and old-man's-beard. " So kind of you to come and help me !" said the handsome young matron. " What should I have done — a poor lone woman arriving all by herself in London — not even Eose or Sibyl turning up to lend me a hand ; and as for Sir Hugh — I suppose Sir Hugh will think he has fulfilled his. part when he pays the bill. But I had no scruple about asking you, when I learnt you were in town ; for you know. Sir Francis, we look on you as one of the family now, ever since we heard of your engagement. And by-the-way, when is Geor- gie coming home, if her brother is so much better ?" "Soon, I believe," he answered her. "I have of- fered to go over to New York, to bring her back ; but nothing definite has been settled." Lady Adela cast another surveying and satisfied glance along the brilliant tables. ". "Well, I think all is right now ; and we may as well 310 BRISEIS go into the reception-room. Oh, one moment, Sir Francis," she said. "I ordered the wines you men- tioned ; but I did not say anything as to quantities. Now, you know. Sir Hugh is the most generous of men ; but he is businesslike as well ; and assuredly' he will look into the account ; and with regard to these wines, how is one to know what has been used — how will there be any check ?" " There will be Sir Hugh's chaque," he said, with a school-boy grin. "I really do think I should have accepted the hotel proposal — so much a head — " " Not at all !" he said, promptly. " There won't be any wine drunk — ^none to speak of. Do you think the Hypatians are likely to take wine at luncheon ? If one of them should break out into wild carousal — a furious Maenad — she may put two lumps of sugar into her tea ; but the orgie won't go further than that. Oh, there is Aunt Jean," he added, as he saw some one pass the door. Accordingly the two of them went into the recep- tion-room, where Miss Jean Gordon was found to be the first comer. " These milliners and their charges will just be the ruin of me !" said she — for she had come south to pay a series of visits, an<^ was busily preparing for the same. "Now, Aunt Jean," her nephew proceeded — for Lady Adela had turned away to receive the new ar- rivals — "I'll tell you about some of the people you are to meet — " " But if they are as celebrated as you say, surely I'll recognize them by head-mark ?" " Well, yes, they are celebrated," he replied, some- what evasively. " They are celebrated, certainly — but — but it's mostly amongst themselves they are cele- FACE TO FACE . 311 brated. I don't know that their names have travelled as far as Dee-side. Anyhow, they are extremely im!- portant people ; and mind, when you're talking to any of them, to put in a good word for Lady Adela's new novel — " " Merciful me, laddie, I have not read a word of it !" cried Aunt Jean. "No, nor has anybody else, for it isn't published yet," her nephew explained to her. " But why should you not be supposed to know all about it ? — and these writing-people will put paragraphs in the papers, and make a stir — don't you understand that ? Have the Dee-side folk got so little gumption as not to under- stand that ? — and why this elaborate entertainment is given ? Now don't forget. Aunt Jean : the title is Faded Jonquils ; and all kinds of well-'known person- ages figure in it ; it is a brilliant picture of society ; the disguises are delightfully thin ; if you're anybody at all, you'll recognize the whole crowd. One or two most distinguished critics have seen the proof-sheets, and are charmed ; and she'll get a testimonial from Mr. Gr. or she's not the woman I take her for. Now let me see : I'd better tell you whom you'll sit next. On your left will be a Mr. Quincey Hooper — he's the London correspondent of ap American paper; nothing to alarm you about him ; he's rather like an ostler, and he'll probably tuck the corner of his table-napkin under his chin, and he'll certainly talk all the time about lords : nothing worse than that. Then on the other side you'll have a Miss Penguin. She's a poetess — a great, wild, fearsome poetess. But you won't mind. She's a giddy old crock ; and she'll tell you strange stories about a set of people whom she calls the aristocracy. She doesn't know anything about them ; but that's neither here nor there ; and she's a playful 313 , BKISBIS old kitten : you'll find her great fun. Oh^ here's my beneficent Miss Caledon — I mustgo and speak to her" — and off he went to welcome the intrepid young lady- journalist, whose extremely pretty gray eyes appeared at this moment to have something of demure amuse- ment in them. Now if it was by way of a trick that Frank Gordon had foisted the Passionate' Poetess on to poor, innocent, unsuspecting Aunt Jean, he was well served out. For when by-and-by this large company had sedately filed into the luncheon-room, and when they were engaged in finding out their appointed seats — and while the zither-choir from the Black Forest was playing 'AUe Vogel sind schon da, alle Vogel, alle !' so that it seemed as if the birds of innumerable spring-times were hover- ing around and thrilling all the air with their vibrant melody — in the midst of this hum of confusion young Gordon became aware that a dowdy, pompous, over- dressed woman was bearing down on him. He could not understand this at all, for he himself had written out the cards and placed them along the tables ; but the next moment the explanation came from Miss Pen- guin, who now confronted him. " I wished to have a little chat with you. Sir Fran- cis," said she, "and I took the liberty of transposing one or two of the cards — " " Well, I'm hanged !" he wrathfully said to himself • — which was improper, and also most impolite. But there was no escape for him; her baleful eye was upon him ; and the very first question she asked of him, as they sat down, was the identical question with which she had challenged him at the Hypatia Club. " Have you read my Mirrorings ?" He desperately hunted about for a lie — in vain ; and then he blurted out — FACE TO FACE 31^ " I really don't know what the circulating libraries are coming to. You write to them for the best books, naturally ; and they send you nothing but trash. And so — that is — the inexcusable reason — " " I see," she obserTed, calmly. "You have not read my book. Consequently you have no answer to my in- dictment." " Your indictment ?" He vaguely remembered that on that previous occa- sion this frowsy old frump with the pale protuberant fringe and the tattered finery had occupied herself chiefly in slandering her fellow-countrywomen, when she wasn't engaged in hacking and slashing at their husbands and brothers and sons ; and also that she ap- peared to hold him, Frank Gordon of Grantly, respon- sible for all the ill doings and infamies of the ' aristoc- racy' of Great Britain., " Yes, my indictment," she proceeded, and she held him with her inexorable eye. " Perhaps you will allow me to repeat at least a portion of it. " "Lord help us ! — I'm in for it again," said young Gordon to himself. And he was. Worse still, he found himself between two fires ; for while he had this infuriate spinster at his elbow, on the other side of the head table, and not more than a yard or two from him, Octavius Quirk, in his frothily tempestuous fashion, was describing to Lady Adela and any others within ear -shot his doughty deeds in the field of journalistic criticism. " Such a responsibility !" murmured Lady Adela, softly and sweetly. " Such an important newspaper — " "The Moulinet — that's what I should like to call my department," continued the fiabby-cheeked creature with the boiled gooseberry eyes. " I want my lads to understand that they must have a free shoulder-swing ! 314 BBISEIS And we're doing excellent service, Lady Adela — oh, I assure you ! The weekly log-rollers have got a fright : there's a good deal less croaking and calling of the frogs to each other since we began to heave bricks into the pond. And the puling poets in the Government offices — stealing the Queen's stationery to write their misera- ble magazine-verse on it : we've made one or two of them sit up. But the two tribes that we mean to slaughter — the two tribes that are to have no mercy — are the Cuttle-fish and the Worms — " " I'm afraid I don't quite — " "The Cuttle-fish — who fling ink in the face of the public, and hide themselves in a sham profundity. I'm an Englishman ; I want English ; I want the English of Milton, and Shakespeare, and Dryden ; I don't want leerings, and twistings, and divings into the mud of obscurity. And then there are the precious people — the posturers — strutting in front of a literary mirror and admiring themselves : well, we mean to thrash the saw- dust out of their taffeta phrases, their ' three-piled hy- perboles, spruce affectation, figures pedantioal ' ; and we may be able to bring back something of the ' russet yeas, and honest kersey noes.* 'He speaks not like a man of God's making ' : then he'll have to change his tune ; or we'll drum the dandified ass out of exist- ence — " The wind-bag paused for a moment — ^f or the zithern had begun to play 'Es steht ein Baum im Odenwald'; but he soon ignored this interruption. " Ah, the Worms, Lady Adela — I was almost forget- ting-" "Yes?" responded Lady Adela, in her pleasantest manner; while Gordon inwardly said to himself '0 what a price one has to pay in England for puffs and paragraphs !' FACE TO FACE 315 " The Worms — ^the inyertebrate literary things that live upon dead men's reputations — and the greater the reputation the better. ' Hallo/ cries one or other of these nonentities, 'let's get out another edition of So-and-so ; he has been dead a hundred years ; and there's no one to hinder us.' And then the Nonentity brings out the book of the big dead author, and claps his own little name on the title-page, cheek by jowl with the big name, and the public doesn't resent his impudence ; no, the good, easy public buys the new edition ; and the parasite comes in time to be recog- nized as a man of letters. Good business — ^living on dead authors ! Well, we mean to make things lively for the Worms !" continued Mr. Quirk, with boisterous hilarity. " Since they are so determined on publicity, we mean to make them dance a little. Cuttle-fish — Worms — Posturers — Bardlets in search of a laureate- ship : we intend having a bit of amusement down our way ! My lads are ready — " And so the Jabberwock held on ; while Lady Adela paid him the tribute of a mute sympathy and reverence ; when she had to pay a price, she paid it without stint. A voice rose above the varied din — a girl's voice, rather hard and metallic, it is true, but clear and pen- etrating, and harmonizing admirably with the zither accompaniment. 'Von meinem Bergli muss i schei- den, was so liebli is und schon' — this was the old fa- miliar strain ; and Frank G-ordon, who was sick - tired of journalistic chatter, and still more tired of hearing an exasperated unmarried female denounce the iniqui- ties of husbands — young Gordon was glad to turn away and listen, entranced. Nay, as soon as the ' Abschied vom Dirndel ' was finished, he left his place and made his way round to the small table at which the Schwarz- walder— three men and two girls — were seated ; apd 316 BRISEIS there he made bold to take a vacant chair that hap- pened to be next the young lady who had just been singing ; and he was proceeding, with many apologies, to tell her how every one was grateful to her, when the damsel with the big, gentle eyes (he made sure her name was Anneli) interrupted him. " Wie meinen Sie, mein Herr ?" she said. This was for a moment disconcerting ; but he had some courage ; and so with the best Grernian he could muster he paid his compliments ; and then he added — " Sie kennen vielleicht irgend einige griechische Volkslieder ?" "Das glaube ich nicht," she answered, "will aber fragen." And with that she addressed herself to the grave- eyed, black-bearded man at the end of the table, who, in turn, answered young Grordon direct and in Eng- lish, explaining that they were very sorry they did not know any Greek folk-songs. But this inquiry had formed a sort of introduction; and next Gordon said, in a straightforward and friendly way : " Well, I have heard the zither played many and many an evening, in the Black Forest and the Tyrol ; but never, as far as I can remember, without there being something on the table. Would you mind — if I tried to rectify a little mistake that I see has been made ?" And thereupon he went off and got hold of a wait- er ; and in a few moments he had returned, the waiter bringing with him a couple of bottles of Zeltinger, some green glasses, and a basket filled with comfits and sweet biscuits. The wine was poured out ; the cakes were handed to the timid-eyed Praulein ; while young Gordon coolly and calmly resumed his seat^-for he had a frank and boyish way of making himself at FACE TO FACE 317 home that stood him in good stead among strangers. And indeed he found the society of these honest Schwarzwalder a good deal more congenial than that he had recently quitted. They drank his health, in a serious manner : he responded with the toast of ' Deutschland iiber Alles !' and the Fraulein laughed as they sipped a little of the wine ; then the leader of the choir, glancing round the table, said in an under- tone ' Compagneia,' and forthwith the glasses were shoved aside, and each zither had resting on it ten nerved finger-tips ready for the signal. 'Ich nehm' mein Glaschen in die Hand' he rolled out in a strong bass voice ; then his compan- ions came in with their chorus ' Vive la Compagneia !' — and whether the general Compagneia over there at the long tables listened or did not listen was of little conse- quence to Frank Gordon. He had escaped from the pal- pitating Sappho ; he had escaped from the blustering wind-bag ; he was among decent, kindly folk, who, in the intervals of their professional duties, became more and more friendly with the young Englishman who ap- peared to be well acquainted with their country and its homely customs. And truly they gave him of their best. It was for him they sang 'Mariandel ist so schon, Mariandel ist so treu,' and ' Herzig's Schatzerl, lass dich herzen,' and ' Im Aargau sind zwei Liebi,' and 'Von alien den Madchen so blink und so blank'; and then when the smoking began — for Lady Adela knew the ways of many of her guests, and was an astute and tolerant hostess — he had cigars brought for the beard- ed members of this little company ; and altogether he and they got on very well. 318 BEISEIS And yet, notwithstanding the occasion and this good comradeship on which he had accidentally happened, he was heavy at heart. Some of these Volkslieder haye a pathetic note, apt to awaken memories. And there was another folk-song, lying in his desk down in Jer- myn Street, that would keep recurring to his mind, accusing and reproaching him. A dozen times he had taken out the sheet of MS. intending to write and say he had received it ; and again and again he had shrank from employing the cold and distant terms which alone were permissible to him. And what would Briseis be thinking of him now ? Perhaps her wounded pride had stepped in to protect her : probably she would not deign to waste another thought on one who had used her so discourteously. By this time the large luncheon party had become in a measure nebulous — moving hither and thither and forming new groups ; and the handsome young mistress of the feast could now pay a little more atten- tion to her guests generally. Winning, gracious, and graceful, she went from one to the other, with an adroit word and a smile ever at her command ; and if, during these random conversations, any reference was made to the forthcoming publication of Faded Jonquils, it was always with a modest deprecation on her part, as if her poor little book were not fit to be mentioned be- fore all these wise and clever people. Amid this pre- vailing movement and clamor of talk it was easy for any one to slip away unobserved ; and Frank Gordon — having ascertained that Miss Jean Was returning to her dressmaker, and would rejoin him in Jermyn Street later on — said a word of apology and good-by to his hostess, and left. When he reached his rooms he put his despatch-box on the table, and opened it, and drew in a chair. But TACE TO PACE 319 it was not factors' reports he was after. He took out the large sheet of paper on which were copied so care- fully and accurately the words and accompaniment of the Greek folk-song ; and at these he sat staring ab- sently, as he had done too often before. The music, it is true, was far too intricate and elaborate for him even to guess at the sound of it ; he was thinking rather of the patient labor and the neat handwriting ; and of the desperate task that lay before himself. And yet he could not remain altogether silent. Nay, might not he be able to introduce into this note that had to be written — that he must write now — something of a fare- well character? A formal and restrained farewell — that was what was demanded of him : though again and again his fingers had refused to pen the words. It was just about this moment that there drew up at the corner of Jermyn Street a four-wheeled cab, from which a young woman descended. Her tall and elegant figure was dressed mostly in black ; she was veiled — though the texture of her veil was thin enough to show that her complexion was somewhat colorless ; and she had a preoccupied and hurried air. As soon as she had arranged with the cabman about waiting for her, she turned and went quickly along the pavement, giving no need to anything around her, but glancing up from time to time at the number of this or that lodging-house or private hotel. At last she arrived at the one she sought. The outer door was open ; the inner door, partially glazed, was about a yard or so within the hall ; and it was with hardly a second of hesitation that she stepped into this shallow entrance, and was about to ring the bell. And then all of a sudden she withdrew her hand as if the bell - knob had burnt her with fire ; she stood paralyzed with confusion and fear and shame ; her face 330 BKISEIS was suffused with hot blood ; her heart panting as if it would suffocate her. What was she here for ? — she seemed to ask herself. Could this be the proud-spirited Briseis Valieri, come humbly and servilely to the door of a young man's dwelling, to beg for the re-establish- ment of her good name ? Was this what she was here for ? — to explain — to excuse — to vindicate ? Her father — her mother — even the poor old man with whom she used to go wandering among the Scotch hills : what would they have said could they have foreseen ? And then it swiftly occurred to her — might she not even now escape ? Had no one observed her through those oblong panes of glass ? The bell had certainly not been rung. And so, the next moment, she had vanished out of that entrance- way ; and little did she know of what had befallen her until she found herself staring into the window of a perfumer's shop, her whole frame tingling and trembling. She gradually recovered control over herself; her face resumed something of its natural hue ; a passer-by would merely have thought that this tall and distin- guished-looking young lady was regarding those hair- brushes and scent -bottles with an unusual fixity of attention. For indeed what she had now to consider was the alternative that lay before her — a return to the hopeless suspense and misery of these past days and nights. She had strung herself up so far ; and this wild endeavor of hers, the product of despair almost, had within it some gleam of hope ; and now to abandon it — to go away back to the long brooding hours of anguish — that seemed a kind of impossible thing. She could not go back. She must have some assurance. She must know what had occurred. It was not a mere vindication of herself that was driving her on : it was as though all the coming years of her young life were FACE TO FACE 331 calling to her, making a more imperative demand. And so, looking neither to the right nor to the left, she returned hastily to the entrance, and rang the bell. A manservant appeared. " Is — Sir Francis Gordon — at home ?" she managed to say. "I think I heard him come in, ma'am," the man. said ; and he knocked at an adjacent door. Thc/next moment the door was opened ; and Briseis found herself — she did not know how — advancing into a room the sole occupant of which, on seeing her, had instantly risen to his feet. And there she stood con- fronting him — unable to utter a word — dreading what she had done. It seemed at this crisis as if the proud heart must straightway break, in the depth of her humiliation. And yet she looked at him. Had he nothing to say to her ? Would he understand that a girl was imperiously bound to clear her good name ? And as for him ; well, this sudden and actual bodily presentment of her had at once swept away all the dreams, and musings, and tempered resolves of the preceding days ; and a passionate longing arose in him to go forward to her, and