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 VOL. I. 
 
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 http://www.archive.org/details/dulcieeverton01lint 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 BY 
 
 E. LYNN LINTON 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 PATRICIA KEMDALL,' ' THE ATONEMENT OF LEAM DUNDAS,' ETC. 
 
 ^:::^:::^i:5;?^;^ 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 
 T896 
 
% 
 
 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Good-tempered and unselfish ; contented 
 with home and not longing for change ; with 
 a conscience kept scrupulously bright, yet 
 not morbidly introspective nor afraid of 
 spiritual shadows ; knowing little of the 
 sorrows of life and less of its perplexities and 
 sins ; not dabbling in filth on the pretence of 
 searching for an impossible purity ; not a 
 propagandist of any half-crazy faith whatso- 
 ever ; neither the travesty of a young man 
 in dress nor his panting imitator in pursuits ; 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
2 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 neither a * Soul ' nor a ' good fellow ' — neither 
 ' fast ' nor ' earnest ' — Dulcie Everton wasr as 
 unlike any of these modern types as her 
 home was unlike a modern home and her up- 
 bringing had been different from the loose- 
 handed system in present vogue. 
 
 A daintily-touched sentiment of simplicity 
 and reserve gave a tone to the life at Everton 
 Hall which impressed a stranger with the 
 sense of something sweet and rare — some- 
 thing akin to the scent of dried rose-leaves 
 and jessamine flowers heaped up in an old 
 china bowl. There was an almost Puri- 
 tanical spirit over all that quiet life which yet 
 was not narrow nor harsh — not gloomy nor 
 orbidding. It was only simple, contented, 
 refined, and tenderly imbued with that 
 patriarchal flavour which gives more than 
 modern authority to the parents, and less 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 3 
 
 than modern license to the children — entailing 
 on the one the duty of direction, on the other 
 that of obedience to authority. 
 
 If Dulcie had bred true, according to the 
 best traditions of the stock whence she 
 sprang, her brother Aston had in some 
 sense 'sported.' The old Adam had broken 
 out in him ; and that obedience to authority, 
 together with the self-restraint which his 
 parents impressed on him as the only thing 
 becoming to a Christian English gentleman, 
 got decidedly winnowed and scattered by the 
 self-assertive energies and somewhat undis- 
 ciplined impulses more natural to his genera- 
 tion. 
 
 Aston was a fine upstanding young fellow, 
 as ready to do a kind deed as to utter a 
 passionate word — quick at a blow, and lavish 
 with the golden plaster to follow — brave, true, 
 
4 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 and straight as a die — a gentleman and a 
 man of honour, but without that Quaker-hke 
 self-control which made his mother so sweet 
 yet so almost unapproachable — with none of 
 that grave kind of Christian stoicism which 
 lifted his father so far above the heads of the 
 people in and about Green Lanes. In fact 
 he had ' thrown back ' ; and both in person 
 and character reproduced that hardy adven- 
 turer, his father's uncle, whom no school 
 could keep, no experience discipline, and who 
 at last ended his life in an obscure brawl in 
 Mexico, whither his roving fortunes had led 
 him. 
 
 As he was, handsome and generous, true- 
 hearted and brave, incapable of falsehood, 
 meanness, treachery or malice, his gentle 
 mother trembled for his soul while she prayed 
 for its redemption ; and his father feared the 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 5 
 
 bad end which comes to the Man of Wrath 
 when the cup of his ill-doings, and their de- 
 serving, is full. 
 
 Dulcie had none of these fears. To her, 
 Aston was simply perfection, and she saw no 
 flaw in him. Though she did not share, she 
 could sympathize with the ardent tempera- 
 ment which needed wider expansion than that 
 which any young man's home can give ; and 
 when her brother proposed to qualify himself 
 for the duties of an English landlord by 
 doing rough exploring work in Africa, she 
 quite understood the value of the experiment 
 — or thought she did — which came to the 
 same thing. 
 
 Thus, when Aston urged on his parents 
 the immense advantages lying for him in the 
 chances of being eaten by wild beasts, speared 
 by naked savages, or quietly laid low by fever, 
 
6 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 she stood by him heroically, suppressing her 
 own grief and dismay for love's sake. By 
 which it came to pass that Aston Evertcn 
 left Green Lanes for Zanzibar and onward ; 
 with what success remains to be seen. For 
 the present he was out of the home picture 
 and apart from the home life. But there was 
 always the future when he should return and 
 resume his old place as the heir and future 
 proprietor of the estate — all the better 
 equipped for the right management of Here- 
 fords and Southdowns by the experience he 
 had got in shooting buffaloes and koodoos — 
 more alive to the value of silos and grain -lands 
 because of his education in the preparation of 
 manioc and the cooking of yams and papaws. 
 After he left, though Dulcie did not permit 
 herself to fret, she did feel strangely lone- 
 some. The Hall seemed so big and empty 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 7 
 
 for want of that vigorous young life which 
 had filled the whole place with its over- 
 flowing vitality ! The echoes were so silent 
 — the rooms and corridors so deserted ! Often 
 memory and imagination tricked her with a 
 sudden sound — a passing shadow — that for 
 the moment swept away her good sense and 
 better reason ; and she would turn, expecting 
 to see her tall brother come striding down 
 the passage — waiting to hear the strong voice 
 call lustily, ' Dulcie !' or more often, ' Toffee,' 
 or, ' Everton Toffee ' — which was his favourite 
 ' peacock's feather ' of teasing love and 
 affectionate offence. 
 
 But, as he used to say, the thing was too 
 self-evidently suggestive ; and it was all the 
 fault of the unimaginative namegivers, who 
 could not link together two ideas to make a 
 whole. 
 
8 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 ' Dulcie Everton !' Why, she was toffee, 
 and SLigar-candy, biills'-eyes, barley-sugar, 
 and the whole bag of sweets in one ; and 
 who could help seeing the connexion ? 
 
 Ah ! how ardently Dulcie wished that she 
 could now indeed hear herself ' insulted ' as 
 her brother had so often insulted her ; and 
 that she had cause to come running down 
 the stairs to declare, with all a girl's special 
 logic, that she would not, no she would not 
 answer him at all if he called her by that 
 ridiculous name ! 
 
 But Aston, in his ' hollow ship,' tossed on 
 the broad ocean like a shuttlecock between 
 wind and wave, was not very likely to appear 
 suddenly at Everton Hall — not very likely to 
 shout out * Dulcie ' or ' Toffee ' or ' Sugar- 
 plum ' or any other of the thousand absurd 
 names he called her ; unless indeed, that 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 9 
 
 cruel jade Atropos took it in hand to cut his 
 thread of life before the lawful spinning was 
 one third through. Then perhaps his wraith 
 might have glided through the hall in that 
 gray hour of the gloaming which wraiths so 
 specially affect. 
 
 If the Psychical Society has any backbone 
 in it at all, and if the folk who ply it with their 
 weird experiences are not open-eyed dreamers 
 for the one part, or shameless fabricators for 
 the other, this might have been Aston's way 
 of telling his beloved sister that he had fol- 
 lowed the example of Hylas and gone down 
 to ' mash the mermaids at the bottom of the 
 sea,' even as this other went to join the 
 Nereids. Happily, even this shadowy passage 
 of the well-known form was not made, and 
 gradually Dulcie ceased to expect the impos- 
 sible, while things settled down into their 
 
lo DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 narrower groove and more restricted interests. 
 Yet ever Aston's absence was to her mind 
 like an empty sleeve across the family breast ; 
 with this glad difference between the symbol 
 and the real thing— the one would some day 
 be refilled with the living flesh and blood 
 belonging, while the other, if ever aught but 
 empty, could hold only wood and springs. 
 
 The society about Green Lanes was much 
 what all society is in country places in 
 England. There were the two undeniable 
 Olympians who stood apart. Then came the 
 county families, shading off by insensible 
 gradations into the ruck, through the higher 
 and lower middles, till the last stratum of all 
 was reached and the whole thing was social 
 breccia. The Duke and the Earl were the 
 dii majores ; the squirearchy represented the 
 demi-gods. The first claimed the fauteuils, 
 
DULCIE EVERTON ii 
 
 the second the tabotirets, and the rest had to 
 stand. 
 
 Of the squirearchy Mr. Everton was the 
 local head and leader, by virtue of his age, 
 acres and character. After him ranked the 
 well-favoured young owner of Hayes Hill, 
 Martin Harrowby, now somewhere abroad. 
 Then followed the Smiths and the Browns, 
 the Joneses and the Robinsons, the Whites 
 and the Blacks, the Johnsons and the Tom- 
 kinsons, till the tailing grew too attenuated 
 for social recognition, and even the most 
 catholic of the garden-parties knew them 
 not. 
 
 The Rector's family occupied a place apart, 
 as belongs to the Church generally. They 
 were the connecting-link between the lower 
 and the higher of that vague generalization 
 called 'society,' and they did their work well, 
 
12 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 as befitted their place and calling. In their 
 own persons they were well-born folk. He 
 was a Grantley — one of the Grantleys of 
 Loamshire ; and she had been a Merriman — 
 and the Merrimans were people of condition 
 in the county where cider is made and cow- 
 slips are plentiful. Hence, by the power of 
 social consecration, as well as by that of 
 ecclesiastical authority, they stood between 
 the heaven of the high and the earth of the 
 low ; and while one slender hook was hitched 
 into the Duke's garter, another quite as 
 slender clipped a fragment of the flag which 
 that rubicund old sea-dog, Captain George 
 Jones, late of the merchant service, loved to 
 hoist over the Myrtles, where he lived. 
 
 For the rest, there were buxom girls wait- 
 ing their turn ; some fading ; some a point ; 
 others coming on ; with corresponding youths 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 13 
 
 surging home for the holidays and vacation- 
 times, when they might free themselves from 
 the task of opening their several oysters. 
 There were young married people absorbed 
 in the duties of rearing and providing for the 
 children they brought into the world with 
 unfailing regularity every two years or so ; 
 and there were old people who had got 
 through this part of life, and now sat in grey- 
 ness and solitude in the home which had 
 once been bright with the light of youth and 
 love, noisy with the sound of pattering feet, 
 and blithe with happy voices. There was 
 the old maid whom disappointment and her 
 barren youth had soured into so much living 
 vinegar ; and the old maid whom the passage 
 of time had mellowed to a riper beauty and 
 sweetened to a richer tenderness. There 
 were old bachelors of various kinds — some 
 
14 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 fussy and benevolent, some snarling and can- 
 tankerous, and others, again, genial old fellows 
 whose eyes had not lost their twinkle, nor 
 their speech the art of flattery, when a pretty 
 woman came that way. 
 
 And for these more than one spinster had 
 spread her snares — so far in vain ; though 
 often it had seemed as if that special desirable 
 old bird were on the point of being caught. 
 
 All these people managed the parish 
 among them according to status and ability — 
 administering justice ; rebuking evil-doers ; 
 succouring the destitute, and calculating to a 
 fraction how little of the ratepayers' money 
 would keep that widow and her seven chil- 
 dren from absolute starvation ; passing on 
 tramps and vagabonds ; organizing school 
 feasts and village lectures ; and doing all 
 that falls within the range of latter-day duties, 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 15 
 
 whereby it is hoped to somewhat delay the 
 final disintegration of society as we have it, 
 and to maintain the old organization for some 
 time longer. 
 
 And among them all was not one unfaithful 
 wife — not one notoriously gambling, drunken 
 or dissipated husband. The Order of Merit, 
 undeniably due to the society of Green Lanes, 
 might have various degrees of value ; but 
 no one deserved Mrs. Grundy's censure, and 
 the utmost she had the right to do was to 
 sniff a little here and question a little tartly 
 there. No one gave her cause to pronounce, 
 boycott, or condemn. By which it may be 
 seen what an unintellectual, unromantic and 
 uninteresting set they were. 
 
 ' We must give a garden-party,' said Mrs. 
 Everton with the faintest approach to a 
 sigh. 
 
i6 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 'We ought,' returned Dulcie with a de- 
 cided approach to a smile. 
 
 The difference lay in their ages more than 
 in their natures ; Dulcie being at the time of 
 life when movement and change of occupa- 
 tion are as necessary to the human being as 
 flight to the birds on the branches, or frisking 
 to lambs in the meadows ; and Mrs. Everton 
 having come to the period of quiescence and 
 desire for peace. 
 
 'Write the notes, dear,' she then said to 
 her daughter. 'You know the set — just the 
 same as usual ; and fix this day week.' 
 
 ' All right,' said Dulcie. * How I wish 
 Aston was here !' she added wistfully. 
 
 ' Ah ! yes, indeed, dear boy ! We shall 
 miss him terribly,' said the mother. * If 
 only Martin had been at home it would not 
 be so bad. Martin is so helpful at these 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 17 
 
 garden - parties — quite as much so as 
 Aston.' 
 
 She looked at her daughter as she said 
 this, but Dulcie's face did not change. 
 
 ' I wish he had been,' she answered back 
 frankly. ' We do miss him when he is away ! 
 I wonder where he is now, and when he is 
 coming back ?' 
 
 * He ought, soon,' said Mrs. Everton. 
 ' He has been away for over a year now, and 
 his place must want him.' 
 
 ' It will be jolly when he does come home,' 
 said Dulcie. 
 
 Mrs. Everton's gentle face became un- 
 questionably grave. It was never stern. A 
 kind of grave pain was the only sign it gave 
 of what in another would have been tart 
 displeasure. 
 
 * My dear,' she said quietly, ' "jolly " is 
 
 VOL I. 2 
 
1 8 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 such an ugly schoolboy word for a girl to 
 use.' 
 
 ' So it is, dear,' replied Dulcie penitently. 
 * But it slipped out.' 
 
 * I am sure Martin would not like to hear 
 you use such a word,' continued the mother, 
 improving the occasion. ' I know how much 
 he dislikes slang for girls.' 
 
 Again she looked at her daughter ; as 
 indeed she always did when she spoke of 
 Martin Harrowby. 
 
 A good woman, none better, Mrs. Ever- 
 ton was yet not so entirely other-worldly 
 minded as not to covet a prosperous marriage 
 for Dulcie ; and in her own mind she had 
 chosen Martin Harrowby of Hayes Hill as 
 the son-in-law assigned to her by a beneficent 
 Providence and the self-evident fitness of 
 things. 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 19 
 
 ' Poor Martin! Yes,' laughed Dulcie, her 
 frank face full of kindness — of affection, if 
 you will. 
 