place his hands on her shoulders, and say to her : " Briseis, let me guess why you have come here ! Do not speak : it is for me to speak : and all that I have to tell you is, I love you ! — I love you ! — I love you !" Nay, the magnetism of her presence was overpowering ; and her agitation — the appeal of her look — surely that was more than mortal man could withstand : why should he not take her to him, and kiss her hair, her cheeks, her lips, with " I love you ! I love you !" told again and again to her upturned eyes. And he would say to her : "You are disturbed — you suffer: let me shield you, then ; let us forget everything else in the world, and 322 BRISEIS be a world to ourselves ; let us go through life to- gether — you and I, together !" And then, under the magic charm of youth and youth's response to per- suasive caresses, there would come into her softened eyes some sign of yielding, of y/istful self-surrender — But this wild impulse, that thrilled him to the very soul, had to be sternly restrained; pale, resolute, reserved, he stood before her, awaiting her commands ; whether she knew or not, there were chains of honor binding him, as cruel as steel. She found speech at last. " You will forgive my — my coming here," she said, in a low voice. "I had not heard from you — " "I was about to write to you," he said — and he glanced towards the table : if her eyes followed in that direction, they could not fail to see the sheet of MS. music lying there. "And — and I was alarmed," she continued, rather brokenly. "Because — because I have been threat- ened—" " You — threatened ?" he repeated. "By a man or a woman pjj "A man." " That might be made awkward," he said slowly. "I was alarmed because — because he threatened to come to you, and show you some letters," she went on ; and though outwardly she maintained her self- control, there was a suggestion of tears in her voice. "And when you did not write, I thought he had been to you — I thought you had believed him — that you suspected me — " "Who is this man ?" he asked. "Andreas Argyriades. You saw him one morning in Devonshire Place, just as you came up. And he has not been to you ?" FACE TO FACE 323 "Not at all." " Nor -written to you ?" "I have had no communication with him of any kind — I never heard of him before I" he exclaimed. " But whoever he is, do you imagine I would believe any story or report or rumor against you brought by an ill-wisher of that kind ? I think the reception he would meet with would convince him of the extreme unwisdom of his attempt." " Oh, yes — yes — I am certain of that," she said, in an almost incoherent fashion ; and she seemed half- stupefied, and distraught, and unstrung. For these assurances of his, grateful as they might be to her ears, contained no explanation whatever of the graver mystery of his change of demeanor towards her. And how was she to ask for that ? There was a limit even to her piteous abasement. "Only," she continued, in this nervous way — " only — I wished you to under- stand about Argyriades — I wished you to know — about Argyriades ; and if he should write to you — or call upon you — " " Then he shall have his answer," Gordon said, with firm lips. "And perhaps it will be an answer that he will remember throughout his life." " And you will forgive — my coming here — and inter- rupting you. I know I should not have done so — but I was troubled — and you had not written — " "' I am exceedingly sorry I did not write before," he said. And in truth at this juncture he had need of all his self-command; for the sight of her distress and a certain touch of pathos in the tone of her voice were wellnigh overmastering him : it seemed so natural that, throwing all other considerations to the winds, he should go to her, and clasp her to the shelter of his arms, and soothe her shaken spirit with tender and com- 334 BRISBIS f orting words. But he held back : if there must needs be an explanation, this was not the moment: her mere presence here, in this room, was all too bewildering a thing. "Good-by, then," she said, and she extended her hand. "You will forgive me for troubling you — for coming — but I was in great doubt and perplexity — about Argyriades — " He held her hand in his : so much he could not deny himself. " Do you remember Aunt Jean at Grantly ?" he said to her, in a very gentle fashion. " She is in London at present ; and I expect her here every moment. Won't you stay and see her ? — she would be so glad." " Oh, no, I cannot — I cannot," Briseis said, hurried- ly, "I must go." But if it was her wish to get away unobserved from this embarrassing situation she was foiled ; for Just as he was opening the door into the hall, there came a ring at the outer bell. " That must be Aunt Jean," he said. CHAPTER XX DEB BWIGE GESAKG It was a disconcerting and even a perilous moment for all three ; a single false note of hesitation might have been disastrous ; but the sagacity, the ■womanly- instinct, and the native kindliness of Jean Gordon tri- umphed : in a second she was mistress of the situation. "Dear me," she said to the girl, "to think that you are just the one person in the town of London I was most wishing to see — and you were going away ! Na, na ; you'll just come up to my own little parlor, and we'll have a chat together : why did not my nephew here tell you I was to be in directly ? Come along now — dear me, to think I might have missed you !" And therewithal, in some mysterious manner, Briseis found herself conducted to a moderately small apartment on the next floor, which turned out to be Miss Jean's sit- ting-room. But although she might be temporarily unnerved, Briseis Valieri was too proud to have anything to do with false pretences. She remained standing. " I must tell you. Miss Gordon," she said, almost as a kind of challenge, " that I did not know you were in London." "You did not ? Well, well !" was the placid answer — though the shrewd gray eyes were attentive. " I did not," Briseis went on, striving to be perfect- ly calm. " I came to see Sir Francis ; and I expected 326 BBISEIS to find him alone. I came to learn from himself if he had been told anything about me by — by a countryman of mine. It was a wrong thing for me to do. I know that. I know that perfectly well. But — but I was desperate ; and perhaps — perhaps. Miss Gordon-^if you heard the whole story, you would not think so badly of me—" Indeed there was no thought of evil in those kindly and scrutinizing gray eyes ; there was nothing but an obviously afEectionate interest ; and it was in the gen- tlest fashion that Miss Jean persuaded her unexpect- ed visitor to remove her cloak and sit down. Then came the inevitable suggestion about tea ; but that Bri- seis put aside ; she was too anxious to tell her tale, and explain how she had been induced to place herself in so ambiguous a position. And as that tale, rapid, eager, and rather piteous, was being told, a somewhat remarkable thing occurred. Aunt Jean had taken up from the table a Japanese paper-knife, and at first she had merely occupied herself in idly passing her fingers over the metallic figures ; but as the story of Argyriades and his proceedings went on, she got hold of the instru- ment in both her hands, and she was unconsciously bending it this way and that while she was earnestly exhorting her companion to exercise an absolute self- control. "Yes, yes, my dear — there is no use in anger — you must be cool and collected," she said, in little gasps of sentences, while her double grip on the paper - cutter did not cease. "And I may tell you you've come to us just in time. That scoundrel was only beginning to get a hold over ye. I can see his intention. I'm older than you. It was not five pounds — or fifty — that he wanted ; he wanted to bleed ye like a leech, and to terrify ye into going on your knees to your friends, for BEE EWIGE GESAKG 337 more, and more, and more. Oh, the scoundrel ! — yes, and he thought he could get money from Frank? Well, he'll get something from Frank. My word, he'll get something from Frank ! For ye've just come to us in time, my dear young lady, before he got com- plete hold over ye : oh, ye did right to come — I main- tain ye did right to come : a young girl's good name is everything to her : it's her very life : and if she thinks she has been slandered, is she not likely to be driven desperate ? But then, you see, in such a predicament — face to face with such a treacherous scoundrel — one must take care to keep perfectly quiet and cool. An- ger will not do. Indignation will not do. And some of us Gordons about Dee-side — I mean the menfolk of us — are said to be rather quick in the temper ; and it never serves to let temper loose. No, no. We must be quiet and cautious in dealing with a smooth-tongued miscreant like that. I confess," Aunt Jean continued — and the short sentences were becoming more and more vehement and envenomed — "if I were myself to see him — I might be tempted — to say a word: I sup- pose — I suppose — a smack across the face — from a woman's hand — would not hurt him — But no, no — as I tell ye, that would not do — we must give ye good ad- vice — cool and calm advice — and ye see that, even in talking of the infernal rascal, I can keep quite easy and collected — " The metal knife could no longer withstand this nervous bending; with a sudden snap it sprang in two ; and Jean Gordon looked helplessly at the frag- ments. "Dear me," she said, "they're useless things: I forgot I had it in my hand" — and once more she en- deavored to impress on Briseis the supreme importance of remaining scrupulously tranquil and calm-blooded, 328 BEISEIS if Andreas Argyriades were to be encountered on equal terms. For the last few moments Briseis had been plunged in profound abstraction. "Miss Gordon," she said, at length, "it is very- kind of you to think of trying to help me against that man ; but — but I would rather not trouble Sir Francis any further in the matter — " "What?" exclaimed her warm-hearted partisan, " are you going back into slavery ? Are ye deliber- ately laying up for yourself years of misery, until this blackguard finds there's nothing more to be squeezed out of either your friends or you ? — " " Oh, no," Briseis said. " I am less afraid of him now. Sir Francis has assured me he will not believe one word Argyriades has to say, whether he calls or writes — " " Bless me, Frank Gordon is not the whole world !" Miss Jean protested. "And a young lady cannot afford to have a number of her letters — well, I'll not use the word compromising — but private and confiden- tial letters, I suppose — she cannot afford to have such things in the possession of a man who is determined to make an ill use of them." " Compromising ?" Briseis repeated, with a rose-red flush appearing in her pale and exquisite complexion. " You must not say that. Miss Gordon. They could only be considered compromising by some one quite ignorant of the circumstances. Love-letters they are, that is true — silly and romantic love-letters ; but any one ought to be able to see that they are merely a heap of school-girl nonsense. A school-girl prank it was ; for we all pretended to be in love with George Lamprinos — he was the music - master ; and I wrote theae letters for mischief mostly, confiding them in se- DER EWIGE GESANG 339 crecy to my chief friend and companion, Irene Argy- riades, on the understanding that she was to read them and destroy them. Lamprinos never saw a single line of any one of them — of course not ! — he would have laughed, and understood well enough : school-girls are always playing such tricks. And then Irene, instead of burning these scrawls, appears to have kept them ; and then her brother finds them, and thinks he can make money — not so much out of them, perhaps, as out of the other notes I wrote to him, demanding their return. But I am less anxious now — " " They must be got back," said Miss Jean, firmly. "And it's Frank Gordon must get them back for you." " Oh, no, you must not ask him — please do not !" said Briseis, hurriedly. " It is not necessary. I will get them back myself — " "You — to deal with a vagabond like that!" said Aunt Jean, in kindly scorn. " It's somebody with a stronger nerve than either you or I have must take up this affair ; and though my nephew Frankie is just as easy-going and good-humored a lad as ever I met with in all my life, still he's got a most merciless temper — I will admit that — he's got a perfectly heathenish tem- per if there's been any wrong-doing or underhand deal- ing where those next him are concerned: I'm thinking if your Greek gentleman knew who was after him, he would be up and off and out o' this country in two skips and a jump. So you'll just give me the man's address, and I'll jot it down ; and, my dear young lady, you'll put all these fears and apprehensions out of your mind — for well can I see what ye must have suffered." Then Briseis rose to go, and as her last word she said, rather wistfully — " Then — Miss Gordon — ^you do not blame me — for 330 BEIBEIS having eomu Tiere alone — when I was in such great trouble ?" " Blame you ?" said Aunt Jean, and she took the girl's hand in hers, and kissed her on the- cheek as an elder sister might have done. "I think I should find it difficult to blame ye for anything ! But whatever happens, if you should be in want of a friend, just you come to Jean Gordon, and ye'U not find her to fail ye." And again at the door below she reiterated these ex- pressions of affectionate sympathy, in a way altogether unusual with her, for most folks considered her rather a cross-grained and sharp,- tongued woman. Then Briseis took her leave ; and after that Aunt Jean re- mained for a minute or two in the hall, considering, before she would enter her nephew's room. When at last she opened the door, she found Frank Gordon pacing to and fro in great agitation; but at sight of her he stopped short. " Frank, lad," said she, in an unwontedly grave fash- ion, " what is all this ?" " Oh, I don't know. Aunt Jean," he said. "I don't know !" He took another restless step or two up and down, and again he confronted her. " What do you think. Aunt Jean ? I want you to tell me what I'm to do ! Things were bad enough be- fore — when I thought I had only my own mischance to face — ^but now — " "Ay, and is that the way the land lies ?" she said, regarding him curiously. " You as well ? Frank, lad, you don't mean that ! Mercy me, what is going to happen to us all ! But you don't mean that !— " " Yes, yes ; and you've got to tell me what I am to do. Aunt Jean — that is the first and foremost thing—" DER BWIGE GESANG 331 She paused for a moment or two, to collect herself. Then she said deliberately — "Well, Prank, there's many would say I ought to have no skill of such matters. But I hare seen some- thing of the ways of young folk ; and I have kept my eyes open ; and what I am certain sure of is that that girl's coming here by herself to-day can mean but the one thing — that she is wildly in love with you. There's no other accounting for it : the fear of having been miscalled to you seems to have driven her fairly out of her mind. And even then I can hardly understand it — ^now that she's away — for when she's near you there's a kind of glamour about her, she's so bewitching with her beauty and her pleading eyes that you're ready to swear a white-winged angel is a poor kind of creature compared with her ; but now — ^but now when one thinks of it — that she should have risked being suspected of making a confession — confessing the secret that a girl keeps deepest down in her own heart — that she should have run such a risk even remotely is hard to compre- hend, unless she's been just driven frantic by that man. For of course she knows you're engaged to be married ?" "Oh, no, she doesn't," he replied, hastily. "At least, I suppose not — there was never a word said about it—" Aunt Jean uttered a little half-stifled cry. " Frank Gordon, what do ye tell me ! what have you done ? She does not know ? The poor lass ! — the poor lass ! — now I can see why she came here this afternoon — she felt that it was the happiness or the misery of her life that had to be settled. And it's the misery, I suppose. I suppose it's the misery. What have you done, man ! — what have you done ! Why did you not tell her — ^long ago — " "Why, how could I tell her, Aunt Jean !" he re- 333 BEISBIS spondedj almost angrily — for his conscience seemed wholly to acquit him. " Bethink yourself, Aunt Jean ! How was I to imagine that it could concern her in the least ? If I had dared to assume such a thing, then perhaps I might have told her. But such an assump- tion — the impertinence of it ! — the insolence of it ! — it never entered my head that it could matter a brass farthing to her whether I was engaged to be married or not. Only, when I found, of a sudden, that I had grown too fond of her, then I did what was left for me to do : I gave up going to the house ; and I was trying to pave the way for our becoming absolute strangers to each other. It appeared to me that was all I could do ; and I had hoped to dree my own wierd without any human creature being a bit the wiser. But as for explaining to her that I was engaged to be married : why, there were other girls in Mrs. Elliott's house be- sides Briseis Valieri : was I to go to each of them, or to all of them together, and say to them ' Look here, I consider myself such a transcendently fascinating person that I must warn you beforehand that I am not to be captured.' That would have been a modest pre- caution ! -Indeed there was no nonsense of the kind in the air. "We were amusing ourselves — theatres, con- certs, a bit of a dance now and again : who was to imagine that any tragedy was to spring out of it all ? — " He was silent for a space. His whole being seemed rent asunder with conflicting passions; on the one hand his heart kept whispering to him in secret and delirious exultation ' Eejoice !— rejoice ! — the woman you love loves you : the crowning glory of life is yours '; while in response to that the calmer pulses of his brain would keep repeating the old, inexorable bur- den ' Eenounce ! — renounce ! — to you also has come the common lot of mortal man — Entheliren sollst du! — DBR EWIGB GBSANG 333 sollst enthehren !' And at last he threw himself into a chair^ his clinched fists on his knees, his head some- what bent forward, his eyes fixed on the floor. "I suppose I've been to blame. Aunt Jean," he said. "Take it that way — and tell me what I am to do. I am ready to bear the penalty — if there's anything that can be undone, if there's anything that can be put right. What am I to do ? Is there any atonement — any sacrifice — " "Frank, laddie," said Aunt Jean, "you're not the first that has found his word given one way and his heart turned another ; and ye need not seek for more sorrows than ye're likely to meet ; for it's a sore strait to be in. And as for blaming you, that will I not. I'm beginning to suspect there's a simple enough ex- planation why you never told her of your engagement ; and it's just this, that you were in love with her all the time, or drifting into being in love with her — un- known to yourself — and that's why ye could not bring yourself to tell her — " At this he looked up quickly : Miss Jean's shrewd guess seemed to have struck home. " Then it is all due to my blindness," he said, slowly, and as if to himself. " And there is no recalling — no reparation. . . . Aunt Jean, would you go to her, and speak to her ? Will you tell her why I have recently kept away from the house — why I did not answer her letter ? I know it is a great deal to ask ; for it is a ter- rible business ; but it is just maddening to think that she may consider herself slighted — imagine such a thing ! — Briseis Valieri — slighted and left aside !" "Yes, but that's what may be in her heart, and likely to remain there all the days of her life, un- less you go to her yourself, Prank," said Aunt Jean, calmly. 334 BRISEIS " I ? She would be insulted !" "You must go," said Aunt Jean. "You cannot part with her forever — I suppose it is forever, accord- ing to the chances of the world — without a last word of good-by, surely. That would be strange conduct towards a girl that has been none too well treated — I don't mean by you, Frank — I don't mean by you — I mean almost ever since we got to know of her exist- ence. And who would have thought it ? Do you re- member her that day at Grantly ? She looked as if all the world around her were laughing in kindness tow- ards her. She looked so young, and winning, and splendid ; she seemed to shed a kind of delight which- ever way she turned; and she was so willing to be pleased — so grateful — not presuming on her great beau- ty, as many a girl would. Who could have prophesied anything but the fairest of the earth for her. She seemed born to happy circumstances, and tender guid- ance, and loving -kindness from those around her — which she could well repay — which she could well re- pay, I will say that. And now — ^poor lass ! — poor lass ! — " And at this point Aunt Jean rose, and turned away from him, and remained standing there for several seconds, with her handkerchief up to her eyes. It was a most unusual break-down for her, and she was ashamed. When she came back to her place, she spoke in a very different key. " Frank Gordon," she said, " there's one thing you've got to do, to show the man that's in you. You've got to call that scoundrel to account." " Oh, that's all right — that's nothing," he said, im- patiently. At this moment he had no thought to waste on Andreas Argyriades. It was of Briseis he was think- ing ; and his heart was full of pity, and remorse, and an unspeakable longing and yearning and solicitude. DEE BWIGB GBSAlfG 335 " But it's not nothing — it's something," said Miss Jean, hotly. "Perhaps ye do not understand under what terrorism that girl has been living of late ? — per- haps ye do not think of what she must have suffered before she underwent the humiliation of coming here, to defend herself ? Is that nothing ? Is that to be passed over? Consider what she must have gone through before she brought herself to this door — before she rang the bell ; and is there to be no punishment for the blackguard that brought her to such a pass ? Is there to be nothing done ? Ye're not going to leave it to me to take a horsewhip ? Am I to find him out ? Am I to lash him ? — the scoundrel — the scoundrel ! — " "Aunt Jean," he said, in answer to her passionate invective, " that's all easy enough. If everything else were as easy ! Thrashing Argyriades will not put mat- ters straight." "But thrashing Argyriades is the first thing that lies before ye," she persisted, in her indomitable way. " And I want to know how and when ye mean to set about it." " There won't be any difiBculty," he said. " Only I suppose I shall have to telegraph to Wentworth to send me up my thickest shooting-boots." ",Ay," said Miss Jean, eagerly, " and ye'll kick him across the street — and ye'll follow him — and kick him back across the street again — " " I can try," her nephew said. " Unless he varies the performance by kicking me." Aunt Jean pulled herself together. "No, no — there must be no folly or rashness," she said, severely. "It's what I've just been maintaining — we must keep quiet and cool if we're to deal wi' this sleek-spoken rascal. It '11 not do to land yourselves both in the police courts, and have names mentioned. 336 BBISEIS and a story lor people to gabble about. Oh, he knew well what he was after, that miscreant, when he laid his plans. The letters he got — ^letters written by one school-girl to another school-girl, for mere mischief's sake — these were harmless enough, and useless enough to him ; but when he got other letters demanding them back — and when she was foolish enough to send him £5 as a beginning — then he had a better hold. Frankie, lad, it's for you to make him let go — ^but discreetly — discreetly. If he's got his fingers on the gunwale of the boat, chop them ofi, or give him a clout on the head : only, there must not be a ripple on the water af- terwards. No police proceedings. The public are quick to believe the worst : how are they to know that these letters were but a piece of mischief-making between two school-girls — about a music-master — whenever saw a single line of them — " She had gradually weaned him back from wider and more distracting thoughts to this bit of business imme- diately on hand : he began to take an interest in it. " What you say is quite right. Aunt Jean," he an- swered her, presently. " There must be no police pro- ceedings. . We must catch him some other way — and give him a dose that will last him for the rest of his life. Of course the animal was counting on impunity ; they all do that ; they reckon that their victim will suffer anything and sacrifice anything rather than face a public scandal. It comes to this. Aunt Jean, that the blackmailing of an innocent person is the one crime the law cannot punish without hurting the innocent per- son more than the guilty one. Very well : when the chance offers we must step in and assist the law with a little private enterprise — " "Ay, now ye're talking sense, Frankie, lad!" she said, with obvious and extreme gratification. " And DER EWIGE GESANG 337 what will ye do ? Ye must serve him well ! What are ye thinking of doing ?" " That must be a matter for careful and pious con- sideration. Aunt Jean," he answered her. "But as he appears to have been dealing in terrorism, I propose to give him a sample of his own wares — something Just about sufficient to fi-ighten the soul put of his body, as you might say. And in the mean time I will take a run up to Oxford, this afternoon or to-morrow morning : I know one or two of the lads there who would like to join in a little frolic. This is his ad- dress, is it ? Soho, of course. I suppose he'll have a knife about him. However, we must try to keep out of the police courts — anything short of that." Indeed for the time being he seemed to welcome this definite action demanded of him as a relief from the distressing perplexities that lay ahead ; and while Miss Jean remained with him his brain was busy with projects by means of which he might outwit the wily Greek. But when she left (there had been a ring at the door, and she judged that certain of her purchases had arrived) he relapsed into contemplation of a future that appeared black and hopeless enough. His imagi- nation was haunted by two figures : the one that of the proud - spirited Briseis, now wounded to the quick, and hiding herself away in her humiliation and shame ; the other that of the light-hearted Georgie, soon to be coming gayly home, and little guessing that she would be received by an unwilling lover, who, to save his pledged word, must become a hypocrite husband. How, he asked himself again and again, had such a state of things arrived? Who was to blame? And what was to be done, by way of reparation or atone- ment, if any such thing were possible ? Should he meet Georgie Lestrange with a frank explanation, and 338 BEISEIS beg of her to forego her claim ? Why, that were the very depth of meanness and disloyalty and cowardice ! Should he go to Briseis and say " I Iotc you : you love me : let us break and cast aside all other bonds !" But was the proud Briseis likely to accept a dis- honored and dishonoring passion ? Whichever way he turned, he saw no guidance or ray of hope ; and all the while his heart, in its wild desire and despair, was secretly urging him to let his honor go ? How many minutes would it take him to drive to Devonshire Place ? Would he find Briseis alone ? If he held her hands in his, and forced her to meet eyes with eyes, surely she would listen to the fervor of his appeal ! Love would as ever be supreme and triumphant — even at the cost of a broken troth ; and in the exultation and delirium of a new-found happiness, who was to re- mind them how it had been come by ? These were agonizing temptations : in mere self-defence — to gain some quiet for his overtortured spirit — he compelled himself to turn to Argyriades and the possible methods of overreaching him. This was an immediate duty — and so far right welcome. And in the mean time Jean Gordon had gone up stairs to her own room, her alarm over these tragic happenings being almost lost in the unholy and vindic- tive joy of knowing that soon, and efEectively, retribu- tion was about to fall on the creature who had driven Briseis Valieri to desperation. As she opened these packages of finery, she was crooning to herself an aim- less little song— a Dee-side song— that certainly had not much to do with the graver matters that had just come into her life : fair was the dawning and fair was the day When I met with young Donald in Cambus o' May; DEE EWIGB GESANG 339 He called me Ms dmotie, Tie called me his dear, He asked if I'd marry, without any fea/r. When the sugar was bought, and the tea, and the meal, I should have gone Tiome to Kincardine o' Neil; But Donald's old mother she asked me to stoAj, And consent to a wedding in Cambus o' May. Three •pipers came down from Pannanich Wells; They fired off the cannon ; they rang all the bells; the march to the church it was gallant and gay. When us two were married in Oambus o' May. And now Fm a widow, gray-haired and alone; And the folks in Olen Muick are hard as a stone; And I sit by the fire, and I think of the day When young Donald met me in Ca/mbus o' May. It was a simple song, of simple people, living away by themselves in the remote Aberdeenshire valleys ; it had apparently but little connection with any plans and schemes of vengeance to be visited on a Grcels blackmailer, here in this teeming town of London. CHAPTER XXI JUDGE AND JURY Of a sudden a shaft of light shot through this im- pending gloom : it was a letter from Georgie, who wrote in the blithest of spirits, vaunting herself as a physician and healer of men, and forgetting all about her sham nostalgia in view of her approaching voyage home. " The fact is, I had to jeer him into convalescence I" Miss Georgie proceeded. " My diagnosis of the case was that in the weakness following the fever he had al- lowed his nerves to multiply themselves upon them- selves (if I knew Greek I would give you a name for this process that would convince you at once); he had even begun to think about dying ; and I had the great- est difficulty in persuading him that dying was the very stupidest thing that any one could do, and that think- ing of it was next door to an invitation. The doctors had half -murdered him with drugs. Why will they go on like that ? They're awfully nice men ; and at din- ner they can tell you most amusing stories when they choose ; instead of which they go about the country breaking the sixth commandment. I know I'm an awful fool (it's quite sweet to call yourself names, and to think that no one else dare) but I saw what was to be done with Percy; I stopped those abominable fluids, and fed him on things that gave his rebellious gorge a little rest ; and I jibed at him and jeered at him ; and then he had to waken up to answer me according to JUDGE AND JUET 341 my cheek. And now lie yows and swears he will never let himself sink into that condition again ; so I am go- ing home with a light heart. And it's awfully good of you, my gallant chieftain-boy, to ofEer to come over to New York ; but it isn't in the least necessary ; for Fm going back under the wing of quite a company of young folks that the de la Penas know, and what's more to the purpose I calculate that we're likely to have a ripping good time. The party is ultimately bound for Algiers and other Mediterranean places ; and consists of Miss Madeline Phayre and Miss Janie Phayre, sisters. Miss Eomanes, Mr. S. F. Quentin, of Chicago, and Mr. Algeciras, of this neighborhood — along with a Madame St. Eoche, who is to play duenna ; and as the two gentlemen are engaged respectively to the two sisters, I imagine that Miss Eomanes and I may have a little fun during the voyage — never mind, all property kidnapped or stolen durin-g the passage over to be honorably restored to the legal owner on the steamer's arrival at Liverpool. But you will be at Liverpool, I suppose ? And you won't scowl if they hint that we've been having games ? Because it's so hideously dull on board ship — unless there's a little quiet skylarking afoot." And so she went on, in a tone and fashion that reas- sured him exceedingly. For he had been looking for- ward with an indefinable dread to that first meeting with Georgie Lestrange, whether it was to take place in Liverpool or New York ; he had begun to fear she might discover what had happened, and might scorn- fully reject the only atonement he could offer. But these gay, rambling pages once more brought the real and living Georgie before him, and seemed to say to him that he might lay aside his vague apprehensions. She was not likely to prove exacting as regards romantic 342 BBISEIS sentiment. Exalted moods — the language of passion, simulated or true — would only make her laugh. How it was — ^he reminded himself, as he was walking quickly through the crowded thoroughfares of London, in the direction of Soho — how it was that an eyening saunter into the solitude of a deer-forest should have suddenly melted Miss Georgie into tears and brought about a mute confession that had bound their two lives together, he had never been able quite to determine. Nor could he clearly understand why, ever since that engagement, he had found himself under the necessity of arguing with himself and proving to himself that he was the luckiest of men. However, these demonstrations and conclusions remained. They were as sound now as ever they were. And the merry, and mischievous, and happy-go-lucky young minx who had thus buoyantly written to him would not be too exigent in the matter of love-making ; her audacious spirit would take little heed of trifles ; and all would go well. Yes, all would go well — except in one direction: of which he dared hardly think. When Frank Gordon reached his destination in Soho, and rang the bell, the evil - visaged harridan who an- swered the summons informed him, in reply to his question, where he would find Mr. Argyriades, but did not offer to accompany him ; accordingly he ascended the dusky stairs alone, he knocked at a certain door, and then, hearing some unintelligible sound, he made bold to enter. The first object that met his eyes, in this squalid little room, was the figure of a young man in shirt sleeves and stockinged feet, who was seated on the edge of a bed, and who was engaged in carefully var- nishing a pair of patent leather boots ; the next thing he perceived was that this young man, looking up from his employment, suddenly grew livid — his pale and JUDGE AND JURY 343 unwholesome skin changing to the hne of one of the lighter-colored jades. It was but a momentary exhibi- tion of fear ; Argyriades made a desperate effort at re- gaining his ordinary coolness and assured demeanor ; and if that peculiar tinge still remained in his face, his manner betrayed no immediate alarm. And as for the tall, handsome, fresh - complexioned lad who now stood at the door of this vile - smelling den, he also had need of all his self-command. For it would have been so easy to step forward, and seize this coward creature by the neck, and shake him like a rat ; and indeed, for one hot moment, the temptation — see- ing the scoundrel face to face — and thinking of the story that Briseis had told — was almost irresistible. But Frank Gordon had vowed vows. He was going (the guileless English youth !) to be as coldly diplomatic as Miss Jean herself could have desired. He had come to circumvent a blackmailer ; not to ply cudgels, and have names mentioned in a police-court. Hands off was his watch-word ; though the natural man within him was tingling. And so he said, with a careful politeness — ''Your name is Argyriades, I believe?" By this time Argyriades had put aside his boots and the blacking-pot. "Please," said he, in broken English, "the Lord Fragkis — speak French." This was a contingency that Gordon had not faced, or he would have framed some judicious sentences be- forehand ; so that he had now to blunder .on as best he might ; and at no time was his French too fluent. "I understand," he said, "that you have some let- ters belonging to a lady — whose name need not be men- tioned." " Monsieur has been misinformed," was the instant 344 BKISEIS and suave rejoinder. " These letters are in the posses- sion of my brother Demetri." Again young Gordon was disconcerted — at the very outset. It seemed so much more simple (and desirable) to take this fellow by the scruff of the neck, and heave him about the room. But vows are vows. " At all events you know where they are," he re- sumed, "and I take it you could get hold of them and hand them over, for a consideration : is not that so ?" The young man with the caf6-and-toothpick com- plexion shrugged his shoulders. "It is possible," he said. " How much of a consideration ?" " But Monsieur is a little too brusque. I have not undertaken to sell those letters — no ; I come in as an intermediary, to establish amicable relations ; I know the inexorable nature of my brother Demetri, and I wish to mitigate his demands. It is as a friend that I offer my services — " " Oh, drop that — " And again Frank Gordon stuck fast. For the life of him he could not remember the French equivalent for 'rot,' if there is any French equivalent for that bit of English slang. At last he fell back on MHse. " Oh, drop that stupidity !" he exclaimed. "I have heard all about your brother Demetri — and your admirable disinterestedness. It is a familiar farce, my friend ; but we are not infants. What I want to know is this — Can you put your hands on those letters, and bring them to me, guaranteeing that not one is missing ; and if you can do that, when will you do it, and what will your price be ? Of course you know that you have already put yourself in a very serious position — " " I have guarded myself, Monsieur," the young man answered, with the faintest trace of a smile; JUDGE AND JUBY 345 " If there were a prosecution — " " There will be no prosecution." " And so you think you are safe ?" Gordon said, re- garding him in an apparently dispassionate manner. You are of opinion you can do this sort of thing with impunity. You subject a perfectly innocent girl to a brutal terrorism ; you extort money from her ; you threaten, if she does not get you more, to com- promise her in the eyes of her friends — " "Your proofs of all this ?" Argyriades said, qui- etly. Another exasperating pause. It would have been so much easier to have settled this matter with fists ! But still he sternly stuck to his diplomacy. "Enough of words," he said. "Listen, if you please. I am going down to Henley this afternoon, and may be there some time. If you can get posses- sion of those letters and bring them to me the day after to-morrow — take down the address — Eed Lion Hotel, Henley on Thames — then I will give you a fair price for them. Do you understand ? — Henley — Eed Lion Hotel — you go from Paddington station — the Great Western — " Argyriades reached over for his coat, took out from one of the pockets a soiled envelope, and, with a little assistance in the way of spelling, managed to jot down the address. "And — and what may one expect. Monsieur, in rec- ompense for these valuable papers ?" " I said a fair price," was the impassive reply. " Monsieur is no doubt generous, as are all the Eng- lish milords. Nevertheless, one would prefer to be a little more exact — " " I said a fair price." "Yes, perfectly— but still—" IB* 346 BEISEIS " Then perhaps yon yonrself would have the good- ness to name a fignre ?" Argyriades looked up quickly. "Five hundred pounds." There was neither protest nor scornful rejection. " Five hundred pounds is a large sum/' Gordon said, slowly. "Perhaps — but look at the value of these papers, Monsieur I" Argyriades made answer, with unwonted eagerness. " Consider their value. Consider the harm they might do — if they were to fall into unfriendly hands. My word of honor, it is not too much to pay to shield a young lady's reputation ! Consider the po- sition in which she has placed herself — the testimony these letters bring against her — " In an instant all the situation was changed. Gordon sprang to his feet and strode forward a step — his eyes burning and glaring. "Another such word — you infamous cur — and I will choke the life out of your miserable body !" "Monsieur! — Monsieur!" Argyriades exclaimed — and strangely enough he picked up his boots and hur- riedly put them on. "If there is to be violence, I must go out and seek help. Of what use is force — is rage ? You cannot compel me to give up the letters unless I wish. I appeal to the magistrate for protec- tion — if you wish for an exposure, very well — " By this time he had got on his coat too — But Gor- don at once passed to the door, intercepting him. " No, you don't leave this room until we come to some arrangement — of one kind or another — " " Very well. Monsieur, very well," Argyriades re- plied in an injured tone. "I am indeed willing to come to an agreement — it is Monsieur who is so head- strong and liable to anger. And why ? I have been JUDGE AND JUET 347 doing my best for the young lady — I have done what I could to protect her — " " You ?" said Frank G-ordon, with his eyes glaring again. "From my brother Demetri — " " Oh, to the devil with your brother Demetri ! Have done with that farce. I want to know if you can bring me those letters the day after to-morrow, at the address I have given you. Understand, I don't want the school- girl letters : you may keep those — and publish them if you like : I mean the letters written to you — including the one enclosing you money — " " Monsieur, I will bring every one !" said Argyriades, with an expression of devout sincerity. "Solemnly, on my heart, I declare to you that I will bring every one. You, I know, will be a faithful guardian : in the interests of the young lady herself, to whom could I