 But it was the affection of a sister, con- 
 fessed and unembarrassed, with nothing of 
 the shy consciousness, the tremulous self- 
 revelation of love. For as Martin had never 
 ' made love ' to her, as the phrase goes, and 
 had always been just the careless and half- 
 brotherly good comrade as is natural to 
 young people brought up in the country 
 together, her own heart had not been touched 
 to aught beyond the calmest and most 
 unexciting sisterly affection. Indeed, Dulcie 
 Everton was not the kind of girl to let her- 
 self fall in love, in even an evanescent way, 
 with any man who had not first asked and 
 sued. She had none of those impelling 
 impulses which make some girls as much the 
 
20 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 seekers as the sought, and leave others like 
 ripe plums ready to fall at the first breath of 
 a passing zephyr, but held herself in uncon- 
 scious maidenly reserve, neither seeking nor 
 in premature readiness. No ; she was as 
 sincerely fond of her old playfellow Martin as 
 she was of Aston himself; and Mrs. Everton 
 saw that no difference, save of degree, 
 existed — as yet — between the two affections. 
 All the same she hoped and dreamed — as 
 mothers will. 
 
 ' I remember how fearfully offended he was 
 with me once when I said he looked like 
 a masher,' continued Dulcie. ' He was days 
 before he forgave me, and then not quite.' 
 
 'And he was right,' said Mrs. Everton. 
 ' It was both rude and vulgar. And Dulcie, 
 my dear child, you might improve your 
 grammar.' 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 21 
 
 Whereat, being her second rebuke within 
 five minutes, Dulcie silently wondered if 
 anything ailed her generally placid mother 
 to-day. Then, kissing her, she went to 
 write the notes which fixed the garden-party 
 for that day week, and asked the usual set of 
 unexciting neighbours and respectable com- 
 panions. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 They were sitting by the sea-shore, among 
 the fragrant herbs and under the lee of the 
 moss-grown boulders. Before them sparkled 
 the waters of ' the wine-coloured sea ' ; 
 behind them rose the purple mountains 
 fencing them off from the outer world. 
 Beyond those mountains lay his obligations 
 as an English landowner, like ghosts in the 
 twilight beckoning him to leave the enchanted 
 garden wherein he had lost himself, and go 
 back to active life and civic duty — go back 
 now at once, as an honest man should, before 
 further evil was done. 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 23 
 
 And beyond those mountains too, were 
 her warning spectres of deceived love and 
 betrayed trust. 
 
 Sweltering in the heat of the stifling city, 
 that she might keep her loveliness fresh in 
 the cool sea-breezes, her husband dreamed of 
 her beauty and wrought for her pleasure. 
 But for all those beckoning ghosts of 
 neglected duties — for all those dividing 
 spectres of sin and shame — the man, sitting 
 here on the sea-shore by the side of this fair 
 woman, loved her beyond truth or honour : — 
 and the woman said she loved him. 
 
 He was urging her now, once again as 
 before, to abandon all for him and love — 
 name, place, honour, virtue — to give up the 
 husband who loved her, and against whom 
 she had no cause of complaint save that 
 which some women find in the very marriage 
 
24 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 tie itself — to give up her social position, her 
 right to rank among the respectable women 
 of the world, and go with him to England, 
 where he promised that she should have an 
 ideal life for her own part while making the 
 glory and delight of his. 
 
 He urged his suit with passion, with in- 
 sistence. She listened with a soft and sweet 
 attention, as if seriously considering the 
 feasibility of the plan. For some time she 
 kept silence, and his hope rose high. He 
 knew that hesitation was the lover's friend ; 
 and she seemed to hesitate — leaning more to 
 the side of acquiescence than to that of re- 
 fusal. At last she spoke — slowly, sweetly, 
 sadly, as one making her decision through 
 much pain. 
 
 * I love you/ she said ; ' you know that I 
 do. But the more I love you, dear, the less 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 25 
 
 could I do a thing that would put you in a 
 false position with your friends and bring on 
 you their displeasure.' 
 
 Her accent and manner conveyed the im- 
 pression of noble self - effacement, finely 
 rendered. 
 
 ' What is the whole world to me, compared 
 with one hour of your love ?' he cried. ' You 
 in a desert before thrones without you !' 
 
 She yielded herself yet more pliantly to 
 the arm that clasped her waist. Her large 
 soft eyes were full of the tenderest response. 
 Round her exquisite mouth hovered that faint 
 smile whereof the mingled sorrow, love and 
 resignation are so divine. Her long white 
 fingers closed on his with a gentle pressure 
 that somehow conveyed the sense of con- 
 suming passion, yet of lofty renunciation. 
 Love was in all her attitude, her face, her 
 
26 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 form. Love was the atmosphere wherein 
 she Hved, the spirit that she breathed. With 
 such depth of passionate love how could she 
 resist both him and herself? 
 
 ' You should be so happy !' he whispered. 
 
 ' You should never know a care or cross. 
 My whole life should be devoted to you. 
 You should never regret your trust in 
 me.' 
 
 ' Yes, I believe that,' she answered tenderly. 
 ' I do not hesitate for myself. I know the 
 life you would make for me. But it is for 
 your own sake, darling.' 
 
 ' But why for me, Elaine ? Do you think 
 I am not strong enough to brave that miser- 
 able little thing we call Society — that 
 company of dolts and hypocrites — for the 
 glory of your love ? With you by my side 
 what could touch me ?' 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 27 
 
 ' Yes, you are strong enough, and noble 
 enough, my Martin ; I know that. But could 
 I bear to see it ? — to know that for my sake 
 old friends had forsaken you, that you had 
 lost your position in the county, that you 
 were an outcast, rather than the leader you 
 are now ? It is a heavy responsibility for 
 a woman to take on herself. If she loves, 
 as I love you, it is an impossible respon- 
 sibility.' 
 
 She sighed, and an unwritten world of 
 tenderness made that sigh a caress. She did 
 not say aloud how^ever, what she thought 
 within herself, that the consequences she de- 
 precated for him would be insupportable for 
 herself. She, of all women, was least able to 
 follow to its practical outcome that misleading 
 old saying about the World Well Lost for 
 Love. She liked the world and intrigue 
 
2 8 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 better than she loved love. The pleasures of 
 Society entranced her ; its vanities were the 
 objects of her serious ambition. She rejoiced 
 in the number of men whom she could in- 
 flame to passion and reduce to despair, and 
 strung their names on her secret chaplet as 
 so many beads on a poisoned string. When 
 she entered the crowded drawing-rooms of 
 Paris it was delight unspeakable to see how 
 her beauty made strong men grow pale, and 
 to hear that strange catching of the breath 
 which is as eloquent as applause, when she 
 swept by. To know that no woman in the 
 whole of that mad city could stand as her 
 rival and come out victorious — that the most 
 loyal man could not hold fast by his honour if 
 she beckoned him to yield — that through all 
 the dangers of her hidden life she possessed 
 a kind of self-protecting charm which not 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 29 
 
 the wildest nature among them all dared to 
 revenge or betray — what greater triumph 
 could the most queenly splendour give 
 her? 
 
 And to give up this life of hers, such as it 
 was, for the sake of one only, was a sacrifice 
 she would not have made, let that one have 
 been the king on his throne. Certainly she 
 would not for Martin Harrowby of Hayes 
 Hill, the young English Squire whom she 
 had taken for her pastime, held for so long 
 as it suited her convenience, and now was 
 bound to get rid of. 
 
 The moment was dangerous. Martin had 
 become importunate and unreasonable, not 
 , recognizing the logic of circumstances, and 
 demanding the impossible ; and Elaine's 
 husband, Jacques Courcelles, was coming 
 now, on the instant, to Mentone. 
 
30 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 This was the last time these two could meet 
 together in security. They must separate ; 
 or Martin must cons'^nt to be discreet and 
 wise ; or, that third way, but the impossible ! 
 — she must do as he prayed, and go off to 
 England with him, prepared to brave all the 
 sordid consequences of her romantic sacri- 
 fice. This was what he desired ; and this 
 was what she had not the smallest intention 
 of doing. If she had run away with all the 
 men who had asked her as fervently as poor 
 Marlin prayed her now ! She had had more 
 sense, and so had preserved herself ; and by 
 this time those others had either died or con- 
 soled themselves, and she was free of them. 
 
 But she knew that she must temporize 
 with a man like Martin Harrowby, and re- 
 frain from aught that would look like self- 
 consideration. Her refusal must be based 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 31 
 
 on the highest grounds of unselfish love, and 
 it must convey the distinct impression of self- 
 abnegation for that love's sake. 
 
 Martin — blind, obstinate, pertinacious, as 
 the sincere lover always is — would not accept 
 this decision. The World Well Lost was a 
 truth of truths to him ; and, confident as 
 youth and love together make a man, he felt 
 sure that he could give up all that makes life 
 worth living to the normal English gentle- 
 man, and yet be happy — having her. That 
 she should hold by the things which he was 
 so ready to renounce, never entered into his 
 honest head to conceive. Love would not 
 have the prepotency it has were it not for its 
 marvellous egoism — its sublime belief in its 
 power to offend man, God, and the law, and 
 to live victorious over circumstances, and 
 sublimely unrepentant to the end. 
 
32 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 ' Would that be such a trial to me as to 
 lose you?' said Martin in the voice wherein a 
 man's very soul speaks. * Would the loss ot 
 a few friends and acquaintances be equal to 
 the blank misery of a life without you ? Is 
 this the despair to which you are going to 
 condemn me, Elaine ? And all for a false 
 notion of regard for me !' 
 
 'And condemn myself to the same despair,' 
 she answered gently. ' But it must be ; and 
 some day you will thank and bless me, and 
 say that I did well, and proved myself your 
 best friend.' 
 
 ' Never !' cried Martin a little wildly. ' I 
 shall say to the end that you have ruined 
 my life ! It would be worse than murder. 
 T/ia^, at least, would be soon over — this 
 cruelty will be for all time.' 
 
 She looked grave — grave even to dis- 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 33 
 
 pleasure. But she was still gentle, as 
 one who would not let her wrath lie 
 heavy on maybe a too passionate pleader 
 — but then, how devoted and adoring a 
 lover ! 
 
 ' That is a terrible accusation,' she said. 
 ' But even that I can bear, for your sake. I 
 appeal from the present to the future ; and 
 the future will judge me fairly.' 
 
 * What can I say to make you alter your 
 decision ?' said Martin, clenching his hand 
 till he dug the nails into the palm. 
 
 ' Nothing, dear. To make me alter it 
 would be to change my whole nature. You 
 must first make me selfish and inconsiderate. 
 I have done you enough wrong, my darling, 
 in loving you — in letting you love me. I 
 must not add to it your social ruin. Mine 
 has been the sin, mine must be the burden ; 
 
 VOL I. 3 
 
34 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 for I need hardly say to yo2i what my Hfe will 
 be without you.' 
 
 As she said this she turned her eyes 
 full upon him — those wonderful eyes, soft 
 and brown and velvet-like, which knew so 
 well how to sweep the very soul out of a 
 man ! 
 
 ' Don't r cried Martin. * My God, if you 
 look like that I shall go mad !' 
 
 She put up her hand, and hastily brushed 
 away the tears that had gathered within the 
 lids, and were ready to fall. She had that 
 power ; as she had the power of checking her 
 pulse, so that she could become white and 
 faint at will. 
 
 ' If you grieve so much, what shall I 
 do ?' she cried. ' It makes it so hard to 
 bear !' 
 
 ' I am a brute !' said poor Martin, struck 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 3^ 
 
 with the sense of selfishness. ' I can only 
 excuse myself by saying how much I love 
 you. It makes me forget myself.' 
 
 'Your best self,' she said gently. 
 
 ' But to leave you for ever — I cannot bear 
 it !' said Martin, going back on the central 
 point of his despair. 
 
 * Better sorrow than the sin of your dis- 
 grace,' she almost whispered. 
 
 ' Mine ! mine ! Why do you for ever talk 
 only of mine !' he said. ' Talk to me of 
 yours, and there would be something in it ! 
 I can understand that. To give you up for 
 yourself — to keep your name free from 
 scandal — to know you always on the crest 
 of the wave, as the beautiful and peerless 
 queen you are, that I can understand, as I 
 say. But for myself, Elaine — to put any- 
 thing in comparison with you — fortune, 
 
36 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 name, friends, anything you will — it is 
 blasphemy !' 
 
 ' Well, then,' she answered, as if making a 
 sudden concession ; ' think of me — and spare 
 me.' 
 
 Again she looked at him, her eyes belying 
 her words ; for her eyes spoke of love for 
 him, and her words were for herself. It 
 almost seemed, too, as if those eyes asked 
 him how much he believed of her protesta- 
 tion. 
 
 ' For yourself, for your good, your peace, 
 I could do anything,' said Martin slowly. ' I 
 would go to the stake for- your sake ; and 
 it is worse than the stake to live without 
 you.' 
 
 ' Brave and good — I knew that !' said 
 Elaine. 
 
 Then, with a deep sigh, she closed her 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 37 
 
 beautiful eyes, became white as the white 
 rose at her throat, and leaned back against 
 her lover, as if too faint and weak with 
 emotion to sit upright. 
 
 And now she had conquered, and poor, 
 rash Martin was subdued. He saw that the 
 trial was too much for her. He saw how 
 terribly it shook her to renounce him, to re- 
 sist his pleadings, to deny her own heart ; but 
 he saw too, as she wished he should, that 
 she was resolute, and that it was best for her. 
 So long as it was the question only of his 
 worldly loss, he could combat and entreat. 
 When it touched herself, he was necessarily 
 mute. And Elaine smiled to herself, con- 
 gratulating herself on her cleverness and 
 the skill with which she had skirted by 
 and averted a very great and pressing 
 danger. 
 
38 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 It was not often that she had drifted into 
 such a perilous position. For the most part 
 she had found her lovers more men of the 
 world, and therefore easier to manage than 
 Martin had proved himself to be. It must 
 be a warning to her in the future. She 
 must play with a longer line, and not run 
 such a close risk again. Meanwhile, she was 
 safe ; and her importunate lover was shaken 
 off. 
 
 By that evening's train Martin Harrowby 
 went forth into the wilds of the world and the 
 desolation of life — his happiness wrecked ; his 
 hopes cut down to the roots ; all his past a 
 dream, all his future, despair. The whole 
 thing was at an end for him ; and more than 
 once he speculated on the good of ending his 
 life as well as his hope. Why should he 
 live ? Bankrupt in all that makes life of 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 39 
 
 value, why should he decline on the miser- 
 able pittance left over — the pittance of mere 
 existence void of love, void of hope, void of 
 happiness and interest ? 
 
 But he was young ; and youth, which 
 suffers so much more keenly than age, has 
 also more unconscious compensations in its 
 more solid ties to earth. Unspoken and 
 unformulated, the vague possibilities of the 
 future hover like rays of distant light in 
 the mind. There, on the horizon, broods 
 somewhere that divine Bird of God who shall 
 restore all things. We do not know its 
 name, nor its shape, nor where it bides, nor 
 how it goes ; but we believe that it is there, 
 and that some day it will fly into our bosom, 
 and abide with us to the end. Were it not 
 for this vague consciousness of future healing, 
 tormented youth could not live through its 
 
40 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 various stages of torture ; and the first love- 
 trouble would be the last. But that secret 
 spring which keeps the world fruitful, promises 
 that in the future the present desert shall 
 once more blossom like a rose, and that if all 
 can never be forgotten, something at least 
 shall be redeemed. 
 