better entrust them ? Then my duty will be done — as mediator — as the protector against Demetri. Only, pardon me. Monsieur the Lord Fragkis — the sum was not precisely agreed upon — " " I said a fair price," Gordon reiterated. " Five hundred pounds, then !" Argyriades said, with an air of finally and satisfactorily closing the bargain ; and then, after a few more directions as to how he was to find his way, these two separated — for the time being. A couple of days thereafter, and towards three o'clock in the afternoon, a smartly - dressed young gentleman might have been observed loitering about in front of the Eed Lion Hotel, Henley. He was a lad of prepos- sessing appearance — well-featured, fair-skinned, light- haired, and blue-eyed ; and if his figure was somewhat short- and slight, at least he had an upright carriage and set of the head : indeed, good looks were part of 348 BBISEIS the boy's inheritance, for this was Lord Alec Eoss, yonngest son of the Duke of Kintyre, and the Kintyre family have been famous for generations for their hand- some men and beautiful women. As he strolled up and down, he was idly gazing around him — though there was not much to see ; for Henley in winter time is a dull and deserted place; and on this particular afternoon the cold and pallid sunshine could hardly muster up a gleam on the leaden surface of the river ; an east wind had brought a faint mist to hang about the wooded heights ; while the wide main street, the old stone bridge, and the banks showed hardly any- where a sign of human life. It was mostly in the di- rection of the railway station, however, that the yellow- haired lad sent his occasional and expectant glances. Presently, from that neighborhood, there hove into sight a young man who, judging by the way he ex- amined the houses as he came along, appeared to be a stranger. In due course he found himself confronted by the sign of the Eed Lion, and straightway he made for the door of the hotel. And by some kind of acci- dent the ingenuous - eyed youth who had been loiter- ing about drew near at the same moment. " I beg your pardon. Monsieur," the latter said, in very excellent French, "but perhaps. you have a desire to see Sir Francis Gordon ?" Argyriades did not answer at once. Whether he re- sented this intrusion, or whether he was disconcerted at being so readily recognized, could not well be gath- ered from his look. " I have an appointment — at this hotel — " "Certainly. Quite right. But Sir Francis wasn't exactly sure as to the moment you might arrive ; and he is engrossingly busy in his house -boat — you com- prehend ? — a house-boat— a house built on a boat — it's JUDGE AND JURY 349 only a little way np the riyer ; and he said he would be infinitely obliged to you if you would come along and see him there — " ''But, Monsieur," said Argyriades, rather drawing back, "it was at the hotel I had an appointment — " "Oh, it's all right," said the young lad — and his clear blue eyes wore an expression of entirely super- human innocence, while his speech was offhand and matter-of-fact. " The house-boat is a fayorite resort of Sir Francis's — for study, you understand — the Univer- sity of Oxford is Just along this highway here ; and then it is conyenient sometimes to get away from one's companions, you doubtless agree with me. And now have the goodness to accompany me. Monsieur ; we will drop into a boat ; and I will pull you up to the isl- and — a few minutes only — I will myself take you to Sir Francis — " After a second of hesitation Argyriades appeared to overcome his reluctance — or annoyance. He said — " Thanks, Monsieur, if you will be so kind " — and therewith he allowed himself to be conducted along to the landing-stage, and under direction he got into the stern of a dingy old skiff, while Lord Alec took the oars and proceeded to pull up stream. And now the Oxford lad, seated opposite his com- panion, had an excellent opportunity of scanning his appearance ; the result of the scrutiny being an inward ejaculation — ' I wonder what the Duke would say if he saw me taking this dilapidated dandy out for a row on the Thames I' But the remarks that he addressed to Argyriades himself were of a different character. "I understand that you come from Greece, Mon- sieur," he observed, with airy good-nature. " It is a land which has given the youth of this country a great deal of trouble, particularly in their earlier years ; but 350 BEISEIS they don't bear any malice — not at all ! Have you any house-boats on the Eurotas ? No ? — you surprise me ! Any pike-fishing — on the Alpheus, for example ? The tastes of Monsieur do not lie in that direction^ perhaps. But at least you hare bobbed for gold-fish in the Foun- tain of Arethusa, in among the reeds, you know ? — pardon me, I forgot ; that is in Sicily. There must be other amusements, however. Have you any foot-ball in Athens ?—" "Balloons, Monsieur?" repeated Argyriades — but suspiciously, for the lad's girlish blue eyes were almost too artless. "No, no — foot-ball — the game. The ball is a ball of leather, not of great value ; but two sides fight for it, furiously ; and then when the fight is over anybody may have the ball. Ah, yoa have not seen it ? — how un- fortunate ! But at all events you have cricket — the game of cricket — no doubt you could find an excellent pitch on the Plain of Marathon — " " Ah, Monsieur ! — see ! — see ! — " cried Argyriades, in greatest alarm, for apparently the bow of the skiff was about to crash into the side of a house-boat that was lying alongside a small and willowy island in mid- stream. But Alec Eoss knew what he was about: with a glance over his shoulder he dug his left oar into the water, shipped his right at the same moment, and the skiff glided quietly under the gunwale of the house- boat, and came to rest. The countenance of the Greek resumed its wonted composure. It was a strange place for a rendezvous — this forlorn and dismantled house-boat lying in among the pollard trunks and withered herbage of the solitary island ; but Lord Alec did not give his companion much time for observation ; he hitched the painter of the skiff to the gunwale of the boat, got on board, and invited Ar- JUDGE AND JURY 351 gyriades to follow. The Greek, whatever he may haye thought, obeyed in silence ; his eyes were on the alert, however ; and when young Eoss, descending a couple of steps into a sort of shallow cockpit, opened a door in front of him and politely asked his guest to enter, the latter paused. And yet there was no sign of any ambush or beguiling ; indeed there was no indication of life anywhere ; a profound silence reigned ; and he himself had noticed, on drawing near this isolated house-boat, that not a curl of smoke issued from its stove-pipe, though the day was cheerless enough and cold. " I beg you to proceed. Monsieur/' said young Eoss. " It is somewhat dark — but if you step forward — and push aside the curtain — " Almost at the same moment the curtain was drawn aside, from within ; and there broke upon the Greek's senses a scene well calculated to shake even the firm- est nerves. For before hiiri there was a long and barely-furnished apartment, all the windows of which were closed and shuttered ; three lamps, suspended from the roof, shed a yellow light ; at the head of the table sate a figure wearing a black mask ; on each side of the table were two others, similarly disguised ; a sixth stood sentry by the arras ; while on the board before the conspirators lay a couple of fencing foils with the buttons off, and a pair of old-fashioned cavalry pistols of formidable aspect. Perhaps Argyriades did not grasp all these details in this one wild second ; but at least he perceived that he had been trapped ; and in- stantly he turned to escape — only to find that the yel- low-haired youth had shut the door behind him and locked it on the outside. He tugged and struggled desperately — and in vain : then a hand was laid on his shoulder. 352 BKISEIS " It is useless," said the masked figure who had been standing by the curtain — which had now been drawn wholly aside. For a moment Argyriades attempted brayado. He confronted this black-visaged company. "What is the meaning — of this outrage?" he de- manded. "I will appeal to the magistrate — " But here he happened to catch sight of the weapons dis- played on the table ; and his courage seemed to fall away. "Gentlemen," said he, pitifully, "what is your intention ? What do you wish with me ? What have I done ?" The person at the head of the board rose in a slow and deliberate manner, and remained standing. " Attend, sir, and listen to what I have to say," he began ; and if his French pronunciation, may haye left something to be desired, at least he spoke methodical- ly, so that there should be no mistake about his mean- ing. "Andreas Argyriades," he continued, "we have been informed, and we have reason to believe, that you have been guilty of attempting to extort money by threats, and also of harassing and persecuting a coun- trywoman of your own, who ought rather to have had a claim on your sympathy. The crime of black-mail- ing is punishable by English law ; but unfortunately, in the case of such offences, justice is done at the expense of the innocent as well as the guilty. You therefore thought you could act with impunity. You erred. We here assembled mean -to assist the law, without that publicity which you reckoned to be your safeguard. And yet we do not intend to take advan- tage of our numbers. You are completely at our mer- cy, as you must perceive ; but you shall have a fair field and no favor; you shall have your choice not only of these weapons but of your antagonist ; we only JUDGE AND JTJET 353 demand that yon make reparation for the evil you have done, and the worse evil that you contemplated — " The pale face of Argyriades had grown ghastly. "Gentlemen — sir — I beseech you I" he managed to articulate ; and in the extremity of his dismay he ap- peared to shrink back from those hideous objects lying before him. " It will be murder ! I know nothing of these weapons — no — I tell you it will be murder ! Gen- tlemen, I beg of you ! — listen to me ! — I have an ex- planation. Gentlemen, I am a friend of the young lady — an old friend of hers — my sister and she were school- fellows. Gentlemen, one of you must be the Lord Fragkis Gordon ; he will assure you that I have de- clared myself her friend, her devoted friend. And now, gentlemen, this is the truth : it was my brother who found these letters ; and when I discovered the evil use he wished to make of them, I determined to save the young lady. Gentlemen, it is the truth — on my honor — on the honor of my mother, it is the truth ! I de- termined to save her. I came all the way from England to protect her — for I knew that if my brother showed these letters to any one, then her reputation would be blasted forever — " But at this one of those present — the one nearest Argyriades — sprang to his feet, and tore off his mask, and flung it on the table. " You damned liar and coward !" said Gordoii, with his eyes hlazing ; and with the back of his hand he smote the Greek across the mouth. "Will that make you fight, then ? I knew you wouldn't face these weapons^they were only put there to scare you — you miserable cur ! Here, you fellows," (this in English) "haul his coat off for him — hold him up — haul the beast on to his legs — and I'll give him the wholesomest thrashing he ever had in his born days !" 354 BEISEIS For by this time Argyriades, beside himself with terror, had literally sunk upon his knees, and with trembling hands he was opening a packet of papers that he had pulled from his pocket. " See, gentlemen !— see. Lord Pragkis !— I give them to you— every one— and I do not ask for a centime ! What more, gentlemen ? I give you them— every one — and not a centime — only let me go ! Gentlemen, have mercy !— have pity !— and I swear solemnly I will not say a word of this that you have done — " " Haul the beast on to his legs \" Gordon cried again, furiously. But the leader of the band came along. "I say, Gordon," he muttered in English, "yon can't fight that fellow— I wouldn't soil my boots with kicking him. See if the papers are all right ; and then we'll pitch him into the river, or fling him ashore some- how. Good Lord, I've often heard of blue funk, but never saw green funk before ! — look at him ! — green, by Jingo, green !" Whereupon Gordon got hold of the bundle of letters ; and it was those addressed to Argyriades himself that he was most particular about ; so far as he could Judge by what Briseis had told him, the collection was com- plete. And then there only remained to bundle this abject wretch out of the boat and into the skifE : he appeared hardly to know what he was doing — fear had paralyzed his brain. . " I hope. Monsieur," said Lord Alec Eoss, as he put the oars in the rowlocks, "that your interview with Sir Francis Gordon proved satisfactory. And may one ask where you would like to be landed ?" "To the shore — to the shore — anywhere," gasped this green-faced creature, whose horror-stricken eyes seemed to be thinking back. JUDGE AND JURY 355 '' Because I don't propose to take you down to Hen- ley, for reasons that I have/' continued Lord Alec. " I would rather, if you don't object, land you on that other bank there ; and — and — well, if you strike across country, you'll come to a railway-station in time, you know — " "Anywhere — anywhere that you please," was the al- most inarticulate response. " You are extremely obliging," said Lord Alec ; and in requital of this courtesy he took some trouble in choosing a convenient landing-place, so that Argyriades should get ashore without difficulty. The Greek did not look behind him as he left. A short time thereafter a party of seven young gen- tlemen had assembled in a private room in the Eed Lion. A brake was at the door below, waiting to con- vey six of them to Oxford ; but in the meantime they were refreshing themselves with five o'clock tea — which consisted of brandy and soda and cigarettes ; and there was a great deal of talking and laughing. In the midst of the hubbub one of them happened to glance at an early edition of a London evening paper that the waiter had just brought in. "Hallo, Gordon," he cried, "what the dickens is this ? Doesn't this concern you?" He handed over the pink sheet ; and the first head- line that "caught Prank Gordon's eye was sufficiently startling — ' Attempted Assassination of the Prince of Monteveltro.' CHAPTER XXII 'LOVED I IfOT HONOR MOEE' Ebutee's telegram briefly narrated how the Prince of Monteveltro, walking home on the previous evening from the Club at Sofia to his hotel, in company with the British Diplomatic Agent, had been shot at by some one unknown, but had fortunately escaped, the bullet just grazing his ear. It was a clear moonlight night ; and the British Agent, having ascertained that his friend was but slightly wounded, had started off in pursuit of the assailant, who, however, could not be found, though one or two bystanders aided in the search. It was impossible to say whether the outrage was of political origin ; but it was well known in Sofia that the Prince of Monteveltro had been on intimate terms with the late M. Stambuloff. So far Eeuter ; and the telegram from the Princess which Frank Gordon found awaiting him on his return to his rooms was even more laconic — ' No cause for alarm'; but the let- ter which in due course followed gave him more ample information. "It was really most provoking," the Princess wrote. "You can't imagine how vexed and irritated he has been by this trifling affair. Not that he was or is frightened — not in the least. I don't believe a Monte- negrin is capable of the sensation of fear — unless when he sees somebody about to open a soda-water bottle. But the Prince is annoyed and indignant beyond meas- 'LOVED I NOT HOKOE MORE' 357 nre ; it is just as if a smalF boy had hit him with a pebble — a small boy out of the range of his whip ; and this bit of plaster on his ear keeps him in a constant state of fret. Why did we come to Sofia ? Why were we in Bulgaria at all ? Why couldn't we let other peo- ple's affairs alone ? Not only that, but because his ear tickles him he has been threatening to abdicate — in faTor of his brother George I Think of it ! — abdication ! —just now ! — JUST NOW ! — when the Great Partitioning is clearly on the horizon. Of course Prince George is a very worthy man ; he makes an ef&cient Commander of the Body-guard ; and he is a good soldier and drill- inspector ; but if he were to come well out of the gen- eral scrimmage, his very highest ambition would be to get our frontier extended across to Obribazar. Abdi- cation ! — just because somebody or something gave him a little clip on the ear ; and. we are to give up the Great Game that is being played out here just now; and we are to go and rent a place in the Highlands — some place like Glen Skean, I suppose, where Heaven is to be represented by a perpetual stalking of stags. I won't deny that this 'attempt on his life may have arisen out of political feeling ; for the last time we were in Sofia he made far too open a parade of his acquaintanceship with Stambuloff — playing baccarat every other night with him at the Club, and so on ; and all because StambulofE professed to be interested in the antics of Wienerschnitzel and Gurkensalat. A most imprudent parade ; as I warned him at the time ; and it is quite possible that some of the fanatic friends of Panitza's may have him down on their list ; but to talk of abdication because a bit of sticking-plaster worries the lobe of your ear is really too absurd ! " Besides, even supposing that some crazy lunatic or association of lunatics cherishes a design against the 358 BEISEIS Prince^ that can only be tlirongli a mistake, and the mistake will be set right directly, when the Prince's true position and probable sympathies will be declared to all Europe. For what do you think is going to hap- pen ? You need not proclaim it in the market-place^- not at least until the news has got into the St. Peters- burg papers — but I learn on very excellent authority that the Czar is about to present to his faithful ally, the Prince of Monteveltro, a cargo of munitions of war — hill-guns, rifles, cartridges, dynamite, etc., etc.; and if this significant gift does not keep those Bulgarian Eussomaniacs quiet, what can ? Instead of taking a chance shot at him from behind a ruined wall, they will be more likely to invite him to become a candidate for the throne of the Principality, in the almost certain event of the porridge -pot boiling over one of these days. And to think of going off in a huff to the High- lands of Scotland ! Yet S. A. is a self - willed man, just once in a while : from January to December as easy-going a person as ever you met ; and then on some 29th of February he puts his foot down — and le Prince le veult, with a vengeance ! And what, then, if we were to bid a long farewell to all our greatness, and end by settling down somewhere about the Grampians, becom- ing your neighbors as soon as you have married your ruddy-haired enchantress ? I suppose S. A. imagines that deer-stalking and salmon-fishing last all the year round ; and that he'll always have the Bourne girls to play Beethoven for him ; and Lady Eockminster and Lady Adela to dance Scotch reels in the evening when the men come down from the moor. But no— but no ! He is peevish and out of temper just now, merely be- cause a wasp has stung him ; and we will not allow him to give up the Great Game because of so trifling a circumstance. And I know him. I know when the ' LOVED I NOT HONOR MOEE' 359 first bugle sounds — and sound it will ere long^-the old war-horse wiU answer with his neigh. And it is not Prince George who will be consulted about the rectifi- cation of frontier-lines." Frank Gordon had made the waiting for this letter an excuse for delaying his visit to Briseis — that visit of explanation and farewell that he looked forward to with an immeasurable dread and pain. He had per- suaded himself that he must have full details of the attempted assassination ; at any moment he might be summoned away to the Bast ; he must remain at his mother's beck and call. But now that he knew all there was to be known, he could no longer shelter himself behind these pretexts. He had to undertake this terribly delicate mission, come what might, though the sufEering it would cause he would have heeded less if he could have borne it alone ; it was his thought of Briseis that was the origin of this almost insurmount- able shrinking and reluctance. If Aunt Jean had but consented to act as intermediary ! And then again he argued with himself that Aunt Jean had been of true judgment in this matter ; it was the more manly thing for him to go straight to the girl herself ; and if she treated him with proud anger and disdain — if she was pitiless — well, that she had a perfect right to do and to be ; and he would carry his punishment with him through many and many long years of re- membering. He was a very unhappy lad as he walked up to Dev- onshire Place ; but he experienced some relief on finding that Briseis was not in the drawing-room when he was shown in. Mrs. Elliott was, however ; and she rose with effusion- — and with some touch of color in the tired and pathetic face — to welcome her visitor. " My dear Sir Francis, I was beginning to think we 360 BEISBIS should never see you again — and then that dreadful affair out there in the East — you cannot tell how upset we all were by the news, and how we have been sym- pathizing with the poor Princess. My .bonny darlings were out at afternoon tea when the evening paper was brought in — they are such tender-hearted, unselfish, generous things, and so anxious to help in the chari- ties that dear Lady Hammersley has under her charge — and I assure you there was quite a scene when the announcement was read aloud about the attempted murder : they are so extremely sensitive and sympa- thetic — their concern about the poor Princess was quite affecting, so I am told. The poor dears had to come home in a cab — though they know well that I expect them to practise the strictest economy; and Brenda especially — she is of such a nervously suscepti- ble nature — she was quite overcome, and lay down on a sofa, and we had to administer port-wine again and again before we could get her calmed and soothed. And what are your last tidings of the dear Princess, Sir Francis ? I suppose she is completely overwhelmed — such a narrow escape ! — such an awful calamity just averted by the finger of Providence — I hope she is bearing up well — " "Oh, yes, pretty well," the young man replied. "Indeed she seems to look upon the whole affair as rather a humorous incident. You see, it wasn't her ear that had a bit taken out of it." " And the poor Prince — I do hope he has quite re- covered from the shock !" "I don't know about the shock," he said, "but I do know he is extremely annoyed and angry. And it is no great wonder. He doesn't want to be dragged into all these political imbroglios. He wants to be let alone. He is not a quarrelsome man at all ; he likes 'LOVED I NOT HONOR MOKE' 361 to amuse himself with his two black poodles ; and nat- urally he resents being flicked on the ear in conse- quence of other people's dispiftes. The sooner he gets back to the mountainous security of Montereltro the better." He had been talking almost at random — with an eyer- present consciousness that at any moment the door of this room might open. And if these polite questions and perfunctory answers formed a sort of respite for the time being, he knew that it could not avail for long ; nay, he at length grew impatient and desperate ; he Was forced to interrupt this idle conver- sation. " Mrs. Elliott," said he, " may I ask if Miss Valieri is at home ?" "Oh, yes,"' replied the widow, blithely. "Oh yes. She was so very good-natured as to insist on remaining behind, when all the others were going off to Madame Eeichenwald's concert ; for her cousin, poor boy, is in bed with a bad cold, and he won't have any one but her to read to him ; and she is the dearest creature — so ready to sacrifice any little pleasure of her own — and so cheerful about it, too — " "For to tell you the truth I called to see her," he said, bluntly enough ; and then he continued, in a more hesitating manner : " The fact is, I was entrusted with a small commission — perhaps I ought to say I undertook it on my own responsibility ; and if you don't mind, Mrs. Elliott — if it is not an inconvenience to you — I should like to see her for a few moments — by herself, I mean — " Aunt Clara rose with much good nature. "I will send her to you at once. But," she added, as- she was leaving, " I must see you before you go. Sir Francis. My darling girls would never forgive me if 10 363 BKISBIS there were not some proper message of sympathy sent to the poor dear Princess. So au revoir !" For two or three minutes he was left alone in this silent room, in no enviable state of mind. And then the door opened; and here was Briseis — somewhat pale, per- haps, but as beautiful as ever, so overmasteringly beau- tiful, indeed, that of a sudden his heart cried aloud to him ' To me — to me — to me ! Take her — enfold her — that is the one woman in all the world !' But the next moment that passionate cry was stilled. He became conscious that the Briseis standing there and confront- ing him was not the Briseis with whom he had so re- cently parted — all unstrung and unnerved, piteous, half -humiliated, appealing. This Briseis was cold, dis- tant, and of a perfect self-command ; the calm, straight- forward regard she fixed on him was not questioning — nor yet repellent — ^but only attentive, in a proud kind of way ; sweet and serene as she looked — as she could not help looking — she appeared to have become in some strange fashion remote. And a singular thing was that she had not advanced to greet him in the usual man- ner ; perhaps neither he nor she noticed the omission ; it was hardly a time for formalities. But this outward impassiviby of hers chilled and disconcerted him ; this was not Briseis at all ; this was a beautiful stranger, distinguished-looking, noble-looking, courteous, com- plaisant—and ten thousand miles away. There was no awkward pause of silence ; for he had a message to deliver. " I have brought you the letters Argyriades got pos- session of," said he, "and I do not think he will trouble you any more." He took out the packet and placed it on the table. She betrayed neither surprise, nor joy, nor gratitude ; but she came forward a step or two. 'LOVED I NOT HONOB MOEE' 363 " Won't yon be seated ?" she said. " I wish you to read those letters." He had not expected any snch proposal ; he looked disappointed and pained. " Oh, no — no," he said, rather stiffly. " But I wish it," she rejoined. " Then I refuse," he said — his forehead flushing. "I hare been told that these letters would compro- mise my good name if they were shown to any one," she proceeded, in a deliberate manner, "and I wish to know if that is true." "And by whom were you told !" he answered her, with scorn. " By a miserable wretch trying to extort money, and ready for any amount of brazen lying. Well, he is not likely to repeat that performance — at least where you are concerned." Then in somewhat set terms she "thanked him for haying secured and restored these papers ; and she even went the length of asking, in a more or less direct way, whether he had paid anything, and how much, to Argyriades. And Frank Gordon could only say to himself, bitterly enough, that if she chose to shame and insult him, she was within her right in doing so. " What did I give him ?" he said. " I gave him a stroke across the mouth ; and he took it submissively. That was all he got ; but it appeared to satisfy him ; I don't think he will deal in threats and menaces for some time to come. And perhaps I ought to tell you that I did look at some of the letters — those that you wrote to Argyriades — I wanted to see if he had brought all of them back — according to what you told me ; and I think you will find they are all there." "Yes; but there are others: I wish you to read them," she said, coldly. 364 BEISEIS " Why should yon persist in tannting me ?" he an- swered her, in accents of reproach. " Taunting you ?" " Yes, indeed. You are telling me that I need to be convinced of this or that, with regard to you ! And that is what you think of me ! Well, the poorest opin- ion you can have of me is better than I deserve, I know that. I know that — " All this time he had hardly dared to meet her eyes, so banished from her had he been by the studious dig- nity and courtesy of her demeanor ; and the wild desire there was within him to beg for forgiveness — to beg for friendliness — ^for anything that would restore some- thing like their former relationship could find no words whatever. His heart was passionately urging him to speak ; and yet a kind of hopelessness had overcome him ; her manner — her tones — even the poise of her head, that in other days he had so much admired — seemed all too plainly to say to him : ' You — you are but as one of the other strangers whom I find surrounding me. You will judge as they will judge. If, then, you have heard anything against my good name, read these letters for yourself ; and when you have been convinced, go. Having cleared myself, I have no wish to continue any further association ; and you may return and take your place amongst the crowd.' "Well, yes, "-he resumed, after a moment, "the poorest opinion you can form of me is no doubt the just one ; and if you think that I could be infiuenced by anything that such a fellow as Argyriades might say^ — or if you think that I should want to read anything in order to have my faith in you confirmed or re-established — let it be so. Let it be so. But there are one or two points that I should wish to explain, before saying good- by-" 'LOVED I NOT HOKOR MORE' 365 " Yes, before saying good-by/' she repeated — almost relentlessly, as it appeared to his wrought-up imagina- tion ; and the pallor in the perfect and exquisite face, that, too, seemed to speak unmistakably of a final farewell. "I gathered, partly from yourself, partly from what Aunt Jean told me, that you had been disturbed — sur- prised, perhaps I should say — by one or two small things: my remaining away from this house, my not answering your letter for some days, and the like. Well, when you came to me, fancying that perhaps Argyriades had been the cause of this conduct on my part, I told you he had nothing whatever to do with it. But I did not giye you the true explanation. And as it is to be good-by, I should not like you to look back and be- lieve that I had been guilty of any intentional dis- courtesy — " Then he lost his head somewhat. " Briseis, do you not know — can you not guess — what forced me to give up a friendship that seemed so beau- tiful a thing, and so harmless to every one concerned ? Do you remember our first meeting — that morning on Dee-side — ^when you came down alone to the river ? — do you remember how easily and simply we got talking together ? — it appeared to be so natural that we should know each other. I was free then ; my life was not pledged away to any one ; and indeed I was not think- ing of such things — though Aunt Jean would have it, when she saw you, that here was my great chance, for she took to you from the very first, and would tell you now that she has never seen any one like you. But I could not be so presumptuous ; and besides, you and I were no more than merely acquainted, even after you had been out to Grantly ; and then I went away to the South — and — and other things happened — and my life 366 BRISEIS was no longer my own. But all the same, when I heard you were in London, I wanted to see you ; and the of- tener we met the further did our slight acquaintance- ship grow into a friendship that was about my most valued possession. I saw no harm in it ; for I was blind ; and the passing hour was too delightful to be sacrificed. But during all this time I was getting to understand you better and better : you were not mere- ly the beautiful stranger I had met on Dee -side — nor yet the charming visitor who had brought a kind of splendor with her into the dusky old rooms at Grantly ; you had become — well, you had become the Briseis that I know now — the Briseis that I shall bold in my heart while I have life." He ceased for the moment ; and his brows were knit together, as if from some mental pain. " I did not consider ; I was too confident and care- less," he went on. "If I had dreamed of any danger, I should have looked upon my being engaged to marry another woman as a sufficient safeguard. But I did not think ; and one fascinating hour followed another ; and always I was getting more and more into communion with the winning subtleties of a nature the sweetest and purest that I have known on earth. Oh, do not im- agine I seek to excuse myself. All the blame is mine. And there was self-deception too. I deceived myself — I refused to look at consequences — so long as there was another chance of listening to the rustle of your dress on the stair, of seeing you come into the room, of sub- mitting once more to the glamour of your voice and your eyes. And then there came the awakening. It was at a dance — here in this house — you wore yellow roses with your black dress,- do you remember ? — and that was the night I made the discovery, that I loved one woman while my honor bound me to another. It was 'LOVED I NOT HONOR MORE' 367 a terrible discovery ; but at least I could hope that the punishment for any mischief that had been done would fall on my head alone ; and I resolved to withdraw my- self — not perhaps all at once, but so that no one should guess what had occurred. Briseis, think as badly of me as you will ; I deserve the worst ; but — but don't imagine I meant any slight — " While he was pouring forth these pathetic, blunder- ing, boyish utterances, the face of Briseis had under- gone the strangest transformation. Her cold impas- sivity of look had changed into an eager interest and wonder ; and wonder had given place to joy ; and joy had found its expression in an inefEable happiness ; though, to be sure, before he had come to the end of his story, her eyes — the soft, dark, eloquent eyes — had their conquering beauty all bedimmed with tears. She went quickly towards him. She held out her hand. " My friend, for ever !" she said — and her grasp was as firm as his own. The grandeur of her magnanimity — and her uncon- sciousness of it — amazed him : this was not the disdain- ful dismissal that he had expected, and that he felt he had earned. Her wet eyes were affectionate and kind ; she held his hand for a second or two ; and then she strove to put into words some explanation of this sud- den change in her attitude towards him. "Ah, you do not understand, then — you do not un- derstand that the treasure of a woman, all through her life, is the remembrance that the one man she has loved has loved her — yes, for a moment. She may not have what is thought to be happiness ; she may not marry the man she loves ; but that secret she carries with her, to her dying day — and it is her treasure and her pride. No, no," she continued, with a sort of wistful smile-^ and her speech was broken and uncertain, almost to in- 368 BKISEIS coherence, " you cannot understand — and I cannot ex- plain. But — but you have given me my treasure to keep — and I am more grateful than I can say : what it would have been if we had parted for ever and no word of revelation ! I am content. Dear friend, do not think I am envious of any one ! If — if circumstances seem hard, then it is some other one who is the hap- pier .... I wish her well .... In time your love will go to her — it is the wajr of the world — it is right to be so. And you will forget — the Greek girl — to whom you were kind Good-by, dear friend — good-by — God bless you and her — " He caught her in his arms, for he thought she would have fallen. " Briseis — it is not good-by !" he said to her, in a low voice — in a voice so intense that her eyes shrank away from him. " It shall not be good-by ! I love you — you love me : is not that enough ? It is the high- est law — " She freed herself from his embrace. " Except honor," she said, with so much of her usual sweet serenity that he stood rebuked and abashed, ashamed of his momentary madness, and despairing of the fetters that bound him. As for her, she was clearly struggling to recall her proud self-command, that had nearly broken down ; and yet, as she gave him her hand for the last time, there was the greatest tenderness in her regard ; and she suffered him to kiss her on the fore- head, in mute token of farewell. Then she went from the room ; she had borne herself bravely ; whatever of anguish and tragic renunciation may have been in her heart was not for him to see. And indeed all that afternoon, while she was engaged in her ordinary domestic duties, and in her customary intercourse with Olga and Brenda, with Miss Ada and HEK COLD IMPASSIVITY Ub' LOOK HAD CHANGED" 'LOVED I NOT HONOB MOEE' 369 Miss Carlotta and the rest, she was in no wise cast down ; for there still remained some afterglow of the gladness with which she had heard the man she loved confess that he loved her, and perhaps also some linger- ing trace of that exaltation of feeling with which she had bade him go to redeem his pledged faith. But in the solitude of her own room at night, this high cour- age fell away from her. The dark was filled with pict- ures — a succession of scenes; and it seemed to her that her life had been but a series of bereavements; and this last not the least cruel of these. For now she was altogether alone. One after another had departed from her ; and now he who in happier circumstances — such as fell to the lot of other women — might have been her lover, he also was taken from her, through the merciless decrees of fate. And what remained ? She contemplated the long years before her with a shuddering dread ; she would rather have the end, and that soon. In those black hours of the night — her strength all gone — her pillow wet with tears — she went wearily back, as aforetime, to seek for solace and sooth- ing in the old, familiar lines — Over all the mountains Is peace ; Along the far summits Eea/rest thou Ha/rdly a breath; The birds are hushed in the forest. Wait thou only, and soon Thou also skalt sleep. But it was a wider sleep that her aching heart yearned and prayed and sobbed for : a wider and larger sleep : the sleep, sound and beneficent and dreamless, that shall endure through the making and changing and dying of worlds. CHAPTER XXIII 'SWEET KELLIB O^EEE' It was about this time that one eyening found Miss Georgie Lestrange and her brother Percy the sole oc- cupants of a private sitting-room in the Waldorf Hotel, New York — a room of considerable size, for the bright- ly-decorated dinner-table was laid for a party of eight. Percy Lestrange — a young man of irregular features and red hair — was staring contemplatiyely into the fire ; his sister, clad in a sea - going costume of serge, was standing on tiptoe to bring herself on a level with a slab of mirror in the over -mantel, so that she might arrange her necktie. The necktie was of a dark green and blue tartan, with a slender line of yellow run- ning through it — the G-ordon tartan, in fact. And, as usual, the pretty and pert-nosed damsel was talking away recklessly and at railway-speed. " I do call it a horrid nuisance, this starting off in the middle of the night — don't you ? So unnecessary. Why, what's the use of it ? I should have thought they'd want all the daylight they could get to steam down the bay — shouldn't you ? Never mind. There are compensations. Eor you do have moments of sense, Percy — haven't you ? — and it was just snip-snap of you to think of this little send-off, and getting Madame St. Koche and the rest of us on board all in good humor." She turned from the mantelpiece and looked along the brilliant table, with evident satisfaction. " And I, for ' THERE AKE COMPENSATIONS 'SWEET NELLIE O'KEE ' 371 one," she remarked, -with some significance, "seeing as how strange things may eventuate during the next day or two, I, for one, sha'n't be sorry to have a jolly old tuck-in." " Eeally, Georgie," he said, in a peevish manner, "your language is too awful ! And why will you keep on asking questions, when you don't expect any answer ? It's perfectly maddening ! Why can't you state your opinions, without challenging assent — on perfectly im- material points ? Why that perpetual ' don't you ?' and ' haven't you ?' and — " " Now, now, Percy, enough of that," she broke in, with an air of authority. " That's all part and parcel of the nervousness and irritability of your breakdown ; and you undertook you wouldn't give way to it again. And you're not going to quarrel on the very last night of our being together — are you ? As if I hadn't enough to worry me ! I think it was most inconsiderate of LadyAdela, don't you ? To have this wretched book of hers waiting for me, and to expect me to spend my only day in New York in hunting up this Caspar Sprigg, to woolly-lamb him, and get him to promise a review ! It's too bad ! Well, I can't now, anyway. You'll have to, Percy — to-morrow or next day, before you go back south." " Let her look after her own woolly -lambing !" said the convalescent, crossly. " Besides, how am I to find out this fellow ?" " Oh, he's a Professor of something or other," said Miss Georgie, as she took up the menu and regarded it with imaginative eyes. "Anglophobia, as likely as not — Caspar Sprigg, Professor of Anglophobia, Uni- versity of Braggingsville — mightn't that fetch him ? I remember the creature — one night at Lady Adela's — hideously ugly — no chin — Oh, I say, Percy, I call this 373 BKISEIS just a ripping spread I" But here there was a noise of newcomers outside ; and Miss Georgie, not to be thought a greedy young person, quickly replaced the menu on the