 Meanwhile, Martin was not ashamed to 
 weep bitter tears in the solitude of his own 
 chamber — not ashamed to feel as broken- 
 hearted as a love-sick girl while his train 
 sped onwards, carrying him from her — for 
 ever from her ! — not ashamed to be ungrate- 
 ful to God and life, to friends and youth, and 
 to feel at enmity with fate — wanting that 
 supreme delight of all. 
 
 And while he was eating out his heart for 
 all these fiery griefs, his train crossed that 
 wherein Jacques Courcelles was hurrying 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 41 
 
 onward, radiant with love and joy, to the 
 presence of his adored wife. And just as the 
 young Englishman entered Paris — to him like 
 a city of the dead, tenanted only by gibbering 
 ghosts — the good round, dog -faced little 
 merchant, with his heart of gold and his body 
 of the poorest alloy procurable in the work- 
 shop of Nature — his soul that of an angel and 
 his person that of a gnome — stumbled hastily 
 into his wife's room, where she lay in the 
 tranquil sleep of an unsoiled child. 
 
 As he came to the bedside he fell on 
 his knees and gently took her hand, which 
 he kissed with the rapture of a devotee 
 brought face to face with the goddess he 
 worshipped. To him indeed, she was a god- 
 dess — body and mind supernal and beyond 
 humanity ; but body and mind his, and his 
 only. 
 
42 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 Elaine opened her eyes, and saw her hus- 
 band kneelinof there in the tender twiHorht 
 made by the sun breaking through the heavy 
 blinds and curtains. She saw his eyes full 
 of adoring tears — his happiness just touched 
 with pain because of its intensity — and in her 
 heart she said : ' Poor fool !' 
 
 ' Ah, darling !' she exclaimed, throwing her 
 arms round his neck, and kissing his damp 
 forehead. 'How I have longed for you ! 
 How miserable I have been without you ! 
 How overjoyed that you have come !' 
 
 Her loosened robe fell aside, and showed 
 the white, firm shoulder which not twenty- 
 four hours ago Martin Harrowby had kissed. 
 
 * My angel ! my own dear angel !' was all 
 that honest Jacques could say ; for Nature 
 had denied him eloquence, as she had denied 
 him grace or beauty. His sole gifts were 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 43 
 
 goodness and a shrewd kind of business 
 flair. But he indemnified himself for his 
 sparse utterances by almost reverently kissing 
 that bared white shoulder. 
 
 ' Ah, dear head, once more !' said Elaine, 
 laying her hand on the grizzled scrubbing- 
 brush which touched her with such de- 
 votion. 
 
 ' And have you missed me, little one ?' he 
 asked. 
 
 'Ah! more than I can say,' said Elaine. 
 ' I have never missed you so much — never 
 been so glad to see you, my darling !' 
 
 ' God bless you for that !' ejaculated the 
 husband, transported to the very heaven of 
 heavens for gratitude and joy. 
 
 But Elaine, turning away her head, furtively 
 wiped the lips which had touched his fore- 
 head, and the hand which his had clasped. 
 
44 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 Her acting was perfect ; so was her self- 
 control. She argued with herself that, as 
 she made her husband supremely happy and 
 Was the only one to suffer, what did it 
 signify how much falsehood there was in her 
 caresses, how much pretence in her welcome ? 
 To her, Jacques Courcelles, her husband, 
 was useful as a banker's book, as a shield, in 
 some sort as a protection against the rash 
 desires of the Martin Harrowbys of her life. 
 So long as she hoodwinked and contented 
 him, and he gave her the sanction of his 
 name and the use of his income, she thought 
 she was in her right to have that secret 
 under-current of private pleasure. He had 
 no cause to complain; the world had no right 
 to censure ; and she had all she wanted. A 
 little show of tenderness to the source of all 
 was not too heavy a tax to pay. Common- 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 45 
 
 sense goes further than exaggeration ; and 
 this way of looking at things was essenti- 
 ally that of vicious reason and unrighteous 
 common-sense. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 No psychological novelist, on the look-out for 
 copy, would have given a moment's thought 
 to the people who came to Mrs. Everton's 
 garden party. Nor would he have gleaned 
 the very smallest harvest if he had. Virtuous, 
 orthodox, unromantic, respectable, they had 
 not the makings of an Ibsen play or a fi-fi 
 novel among them. Even Balzac himself 
 would have found them difficult to portray 
 and a tough job to idealize ; and as material 
 for analysis they were nowhere. 
 
 True, there were some among them who 
 were palpably discontented with their lot in 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 47 
 
 life ; but not the most liberal interpreter of 
 human feeling could have dignified that dis- 
 content as ' divine,' nor have found in it the 
 germ of poetry. Commonplace, square-toed 
 folk, not given to fine phrases, and incapable 
 of that kind of high falutin which finds evil 
 interesting and good prosaic, would have 
 bluntly described the discontent which certain 
 of the neighbours showed as ill-temper due to 
 idleness and sluggish liver. 
 
 Such a man, for instance, as that prosaic 
 old optimist, that hale and rubicund old sea- 
 dog, Captain George Jones, would have 
 bustled them off with — ' Give 'em something 
 to do, says I ; make 'em work as I have 
 done, till I very nigh dropped, I did. Make 
 'em work for their rations, the lazy lubbers, 
 and they'll soon get all the nonsense knocked 
 out of 'em, or I'll eat 'em, I will,/ 
 
48 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 And even Percy Merritt, the Idealist, 
 artist, romancist and New Light generally of 
 Green Lanes — did he not contribute both 
 prose and verse to the local newspaper ? — 
 did he not follow on the chariot-wheels of 
 the Impressionists and make word -pictures 
 which were only like so many dabs of colour 
 with neither incident nor drawing to speak 
 of ? — did he not quote Carlyle, sit at the feet 
 of Ruskin, profess to understand Browning, 
 and call things unintelligible or immoral 
 'distinctly precious '? — yet even he could not 
 pump up anything like sentimental sympathy 
 for Lucinda Ware's chronic pouts, nor excuse 
 Mrs. Amanda Potts' snappish complaints 
 against her good-natured, fat-faced husband, 
 whom all the world liked, and wondered why 
 she did not — for what in the name of fortune 
 had she to complain of ? 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 49 
 
 Thus, it will be seen that really a garden- 
 party, where no man flirted with another 
 man's wife and no brazen hussy of a girl 
 tried to win the heart of another woman's 
 husband — where jealousy was as rudimentary 
 as the intellectual faculties of a baby, and 
 the darker passions came to no deeper shade 
 than dove-colour for black — such a garden- 
 party as this was but a tame affair in these 
 highly-spiced days of ours, when the under- 
 current runs along with such headlong speed, 
 and the Ten Commandments are swept away 
 by its force as so many straws in a stream. 
 
 Perhaps there were potentialities — who 
 knows ? It is only by trial that things prove 
 themselves, and smokeless powder has the 
 same explosive strength as the other kind. 
 
 There was Dulcie Everton, for example — 
 untried, undeveloped, untested in every way ; 
 
 VOL. I. 4 
 
so DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 who knew what latent force might not be 
 lying within her, like the curled crozier-head 
 of a future fern ? — like the unhatched bird in 
 the dumb egg ? As things were, she was 
 just a sweet-tempered, unselfish, affectionate 
 girl, with no dominant characteristic of a 
 resonant or recondite sort. Call her a good 
 girl or an amiable one, and there you were. 
 You had no more to say ; for time and oppor- 
 tunity had as yet been wanting to prove the 
 real quality of her nature. The old Captain 
 had no other word for her than : ' Aye, 
 she's a brave lass ' ; and Percy Merritt had 
 exhausted even his abundant vocabulary and 
 come to the end of his analytical tether when 
 he said : ' Charmingly ingenuous — a sweet 
 feast of innocent self-unconsciousness.' 
 
 Even the father and mother, who had 
 watched her gradual development from the 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 51 
 
 cradle up to now — even they had no more 
 definite idea concerning her than this of 
 universal acceptance : ' unselfish, amiable, 
 affectionate.' As for Aston, if he had 
 analyzed his feelings and thoughts, he would 
 have come to the bottom fact of both : 
 ' unselfish, amiable, affectionate of course — 
 born into the world for nothing else than to 
 obey her father, take care of her mother, and 
 attend to every whim and wish of his, her 
 lordly brother.' 
 
 All this was true to nature ; for while as 
 yet in the bud one curled-up crozier-head 
 is very like another ; and you cannot for 
 the life of you tell whether the egg you 
 , hold in your hand will hatch out a brood- 
 ing, clucking, peaceable Dame Partlett, or a 
 lordly, strutting, combative young chanticleer. 
 
 All things went on in their usual course. 
 
52 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 The Browns, Jones's and Robinsons were 
 mildly amused and amenable to regulations. 
 The young men served well or ill according 
 to ability ; the girls volleyed close or wide 
 according to theirs. The muscular young 
 curate did his cecumenical spooning with 
 discretion ; the elder ladies looked on and 
 noted, and the elder men a little envied him 
 his fleetness of step and his catholicity of 
 taste. Lucinda Ware, who affected him — 
 this discreet young curate, Adolphus Tyson — 
 was less sulky and uncomfortable than usual ; 
 but Mrs, Amanda Potts aimed her spiteful 
 little shafts at men in general and husbands 
 in particular — and most of all, her own 
 husband, as an outrageous specimen of the 
 whole class — just as she had done many times 
 these dozen years. Percy Merritt talked 
 weak sestheticisms to Mrs. Grantley, and 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 53 
 
 Mrs. Grantley found him both tiresome and 
 inane. And there was over all a general 
 atmosphere of steam and exertion, and of 
 damp young men mopping themselves with 
 inadequate pocket-handkerchiefs, and fair- 
 complexioned girls whose roses had run up 
 to unbecoming peonies. The tea, lemonade, 
 strawberries and claret-cup were all at a 
 premium ; and, but for the wasps and midges, 
 the afternoon would have been perfect. But 
 wasps and midges have to be reckoned with 
 as well as ripe fruit and shady trees ; and 
 even at a garden-party all is not gold without 
 alloy. 
 
 The afternoon was drawing to a close, and 
 the last sett was being played. Already some 
 of the more distant of the guests had de- 
 parted for their respective homes, when a 
 dogcart drove up the avenue — that beautiful 
 
54 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 lime-tree avenue which was one of the most 
 precious ornaments of the Hall. The dog- 
 cart drew up at the porch; a man jumped out, 
 and came across the flower-garden and the 
 broad walk to the lawn where the party had 
 assembled ; and, in another moment, Martin 
 Harrowby was shaking hands with Mrs. 
 Everton and Dulcie, and asking the Squire 
 how he did, without waiting for an answer or 
 expecting to have one. 
 
 Yes, it was their friend and neighbour 
 Martin Harrowby sure enough — Dulcie's 
 former playmate and tormentor ; but heavens ! 
 how terribly he had changed ! He had left 
 home rather more than a year ago, a careless, 
 happy, fair-faced young fellow, who, save in 
 the loss of his father, had never known a 
 day's sorrow — for his mother had died so 
 long ago as to be now a disused pang and a 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 55 
 
 forgotten grief. He came back grave, pre- 
 occupied, with a grey kind of shade over his 
 face, a network of wrinkles about his mouth 
 and forehead, and a curiously wild look of 
 sadness in his eyes, which made one's own 
 heart sad to see. He seemed like one who 
 has looked into the face of death and read 
 the secrets of the other life — like one who 
 has stood in the magician's circle and seen 
 the shape of his Destiny hurry by and heard 
 the fatal words of doom. All the youth 
 and elasticity of soul that he took away 
 with him seemed to have been burnt out of 
 him, and to have rendered back only the 
 husk of his former self. He was Martin 
 Harrowby truly ; but with a difference that 
 practically separated his present self from his 
 past. 
 
 ' I did not know you were coming home, 
 
56 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 Martin. When did you come ?' asked Mrs. 
 Everton in her sweet placid way. 
 
 ' Late last night,' he answered. ' You see 
 I have lost no time in coming to see you,' he 
 added a little feverishly. 
 
 ' That was good of you,' returned Dulcie's 
 mother, smiling. 
 
 ' And how is my old chum and playfellow ?' 
 asked Martin, turning abruptly to Dulcie. 
 
 His manner indeed was abrupt all through, 
 as is the case with a man whose nature is 
 strained, and who is forcing an appearance of 
 interest while the reality lies far hence. 
 
 ' Oh, I am all right,' said Dulcie prosaically. 
 ' But I cannot say that you look very well, 
 Martin. Are you well ? Have you been 
 ill ?' 
 
 ' 111 ? no ! what rubbish !' he said a little 
 hurriedly and more than a litde rudely. 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 57 
 
 It was as if the question annoyed him — as 
 if he did not care to be taken stock of and 
 observed too closely, even by old friends and 
 in affection. 
 
 ' Perhaps it is the climate,' said jMrs. 
 Everton with a fine generosity of generaliza- 
 tion, meant to be like the cloak of charity, 
 reaching over all possible contingencies. 
 
 ' A hot sun burns one,' said Martin. 
 
 And then an inexplicable something came 
 into his face, and he turned away his eyes as 
 if they saw something that gave him pain. 
 Evidently the hot sun had burnt him ; and 
 he was conscious of the smart. 
 
 ' Where have you come from last ?' asked 
 Dulcie, innocently ignorant — unsuspectingly 
 obtuse. 
 
 ' I have been in Morocco and Algiers,' 
 replied Martin, evading a direct answer. 
 
58 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 What good would it be to tell her that he 
 had halted in Paris for two months on his 
 way home ; and then, instead of crossing 
 over to England, had turned back as far as 
 Mentone, whence indeed he had just arrived ? 
 What good to tell them aught that would 
 give them the slenderest thread as a clue to 
 his miserable secret ? 
 
 ' How delightful !' said Dulcie, whose heart 
 silently nourished the unavailing wish to 
 travel and see foreiofn lands and customs. 
 
 ' Yes ; Tangier is interesting. So is 
 Algiers,' said Martin. 
 
 Then, not caring to be further put to the 
 question, he turned to the group sitting or 
 standing under the hornbeam, discussing such 
 of their neighbours as were beyond ear- 
 shot, and finding most of the social way from" 
 Dan to Beersheba a moral waste. 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 59 
 
 And but one thought passed like an electric 
 sparl^ from each to each : 
 
 ' How wretchedly ill Martin Harrowby 
 looks ! What on earth has he done to him- 
 self ? The man looks like a ghost, or as if he 
 had been in hospital for a month I He used 
 to have rather good manners ' — neighbours 
 in a country place never allow themselves to 
 become enthusiastic about one another — ' and 
 now he is so abrupt and indifferent as to be 
 quite boorish. He never seems to hear what 
 is said to him ; and what a disagreeable way 
 he has of lookinaf over one's head when one 
 speaks to him. He seems only half there ; 
 and it is horrid !' 
 
 But grumble as they might, and speculate 
 as to causes as they would, no one got a hint 
 or indication out of Martin. He was changed ; 
 as they all saw and said ; but they had to 
 
6o DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 content themselves with the fact, and let the 
 explanation settle itself. And this reticence, 
 seeming to point as it did to a secret, not 
 to say mystery, made Martin Harrowby, the 
 once popular young Squire of Hayes Hill, 
 perhaps the most unpopular man in the whole 
 district. 
 
 They all tried to 'draw' him. Mr. 
 Grantley threw out tentative hints as to the 
 holy influence which the Church can exercise 
 on a mind diseased, and Mrs. Grantley 
 lamented the loss to a young man of his 
 moiher, when he was in trouble. Mr. Everton 
 spoke in general terms of reprobation of those 
 who suffer private griefs to interfere with 
 public duties, and maintained the grand power 
 of healing lying in magisterial work and the 
 County Council. Some of the prettier girls 
 looked as if they would have accepted the 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 6i 
 
 office of consoler and Light-bearer at a 
 moment's notice ; and some of the young 
 men ventured on chaff, which for the most 
 part they did not repeat. 
 
 The old sea-dog winked his left eye and 
 said both confidently and confidentially : 
 
 ' For twopence — a petticoat ! There's a 
 woman in the case or my name's not George 
 Jones.' 
 
 So it might or might not be. All they 
 knew was that Martin went into magisterial 
 and local work with a kind of dogged atten- 
 tion to his duties that considerably discom- 
 posed, because it distanced his comrades and 
 companions ; and that he rode about the 
 lanes like a demon rather than a sober 
 county gentleman — which made the yokels 
 wonder whether he were a bit soft or drunk. 
 
 And ever there rested on his face that 
 
62 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 haunted look of a man whose eyes have 
 peered into the world beyond the grave, and 
 who can never forget the things he has seen 
 and heard. He was like one who had lost 
 his soul. The body was there, alive and 
 sound ; the mind was there, active and alert; 
 but that other something — that thing we call 
 our soul, our spirit, had left him and reduced 
 him to a bit of clever mechanism — an auto- 
 matic organism with but little self-conscious- 
 ness and still less responsibility. 
 
 So he wandered on that way we call life, 
 performing his civic duties with painful 
 regularity, because with that painful indiffer- 
 ence of a moral kind which showed how 
 purely mechanical and functional they were. 
 As a magistrate he was neither harsh nor 
 lenient, but Rhadamanthine in his inflexible 
 adherence to the law as laid down by 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 63 
 
 authority. If that law were elastic and 
 allowed of his discretion he turned the scale 
 perhaps one quarter degree to the side of 
 mercy, but in general he seemed not to know 
 that such a thing as pity existed, or that the 
 culprit before him was a human being of 
 sentient nerves and Inner feelings. It was 
 as a dead man judging of the living — a ghost 
 from the tomb awarding fines and penalties 
 to those he had left behind in the flesh. 
 
 All this made him an eerie kind of person- 
 age in the place where once he had been the 
 blithest companion and the lightest-hearted 
 merry-maker of them all. And he could not 
 be ignored — not left alone, as a smaller man 
 might have been. A restricted country society 
 cannot afford to boycott one of its most in- 
 fluential members, because he looks more 
 melancholy than other people like, and be- 
 
64 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 cause he will not make public confession of 
 what has so strangely altered him from his 
 former self. To be sure, he gave the neigh- 
 bours but little cause to weary of him ; for, 
 save to the Evertons, he rarely went to any 
 family in the place or joined in any of the 
 amusements. And when he did go he was 
 *no acquisition,' as Lucinda Ware said sourly. 
 
 Thus, he had to be taken on his own 
 terms or not at all ; and those terms were, 
 undisguised indifference to one and all, and 
 the conscious possession of something which 
 he kept to himself and imparted to no one. 
 
 The doctor hinted at melancholia ; and this 
 by degrees got to be the received opinion. 
 Poor Martin Harrowby was certainly losing 
 his mind, and his end would probably be — 
 suicide. 
 
 Meanwhile, the kindly hoped and the 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 6 s 
 
 dramatic exaggerated ; and Martin's ap- 
 proaching insanity became a kind of test-case 
 in Green Lanes as to the amount of evidence 
 which the normal man, not to speak of 
 woman, requires before jumping to con- 
 clusions and landing heavily on unproved 
 certainties. 
 
 The Evertons alone scouted the theory 
 as both injurious and ridiculous ; and people 
 said it was wicked of them to do so, and a fly- 
 ing in the face of Providence all round. And 
 for people who professed such high principles 
 as they did, it was doubly wrong, and calcu- 
 lated to bring down a judgment on them — as 
 it would, sooner or later. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 No one knew where Dulcie Everton's power 
 of soothing lay. She was not specially soft 
 in speech and she had none of that senti- 
 mental sympathy which lessens pain by 
 tender exaggeration. For, under this tender 
 exaggeration, self-pity for martyrdom in- 
 sensibly glides into self-admiration for hero- 
 ism ; and the tortured soul finds in the 
 magnitude of its sorrow that kind of pride 
 which some people find in the magnitude of 
 their ailments. 
 
 But this was not Dulcie's way ; for indeed 
 she never exaggerated anything, having an 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 67 
 
 amount of common-sense and perception of 
 proportion that was the very antithesis of 
 inflation, sympathetic or otherwise. Nor 
 had she a caressing manner ; and, save 
 to her own people, she was more sparing 
 than lavish of endearments. She did not 
 know, still less practise, the very rudi- 
 ments of feminine purring ; yet she had, 
 as has been said, a strangely soothing in- 
 fluence over all who were downhearted or 
 in trouble. 
 
 Perhaps her power came from her absolute 
 mental sanity, so that she was to the sick 
 soul what perfectly pure air is to the sick 
 body. Perhaps it came from her uncon- 
 sciousness of self, so that she gave the im- 
 pression of spiritual plasticity, of unaffected 
 receptivity, which made a kind of down 
 cushion for the weary on which to lean. It 
 
68 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 was one of those subtle qualities which do 
 not easily lend themselves to analysis. All 
 the same, there it was ; and no one could be 
 long in her society without feeling this charm 
 of spiritual rest which probably no one could 
 describe or explain. 
 
 To Martin Harrowby this subtle quality 
 was specially delightful — if indeed anything 
 could be called delightful to this poor passion- 
 tossed Pilgrim of Love. May be, the utmost 
 that could in fairness be said was, that he 
 was less miserable when with Dulcie than 
 when with anyone else. Somehow she suited 
 him. Their tastes agreed ; and by her want 
 of demonstrativeness she never jarred his 
 nerves — only too apt to be jarred novv-a-days! 
 She amused him. Ah ! was it really amuse- 
 ment, or the lull which comes with momentary 
 distraction ? That line between the active 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 69 
 
 and passive is so fine, so easily overstepped, 
 so often indistinouishable ! 
 
 Let all that be as it might, the result was 
 patent, however deeply hidden the cause. 
 To Martin, heart-broken for the loss of that 
 fascinating Daughter of Lilith — that beautiful 
 and unscrupulous witch-woman whom he 
 loved to his shame and sorrow — this purely 
 natural, innocent and self-unconscious girl, 
 brought both balm and blessing — both rest 
 and refreshment. 
 
 Dogs played a rather large part in the life 
 of the Everton family, and Dulcie had her 
 special favourites and belongings. Among 
 them was a clever little black poodle, to whom 
 she had taught all manner of quaint tricks, 
 and given a certain almost humanized intelli- 
 gence ; so that it seemed as if he understood, 
 if not quite up to the binomial theory, yet more 
 
70 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 than the mere skeletonized sentences which 
 most dogs learn to understand. This dog, 
 Maitre Ange, was her constant companion ; 
 and wherever Dulcie was there also were those 
 four tufted legs and that sharp black muzzle, 
 the owner of which had always something 
 queer or affectionate to do or say, from walking 
 on two legfs to a fine discrimination between 
 the two political leaders who divided the 
 country between them. As Martin loved 
 animals according to the rule of men who 
 have been brought up in the country, Maitre 
 Ange grew to be quite a bond of union 
 between Dulcie and himself; and he busied 
 himself with that curly-coated creature's edu- 
 cation as if it were his own property that he 
 was improving. He added party shibboleths 
 to the two leaders' names ; so that really 
 Maitre Ange grew to have a very respect- 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 71 
 
 able political repertoire, and could express an 
 opinion on Home Rule or Unionism — one 
 man one vote — the best to lead — the one to 
 scuttle and the one to hold fast — with the most 
 intelligent bucolic voter in the place. It was 
 an innocent kind of diversion for a man 
 who had known the tragic things of life, 
 but it fitted in with the exigencies of the 
 moment, and helped to while away the weary 
 hours. 
 
 The whole life led by Martin at this present 
 time was so entirely unlike that which had 
 lately shattered his happiness and warped his 
 principles — such interest as he could find in 
 it had so little relation with that other which 
 had overpowered him — that he could not 
 weave for himself morbid suggestions, nor 
 find painful associations of any kind. So 
 far it was a spiritual tonic — an alterative — a 
 
72 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 new force, which changed the course of the 
 current and dug a fresh channel leading 
 away from that Water of Bitterness — 
 that Marah wherein his soul had lost itself, 
 and his happiness had made shipwreck. 
 Hence he was always content, in his sad way, 
 to be at Everton Hall ; and Mrs. Everton 
 was content in her mild way to have him 
 there. So too, was Dulcie, who held him as 
 a kind of supplementary brother, and liked 
 him as she might have liked a cousin — some- 
 one both kin and kind. 
 
 His sadness was patent, but not even Mr. 
 Everton — who, as a man, knew a little more 
 of the world than did his wife and daughter — 
 guessed the cause, and to none was the cause 
 revealed. Mrs. Everton was not the kind of 
 woman who, for all her softness, induces young 
 men to take her as a confidante for tales of un- 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 73 
 
 holy passion, however pathetic in the drama 
 and grievous in the issue. And if not the 
 mother, then assuredly not the daughter, who 
 would scarce have understood the story if con- 
 fided to her. But, indeed, Dulcie was not a 
 girl whom anyone would have attempted to 
 enlighten as to the hidden sores of life and 
 the terrible tragedies of passion. To her, the 
 right line was absolute — there could be no 
 paltering with virtue. That any of their 
 own friends or kinsfolk should go crooked 
 and do wrong was one of the moral impossi- 
 bilities which her mind could not grasp. As 
 for Mr. Everton, had Martin told him his 
 miserable story, the chances were he would 
 have forbidden him the house, as an associate 
 unfit for Dulcie or her mother. Hence the 
 whole sad episode which had burnt into the 
 young fellow's soul was covered up from all 
 
74 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 those loving eyes, and that wonderfully elastic 
 camel, ' ill-health,' bore the burden. 
 
 The people at Green Lanes began to talk. 
 People in the country always do when there 
 is a chance of making two and two into five, 
 or of lighting on the strange fowl hatching in 
 a mare's nest. The talk, which began in a 
 whisper, at last grew so loud that it echoed 
 into the solitude of Hayes Hill ; and Martin 
 Harrowby was made aware of what the 
 neighbourhood expected from him — what, 
 indeed, it had resolved he should do if public 
 opinion had any force. 
 
 ' He ought to marry Dulcie Everton,' 
 
 That was the general pronouncement, 
 varied by an occasional query of: ' When is 
 it to be ?' 
 
 The main theme, however, and its varia- 
 tions were alike harmonious in their dominant 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 75 
 
 note — he ought to marry Dulcie Everton ; and 
 to be quick about the proposal, so that society 
 might have an easy conscience, and sleep in 
 peace as to the honourable intentions of one 
 of its principal members. 
 
 It took him by surprise when he first heard 
 the thing mooted, and it was Captain George 
 Jones who blurted out the gossip, in the 
 way those old sea-dogs affect. For himself, 
 Martin would have gone on for years as he 
 was now — allaying the pain of his empty 
 hours with this pleasant kind of anodyne — as 
 it were, plugging his bleeding wounds with 
 cotton-wool. But love? — marriage? Can the 
 burnt-out slag burst again into flames ? Those 
 ' wonted fires ' which some say are to be found 
 in our ashes— what rubbish ! Never again ! 
 Those who hold to this as a possibility of 
 human nature have never known Love — have 
 
76 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 never realized how this Love can take all the 
 life out of a man's heart, and reduce his whole 
 being to ashes wherein lies no potentiality 
 of future fire. Love ? Dulcie Everton or 
 another ? Ah, never ! — emphatically never ! 
 The power had gone. The slag was burnt 
 out. 
 
 Still, he would not do his old friend and 
 playmate harm. If to love her were impos- 
 sible, he could protect her, honour her, give 
 her a stately standing in the county, and 
 make her position equal to that which she 
 would leave for his sake. She was sweet 
 and simple, and had the healing touch 
 which helped him to bear his pain. She 
 was to him as David was to Saul, and he 
 would grieve to lose her now out of his 
 lonely life. She made the sole spot in it that 
 was not barren — not poisonous and unvvhole- 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 77 
 
 some. That Glory of Womanhood being 
 unattainable, he might do worse for himself, 
 and Dulcie might perhaps do no better for 
 her own future, than in a marriage between 
 them. 
 
 He thought that she would not refuse him. 
 He knew that he could not make fervent 
 love to her. Self-absorbed though he was, he 
 had not become a systematic hypocrite, and his 
 selfishness was not calculated. He would 
 receive all from her ; but the ' exalted portion 
 of the power and pain ' of that overwhelming 
 passion would not be his to give. Still — she 
 would consent if he asked her ; and he would 
 do her no harm in giving her clay for living 
 gold. She was always so sweet and good to 
 him, and to make him happy — happy ? — would 
 be her own happiness. And though she was 
 too frankly glad to see him for romance, yet 
 
78 DULCTE EVERTON 
 
 she was so evidently attached to him, in a 
 way, as to be reassuring. 
 
 And then, he went on to think — revolving 
 the thing in his mind and viewing it from 
 his own point of view only ; Dulcie herself 
 coming in only as a kind of spiritual shadow, 
 or delicately-touched after-thought ; she was 
 really a pretty girl. She had none of that 
 strange grace, that subtle fascination, he had 
 learned to worship as the very soul of 
 feminine beauty. Her hair was dark not 
 golden ; her eyes were grey not brown ; her 
 cheeks were reddened like a Catherine pear 
 where the sun had scorched them, but her 
 skin was clear white where her hat and hair 
 shielded her forehead. Yes, she was pretty 
 enough for a man's eyes to rest on — weary 
 eyes as they might be — cold and unenthu- 
 siastic as well as weary. In her bright face 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 79 
 
 would never be seen that deadly monotony 
 which makes the loveliest set of features ever 
 carved out of living marble pall on a man ; 
 never that peevish irritability which distorts, 
 nor that cold sullenness which hardens. Not 
 a trace of the darker passions traversed her 
 transparent being : therefore none could ever 
 appear on her face. She would always be 
 what she was now — sweet, simple, bright 
 in temper, submissive to his will because 
 obedience, the offspring of unselfishness, 
 came naturally to her — careful of his feelings 
 and attentive to his desires because serving 
 for love was in the depths of her woman's 
 nature. Yes, he might do worse. So might she. 
 For if he had no fire of love to g^ive he had 
 respect, affection, good social conditions, and 
 an assured fortune. And he had need of her. 
 And she — she should never know his 
 
8o DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 secret and never dream that the fruit which 
 loois:ed so well in the hand was rotten at the 
 core — that the rose he had plucked in the 
 garden and offered her for her life's array, 
 was cankered at its heart. 
 