table, and assumed her most correct de- portment. Howeyer, as it turned out, these were not the ex- pected guests ; the sounds gradually died away ; and then it was that Percy Lestrange, looking up from his reverie, addressed his sister — with some slight hesita- tion in his tone. " I say, Georgie : I have been considering whether I ought to tell you — as a warning beforehand — or wheth- er I should let you find it out for yourself. After all, it's of no great consequence — you can treat him as a perfect stranger — " She was not paying much heed. She had picked up the menu again ; and her eyes seemed to be pleased with the prospect — ^bouch^es h la Montglas — faux-filet au cresson — aubergines k la Proven9ale, and the like, " Are you listening ?" her brother said. " It may interest you, you know. When I was down at the steamship company's ofl&ce this afternoon, I saw the completed list of passengers, and among them — well, you would make the discovery sooner or later — is the name of Jack Cavan — " The menu fell from her fingers, fiuttering down to the fioor. " You don't mean that !" she exclaimed — ^with dis- may in her voice. " But I do. John Philip Cavan. There's not the least doubt about it." " Then I won't go !" she said, passionately. " I won't sail in that ship. I won't submit to this abomi- nable persecution. It's done deliberately. It isn't a coincidence— not a bit of it ! Of course he knew I was 'SWEET NELLIE O'EEE' 373 in America ; I was perfectly aware of that ; but who could have imagined he would be so mean as to plan this voyage ! And it's all a part of the same system. The last time I saw him in a theatre, whenever there was anything insulting said about women, in the piece, he would turn round and level his opera-glass at me. Oh, the ingenuity of the fiend is perfectly devilish ! — there's no other word for it — " "Well," said her brother, with a languid air, "if young women will go playing games — " " It's never the men, of course !" she said, con- temptuously. " It's never the men who lead them on, and get them into scrapes — of course not ! And as for Jack Cavan, he deserved all he got — he was paid out for his temper, and his high-mightiness and his fine airs : only, if he thinks he's going to persecute me all the way across the Atlantic, he's very much mistaken. I wcyi't go in that ship, Percy. I will forfeit my berth. When does the next steamer of the same line sail ? — surely they'll let me change — " " Oh, what's the good of going on like that !" her brother said, fretfully. " You can't make a fool of yourself before these people — refusing at the last mo- ment. What explanation could you offer ? — " " You could have a relapse," she put in, adroitly. " Don't talk rubbish. The fact is, you behaved very badly — and now you are in a blue funk. It isn't Jack Oavan that's pursuing you ; it's your con- science. And it isn't Jack Cavan, it's you conscience that will haunt you all the way across the Atlantic. How can Jack Cavan harm you ? You'll have these half-dozen people surrounding you from morning till night. By-the-way, I suppose you told Sir Francis all about that old story ? — " " Tell Frank Gordon ?" said she, blushing a rosy- 374 . BKISEIS red. " 'So, I did not. Of course not. Certainly not. There was quite time enough for bygones to be by- gones : quite time enough — if only that spiteful fiend would let me alone — " But at this point the door was thrown open ; and Miss Georgie's companions for the voyage did at last make their appearance — Madame St. Eoche, Miss Madeline Phayre, Miss Janie Phayre, Miss Romanes, Mr. Algeciras, and Mr. S. F. Quentin of Chicago — all of them, as they came into the room, laughing and talking at once, so excited were they over this little reunion and the larger prospect ahead of them. Indeed it was the ordinarily vivacious Georgie who alone sate thoughtful and preoccupied — ^for spaces at least — during this merry banquet : perhaps she was considering the various devices to which she might resort in view of the contingency that had so unex- pectedly been sprung upon her. At all events Tjhen they did at length dcive away down to the dock and get on board the steamer, she was not much in evi- dence ; and when, finally, the great vessel moved away out into the dark — a darkness that was all a- throb with lights, red, green, aid electric-blue — it was found that Miss Lestrange had disappeared altogether ; she had escaped from the usual foregathering in the saloon to the solitude of her state-room ; and as it was surmised that she might be busy opening her cabin- trunks, her friends refrained from disturbing her. And thus it was that Miss Georgie started upon her voyage — with such a night's rest as her not too tender conscience might allow her. Next morning, when the grey of the dawn was visibly declared in the porthole, she reached up her hand to the top of her berth and pressed a button ; and in response to her summons the stewardess ap- 'SWEET KELLIB o'RBE" 375 peared — a tall, gaunt, sandy-haired woman witli, o'n occasion, an Irish twinkle in her eyes. " Oh, stewardess, I'm so ill !" said the young lady, in a panting and most piteous manner. "I'm so dreadfully ill. I didn't ring for you — out of consid- eration for the others ; but I can bear this no longer. What must I take ? Tell me what I must take. My brother said champagne, and plenty of it, from the first thing in the morning; but that would be too awful, wouldn't it ? Then there's brandy, but that's more horrid still, isn't it ? I'm sick enough already ; brandy would only 'mak sikker.' That's a joke. That's a Scotch joke. You may think I'm not very ill if I can try to make fun of it ; but it's no laughing matter ; and I knew all night I should be. ill — I dreamt of it—" " Sure I'm very sorry. Miss," said the stewardess, gravely. "What can I bring for you ?" " Yes, that's just it," she moaned. " I don't know. It's so horrid to be ill, and not to know what to do. And yet, after all, the boat is not pitching so much — " " Oh, no, Miss !" " Nor rolling either-—" " No, Miss, and for a very good reason too," said the stewardess. " Sure we're at anchor !" " What ?" exclaimed the invalid, suddenly looking up. "Yes indeed. Miss; we're anchored in the bay. There's a thick fog." " And we haven't been to sea at all ?" " Oh, no. Miss; we're not near as far down as Sandy Hook." For a moment Miss Georgie — thinking back over her apprehensions of the night — looked annoyed and angry ; but there was really no use in quarrelling with 376 BEISEIS the sardonic stewardess ; so she merely said, with a certain petulance of tone — " Wellj .you can bring me a cup of tea and a biscuit. I'm not going into the saloon for breakfast this morn- ing." Now for how many hours or days, and under what pretexts. Miss Lestrange might haye proposed to her- self to remain shut up in her cabin, it is impossible to say — perhaps all the voyage over ; but the girl-friends who were travelling with her would not permit any- thing of that kind ; they came swarming into the small stateroom, insisting that she must get dressed and go on deck to see the strange sight. And a strange sight it was — this huge living hive of a vessel cut off from all communication with the rest of . the world ; or rather there was a sort of communication, of a dim and mysterious kind ; for through the opaque, motion- less white fog that encompassed them, they could hear voices calling beneath, voices hailing from certain small boats that had crept out from the shore. Nothing could be seen of these visitants or their whereabouts ; sometimes their remarks and replies sounded quite close at hand, at other times they were hollow and remote ; but whatever advice or information they were tendering, it was universally conceded that until this dense fog lifted there was not the slightest chance of the ship venturing to crawl across the bar. And meanwhile Miss Georgie, though she pretended to be engrossed in gazing over the side of the vessel, and listening, had been keeping her eyes alert, and that in a tremulous and agitated mood. But no one came near. Perhaps the person she dreaded to meet was having his morning cigar in the smoking-room, or playing Nap, with some fellow-passengers. And at length the girls, tired of looking into the mystic white 'SWEET NELLIE O'EEE' 377 profundity, proposed that they should all adjourn to the music-room ; and to this Miss Georgie eagerly as- sented ; she knew she would be safe there, for none of the men-folk were likely to come to listen to Chopin and Mendelssohn, in the wan light of day. The hours passed until two bells struck, and then there was an adjournment to the saloon for luncheon. And now it was that the hapless Miss Georgie encoun- tered her enemy — ran full tilt against him at the foot of the companion-way, for her anxious eyes had failed to warn her of his approach. He was a young man of about six- or eight-and-twenty, clean shaven, of sallow complexion, and with a look about his firm and intel- ligent features as of one who was not likely to suffer much trifling at the hands of a wicked and wilful young lady. As he drew near, he gave no sign of recognition ; but he regarded her — with a cold, and pitiless, and in- , different scrutiny ; while poor Georgie, frightened out of her senses, and blushing furiously, could only make a wild effort to appear as if she were continuing a con- versation with one of her companions — "Oh, serge, did you say? — blue serge? — yes, I quite agree with you — there's nothing so neat and service- able — I always use it myself, though my things shab so quickly on board ship — and I'm too poor to bring trunkfuls of dresses with me — " He was gone — and she drew a long breath to still her panting heart ; and then again when they had en- tered the saloon and taken their places, she found to her immense relief he was seated so far away from them that she had not so much to fear from his relent- less eyes. And fortunately not one of her friends had noticed her confusion and alarm. Well, the fog lasted all that day, and all the next, and the next — three days and nights the great steamer 378 BKISEIS remained in that strange white isolation ; and although certain critics — mostly commercial travellers in the smoking-room — grumbled and alleged that the captain might have got out if he had shown a little more dar- ing, the bulk of the passengers resigned themselves to their fate, and contrived to pass the time somehow by dint of various amusements. The ladies who had first obtained possession of the piano were practically al- lowed to retain a monopoly of it ; and this boudoir- like apartment formed a snug and happy retreat ; in especial was Miss Georgie glad to find safety there — for reasons she did not choose to reveal. But on the morning of the second day of the fog, Miss Janie Phayre came along to Miss Lestrange's cabin. "I say, Georgina," she observed — for only so far had their intimacy progressed — "do you know anything of this ? I have just found it amongst my music ; and I am perfectly certain it was not there last night. It must have been put there this morning, sure. And yet it's not for me — these are not my initials — " Miss G-eorgie was leisurely finishing her toilet ; but she turned, and perceived that her visitor was holding in her hand a sheet of paper, that had a couple of verses written on it in pencil. When she took the prof- fered page she started slightly, as if recognizing the writing ; then as her glance followed down these lines, her vague surprise gave way to a very different emo- tion : her cheeks and forehead were flushed red, and her eyes were indignant and angry. For this was the taunting rhyme that she found 'respectfully dedicated to Miss G. h.'i I gave you my life, what mm'e could I do, And you swore and you more you would ever be true; But summer is short; the leaf falls from the tree; And women a/re eliangeable, Nellie O'Bee! 'SWEET NELLIE O'eEE ' 379 And do I upbraid you f — oh no; and oh no ; The world is the world; and tilings will go so. And you need not recall, 'mid your laughter and glee, That you broke a man's heart, sweet Nellie O'Bee! " Do I know what it means ?" she said, hoiiy. " Yes, of course I do ! The insolence of it ! — the in- solence ! — " She tore the paper in four pieces, and crushed them together, and flung them wrathfuUy on the floor. " Oh, what is it, dear Georgina \" her astonished visitor cried, in instant curiosity. " Is there anything going on on board ? — what is it ? — do tell !" " There's an impertinent man on board, that's about all !" said Miss Georgina, scornfully. " Is that any- thing new? You'll meet with plenty of them before you're much older. But I would rather not say any more." She sate herself down on the couch, her eyes still burning ; and as it was clear that she did not wish to give any explanation. Miss Janie, after a brief farewell message, withdrew — no doubt hoping to hear some- thing further of this mystery later on. The moment she had left. Miss Lestrange picked up the crumpled ball of paper. She unrolled it and pieced together the fragments. She read down, carefully and thought- fully, the touching little ballad of 'Nellie O'Kee'; and then for a little while she let it lie in her lap ; and then she proceeded to tear the fragments into still smaller fragments, and these she scattered out at the open port. When finally she was ready to leave her cabin, there was a look of very definite resolution on her face. She did not go to the music-room, or anywhere near it. She went straight up on deck, her eyes outstrip- ping her in their peremptory search. And she soon 380 BEISEIS found what she sought : Mr. Jack Cavau was taking his morning promenade, alone as it chanced, and muf- fled up in a capacious ulster, for the mist was raw and cold. Without a second of hesitation she went directly tow- ards him ; and he, perceiving that she did not mean to let him pass, stopped short. " How dared you put that thing among the music — how dared you !" she demanded, with a flaming glance. He turned very pale, even to the lips. But he did not flinch. "I wished you to see it," he said, deliberately. " Yes, and the others !" she retorted. " And the others too, of course ! You wished them to see it too, no doubt ! It was for them to draw their own conclusions from its — from its — from its untruth!" She paused, to get her breath — or perhaps Hot know- ing how to express the vehemence of her anger. And then she blurted out : "Well, thank goodness I know some one who would not do such a thing !" This appeared to sting him ; for after all he was but mortal. " The raw-boned Scotchman, I presume \" "Frank Gordon is the handsomest boy that ever came to London," said she, warmly. "And what's more, he has the manliness to be forgiving. I say he has the manliness to be generous and forgiving. He's the kind of man who would forgive anything to a woman — " " That is a convenient kind," he remarked, with an air of disdain. " — if he cared enough for her," she went on. " Yes. If he cared enough for her, he would show himself manly and forgiving — not — ^not revengeful and insult- ing-" 'SWEET NELLIE O'eEE' 381 She stopped again. ''Have you anything further to say. Miss Le- strange ?" he asked. "No, I have not !" " Then I wjU bid you good-morning," he said, re- spectfully enough, and he raised his hat, and walked away. Miss Georgie went down below. At the foot of the companion she lingered for a second, to apply her handkerchief to her eyes. Then bold and erect of head she marched down the length of the saloon, and entered the music-room, where the usual little coterie was assembled around the piano. "Georgina, dear," cried the elder of the Phayre girls, "what is all this about a mysterious piece of poetry ?" "A piece of poetry? — a piece of trash!" replied Miss Georgie, with scorn. " I threw it out of the win- dow. Oh, there's no secret about it," she continued, loftily, as she found that these curious maidens were regarding her. "None. Why should there be ? No secret whatever. There is a gentleman on board whom I once — once knew a little ; and — and — he took this way of recalling himself to my recollection. Stupid, wasn't it ? He might just as well have come frankly up and spoken, mightn't he ? I call it a stupid trick. But you needn't speak of poetry — poetry ! — a silly lit- tle Irish song — of no consequence whatever. At least I suppose it was Irish — I forget — I threw it out of the window. He's Irish himself, of course. That ex- plains his writing verses. There's not an Irishman born that doesn't think he can write verses and throw a salmon-fly better than anybody else ip the world. Only, I wish they wouldn't bother one with their silly songs !" 382 BKISEIS So that was the end of the episode, for the present — though one or two of Miss Georgie's companions may at odd hours have ruminated oyer this obscure transaction, and speculated. However, after the weary days and nights of waiting, the great ship-full of folk at length discovered that they were to be re- leased from their chill imprisonment; the welcome throb of the screw was felt once more ; they began to creep down towards Sandy Hook, and in due course of time got out into the open Atlantic. Not only that, but they found themselves sailing into the most lovely weather — calm seas and cloudless skies — blue above and a shining blue all around ; and this delightful transformation seemed to produce a corresponding change in the spirits, of everybody on board. Whither had iled the grumblers ? There was a universal kind- liness and cheerfulness and goodwill ; confidence in the captain was entirely restored ; the passengers said nice things about each other — knowing they would be repeated ; rope-quoits and shovel-board were started ; and of course the music-room was quite abandoned, for who could remain away from the charming prome- nades on deck, in the bracing air and sunlight ? And perhaps the general amiability had got into Miss Geor- gie's heart ; or perhaps the having continually to avoid Jack Oavan on these marchings up and down was be- ginning to prey on her nerves ; at all events, finding him on one occasion alone, she again went up to speak to him. As before, he was all attention— and as frigid as ice. "Couldn't we," said she, valiantly, "couldn't we agree to be friends, for the voyage over at least ? " He regarded her for a moment, and said quite gravely — " Yes, if you wish it." "SWEET NELLIE O'EEE ' 383 " Oh, if that is the way," said she, prondly, " — no, thanks !" And at once and haughtily she returned to her friends. There came a night : a full moon was sailing through the tranquil heavens, and on the slumbering and slowly- moving waters there lay a pathway of silver, widening here and narrowing there, until it reached the immeas- urable and unknown horizon. It was late, and yet a number of people had preferred this magical white scene to the golden comfort of the saloon ; and Madame St. Eoche was a lenient chaperon ; she and her little party were all on deck, huddled cosily together, chat- ting the one to the other, or gazing contemplatively out on the entrancing beauty of sea and sky. And now it was that there stole into the silence — for the continuous lapping of the waves, and the familiar throb of the en- gines, formed almost a silence — there stole into the silence a sound so sweet, so clear, so distant that it seemed to come from nowhere at all, it seemed rather like the echo of a flute heard in some remote and mys- tic fairyland that one has visited in a half-forgotten dream. " Oh, isn't it too beautiful," murmured one of the girls. "It's a cornet," said one of the gentlemen : "but where the dickens is the player ? — is he some Ariel in the rigging, or flying in the wake of the boat ?" " That darling Purser — he has planned this for us," said another of the girls. " Hush — hush !" said the most sensible of the group. And well indeed they might listen to this soft and silver-toned strain that had for its accompaniment the half-heard whisper and rush of the moonlit waves. It was an Irish air — it was ' Farewell, but if ever you wel- come the hour ' — and it was exquisitely played : no 384 ,BEISEIS wonder they listened. But meanwhile something had happened to G-eorgie Lestrange. She was seated next Madame St. Roche ; and the moment the clear notes of the cornet began to steal through the witchery of the night, the elder lady felt the girl grasp her arm. It was an involuntary action, probably ; anyhow the hand re- mained there, fixed and trembling ; and the figure of the girl was trembling too. N"ay, as Madame furtively perceived, tears were running down her cheeks ; and as her agitation grew greater and greater, it was clear she could stay here no longer. She tried to slink away un- observed — with uncertain gait and head bent down. Not a word was said by any of her companions — perhaps in the dusk they had not noticed; but Madame rose and swiftly and discreetly followed. She tapped at the door of the cabin, and got no answer ; but she heard a sojind as of wild sobbing ; and so she made