 Surprise was the first of the many feelings 
 which swept over Dulcie's gentle soul when 
 Martin made her the formal offer of his hand, 
 his name and his fortune. She had never 
 looked at him in the light of a possible lover. 
 That was not her way. Neither Percy 
 Merritt, who wrote poetry to her under the 
 name of Chloe, nor Adolphus Tyson, who 
 drew her portrait, or intended to do so, in the 
 sermon wherein he combined Martha with 
 Mary and showed what a perfect am.algam it 
 was — not one of all the unmarried men and 
 youths who lived in or came to Green Lanes 
 had ever crossed her mind as a possible 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 8i 
 
 aspirant. And if not they then assuredly not 
 Martin Harrowby, her old friend and play- 
 mate — the best substitute for a brother that 
 she knew ! 
 
 After surprise came distress and some 
 strange fear of herself. She did not know 
 her own mind, and she was bewildered 
 because of her ignorance. She knew that 
 she liked Martin — oh ! more than any other 
 man in the world, save her father and 
 brother; but liking is not love, and to be 
 scheduled with a father and brother is far 
 from being placed on a pinnacle, as a lover — 
 in the sanctuary, as a husband. She had 
 never asked herself anything about her feel- 
 ings for him. She had been content to live 
 unquestioning and unanswered. And now 
 this, to her, sudden transformation disturbed 
 her beyond all measure. 
 
 VOL. I. 6 
 
82 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 What should she do ? Martin had been 
 content with her 'put off' reply, asking for 
 time to consider and may be understand her- 
 self better than she did now. But he would 
 not be content to be put off for ever ; and she 
 must make up her mind one way or the other. 
 
 She made it up in favour of Martin and 
 marriage ; and when she had decided, it 
 seemed to her as if, without knowing it, she 
 had been in love with Martin Harrowby all 
 her life. 
 
 The announcement of this marriage of 
 macrnates caused the liveliest emotion in 
 Green Lanes. For the most part that 
 emotion was favourable and sympathetic ; 
 but who ever knew a community that had 
 not a dissentient section whatever the sub- 
 ject presented to it ?— a section voting natur- 
 ally blue because the other flew the yellow flag? 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 83 
 
 This pretty little country town, standing 
 among woods and meadows like a cluster of 
 jewels set in green, was famous for its inter- 
 necine disputes. At the worst of times some 
 party quarrel was blazing high, and at the best 
 of times the fires were only smouldering and 
 were never quite extinguished. But this mar- 
 riage between Martin Harrowby and Dulcie 
 Everton had so much to recommend it, so little 
 against it, that the dissentients were hard put 
 to it for reasons why they should object. 
 Percy Merritt certainly said it was a pity, 
 because Martin Harrowby had no culture ; 
 the Reverend Adolphus Tyson gravely ques- 
 tioned the state of his soul, not stating very 
 precise reasons why he should. These how- 
 ever were fads of no account, and the en- 
 gagement went its appointed length till it 
 culminated in the marriage to which Martin 
 
84 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 looked for assuagement and Dulcie for hap- 
 piness. 
 
 By this time she was as much in love with 
 her old playmate as if he had never been the 
 quasi-brother of her budding girlhood — the 
 unsentimental friend of her more developed 
 years. She knew nothing of the world, of 
 herself, of men ; and like all wholesomely 
 brought up girls took what was in her own 
 life as the unchangeable norm of virtuous 
 existence. She looked not one inch beyond 
 her own narrow and serene horizon, nor let 
 down one link of the chain into the deeper 
 waters below the surface of her own still and 
 unruffled lake. If she had known the truth 
 of things as they were, she would have re- 
 nounced the world for ever, as a place where 
 no virtuous woman could live with honour or 
 decency to herself and to her kind. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Business in Paris had not of late been quite 
 so satisfactory as might have been wished. 
 There had been a panic on the Bourse ; a 
 corresponding run on the banks, by which 
 many of the smaller had gone ; and a general 
 sense of insecurity throughout the mercantile 
 world, which had paralyzed trade and brought 
 about disaster. The business of which 
 Jacques Courcelles held the reins had 
 suffered with the rest, and he stood on the 
 brink of ruin. Make what efforts he might, 
 and come to the best issues possible, he 
 could hope to save nothing more than a mere 
 
86 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 subsistence for himself and his wife. He, 
 who had been wealthy, must now consent to 
 be poor ; and the very royalty of lavishness in 
 which his love had hitherto expressed itself 
 must now be reduced to the meagrest fringes 
 — if haply that reduced substance could afford 
 even the meagrest kind of fringe at all. 
 
 It was not for himself that the good little 
 man grieved so bitterly as to endanger his 
 health and even to threaten his reason. For 
 himself, he could have borne his troubles with 
 that conscious heroism which Frenchmen 
 affect when before the footlights. He would 
 have lightly struck his breast and proclaimed 
 his moral solidity — squared at the base, and 
 not to be shaken, still less overthrown, for a 
 trifle like this. But things were different 
 when it came to Elaine. Then his flaccid 
 cheek grew pale, his pendulous under-lip 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 87 
 
 quivered and his eyes filled with tears, as he 
 lamented her evil fate and called down curses 
 on the heads of those who had caused it. 
 This and this alone could have shaken him 
 from his histrionic stoicism ; but this did 
 shake him, and gravely. 
 
 During all this time of trouble Elaine bore 
 herself with the most careful exactness. She 
 never relaxed in her wonted tenderness to 
 her husband, though now that tenderness 
 could not gain the old-time reward of 
 diamonds and pearls, carriages and fetes. A 
 bystander would have seen in it a certain 
 element of calculation that poor Jacques him- 
 self never knew. He would have seen how 
 her eyes narrowed to a line when her hus- 
 band caressed her in his clumsy, unpoetic 
 way ; and how her lips were involuntarily 
 compressed — her hands involuntarily clenched 
 
88 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 — while she responded with the outward grace 
 of one who loves the love showered on her. 
 It was too early yet to throw up the game, 
 she thouo^ht. She saw no g^ood to come 
 from a premature change of front — a prema- 
 ture unmasking of the 'true truth'; and as yet 
 no better chances offered. No substitute for 
 her ruined husband was available ; for of all 
 her lovers none was worth a moment's risk. 
 They were all either wanting in money or 
 burdened with wives ; and either plea was 
 barrier enough for a woman who loved, after 
 money and money's worth, the admiration of 
 all and the passion of many. 
 
 Besides, the world's esteem is a possession 
 which the secretly depraved cannot afford to 
 let slip. Though it carries no moral solace 
 with it, it keeps appearances straight ; and if 
 the outside of the platter is kept scrupulously 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 89 
 
 clean, bystanders do not peer too closely into 
 the inside. And, so far, Elaine's public de- 
 votion to her gnome-like husband had kept 
 her well with the world — making her life fair 
 and honourable in outside seeming, however 
 much it might be degraded and besmirched 
 in the inner reaches. 
 
 At all events, loyalty and devotion and the 
 brave acceptance of his broken fortunes made 
 her best present policy ; — and she followed on 
 that line without swerving. She nobly stood 
 by her husband in his hour of trial, and the 
 world doffed its plumed cap as she passed by 
 and gave her the honour due to a saint and 
 heroine in one. 
 
 Jacques, grieving for her straitened circum- 
 stances, so gloried in her love — so worshipped 
 her for her sublime devotion — as to make his 
 grief in one sense more severe, but also in 
 
90 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 another, transforming it to joy — as the test by 
 which the exquisite purity of her nature was 
 made manifest — as the theme on which her 
 heavenly love for himself, unworthy ! — had 
 been declared aloud. It was as a sermon on 
 the text of the uses of adversity, and the 
 jewel to be found in the head of that reptile, 
 Misfortune. 
 
 And as Elaine said over and over a^rain to 
 herself — as she was the only one who suffered, 
 her hypocrisy did not count as sin. She did 
 her duty to the full. No matter from what 
 spring-board of sentiment it was done, she 
 did it. And that was all with which others 
 had any concern. No one could cast a stone 
 at her ; no one could accuse her of neglect 
 or indifference. For the rest — if she chose 
 to gamble away her soul for certain stakes, 
 who had the right to inquire? It might not 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 91 
 
 be pleasant to contrast her present state with 
 her past — to fathom the depths to which she 
 had fallen since her days of innocence. 
 Deceit, cruelty to other women, treachery to 
 all her lovers alike, and the betrayal of her 
 husband's honour, were not pleasant items 
 to call over in the catalogue of her doings. 
 But no one knew, or she fancied that no one 
 did ; and — she was strong and could brave 
 and dare things which would have appalled 
 a weaker woman even to contemplate [ 
 
 One evening Jacques came home with yet 
 more distress than that which was always to 
 be seen now on his doglike face. Things 
 were getting worse and worse in that dis- 
 tracted world of ruined speculators and fallen 
 firms wherein he had his place. There was 
 but one hope left to him — to go to Tunis, 
 with which city he had some important 
 
92 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 business relations, and see for himself what 
 he could save from the universal wreck. 
 Meantime — that beautiful hotel which he had 
 bought and furnished at such enormous cost 
 — that lovely setting for his still lovelier 
 jewel, must be given up ; and Elaine, born 
 for the throne itself, must descend to apart- 
 ments such as once she would not have 
 stooped her proud head to enter, even on a 
 visit. There was no help for it. Ruin 
 stared them in the face ; and that old proverb 
 about the necessity of submission when He 
 Who Must Be Obeyed holds the reins was 
 not to be gainsaid. 
 
 ' It breaks my heart — but I am helpless !' 
 said honest Jacques, tears streaming down 
 his face. ' If I could have left you here, my 
 darling, in your usual state and comfort, it 
 would not have been so bad. But to put you 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 93 
 
 into an apartment, and there desert you ! 
 It maddens me to think of. Yet it must 
 be.' 
 
 A spasm came over Elaine's face. Hitherto 
 her loyalty to her husband had entailed no 
 greater sacrifice than the profession itself. 
 Outwardly, for these few weeks, things had 
 remained the same ; and those business 
 losses, though so gigantic, had not touched 
 her private expenditure. Now, when things 
 had advanced another stage, that private ex- 
 penditure had been reached, and the costliness 
 of living had to be reduced. 
 
 The first act in this drama of humiliation 
 was the sale of Elaine's luxurious hotel, and 
 the transfer of her peerless self to a minor, 
 meagre, third-rate apartment. 
 
 No wonder then, when she realized this 
 bitter truth, that a spasm crossed her face, and 
 
94 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 that she wished, not for the first time, her 
 husband was dead. 
 
 He watched her lovingly, humbly, his small 
 eyes blurred and bleared with tears. Fortu- 
 nately he did not attempt to touch her. If 
 he had, she would have struck him in the face. 
 Like a flash of light she reviewed her posi- 
 tion, and balanced her chances of good with 
 those of evil. To remain in poverty in 
 Paris, acting the role of the sweet and patient 
 martyr ? She would gain kudos from that ; 
 infinite kudos ! But personal advantage ? — 
 money ? — pleasure ? Doubtful. As a martyr, 
 she must abstain during her husband's 
 absence. She must walk with tiresome cir- 
 cumspection. She must be wearisomely 
 careful of appearances. She might be a 
 fictitious martyr but she would also be a real 
 prisoner ; and seeming and reality would be 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 95 
 
 too close for her taste. No, to remain in 
 Paris in miserable rooms and in a fallen 
 position, would not do. There was no 
 possible advantage that she could see to come 
 to her from such a state of things as this ; 
 and she did not care to push into the regions 
 of actuality the part she was playing with 
 such consummate skill. 
 
 There was then that other choice — to go 
 with her husband to Tunis, and throw her 
 chances on a new die. The unknown is 
 always the potential, and who could say what 
 angel of good fortune might not be waiting 
 for her there ? And to go with her husband 
 would put her in the ranks of the heroines — 
 which was quite as good as that of the 
 martyrs. 
 
 ' Better than leaving me it would be to 
 take me,' she said, after a moment's pause. 
 
96 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 Her face was quite smooth and composed 
 now, and the expression on it was noble and 
 lofty. 
 
 ' Would you brave that terrible journey ?' 
 asked Jacques. 
 
 ' To be with you ? — to remain constantly 
 your faithful companion ? — to soothe you by 
 my love, and share your sad fortunes ? — yes,' 
 she answered. 
 
 He fell on his knees by her side, and 
 reverently kissed her hand. 
 
 ' You are not a woman,' he said ; 'you are 
 an angel come straight from heaven !' 
 
 ' I am only your loving wife, my poor 
 Jacques,' she answered gently, compressing 
 her lips to a mere line as she spoke. 
 
 'And I am your adoring husband,' he said, 
 in the spirit and with the voice of a worship- 
 ping devotee. 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 97 
 
 It was, then, arranged that Elaine should 
 accompany her husband to Tunis, to look 
 after his health, soothe him by her cares, and 
 keep up his heart by her sweet and tender 
 sympathy, her womanly courage and devoted 
 help. Her lady-friends wondered at her 
 courage and cried out against her impru- 
 dence. At Tunis lurked all manner of hidden 
 dangers, according to them ; and she was 
 putting her very life in peril. Assassins 
 sheltered themselves behind all projections 
 and within all recesses. Men with long 
 guns and sharp knives were as plentiful as 
 chiffonniers in Paris, carrying their crooks 
 and baskets. Big blacks, mute and impas- 
 sive, roamed free and far on the look-out for 
 beautiful women to carry as captives to their 
 masters' harems ; and when once shut up 
 within those jealous walls, no redress was 
 
 VOL. I. 7 
 
98 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 possible, and no escape could be made. The 
 only way of escape from the infinite sorrows 
 and indignities of captivity open to her would 
 be by the sack and the river, if not by the 
 bow-string or by poison. 
 
 So they talked in their shrill and irrepres- 
 sible French way, doing their best to terrify 
 her as they themselves were terrified. But 
 Elaine knew better than they. Older than 
 she looked, of that composite and cosmo- 
 politan kind which has parents of different 
 races, and has been brought up in various 
 countries, she had travelled much and known 
 more, before her beauty made Jacques Cour- 
 celles in his own estimation the happiest man 
 in the world. She and her mother were 
 then living in Paris on the figment of fortune 
 and position. Jacques Courcelles, the wealthy 
 merchant, translated the figment into fact, 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 99 
 
 and gave her the thing she had only assumed 
 to possess. But the knowledge got from her 
 previous wanderings stood her in good stead 
 now ; and she alone of all concerned knew 
 how purely fictitious her heroism was, and 
 how little wool there was in all this great 
 cry. Thus she kept firm to her resolve to 
 go to Tunis with her husband ; and neither 
 could her lady-friends terrify her, nor could 
 her secret lovers persuade her. Those poten- 
 tialities lying in the unknown allured her ; 
 and at the worst she would have the kudos 
 rightly earned by a devoted and heroic wife. 
 A good sailor, where her poor Jacques was 
 a bad one, Elaine had the most enjoyable 
 voyage that could be made by a pretty 
 woman, honourably rid for a time of an 
 enamoured husband. Her beauty brought 
 to her feet all the male hearts that beat 
 
loo DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 on board the Enckantresse, and roused the 
 deadly enmity of all the women who were 
 not confined to their cabins. Her polyglot 
 tongue made her free of all nationalities, so 
 that she could converse as a native with each 
 as he wandered by, whatever his birthplace 
 or national flag. Her own nationality was a 
 secret. The stereotyped answer that she 
 made to those who ventured on the question 
 was (in the tongue of the interlocutor) : ' At 
 present I am a Parisienne, seeing that my 
 husband is a Parisien.' 
 
 ' But you must be a Russian, madame,' 
 said one who had spoken to her in consonants 
 intermixed with strange compounds, and yet 
 stranger notes of sound, never heard out of 
 the holy kingdom of the Czar. 
 
 ' Am I ?' she laughed. ' If you say so, so 
 be it.' 
 
DULCIE EVERTON loi 
 
 Others claimed her as one of their own in 
 precisely the same way. Italians, Germans, 
 Spaniards, all hotly contested for the honour 
 of this fair creature's original nationality, and 
 were quite ready to cut one another's throats 
 as the better proof of their right to hold her 
 one of themselves. 
 
 To all she returned the same evasive 
 answer. There was not one among them 
 with whom she cared to forge even this 
 slight link. They might admire her and 
 desire her grace, but she did not care to give 
 so much as a hair of her head for them to 
 hold by. Getting and giving are different 
 things ; and no one knew this more clearly 
 than Elaine Courcelles. 
 
 At last they reached their destination, and 
 when they disembarked at Goletta Jacques 
 was a weak and miserable washed-out rag-. 
 
102 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 while Elaine was in superb health — splendid 
 with beauty and strength while still possessing 
 that wonderful grace of the boudoir woman — 
 that highly- wrought and poetic personage, who 
 is to the Western world what the odalisque is 
 to the Eastern. The contrast was striking, 
 and could not fail to attract the notice of all 
 who saw them. It attracted the notice of a 
 tall, handsome young Englishman who was 
 standing on the quay as Elaine and her 
 husband landed, and he said half aloud : 
 ' Beauty and the Beast, by Jove ! And what 
 a Beauty, and what a Beast !' 
 
 Standing close to where the two must 
 pass it was only natural that Elaine should 
 look at him as her skirts brushed his 
 knickerbockers. She passed so close to 
 him that some kind of recognition was 
 necessary. 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 103 
 
 ' Pardon,' she said in her sweetest, gentlest 
 voice. 
 
 The stranger took off his deer-stalking cap 
 and bowed, and just then Elaine's parasol 
 entangled itself in her fringes, and fell from 
 her hand. 
 
 He, the stranger, made a step forward and 
 picked up the parasol, which he gave her 
 with a true British smile — more friendly than 
 formal — more human than conventional. It 
 was a smile that tore a rent in the veil always 
 hanging between two strangers. She re- 
 turned it, but with a slight air of reserve, as 
 befitting the modest sex. 
 
 Then she passed out of sight, and the 
 Englishman stood on the quay and wondered 
 at the emptiness of all he saw, and how vilely 
 uninteresting everyone appeared. Not a 
 pretty woman among them ! — just a mere 
 
104 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 handful of dowdies ! Small need for them to 
 veil their faces according to the Mohammedan 
 law 1 That other one now — that French- 
 woman with the gnome-like husband — she, if 
 you will, was a flower to admire ! What a 
 splendour she was ! What an exquisite living 
 poem ! Who was she ? — and should he see 
 her again ? Where was she going ? Should 
 he find her at the hotel ? He hoped so, but he 
 dared not believe as he hoped. Meanwhile, 
 he would go back to the town and see what 
 fate had in store for him. If it should be a 
 rencontre with this fascinating loveliness — he 
 should be glad. That man, evidently her 
 husband, was but a Beast, and as such beyond 
 the pale of consideration. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 She was there ! Radiant as Eve newly born, 
 trailing those ' clouds of glory ' as a visible 
 garment about her — graceful as a young 
 leopardess stealing through the jungle — to 
 her victim or her mate ? — lovely as the 
 loveliest dream ever imagined by poet and 
 beyond aught that sculptor could mould or 
 painter portray — here she was, this unknown 
 Beauty of the quay, in the same hotel with 
 himself! 
 
 With that wonderfully graceful step which 
 we see in some animals and a few women — 
 the step which balances the whole body as 
 
io6 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 harmoniously as if it were a musical cadence 
 translated into form and movement — she 
 came into the salle a manger like some 
 creature from another world, and there was 
 not a man there who did not feel himself the 
 richer for her presence — not one who did not 
 covet her companionship. Her place at the 
 table, however, was next to the young 
 Englishman to whom she had smiled for 
 service rendered, and who had doffed his 
 cap to her in reverent gratitude for her 
 grace. 
 
 As she sat down, they looked at each other 
 and bowed, she smiling faintly but so sweetly ! 
 — he flushed to the very roots of his hair for 
 pride — and something else. The dog-faced 
 gnome by her side expanded into a broad 
 smile, and bowed to the handsome young 
 stranger with effusive pleasure. He was 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 107 
 
 glad that his queen had met someone Hkely 
 to be a pleasant companion for her during 
 the exile to which her great love for himself 
 — unworthy ! — had condemned hen 
 
 Jealousy was as impossible to him as, in his 
 belief, infidelity was impossible to her. Had 
 the angel Gabriel himself told him she had 
 even dreamed of another man's love, he would 
 not have believed. Had he with his own eyes 
 seen her in another man's arms, he would have 
 doubted his proper senses, and would have 
 taken the thing as the cheat of a disordered 
 fancy. Wherefore, despite the contrast to 
 his disfavour between himself and the fasci- 
 nating young bachelors that crowded round 
 her — between himself and those discontented 
 husbands of notoriously unstable tempera- 
 ment, who haunted her salon and found a 
 welcome in her boudoir — he was tranquil for 
 
io8 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 his own part and content that she should be 
 admired for hers. 
 
 His was the best and truest, the most 
 loyal and most unselfish nature to be found 
 under the broad canopy of heaven. It might 
 have been thought that Elaine, for very 
 gratitude, for very shame, would have re- 
 spected this devotion that was so true — this 
 trust which was so blind because so loyal. 
 
 But where is the vain woman who is not 
 cruel ? What faithless wife concerns herself 
 with the loyalty she deceives or the trust she 
 betrays ? With the gratification of her own 
 passion — be it the passion of vanity desirous 
 of love because of its incense, or passion of a 
 more instinctive kind — with the gratifica- 
 tion of this, her object in life is fulfilled. 
 And if her way lies over bleeding hearts and 
 ruined lives, so much the worse for those 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 109 
 
 who be in her way ! What cared Tullia for 
 her father's blood on her chariot wheels ? 
 What cares the vain and lustful woman for 
 the men whose lives she ruins ? — for the 
 women whose hearts she breaks ? 
 
 To Elaine her husband was simply a cir- 
 cumstance ; in no wise a person to be reckoned 
 with on his own account. He was her patent 
 of respectability and the text which set forth 
 her own grace and sweetness. He was use- 
 ful to her as a chaperon and a banker's book ; 
 and while this usefulness lasted he was safe. 
 If the day should ever dawn when she could 
 make better terms with fortune without him 
 — then let him beware ! 
 
 ' Is this your first visit to Tunis ?' asked 
 the young man in insular French. 
 
 ' Yes. And yours ?' answered Elaine with 
 the fine intonation of a Parisienne. 
 
no DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 ' Yes, my first also/ he said. 
 
 That Httle link of likeness was as a song in 
 his heart. 
 
 * Have you been here long ?' she asked. 
 
 'Four days,' 
 
 It seemed to him as if he had waited 
 months for this gracious advent. 
 
 ' Ah ! Then I must regard you as a 
 native compared to myself — an habitue, and 
 nationalized.' She laughed at her own 
 conceit. ' You will be able to tell me what I 
 ought to see,' she added. 
 
 ' Willingly,' was the answer made with 
 evident pleasure. ' If you will allow me I 
 will take you everywhere.' 
 
 ' That will be kind,' said Elaine. ' My 
 husband will be too much engaged for 
 sight-seeing, so that if it were not for the 
 amiability of a compatriot, I should be 
 
DULCIE EVERTON in 
 
 forced to go about with a laquais de place 
 alone !' 
 
 ' Oh ! I am not a Frenchman,' said her 
 companion hurriedly. ' I am an English- 
 man.' 
 
 But it pleased him beyond measure to think 
 that this lovely creature, with her perfect 
 accent and Parisian French, should for a 
 moment have imagined him her fellow- 
 countryman. 
 
 ' Indeed 1' said Elaine in English. * You 
 spoke French so well I thought you must be 
 a Frenchman.' 
 
 * But you speak English like an English- 
 woman !' said her companion. ' Are you 
 English, madame ?' 
 
 She smiled and looked up into his eyes. 
 
 ' In heart,' she said ; ' in heart, wholly, and 
 partly in race. I love the English people 
 
112 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 and all that is English. When I see the 
 English flag my heart swells, and I say to 
 myself: "That is mine, too !" ' 
 
 Her patriotism was so lovely ! It was like 
 a poem set to noble music — like the National 
 Anthem sung by the young-eyed cherubin — 
 and it touched the heart of the young man ; 
 as she knew it would. 
 
 ' I like that!' he said enthusiastically. ' It 
 is a grand old country. One feels that when 
 one is abroad, more especially when one is in 
 rough places, as I have been of late.' 
 
 ' Yes ? Where ?' she asked, with the ready 
 sympathy of interest. 
 
 * In Africa. I have been knocking about 
 Africa for the last three years, and now am 
 on my way home. And, by George ! the 
 difference between us and foreigners as ex- 
 plorers and colonists, both, is illimitable ! 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 113 
 
 One learns to respect ourselves out there if 
 never before.' 
 
 He spoke with pride, decision, some Httle 
 reflection of self-glorification in his accent 
 giving point to his words, 
 
 ' I feel all that,' she answered, kindling her 
 torch at his flame. ' In conquest and power 
 of colonization, far, far beyond all other 
 peoples.' 
 
 ' We say least and do most,' he returned. 
 
 'Just so. The English reticence is a 
 power in itself,' she replied. ' By the way,' 
 she added, with the sweetest smile in her 
 whole repertoire of smiles. ' What is your 
 name ? African explorers are not so plentiful 
 that I should not recognize yours.' 
 
 ' Oh, I have done very little to boast of,' 
 was the answer. * I went out for adventure 
 and sport, rather than for serious exploration. 
 
 VOL. I. 8 
 
114 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 My name is Aston Everton, and you will not 
 know it.' 
 
 ' Yes, but I do,' she answered with a 
 pretty air of deliberation — of searching back 
 in her memory. ' I do know it,' she re- 
 peated. 
 
 Again he flushed to the very roots of his 
 hair with pleasure. Never had the vanity of 
 the natural man been so delightfully regaled 
 as now. That this peerless creature should 
 know his name — that he had made so much 
 of a mark in life as to impress the golden 
 sands of her consciousness ! For the moment 
 he felt as if he had really done something 
 heroic and far-stretching. He would have 
 been puzzled to say what it was, but, like the 
 hum of bees among the lime-blossoms, an in- 
 distinct and confused consciousness of some 
 great worthiness possessed him — as indeed 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 115 
 
 must needs be, since she knew his name 
 and could verify his own account of him- 
 self. 
 
 ' I am glad you know who I am,' he said, 
 with the very fatuity of rejoiced vanity. * It 
 makes things so much easier.' 
 
 'Yes, it doe?,' she answered. Then turn- 
 ing to her husband she said sweetly : ' Jacques, 
 we have fallen well. This is Mr, Everton, 
 the great African traveller, who has done so 
 many brave things, and whose name we 
 know so well.' 
 
 * My compliments, sir,' returned Jacques, 
 who had never heard of the name, state or 
 feats of Mr. Aston Everton, but who, in 
 things of this kind, followed his wife's lead as 
 docilely as a little dog in a string follows on 
 his mistress's will. 
 
 And poor Aston, the dupe of a pretty 
 
ii6 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 woman's cleverness and wiles, as many a 
 wiser man has been before him, and will be 
 again, was now prepared to accept, endorse, 
 believe, transfer, according to the mood of 
 this most potent enchantress, and the direc- 
 tion in which she chose that he should go. 
 
 And now things stood on velvet, and went 
 on the smoothest of all smooth-running casters 
 that could be found within the walls of a 
 hotel in the dusky East. Occupied with his 
 business, which gave him as little pleasure as 
 relaxation, and no more hope of a favourable 
 issue than there was of present profit in the 
 arranging, Jacques was glad to hand over his 
 beautiful lady to the care of the young English- 
 man who was so kind and good, so willing to 
 help, so able to protect. He himself had to 
 spend his days in dusty offices, where the 
 sun was shut out in winter as well as in 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 117 
 
 summer — where there was no air, no local 
 colour, nothing but eternal wrangling over 
 details, and rows of heart-breaking figures to 
 add up, and gnash his teeth over their exigu- 
 ous totality, after those fatal items of subtrac- 
 tion and division had been got through. If 
 the labour of the day had brought hope 
 for the night, poor Jacques would have re- 
 gretted nothing. He was prepared to ' pay 
 with his skin ' if need be, so that his beloved 
 Elaine should be endowed according to her 
 merits and the past. If he could have re- 
 deemed her broken fortunes by the sacrifice 
 of his life he would have done so gladly ; but 
 as things were, he could do nought but 
 wrangle over details, and accept the heart- 
 breaking conclusions he could not deny. 
 
 Elaine, thrown entirely upon Aston for 
 protection and amusement, did not fare 
 
ii8 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 badly. She took all the excursions pre- 
 scribed for the strangers ; and gave her 
 gnome the details at dinner. And as she 
 always seasoned those details with some 
 pretty little expression of regret that he had 
 not been with her, the poor man was more 
 than satisfied that she should have been so 
 far interested — always with that blank of his 
 own absence to water the wine and take off 
 the keenest edge of her pleasure. 
 