bold to enter. She found the unhappy girl in a perfect passion of crying ; she lay at full length on the couch, her face downward ; and in the agony of her grief her hands were clenched into the cushion, while her whole frame quivered and shook. " Georgina, dear !" "Oh, my God, it's too cruel — it's too cruel!" she moaned, in the intervals of her frantic sobbing. " I cannot bear it — I cannot suffer this torture any more — he wants to break my heart — and I think he has done that now. Ah, Madame St. Eoche, you do not know — you do not know — that was the air he used to play for me when we were at Glengarifl — it was his last good- night to me — every night when I had gone into the hotel — and he was out in the bay — and then when my people wouldn't let him come to see me — that was at Wicklow — after the quarrel — he used to play those Irish airs — and they were a message from him to me — oh, it's too 'sweet NELLIE O'EEE' 385 cruel ! — it's too cruel ! — but — but he has had his re- venge sure enough — oh, yes — sure enough — for I will never reach Queenstown alive — " " Merciful Heaven, what do you say !" cried Madame, and she drew in a chair to the couch, and released one of the girl's hands and held it. "No, I will not !" she sobbed again. " I will not. I have made up my mind. Long before we get to Queens- town — there will be an end — and he will have his re- venge sure enough — " But here she burst into another flood of tears that for a time completely stopped all utterance. "My child, you are mad !" exclaimed Madame. "I see all the situation of affairs — it is not revenge — it is to win you back to him that he plays the beautiful air — it is to recall tender scenes — " "It is not — it is not !" she said, passionately. " It is to taunt me — to reproach me — to accuse me : it is for re- venge. And — and — Madame — what more revenge can he want ? The moment I set eyes on him — on board this ship — I knew that I had thrown my life away. You see — ^you see — I have been absent from England for a time — and able to look at things — and then — then when I saw him — all the old-time came back — even though I was mad-angry with him — or he with me — I don't care which — and then — ^then he goes and plays this air-^knowing it would just cut my heart in two—" "Yes, yes, child," said Madame, "and he made a very effective appeal to you, as^ any one can see ; and it will all come right — " " Come right ?" she repeated, and she struggled up- wards from her recumbent position, and sate there de- jected and hopeless, making some effort to get the tears away from her cheeks and eyes. " Come right ? — yes 17 386 BKISEIS — when I throw myself overboard — then it will come right — and he will hare his revenge at last. That will be the end — and there will be no need — of any more reproaches — " And so they continued the argument, the one com- forting, the other despairing; until finally Madame persuaded her young charge to go to bed, to see if the night might not bring rest to her suffering soul. Next morning Miss Georgie did not make her usual appearance on deck, nor was she present at luncheon. In the afternoon, a gentleman, hitherto unknown to her, came up to Madame St. Koche, and said he hoped that Miss Lestrange was not unwell. " She is rather ailing to-day," was the reply. " "Will you be so kind as to tell her that I am exceed- ingly sorry to hear it ?" said he. " My name is Cavan." Madame (with rapid thoughts of her own) immedi- ately took the message below. Miss Georgie was lying on the couch in her state-room, partly dressed, with plenty of rugs thrown over her ; and very listless and languid she looked after the long night's sleepless suf- fering. However, when she heard what Madame had to tell, she roused herself somewhat. " But how did he say it, Madame ? — that is the point. Formally, of course. A mere formal message, that is all. An ordinary piece of politeness — " "Ah, no, not at all," said Madame; "it was most friendly and sincere. My child, I fear you have been hard towards that young man." ' ' Hard ?" the poor invalid repeated bitterly. ' ' Hard ? You may think so — but you don't know Mm !" After a little while she said — " Madame St. Eoche, do you ever go up the stair- case leading from the fore-saloon ? — there is an arch- way at the head of it where there are seats for two or 'SWEET NELLIE O'KEE' S87 three — ■would you mind sending the stewardess to see if that corner is vacant ? — and if it is she might ask Mr. Quentin or Mr. Algeciras, either of them, to come down and lend me an arm : I could be ready in a few minutes, and it would be more interesting than lying here." ^ All which was duly done ; and Miss Georgie found herself esconced in this sheltered spot, whence she could look out on the deck and the rigging if she was so dis- posed. But she was not yet satisfied- " Mr. Quentin," she said to her escort, " do you know a Mr. Cayan who is on board ?" " By sight only." " I wish you would go and tell him, please, that I want to see him." A few moments brought Jack Cavan to her side, while the sensible Quentin, remembering a familiar adage, made some sort of excuse and disappeared. " Sit down, Jack," said she, in a softened and troubled voice, "I want to speak to you." Obediently he took his place by her, and these two were now the only occupants of this shadowed recess, with but little fear of interruption. " Jack, I want to ask for your forgiveness," she said, "and if you refuse, you'll be sorry some day, and per- haps sooner than you think. Haven't you had enough of revenge ? I know now that I have made a wreck of my life — isn't that enough revenge for you ?" " I don't want revenge," said he, bluntly. " I want you, Georgie." "Ah, but that's all past and gone," she answered him, in a sad and resigned fashion. "When you've made your bed you must lie on it. That's all over now. You shouldn't lip,ve quarrelled." " It was you who quarrelled — you and your people — " 388 BRISEIS "All, well, you need not bring all that back again," she said, with a bit of a sigh. " It's all over and done with now. But oh. Jack, Jack, what made you play that song of Moore's last night — it recalled all the old times — the old times — the old times — " She began to cry a little ; but presently she dried her eyes again. "If you had a scrap of courage, Georgie," said he, "we might easily bring back those old times to both of us." " What do you mean ?" she said, suddenly looking up : then her eyes fell. " Oh, yes, I know. I know what you mean. But I couldn't. Oh, I couldn't — I couldn't ! He's such a dear fellow — and it would be so dishonorable — " "It would not be dishonorable at all," he said bold- ly. " It would be quite the reverse. I suspected yon hadn't forgotten the old times, Georgie — oh, didn't I know it quite well ! And if I have vexed you and an- gered you, then you must forgive me : it's you that must forgive. And you needn't talk about anything dishonorable : after what you have^'ust said, it's the only honorable thing you can do, by him, and by me, and by yourself — " " Oh, Jack, it's just dreadful to say it — so mean and contemptible — I feel so thoroughly mean and con- temptible — but — ^but — do you think he would let me off?" "I take it, he is a gentleman !" her companion ex- claimed. "He wouldn't force a girl into marrying him that doesn't want to marry him. Besides, when he hears the whole story, he will see that I have the prior claim. I have the first claim on you — " " Oh, Jack, I couldn't do it !" she still protested. '" I couldn't do it. I couldn't face him. Think of his coming to meet me at Liverpool — how could I face 'SWEET NELLIE o'EEE ' 389 him ? He's so frank and straightforward himself — and I should feel so deceitful and sneakish and despica- ble—" " Nothing of the sort !" he maintained, vehemently, " I tell you it's the straight thing to do. Georgie," he went on, in a most insidious manner, " will you leave it all to me ? Will you let me arrange it ? Will you leave it all in my hands ?" "Y — yes, Jack — if you think you can — " What now occurred took place in a recess, as before described, at the top of the fore - saloon companion, which was rarely used at this time of the day, while any passer-by going along the deck would hardly think of peering into this obscure retreat. So that there was no tale to tell throughout the ship — or to be set down here. When Miss Georgie next spoke it was in a soft and purring and happy fashion — and singularly blithe seemed this poor invalid wrapped up in the fur cloak Lady Adela had given her. "You see. Jack, it was this way — now I'll tell you honestly how it all happened in the Highlands — for I've as good a right as any one to make excuses, haven't I ? — and you wouldn't condemn me unheard, would you ? It was like this, you see — you see, it was like this — well, perhaps it's not so easy to explain — " '■■ Don't explain anything, Georgie," said he, with a certain grimness. " I know your ways." " Ah, now you want to quarrel again !" she retorted, instantly. "And you don't appear to care a straw whether I come back to you with a clear and white conscience — as I could prove to you if you'd only listen. Now, Jack, do listen ! It was like this, you see. He and I were the youngest of the house-party up at Glen Skean Castle, you know ; and naturally we chummed ; and he was awfully nice, and kind, and forgiving — ^not 390 BRISEIS like some people. And of course there was a little skylarking ; only he was as bad as I was — I declare to you he was as bad as I was ; he used to take me away for long excursions with him ; and he would dry my back-hair when it got wet with the rain, and pin it up again ; or he would bathe my wrists with eau -de - Co- logne when they were bitten with the midges ; and he made me drink out of the same glass with him — ^like a couple of children — like Paul and Virginia ; and he cut off some of my hair to make salmon -flies with. And tricks of that kind. You see how honest I am. Any other girl would conceal all that nonsense. And then it got rather more serious — ^not really serious, you know, but there was a kind of appearance of serious- ness about it, don't you understand — and my head got all bewildered, what with the moorlands, and the mists, and the red deer, and the wild nights among the hills — and — and, in short, we blundered into an engage- ment. What made me do it, I cannot imagine. But I thought you were ,a brute — in fact, I knew it — and I know it now ; and he is just the nicest boy that ever was born, and that's what he is. You won't mind my saying that, will you ? You wouldn't be scudgy and mean and jealous, seeing what has happened ? And he was such a dear boy, and so good-natured, and hand- some, and ready for any mad mischief that you might put into his head. I mean, that might come into his head. And then. Jack, you must remember this : I have never thought much of myself, or put any value on myself ; but I might have been Lady Gordon of Grantly, and the daughter-in-law of a Princess as well. Only, Jack — only — I will confess it — it would have been with a broken ' heart. I knew that the moment I set eyes on you on board this ship. Then I knew what I had done. And I was in such ' despair that *■ SWEET N-ELLIE O^KEE' 391 I told Madame St. Eoche I would throw myself into the sea before ever we should reach Queenstown. Per- haps I didn't quite mean it^ but I was pretty miserable all the same — " " Georgie," he said, interrupting her for a moment, and speaking rather gravely, "don't make any mis- take : I understand well enough that you are giving up a good deal." " Ah, but I've got you, Jack ! — oh, darling Jack, I've got you ! And what would anything else be to me, if I had to go through life with a broken heart ?" She paused for a second, and then resumed, in a somewhat altered key. " At the same time. Jack, I_ shouldn't like Frank Gordon to think that I had thrown my- self away, as they call it. I don't want him to consid- er me a sentimental idiot. There wasn't much of that kind of nonsense betwixt him and me, and I shouldn't like to have him laugh at me now. I'm not moon- struck, am I ? I'm not a lunatic? — ^though it is awfully nice to be sitting close and snug beside you. Jack. And this is what I meant to say — though it's rather hor- rid — since you are going to explain matters to him, if you could bring in some little mention of Kilcrana Abbey — then — then he might understand I wasn't a stage-struck school-girl. Of course it's horrid to talk of such things. I know it's horrid. And I do honestly believe. Jack, that if you had-been a poor man, I could have sacrificed everything for your sake — but it's better as it is, I dare say. And oh, dear Jack, if you should really think there's been the least bit of sacrifice — the least tiny little bit of a sacrifice — I'm sure you'll remem- ber it to me, and be kind to me, and pet me — for you know well enough you've got a brute of a temper — " It was at this moment — the afternoon having drawn to dusk — that the electric lights flashed into existence 393 BEISEIS all around them. She sprang to her feet, very nimbly for an invalid. " My gracious, what will Madame think of me ! Jack, you must come and be introduced to my friends, some time before dinner. Can you tell lies ?" "I can try." " How many could you muster, do you think ?" "About fifteen thousand." " It'll take about all that to explain the situation to these people. So go away and think. I will say noth- ing till I hear from you. Good-bye !" " Au revoir!" said he ; and their parting was most discreet, for they were afraid of that blue-white elec- tric glare. And again that night the moon shone gloriously, this time riding through long and fleecy streaks of cloud ; and Madame St. Eoche proved to be the most sympa- thetic of chaperons ; and Jack Cavan had discovered another secluded nook that the constructor of the ves- sel would seem to have specially designed for a pair of happy lovers. They were sitting together, these two ; and they had a great deal to say to each other, serious or the reverse of serious, with regard to the future ; but of a sudden Miss Georgie broke in with a low, smothered croon of delight — " Oh, Jack, kiss me again, and tell me it's all true !" CHAPTER XXIV 'SEEMED ATHENS AS A PAEADISE ' Athen^s lay under snow — snow trampled and brown- ish-yellow in the main thoroughfares, but a wonder and a splendor far up among the lonely pillars of the Acropolis, and still further away, along the shoulders of Hymettus, a solid white against the deep pellucid blue. DowQ here in the city, the air was still, and clear, and bitterly cold ; the passers-by looked miser- able, and the scraggy little horses shivered ; while the occasional wearer of a fustanella appeared to be con- scious that the garment was entirely out of keeping with this kind, of climate. But in the salle-^-manger of the Hotel of the Tower of the Winds, in the Palace Square, there was another tale to tell ; the long and lofty apartment had been well warmed by the stoves ; and indeed the two travellers who had just taken their places at the central table found themselves in com- fortable case ; for at this hour there were no other guests, the assiduous waiter was displaying before them a most excellent lunch, while the proprietor himself was opening for them a bottle of Santorin. "Well, Aunt Jean, you've done me many a good turn," said the younger of the two — who seemed rest- less and preoccupied, and would hardly look at the food set' before him— "but never one like this: the long railway-] ourney — in mid-winter — " " Toots, toots, laddie," said Jean Gordon, with her IT* 394 BRISEIS usual good-humor — and she at least paid sufficient attention to the cutlets and macaroni — " it's been noth- ing but a bit Jaunt ! And it's not for Aberdeenshire folk to complain of a whafl of snow — " "There was no one else I could ask for advice or help," he went on. "You are so wise, and shrewd, and kindly ; and then you have her confidence already ; she won't be frightened when she sees you — ^if you can get to see her. But the whole situatioji is so desper- ately difficult. You know how proud she is — ^proud and sensitive. And if I had come away out here by myself, and gone direct to her, her whole nature would have been up in revolt against the assumption — ^the assumption — well, that she was to be had for the asking. She would have shut herself up still more completely — " " The foolish creature," put in Aunt Jean, " to run away and hide herself in this fashion !" " As for that," said he, " I can easily understand her desire to get away from England : she had not been too well treated there ; and I suppose she thought she would seek a refuge with the people amongst whom she had been brought up. And I dare say she wanted to l«ave everything behind her, and cut off all commu- nication with what was bygone. But if there was any intention to keep her whereabouts a secret, then my blessings on that pudding-faced Olga Elliott for blurt- ing it out ! Of course it was spite that prompted her. ' A maid-servant !' says she. ' Gone to be a maid-ser- vant in an asylum for orphan girls in Athens !' And then I knew in a moment ! I knew in a moment ! Why, dozens of times I had heard Briseis talk of that institu- tion, and of the Patronne being an old friend of hers, and of the extraordinary beauty of many of the young girls there. That was how it first came about — that was how she first spoke of it : she was telling me that 'SEEMED ATHENS AS A PARADISE' 395 any one arriving in Athens as a stranger, and expecting to see the creations of Phidias or Praxiteles walking along Hermes-street, would be awfully disappointed with the look of the people — the women in especial ; but on the ether hand, she said, many of the young girls were just divinely beautiful creatures ; and then she told me all about this institution, and about her often going up at the play-hour to have a romp with the grave-eyed small goddesses. ' Oh,' says I to myself, the moment Olga Elliott blundered out with the truth, ' we're all right now — if only Aunt Jean will come along and be the wise counsellor. But the fearful long rail- way-journey — and the crossing from Brindisi to Patras in mid-winter.' " " Get on with your lunch, man !" said Aunt Jean. " And I wish you'd see if they cannot get some seltzer- water with just a bit of a sparkle in it : this is as dead as last Hallowe'en." " Here, gargon !" he boldly called to the waiter, " ^a ne marche pas — cherchez une bouteille qui marche !" "Ye see, Frankie, lad, I'm rather fidgeting to get through," said Miss Jean, in an undertone, "and I'll tell you the reason, though maybe I shouldn't. Do you remember a young officer coming up to speak to me in the railway-station at Brindisi ?" " Yes, I do." " Well, that was an aide-de-camp of Prince George's. And he had come all the way across from Monteveltro on a special mission ; and while you were looking after the luggage he explained the matter to me, and gave me a small box addressed to you, and a letter from your mother addressed to a certain young lady ; and in the event of everything going right, I was to deliv- er both. But bless ye, laddie, how can I sit still and eat in peace while that casket is in my dressing-bag — 396 BKISEIS up-stairs in my room — in a foreign hotel ? — I'm Just on tenterhooks till I get it handed over. The young brigand with the great mustache and the glaring eyes warned me of its value — " "It's a pity you shouldn't have your luncheon in comfort. Aunt Jean," said he, humanely. " Shall I go and fetch down your bag, and you can have it put on a chair, and keep it under your own eyes all the time—" " The very thing !" said Aunt Jean. "Away ye go. Number eight is my room, and the bag is up at the window." In due course the dressing-bag was brought down and placed on the chair at her side ; but still Miss Jean was not satisfied ; perhaps some natural feminine curiosity had to be taken into account. " What I can well understand," she said, " is that your mother and the Prince might wish to send the young lady a little present, as a kind of congratulation on her engagement — if engagement there is to be ; but what I cannot understand is why, seeing they are in Vienna, they should not send it from there — Vienna, the very place for such things ! But to put all this trouble on Prince George, and have that mustachioed brigand come across from Monteveltro, at this time of year, when the mountains are usually snowed up — Frank," she said on a sudden impulse, " I'm going to give ye the casket now : I'm going to take it for grant- ed that all will be well — " "Aunt Jean," he remonstrated, almost despairing- ly, "if you take anything for granted you will ruin everything ! You don't seem to know with whom you have to deal. Briseis Valieri may look very serene in manner and self-possessed, but she's as easily startled as a fawn, and sensitive beyond expression. I tell you. 