 True to her role, Elaine bore herself with 
 the loveliest courtesy to her husband. In 
 speaking of him to Aston, she was careful to 
 speak of him with the very sublimity of 
 feminine pity, and that kind of compassionate 
 resignation which is the ornament of womanly 
 superiority. She never said one concrete 
 word in his disfavour ; but she made Aston 
 understand that she suffered under the burden 
 
DULCIE EVERTON iic^ 
 
 she bore so bravely — that she writhed in soul 
 under the inflictions she concealed beneath 
 this noble reticence. It was always * my 
 poor Jacques,' or ' my unfortunate husband ' 
 when she spoke of him. At times she put 
 him forth as a kind of ' Barbe Bleu ' when 
 Aston proposed something which she did not 
 want to do. Then she would shake her head 
 mournfully and with her eyes raised to his 
 would say : ' I should like it — nothingjbetter ! 
 but my poor husband would disapprove, and 
 I dare not anger him. He is very good, of 
 course — you see what he is in his public 
 form, but he would not like me to do this 
 thing, and I dare not risk his private anger.' 
 
 Then Aston would have a mad desire to 
 strangle the miserable man| with his own 
 hands — this gnome-like tyrant who dared 
 to coerce, to threaten, to illtreat in private 
 
I20 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 the most beautiful and delightful woman that 
 God ever created ! For of course he did 
 ill-treat her. That terrified look did not 
 come into her lovely eyes for nothing. She 
 did not turn pale for nothing. Of course she 
 was ill-treated, and had not the force to 
 resist. Besides, she was such an exquisite 
 saint, this woman, she did not dream of 
 resisting, but bore in patience the hard lot an 
 evil fate had meted out to her. 
 
 And what a hard lot it was ! Married to 
 this hideous little monster, whom she treated 
 with such angelic patience and consideration, 
 but whom it was impossible she could love — 
 this extravagant little fool who had ruined 
 himself by gambling speculations on the 
 Bourse, as well as by frantic excesses in his 
 private expenditure — and now standing on 
 the verge of destruction — and he, Aston, 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 121 
 
 unable to save her ! Yet would that he 
 could! Would that 'Azrael,' the Angel of 
 Death who hovers over the Eastern world, 
 would touch that wretched little creature 
 with his wing and carry his soul to the place 
 prepared for it since the world began ! If 
 she were but free ! If she were but free ! 
 
 There, in the sweet sanctuary of an 
 English home, with the security of an 
 English position, the honour of an English 
 name, how thrice-blessed should his wife be 
 made — how thrice-blessed would he be who 
 should make her happiness and peace ! 
 
 He thought of this till his brain seemed to 
 turn — till it was as if the very potency of his 
 wish would be its own fulfilment, and Jacques 
 Courcelles must fail before the strength of 
 another man's desire. 
 
 But he dared not speak. Her attitude 
 
122 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 was too noble for these outbursts of passion 
 — of despair. It was almost as if she 
 divined the thoughts that shook his inmost 
 soul, and by the magic force of her purity 
 imposed on him silence and reserve. 
 
 'We have all to submit to our fate,' she 
 said one day when Aston skirted rather close 
 to the main subject of all his late reveries. 
 ' I might have had a happier fate as you say, 
 but what can be done ? My dear mother 
 married me to M. Courcelles as the most 
 advantageous parti that had offered itself. 
 And it might have remained the brilliant 
 financial success it was then, had my poor 
 husband been wise in his own expenditure 
 and less rash in speculation.' 
 
 ' He should have remembered the wife he 
 had taken on himself to protect,' said Aston, 
 fierceness mingled with his sympathy. 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 123 
 
 ' Ah ! that would have been too much to 
 expect,' was her answer, made with the most 
 charming acceptance of man's normal brutality. 
 
 * An Englishman would,' said Aston. 
 
 She looked up suddenly, frankly, swiftly, 
 with a kind of patriotic pride and gladness in 
 her eyes. 
 
 'An Englishman? Yes! I grant you! 
 But then the Englishman is noble and 
 unselfish. We cannot expect his qualities 
 from a Frenchman !' 
 
 * No,' he answered back, as patriotically 
 proud as herself. 
 
 ' I know nothing more enchanting than 
 the life of a woman married to an English 
 country gentleman,' said Elaine. ' No other 
 life offers such a combination of security, 
 activity, honour and true dignity ! How 
 much the English lady is to be envied ! 
 
124 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 Ah ! would that my dear mother had married 
 her compatriot, and that I had been born in 
 the EngHsh country mansion that was offered 
 to her.' 
 
 ' Would to God you had !' said Aston in 
 extreme agitation. 
 
 * But ' she shruo^CTed her shoulders 
 
 with the pretty gesture habitual to her. ' As 
 things are, I must content myself with being 
 the wife of a ruined Parisian speculator, with 
 whom to-morrow is a word of doubtful import, 
 fuller of dread than of hope.' 
 
 Aston turned away his head. He did not 
 wish that she should see his face, for he knew 
 the self-revelation that was on it. 
 
 Elaine looked at him and a fleeting smile 
 came on her own. She was reading in an 
 open book and the print was like pica, large 
 and legible 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 125 
 
 ' But if you are ruined, what will you do ?' 
 he asked after a pause. 
 
 ' What can I do ?' she answered. ' Bear 
 it ! I can do nothing else.' 
 
 ' Would you come and make your home 
 with my mother ?' then said Aston, gener- 
 ously hospitable with what he had no power 
 to give. 
 
 ' Where is your home ?' she asked. ' Not 
 that I could do that, my friend — but where 
 is it ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! Green Lanes, in Loamshire.' 
 
 She gave a scarce perceptible start. 
 
 * I think I have heard of that place,' she 
 said. ' I forget now from whom, but from 
 some one. Who lives there ?' 
 
 ' Well ! the Duke, the Earl, my father, 
 Martin Harrowby — he is my brother-in-law 
 and has married my only sister, Dulcie — 
 
126 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 what is the matter dear Madame Cour- 
 celles ? Are you ill ?' 
 
 ' No, it is nothing,' she said a little faintly. 
 * Only a passing pain that I have sometimes 
 — since my poor husband so fatally ruined 
 himself and me.' 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Martin Harrowby married ! — and married 
 to Aston Everton's sister ! And this was 
 the boasted fidelity of man ! — this the ever- 
 lasting love to which she had been prayed to 
 commit herself and all her future ! Bah ! 
 How she despised them all, these fools whom 
 she maddened for a time and destroyed for 
 but so brief a season ! — these wrecks which 
 sailed triumphantly over new seas to safe 
 ports ! — these shattered temples which were 
 rebuilded into all their former shapely strength 
 before she had well turned her back on the 
 destruction she had caused ! 
 
128 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 She had seldom had cause for jealousy in 
 her life. Those over whom the baleful light 
 of her beauty had passed, who had drunk 
 the sweet poison of her charms, were rarely 
 left with vitality enough to blossom out 
 afresh into a new desire. When it had so 
 happened she had known how to revenge 
 herself — and would again. 
 
 All that afternoon she sat in her darkened 
 chamber, revolving various matters in her 
 mind. A confused and indistinct kind of 
 plan possessed her : She would go to Green 
 Lanes, and make the rash woman who had 
 supplanted her in Martin's memory smart for 
 having taken that which was forbidden fruit 
 and virtually another's. What matter that 
 this usurper was innocent of evil design, and 
 ignorant of the claim she disturbed ? The 
 merchant who wounded the unseen Afreet was 
 
DULCIE EVERTON ^ 129 
 
 none the less adjudged guilty, and punished 
 in his degree. So must Dulcie, Aston's 
 sister, be punished in that she had dared to 
 console and appropriate Martin Harrowby. 
 
 But how should she, Elaine, come by her 
 revenge? It was a far way from Tunis to 
 Green Lanes ; and the wife of Jacques Cour- 
 celles, the ruined merchant doing business in 
 Paris, had but slender links with the wife of 
 Martin Harrowby, the English county gentle- 
 man living on his estate and caring but little 
 for the outside world. Her way was not very 
 clear at this moment ; but 
 
 She thought of Aston Everton and went 
 over his words and looks and ways ; and then 
 she thought that perhaps here was her occa- 
 sion, and by him would she make her 
 ladder. Meanwhile, she must be circum- 
 spect and wary, and what her hand found 
 
 VOL. I. 9 
 
I30 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 to do must be done with secrecy, if also with 
 diHgence. 
 
 Sweet, fascinating, and entrancing as she 
 alwaj's was, Elaine made herself doubly so to 
 Aston after he had told her this momentous 
 bit of news — the marriage of his sister with 
 Martin Harrowby. She wove her spiritual 
 threads about him like a shining silver web, 
 and enclosed him, as it were, in a very bower 
 of enchantment, where he saw nothing as it 
 was, but only as she desired that he should 
 see it. Her womanly devotion to her hus- 
 band redoubled, but with ever the discrepancy 
 between them more strongly accentuated, 
 and ever the fact that it was duty, not love, 
 more clearly shown. The increasing severity 
 of his ruin was proved by the thousand and 
 one little personal sacrifices she made with 
 such noble resignation — sacrifices which she 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 131 
 
 rather ostentatiously concealed from both him 
 and Aston, but which were somehow self- 
 betrayed before the day was done, to the 
 further adoration of the one and the growing 
 infatuation of the other, and the more com- 
 plete and comfortable blindness of both. But 
 these sacrifices, which she was so sweetly 
 earnest to make, neither her husband nor 
 Aston would permit ; and whatever else 
 might go by the board, her pleasures, and all 
 such purchasable amenities of life as Tunis 
 afforded, were supplied to the full. 
 
 The strain of this bitter fight with misfor- 
 tune, and the anguish of mind that he suffered 
 because of what it entailed on his adored 
 wife, began to tell on poor Jacques. He 
 grew paler and thinner day by day ; more 
 pitiful, more shrunken, more heart-broken. 
 He speculated on all imaginable chances, 
 
132 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 contingencies, events. He drew out the 
 probable horoscope of her fortunes, should 
 he be taken by a kindly fate, and his adored 
 Elaine be thus left — free and destitute. If he 
 had been sure that it would be freedom and 
 a wider range — a higher platform — he would 
 have removed himself this very night. But 
 he was not sure. She loved him ; she clung 
 to him ; she rested on him. If he took him- 
 self away from her, she would be desolate 
 and lonely, broken-hearted and friendless. 
 No ; it was his duty to live, so far as he 
 could yet see. Should it ever become clear 
 to him that it was to her advantage he should 
 die, he would draw down the curtain, turn 
 his face to the wall, breathe his last ' God 
 bless her !' and leave her untrammelled and 
 undisturbed. 
 
 Meanwhile, he lived on in pain and sorrow, 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 133 
 
 wearying his brain with futile thoughts as to 
 what he could do for her dear benefit, and 
 how he could make her amends for the losses 
 and discomforts of which he had been the 
 unfortunate medium, if not the original cause. 
 
 ' It breaks my heart to see you look so ill,' 
 said Elaine to him in her sweetest voice, and 
 with her most caressino^ air. ' What can I 
 do to make you better ?' 
 
 * I only ask your continued love and for- 
 giveness,' was his humble answer. 
 
 'Oh, that I know; but what can I give 
 you to make you well again ?' she returned. 
 
 A cynic might have said her smoothness 
 was artificial, while the well-concealed impa- 
 tience beneath it was the reality. 
 
 ' I shall be better when all this business is 
 over,' he said gently. ' It is the anxiety of 
 the whole thing which tells on me.' 
 
134 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 ' Will you take my medicine ?' returned 
 Elaine, fixing her beautiful brown eyes on 
 the uncomely face before her, which dis- 
 tress of mind and failing health together 
 made yet more hideous than Nature herself 
 had done. 
 
 ' From your hands — poison !' he said. 
 
 A sharp and vivid flush shot over her face. 
 For a brief instant the blood in her cheeks 
 seemed to discompose and embarrass her ; 
 but she recovered herself almost as quickly 
 as she had failed, and with a charming smile 
 said tenderly : 
 
 ' Your trust in me will not be put to that 
 test, dear. I will give you a tonic, not a 
 poison. Do you not know that I am half a 
 doctor as well as a good nurse ?' 
 
 ' I know that you are everything that 
 is good and divine,' murmured Jacques ; 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 135 
 
 ' and your tonic will make a new creature 
 of me.' 
 
 ' It will,' she replied ; repeating with a 
 smile : ' Quite a new creature.' 
 
 It was needed — this tonic which was to 
 repair the ravages made by anxiety in the 
 health of the ruined merchant and distracted 
 husband ; for surely he was grievously 
 sick and the anxiety of those about him 
 might well be transferred from his affairs 
 to his person — from his fortune to his 
 health ! 
 
 Nothing could exceed the devotion of 
 Elaine, and, repugnant to all her sense of re- 
 finement as this constant attention on an 
 invalid was — so at least Aston Everton 
 divined and understood — she nevertheless 
 did her duty with a noble whole-heartedness, 
 that made that young Englishman more than 
 
136 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 ev^er her admiring slave, and, if need had 
 been, her resokite champion. 
 
 She continued her friendly intimacy with 
 him, and accorded him the same personal 
 privileges of companionship as she had ac- 
 corded him before — privileges which he 
 cherished as priceless proofs of her reliance 
 on his honour, his discretion, his reserve, as 
 well as proofs of her own chaste and lofty 
 friendship for him. He was her companion 
 in her daily drives to those shady gardens 
 without the city, where they strolled between 
 hedgerows of lavender and roses, and talked 
 in low voices beneath the vine-covered trel- 
 lises — gardens where the golden fruit hung 
 thick on the orange trees and the luscious 
 dates clustered overhead. These were her 
 recreation-times and his indemnification for 
 the tedium of his present life — when she 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 137 
 
 was away upstairs, attending on her hus- 
 band. 
 
 For the poor Httle man was indeed ill, and 
 daily growing worse ; though she still con- 
 tinued to hope against hope and to fight 
 valiantly against the dread spectre stealing on 
 and on. 
 
 Nothing could be more touching than her 
 whole attitude at this present time. In those 
 low-voiced talks in the shady gardens she 
 discoursed on the duties of wives and the 
 necessity of self-suppression, with an elo- 
 quence, a fervour, that swept the very soul 
 out of her hearer. 
 
 * A woman may be unhappily married,' she 
 said one day — her beautiful eyes fixed on 
 some far-off point in the horizon where it 
 would almost seem as if she saw her ' high- 
 born kinsmen ' in their shining robes, stand- 
 
138 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 ing against the cloudless blue, encouraging 
 her by their smiles ; ' but she is none the less 
 bound to honour and serve the man whose 
 name she bears. Do not you think so ?' she 
 added, turning her eyes on Aston, a whole 
 world of regret, entreaty, and scarce conscious 
 love speaking in them as plainly as if by 
 uttered words. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Aston in a low voice. 
 
 He wanted to be valiant. He was only 
 resigned. 
 
 ' Life is one long chapter of self-suppres- 
 sion,' she continued with a smile and a sigh 
 as pathetic as tears. 
 
 ' For honour's sake — and love's,' returned 
 Aston, speaking with difficulty. 
 
 ' Yes, there can be no true love where there 
 is forgetfulness of duty,' said Elaine. ' Love 
 to be love must have a clear conscience.' 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 139 
 
 He took her hand and kissed it. He 
 might have been a devotee kissing a relic for 
 the worshipful humility of his action. In- 
 wardly, his man's heart burnt like fire and the 
 fever in his veins seemed to scorch his very 
 soul. 
 