'SEEMED ATHENS AS A PARADISE' 397 you must assume nothing ! We are travelling for pleasure — we came here by accident — oh, any excuse you like ! — but for goodness' sake don't make it ap- pear as though you had come right away from Eng- land to capture her and carry her off. If you knew how proud ^he is— and — and — apprehensive — " " Leave her to me, laddie," said the shrewd Miss Jean ; and then, not to be balked of her little gratifi- cation, she unlocked her dressing-bag, and got hold of the casket, and handed it over. ' " Take ofE the wrap- pers, and let me see." It was worth inspection : even the cover of it — the lid of the casket — ^with its dark-green transparent en- amel ornamented with filigree-work of faded gold, was a piece of exquisite art ; but when he took out the in- closed treasure — a bracelet it was, of- Byzantine design, of elaborate and intricate craftsmanship, and all en- crusted with uncut precious stones — Jean Gordon's covetous eyes were staring. " I'll wager that's from the family jewels !" she ex- claimed. " And that's why it came over from Monte- veltro. Frank, lad," she added, significantly, "your mother didn't persuade the Prince to send you any- thing of that kind when she heard of your first engage- ment. There was not so much approval then." "Poor Georgie !" said he, half - laughing. "She was about dead with terror when she landed at Liver- pool — and just wild with gratitude when she found I wasn't going to cut her throat for jilting me." " Now will ye sit down in quiet and let a body fin- ish her luncheon decently," said Miss Jean ; and he did as he was bid ; whereupon she proceeded with the pastry, and fruit, and sips of Santorin ; but she kept on talking all the same. " I'm not to assume any- thing ? Very well. But I know what your mother 398 BEISEIS has in her mind — that you should take your bride to Vienna, and spend the remainder of the winter there with them, before they go back to the Principality. And a sensible plan too. Dee -side is bleak at the be- ginning of the year. Better wait till the primroses and the hyacinths come out in the woods : that's the time to show the young wife her new home. And ye'U not find me there. I declare to you ye'U not find me there—" " We'll see about that. Aunt Jean," said he — him- self trapped into an assumption. "Na, na; I've been long enough prisoned up in that tower, and never a knight of them coming pranc- ing on his steed, and blowing his bugle, to release me. I'll be ofE to Edinburgh. There's the Leslies, and the Kirkpatricks, and the Kamsays — aplenty of company ; and although they used to say 'dinna misca' a Gordon in the raws of Strathbogie,' there will be quite enough consideration for a Gordon of Grantly a wee bit farther south than Strathbogie. And then I'll be seeing you from time to time, Frankie, to notice if marriage has made any change. Sometimes it does, mind. I'm sure you've heard of that roystering, blustering, bleth- ering idiot, Maceachran — the savagest pulpit-thumper in the north of Scotland — he's like Fin Mac Cowle ' That dang the devil, and gart him yowle '* — and he keeps his wife, and his family, and his elders, and his congregation just in trembling subjection to his thrawn temper and his down-drawn mouth. Dear me, I remember him when he first came to Sanchory — a pale, whitey-faced divinity-student, as gentle as a pet-lamb, and as shy as a school-miss — " * 'That beat the devil, and made him howl.' 'SEEMED ATHENS AS A PARADISE' 399 "And has that fearful change been produced by marriage ?" her nephew asked of her. " E"o, I rather think it's been original sin develop- ing," said Aunt Jean, thoughtfully. Then of a sud- den she looked up. "And now, Frankie, before I set out, give me complete instructions." "Not I," he answered her. "I can trust you, Aunt Jean. You always say and do just the right thing at the right moment — " " Very well, then : the one point settled is that if I can find the runaway, I am to ask her to dine with us this evening. And we are merely two distinguished travellers, passing through Athens — is that the prop- osition ?" "I leave it all to you. Aunt Jean," he said, ner- vously and anxiously. "Prankie, lad, your simulations won't be the least bit of good. She'll suspect something, the instant she sees me — " "I leave it all to you. Aunt Jean," he maintained, doggedly. "And while I am racing and chasing about this un- known town, what are you going to do with yourself ?" "Oh, I don't know," he said, absently, "I suppose I may as well climb away up to the top of the Acrop- olis, to have a general look round. Perhaps I may get a glimpse of the island of Aegina — that was Bri- seis's home, you know, when she was quite a young girl." "Well, I suppose the sooner I'm off the better," said Miss Jean, rising from her chair. "And while I'm getting ready you ought to go and lock up that precious casket in your portmanteau : I'm glad it's out of my charge." A short time thereafter a carriage was drawn up in 400 BBISEIS front of the hotel, and Frank Gordon was pacing to and fro at the foot of the staircase, waiting for Miss Jean to come down. When she did appear, she was buttoning a pair of furred gloves. " 'O little did my mitlier tliinlc,' " she said, as she drew near ' ' ' That day she cradled me, "What lands I was to travel ower' — and the idea of my adventuring into this strange place — all by myself — what is to become of me ? — " "Oh, you'll be all right: you've got a good French tongue in your head, Aunt Jean," he said, encour- agingly. "Every one knows that. With all her ex- perience of Courts, the Mater doesn't speak French near as well as you do, and with such a perfect ac- cent—" "It's you that are the fine judge, Frankie!" she said, mocking at him; and then she stepped across the swept pavement, and took her place in the carriage, and nodded good-by to him, and was driven off. And as they went swiftly and noiselessly through the muffled streets, Jean Gordon had, very little atten- tion to bestow on what she was passing. She knew that this was a much more delicate and difficiilt mis- sion than she had been willing to confess ; and it was not on every one's behalf she would have undertaken it ; but there was little she would not do for her be- loved nephew Frank. In any case, she had now little time for plans and preparations ; the distance was not great ; and just as she had made up her mind that she must trust mainly to luck the carriage was pulled up in front of the institution she was in quest of — a large building with something of architectural preten- ' SEEMED ATHENS. AS A PARADISE ' 401 sions, situated in a quiet and rather outlying part of the city. She let herself down from the vehiclej and stepped across the pavement to the gate ; and there she stood stock-still, for through the railings she beheld a scene that had a sudden and uiTexpected interest for her. The entrance to the institution was not in front, but at the side, and some way along ; and around this shel- tered door- way, and in a little bit of a verandah adjoin- ing, were scattered groups of young girls — ^from seven to fourteen or fifteen their ages might be — who were en- gaged, rather timidly and in a kind of unwonted fash- ion, in picking up handfuls of snow and flinging them, with little cries of exultation, at a solitary figure out in the open. Something seemed to catch in Jean Gordon's throat. For the figure was that of a young woman, tall, and slim, and of a wonderful, agile grace ; and from among the stunted and leafless trees in the strip of gar- den she also was picking up handfuls of snow and hurling them back at her enemies — one against thirty was the unequal contest ; and she was laughing merrily — so merrily that every now and again, through her parted lips, the sunshine gleamed on her perfect teeth. Moreover, the reflected light from the snow had robbed her face of its natural shadows, so that there was a kind of glorification there ; and the brisk exercise had brought a rose-leaf tinge to the pale olive of her cheek ; and her eyes, large, and dark, and lustrous, were laugh- ing as well as her laughing lips. " Bless me," said Aunt Jean to herself, " there's no man alive could withstand the witchery of that creat- ure But when Briseis chanced to notice the newcomer, her expression instantly changed — not to fear, but to simple amazement. She advanced quickly to meet her. 403 BRISEIS " Miss Gordon — in Athens — and all alone ! " she ex- claimed. And then her heart seemed to sink within her. " You— you do not bring ill news ?" " Not at all — not at all \" said Miss Jean^ as she took the girl in her arms and kissed her affectionate- ly on both cheeks. " And I'm not alone : Frank is with me — " Inadvertently and almost imperceptibly Briseis ap- peaYed to draw back a little bit. "And — and who else ?" she asked. " Why, no one ! We are just by our two selves. And of course we don't know a soul in the place ; and we thought it would be awfully kind of yon if you would come and spend the evening with us, at the hotel — the Hotel of the Tower of the Winds — " " All by yourselves !" the girl repeated, in great sur- prise, and yet apparently well pleased. "But come in — come in — you must let me introduce you to my good friend the Patronne, and' she will let me off for the rest of the day ; and I will be your cicerone ; I must show you the Stadion — that will interest you, you know, be- cause of the revival of the Olympic Games — " And therewith she called aloud a few words, in a tongue that MissJean could make nothing of, and straightway the small Greek maidens began to troop into the house, but not before Aunt Jean had assured herself that what she had heard of the exceeding comeliness of many of these youthful daughters of Attica had in nowise been exaggerated. When they went into the apotheke they found that the Patronne was engaged with two Italian ladies who were examining the sewn -work and embroideries wrought by the elder girls in the institution ; accord- ingly they had to wait ; but when all the purchases had been made, and the visitors had departed, Briseis 'SEEMED ATHEKS AS A PARADISE' 40a experienced no difficulty in obtaining her freedom — though with kindly warnings against standing about and getting her feet wet. So that in a brief while she was seated in Aunt Jean's carriage, and presently these two were on their way towards the time-worn Stadion. " Isn't it rather a shame/' said Miss Jean, tentatively, " that that poor lad should be left by himself, while I am getting all the benefit of your instruction ?" " We will call for him at the hotel if you wish it," said Briseis, promptly. " Well, he isn't there, just at present. He said he would wander away up to the Acropolis, to have a look round — " " The Acropolis ? Oh, then, he is brave indeed ! For I fear the steps of the Propylaea will be very slippery with the half-melted snow ; and on the top there are snow-drifts among the broken pillars — one might meet with an accident — " " Couldn't we go up and find him there ?" suggested Miss Jean, who was not much afraid of any such two- penny-halfpenny snow-drift as the town of Athens was likely to produce. " He would be so glad to see you — " " Oh, very well, then," said Briseis, good-naturedly, and she addressed a word or two, again in that mys- terious tongue, to the driver. "You will have a glimpse of the Stadion in passing, and we will go right on to the Acropolis." And now it was that Jean Gordon, despite of all her nerve, knew that her heart was in her mouth ; and little heed did she pay to the Stadion, nor yet to the Olympieion, nor to the temple-crowned, snow-powdered heights beyond. Furtively, underneath the rug, her hand stole to the hand of the girl, and held it fast. "Briseis, my dear child," said she, "I told you I brought no ill-news. And that is true. But I bring 404 BEISEIS news. I don't say that it concerns you — I would not presume to say that. Perhaps it does not — perhaps it does not concern you in the least ; and you must not think me impertinent — " " But what is it. Miss Jean ?" said Briseis, wonder- ing. " Well," said Aunt Jean, after a moment's desperate hesitation, "when you were in London, my nephew Frank was engaged to be married. You knew that, of course. But the engagement is all broken ofE now : he is a free man : and — and he thought you would rather hear of it, in a roundabout way, from me — " For a second the girl did not seem to realize all that this implied, though at the mere first mention of the news she had grown deadly pale ; then suddenly she said, in a sort of breathless fashion — " Miss Jean, Miss Jean, I would rather go back ! You won't mind, will you — some other time I will go to the Acropolis with yotf — some other time — the chil- dren — the Patronne — will be expecting me — " And then she herself appeared to see that this was some kind of admission ; and she made a wild efEort to re- gain her self-control. " Oh, yes, we will go on," she managed to say. "Why not? The Propylaea steps may be a little difficult ; but that's nothing. They may haye cleared a pathway eyen — anyhow — anyhow — it will be a singular spectacle for you — ^you must not miss it. And so you tell me Sir Francis is not to be mar- ried after all ! — well, well — " But with that her heroic efEort to appear unconcerned failed her ; and except for a mechanical sentence now and again she relapsed into a silence that Jean Gordon was too considerate to attempt to break. ' The girl seemed afraid. And meanwhile Frank Gordon was away up on the summit of the solitary hill, stumbling about among the 'SEEMED ATHENS AS A PARADISE' 405 broken pillars, or surveying the wide prospect around him, from the white-clad range of Fames to the blue waters of the Gulf of Aegina. The luck of this fellow! — to have come to Athens for the first time and found it all a marvel of snow-radiance and azure sea. As for his inspection of the ancient monuments, that was of a quite ignorant and perfunctory character ; perhaps his imagination was busy elsewhere ; and unmistakably he had to attend a good deal to his footing — ^for the wind-driven snow had covered over not only the deep seams and fissures in the rock itself but also the spaces between the tumbled and shattered columns, so that everywhere were treacherous holes. But in the roofed- over portion of the Erectheum'there was less of drift ; and here the beautiful scroll-work of the cornices was clearly exposed to view ; so that he lingered in these precincts for a long time — thinking and thinking — perchance of egg-and-dart, and key, and honeysuckle : perchance not. Voices broke in upon his reverie — a strange sound on this lonely and snow -hushed height. They drew nearer; and not wishing to be caught in a corner, as it were, by strangers, he withdrew from this sheltered spot, and passed out by the tall Ionic pillars. When he got into the open, Briseis was standing there. She was standing there, waiting. There was no pretence in her eyes now, as she regarded him. For the mo- ment her attitude was not unlike that of the restored Caryatid in the portico hard by — Just as noble, and simple, and gracious ; but this living and breathing figure was of flesh and blood, as was evident enough in the color of her face and in the shrinking and maiden wistfulness of her look. To him it was all a vision — a flash : the next instant his outstretched hands had seized hers, and drawn her to him. 406 BEISEIS " My own !" he said — and she had no word in reply. By this time Jean Gordon had gone away. The fact is, as the gardeners at Grantly Castle knew to their sorrow, she had a trick, no matter in what outlandish part she might be — or the more outlandish the better — of collecting roots, slips, cuttings, and the like, to try if these could be got to grow in Aberdeenshire; and now, close by the Temple of the Six Virgins, she was industriously engaged in brushing away the snow from certain clumps of withered weeds and thistles, seeking for some prickly bulb of seed that she might carry ofl. Also she was much interested in the figure of the replaced Caryatid, for the mutilated original is in the British Museum ; and she was saying to it : ' Yes, you are indeed very beautiful, and serene, and sweet, but you have not the magnetism and the witch- ery of the laughing girl I saw half-an-hour ago throw- ing snowballs in the orchard.' She left the lovers to themselves. And thus it was that on this spacious plateau, which through so many centuries has been the cynosure of all the civilized world — on this lofty plateau that looks abroad on surroundings sufficiently august — Pentelicus, Hymettus, Aegaleos, and the shining blue of the Bay of Salamis — here it was that a betrothal took place, of two souls that had thought themselves sundered for ever, but had come together at last. And truly it was a fitting day for such a betrothal, a day altogether auspicious ; for it is not every morning that the City of the Violet Crown arrays herself in her bridal robes of silver and white. THE END Sm WALTER BESANT'S WOEKS. Mr. Besant wields the wand of a wizard, let him wave it in whatever direction he will. . . . The spell that dwells in this wand is formed by in- tense earnestness artd vivid imagination. — Spectator, London. There is a bluff, honest, hearty, and homely method about Mr. Besant's stories which makes them acceptable, and because he is so easily under- stood is another reason why he is so particularly relished by the English public. — iV. Y. Times. Self ob Beakek. 4to, Paper, 15 cents. London. Illustrated. 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $3 00. St. Katharine's by the Tower. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, |1 25 ; Paper, 50 cents. The Bell op St. Paul's. 8vo, Pa- per, 35 cents. The Holt Rose. 4to, Paper, 20 cents. All in a Garden Fair. 4 to. Paper, 20 cents. All Sorts and Conditions op Men. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, |1 25 ; 8vo, Paper, 50 cents. Armorel op Ltonesse. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25 ; 8vo, Paper, 50 cents. Beyond the Dreams op Avarice. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 50. Children op Gibeon. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25 ; 8vo, Paper, 50 cents. Dorothy Forster. 4to, Paper, 20 cents. Fifty Years Ago. Illustrated. 8vo, Cloth, $2 60. For Faith and Freedom. Illus- trated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25; Svo, Paper, 50 cents. Herr Padlus. Svo, Paper, 35 cents. Katherine Eegina. 4to, Paper, 15 cents. LiPE OF CoLiGNT. 16mo, Cloth, 80 cents. The Inner House. Svo, Paper, 30 cents. The Ivory Gate. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25. The Rebel Queen. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 50. The World "Went Very Well Then. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25 ; 4to, Paper, 25 cents. To Call Her Mine. Illustrated. 4to, Paper, 20 cents. Uncle Jack and Other Stories. 12mo, Paper, 25 cents. Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New Yokk. 1^* The above works are for sale hy all booksellers, or will be sent by the piibliskers, postage prepaid, to any part o/ the United States, Canada, or Mexico, on receipt of the price. E. D. BLACKMORE'S NOVELS. PERLYCROSS. A Novel. 12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 75. Told with delicate and delightful art. Its pictnrea of rural Eng. lish scenes and characters will woo and solace the reader. ... It is charming company in charming surroundings. Its pathos, its humor, and its array of natural incidents are all satisfying. One must feel thanlfful for so finished and exquisite a story. . . , Not often do we find a more impressive piece of worlc. — N. Y. Sun. A new novel from the pen of R. D. Blackmore is as great a treat to the fastidious and discriminating novel -reader as a new and rare dish is to an epicure. ... A story to be lingered over with delight. — Boston Beacon. SPEINGHAVEN. Illustrated, 12mo, Cloth, $1 50; 4to, Paper, 25 cents. LORNA DOONE. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 00 ; 8vo, Paper, 40 cents. KIT AND KITTY. 12mo, Clotli, $1 25; Paper, 35 cents. CHRISTOWELL. 4to, Paper, 20 cents. CEADOCK NOWELL. 8vo, Paper, 60 cents. EREMA ; OR, My Fathbe's Sin. 8vo, Paper, 50 cents. MARY ANEELEY. 16mo, Cloth, |1 00; 4to, Paper, 15 cents. TOMMY UPMORE. 16mo, Cloth, 50 cents; Paper, 35 cents; 4to, Paper, 20 cents. His descriptions are wonderfully vivid and natural. His pnges are brightened everywhere with great humor ; the quaint, dry turns of thought remind you occasionally of Fielding. — London Times. His tales, all of them, are pre-eminently meritorious. They are remarkable for their careful elaboration, the conscientious finish of their workmanship, their affluence of striking dramatic and narrative incident, their close observation and general interpretation of nature, their profusion of picturesque description, and their quiet and sustained humor. — Christian Intelligencer, N. Y. Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York. a»- The aiove uiarka are for sale by all booksellers, or will be sent by the publishers, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, CaTiadtt, or Mexico, on receipt of the price.