 ' You set the line,' he said, not daring to 
 look at her. 
 
 She laid her other hand on his, still holding 
 hers, and pressed it lightly. 
 
 ' With an English Q^entleman and a man of 
 honour, that is not difficult,' she returned. 
 ' Women can trust you English gentlemen !' 
 
 ' To the death — though our hearts break,' 
 said Aston. 
 
 ' Faithful and true, I knew this I' she 
 answered. * And oh ! what a blessing it is 
 to know it !' she went on to say, with a deli- 
 cate kind of fervour that was as though some 
 
I40 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 delightful fragrance came from her words — 
 as though some lovely music flowed over her 
 sweet lips. ' You and I are friends for life — 
 friends, who will never have cause to regret, to 
 blush, to wish that we had not said this or done 
 that. Friends for life — true and inseparable 
 in soul whatever time or distance lies between 
 us.' 
 
 Her fervour gained on him. The spiritual 
 sublimity of her thought and the evident love 
 it purified but did not care to control, touched 
 all that was noblest and most chivalrous in 
 Aston. He loved her — he thought, as man 
 had never loved woman before ; but not for 
 worlds would he have given this love the 
 rude energy of expression — not for worlds 
 would he have shocked, pained or disturbed 
 her — shaken her sweet trust in him or dis- 
 appointed her noble confidence. 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 141 
 
 ' You shall make of me what you will,' he 
 said earnestly. * You shall never hear a word 
 from me that you would wish unsaid — never 
 a prayer that you would rather not grant. 
 We will be friends at any cost. And you 
 may trust me.' 
 
 ' Yes, I know that,' said Elaine. 
 
 With a sudden abandonment of her former 
 self she turned to him as a child might 
 turn to its mother^ and flinging herself into 
 his arms, sobbed without reserve on his 
 breast. 
 
 It was her method of testing the sincerity 
 of his self-control and the depth of his love. 
 She knew men ; no woman better ! and could 
 classify them by their qualities as a botanist 
 classifies his plants or an entomologist his 
 moths. If Aston could withstand this ordeal, 
 this test of seduction, and come out pure 
 
142 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 and self-controlled — he was her slave, and 
 she could deal with him as she would. She 
 knew her own mind and what she wanted 
 and intended, but she needed to know on 
 what she could rely in him. If at this 
 supreme moment respect and self-control 
 should prove stronger than passion and im- 
 pulse, her way was clear — and that English 
 home was within her grasp. From ruin to 
 sufficiency — with the sweets of revenge to 
 follow ; through the crooked paths of crime, 
 yet ever with honour from tiie world outside. 
 From this crime she had no sense of shrink- 
 ing — for sufficiency and revenge she had but 
 that one all-absorbing desire. 
 
 And Aston, with something of the suffering 
 of a martyr at the stake, withstood this ordeal 
 and let her sob on his breast unkissed, un- 
 touched, save for the light pressure of his 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 143 
 
 arm about her supple form — a pressure that 
 meant protection rather than passion. 
 
 But she counted his heart-beats throbbing 
 hke Hving hammers in his breast ; and the 
 turmoil there helped her the better to under- 
 stand his reticence. 
 
 After this the relations between these two 
 biecame ever more tender but ever loftier and 
 purer. It was as if all earthly dross had been 
 purged away — as if the ' black drop ' had 
 been pressed out of their hearts, as erstwhile 
 out of Mohammed's, and had left nothing but 
 spiritual emotion. It was a friendship that 
 brought consolation and left nothing of shame 
 behind — a friendship for which no one could 
 condemn even a wife — a friendship on which, 
 should the death of the husband leave her 
 free, no subsequent reproach could lie and no 
 subsequent jealousy could be founded. 
 
144 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 This was what Elaine desired ; and, 
 because she had found Aston so amenable to 
 her direction, she almost loved him and failed 
 to feel for him the contempt which was her 
 normal attitude towards men. He had so 
 much power over himself as to be able to 
 resist both her and himself! If she could not 
 have put this somewhat to the account of her 
 own advantage she might have taken umbrage 
 at what she now admired. But she had seen 
 enough to know that, for the future — as she 
 had planned that future in her own mind — 
 this was the best and wisest and safest thing. 
 And, thinking so, she took the good of the 
 situation and forebore to feel aggrieved at 
 finding any influence whatever so strong as 
 that of her own beauty. 
 
 Poor Jacques grew daily worse and worse, 
 and Elaine's devotion redoubled. A nurse 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 145 
 
 was brought from the French convent, and 
 the regimental doctor attended on the sick 
 man with the zeal born of difficulty and a 
 professional puzzle. The disease was one of 
 those baffling and obstinate illnesses which 
 have no name and yield to no remedies. 
 There was nothing to account for the gradual 
 degradation of the poor fellow's condition ; 
 and why the remedies did not act as they 
 should, taxed all the doctor's ingenuity to 
 divine. Strange thoughts crossed his mind, 
 but if he gave them place he denied them 
 utterance, and argued within himself that it 
 was no business of his to peer behind the 
 screen and life the veil which hid the truth. 
 If even it were so — was it to be wondered at ? 
 Ruin was not a pleasant condition for a beauti- 
 ful young woman, grande dame to her finger- 
 tips. Nor was the companionship of a man who 
 VOL. I. 10 
 
146 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 had not one single claim to a woman's regard 
 — wanting the fortune which in French eyes 
 creates so many — more pleasant than ruin. 
 
 If it were so — small wonder ; and, thought 
 the philosophic doctor, small blame ! 
 
 In any case the national honour had to be 
 regarded. It would never do to let those 
 infidels behind the scenes. Things might be 
 done in the privacy of the harem which must 
 not be proclaimed as possible in a French un- 
 curtained home. For the honour of France, 
 more than a dull suspicion must be stifled. 
 And it was only a suspicion at the worst. 
 
 Meanwhile, the invalid grew steadily worse 
 and the army surgeon more and more puzzled. 
 The Sister, who acted as nurse, was a good 
 stolid, stupid soul, who put her faith in tisanes 
 and mallow leaves, and who neither saw nor 
 suspected beyond the shortened limits of her 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 147 
 
 own experience. Down in the courtyard, 
 where he sat smoking and dreaming, Aston 
 had but one feeling of reverence for the 
 saintly lady who attended so devotedly on 
 her sick husband. The coast was clear of 
 rocks ahead ; the eyes of all were bound ; 
 Elaine had a free hand ; and her future de- 
 pended on herself alone. 
 
 She persuaded herself that it was best so. 
 It did not take much argument to make her 
 think this. Her own wish was more than 
 half her conviction ; and she was not of the 
 kind to stop and hesitate when her mind 
 was made up and her way was plain before 
 her. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The sun was sinking in a sky of fiery glory, 
 and the long day was wearing to its close. 
 In the sick-room all was silent, save for the 
 laboured breath of the dying man, and the 
 gentle froti-froic of Elaine's dress as she 
 passed from the table to the bed, occupied in 
 some soothing little service for the invalid. 
 
 The windows were opened wide, but the 
 latticed shutters were still closed, and the 
 light came through the pierced woodwork 
 in strange fantastic shapes, distorted by the 
 slanting rays of the sun and by the shadows 
 made by the palm-tree in the court without. 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 149 
 
 Stirred by every passing air, the branches of 
 the palm wavered to and fro against the sky, 
 making a kind of dance of weird shapes, 
 suggesting terrifying thoughts, as now they 
 blotted out and now revealed the sunshine 
 cast by the patterned lattice on the walls and 
 floor. 
 
 All so still and silent within, and all so 
 restless and undetermined without ! What 
 an image it was of the peace of death and the 
 uncertain turmoil of life ! Which of the two 
 was most to be envied ? 
 
 The eyes of the dying man followed each 
 movement of his wife with the pathetic look 
 of a dumb animal, unable to express the 
 thought that fills its brain and swells its 
 heart. Speculation, sorrow and infinite love 
 were in those glazing eyes. Love that was 
 pity — love that was forgiveness, and that kind 
 
I50 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 of altruistic comprehension which accepts 
 even crime from the criminal's standpoint, 
 and, thus accepting, thus understanding, for- 
 gives. This was what poor Jacques Courcelles 
 felt, and what his dim eyes and withered 
 face expressed. Sinful in the citizen, this 
 immoral generosity is lovely in the individual. 
 It is not a principle by which the world can 
 live and society prosper ; but as a grace in 
 the banquet of life, as an occasional note in 
 the grave harmonies of existence, it has its 
 value as its beauty, and we should be the 
 poorer without it, 
 
 Jacques knew it all, and loved her quand 
 mcine. It spared him the trouble and her 
 the annoyance of his suicide, and cleared for 
 her dainty feet the ground which his ruin 
 had encumbered. Out of the wreck of his 
 fortunes enough might be saved for a year's 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 151 
 
 sufficient life. By the end of that time she 
 could marry someone more fortunate than he 
 had been, who would raise her once more to 
 her rightful position, and place the sceptre of 
 social supremacy in her hand. 
 
 Yes, it was best as it was ; and he did not 
 even wonder at the hardness of heart which 
 could compass such a deed — towards such a 
 lover, such a friend, as he had been. Un- 
 selfish to an extent which transformed what 
 else would have been craven love into moral 
 sublimity, even now in this supreme moment 
 he thought of her and her only. For himself, 
 he was content to be the useful victim and the 
 stepping-stone to her future well-being. He 
 did not resent the method, nor the thought ; 
 for his removal would be the best for her. 
 And she had the right to arrange her life as 
 was best. And then — she was not cruel. 
 
152 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 She softened the main deed by every kind of 
 sweet attention and womanly care. It was 
 like kissing him to death with poisoned lips 
 — feeding him with poisoned honey ; and he 
 was grateful for the kisses, and surely the 
 honey was sweet ! 
 
 She should never know that he knew. 
 Glad to die and disencumber her, he would 
 not cast even that amount of fear, perhaps of 
 remorse, into her soul. He would go to the 
 Great Beyond as he had lived here in life, 
 loving her and caring for her far beyond 
 himself. Vis-d-vis to her he had no rights. 
 His selfhood was merged in hers, and 
 adoration took the place of self respect. So 
 it had ever been ; so should it be to the end, 
 And after all — his thoughts always wandered 
 round to this view of the matter — it saved her 
 the shock, the public scandal, and the quasi 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 153 
 
 disgrace of a voluntary and undeniable 
 suicide. 
 
 For her own part, she was sorry for him, 
 and pitiful, outside the absolute necessities of 
 the case. Representing, as he did, the main 
 obstacle in her path — her hindrance, not her 
 help — her ruin, not her salvation— he must 
 be removed. The law of self-preservation 
 necessitated this, and the sophistry of egoism 
 made her action morally justifiable. But this 
 being so, round the hard core of the central 
 fact she wove all manner of tender em- 
 broideries. She was as caressing, as attentive 
 now as ever she had been in her married life 
 when his love could endow her, and his 
 blindness kept her safe. Her lips were 
 poisoned truly, but she did not stint her 
 kisses, and, though deceived and undone, he 
 should be happy to the last. 
 
154 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 She was not a cruel woman, she said to 
 herself ; she was strong, resolute, with a clear 
 vision and a dauntless heart ; but she was 
 not cruel. 
 
 This was the flatterin<i unction which she 
 laid to her soul as an anodyne against the 
 pain of self-reproach ; and when she adminis- 
 tered that which was slowly doing her hus- 
 band to death, she thought she deserved 
 sympathy and praise in that, conquering her 
 physical repugnance, she kissed his forehead 
 and caressed his hand, shed warm tears on 
 his face, and laid her beautiful head on the 
 faithful breast which cherished her quand 
 menie, while she listened to the now flagging 
 and now excessive beating of the heart which 
 was so soon to be stilled for ever. 
 
 She came up to the bedside now, a glass 
 of medicine in her hand. 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 155 
 
 * It is time for your draught, my darling,' 
 she said caressingly. 
 
 They were quite alone. The Sister was 
 at her devotions in an adjoining room ; the 
 doctor had taken his farewell with a signifi- 
 cant ' Good-night '; the last confession had 
 been made ; the last rites of the Church had 
 been administered. At peace with God and 
 man, the end of all things would not now be 
 premature, come when it might. 
 
 ' It is time for your draught, darling,' she 
 repeated. 
 
 Feebly he put aside the glass, and looked 
 at her with those dumb, dim, pathetic eyes, 
 wherein Love was contending yet with 
 Death. 
 
 ' One moment/ he said, ' Kiss me, Elaine, 
 before I go,' 
 
 She bent over him and touched his lips 
 
156 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 with hers, shuddering", pitiful, resolute all in 
 one. 
 
 ' I have loved you,' he said in a low voice, 
 strangled by something more than even 
 physical weakness. 
 
 ' And I you,' she answered. 
 
 * I have done you wrong,' he continued. 
 
 Her large eyes shone with a sudden light, 
 full of expectation, hope, and relief. Revenge 
 with Elaine was a duty and a virtue. 
 
 A sad, wan smile flickered about his lips. 
 
 ' No wrong save that of marrying you,' he 
 said. ' You were beyond me. I should not 
 have brought you so low.' 
 
 She made a little movement of impatience. 
 She might be compassionate, but she did not 
 care for sentiment. 
 
 ' You will now be free,' he faltered. ' Make 
 good terms for yourself.' 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 157 
 
 'Take your draught, dear. It is time,' 
 said Elaine. 
 
 * But remember me,' he continued feebly. 
 ' Remember your poor Jacques, who loved 
 you and — forgive me.' 
 
 * Forgive me,' said Elaine, with a sudden 
 inrush of feeling. 
 
 He laid his wasted hand on her bended 
 head. 
 
 ' I forgive you,' he said ; ' for my love's 
 sake. So will God. Give me the draught, 
 my wife — let me sleep.' 
 
 She put the glass to his lips, but she turned 
 away her eyes. She could not meet his. 
 The love in them overcame her, resolute and 
 strong as she was. The thing had to be 
 done. Still, the doing it was not pleasant. 
 All the same she put the glass to his lips, and 
 he drank. 
 
158 DULCJE EVERTON 
 
 It was the last draught that would be 
 needed. After this would come freedom and 
 release. 
 
 She laid him down again on the pillows, 
 for while he drank she had supported him on 
 her arm. Now she replaced him gently on 
 the bed and drew the coverlet decently over 
 his breast. 
 
 ' Sleep,' she said tenderly. ' It is the best 
 thing for you.' 
 
 The dim eyes closed, the poor wan lips 
 feebly smiled, the failing breath came in flut- 
 tering gasps, the lamp was burning very 
 low. Then the sun sank, and the brief 
 moment of Eastern twilight was over. The 
 darkness fell like a mantle from the sky ; the 
 weary heart ceased to beat ; and Elaine was 
 alone in the chamber of death with the 
 husband who had loved her so far beyond 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 159 
 
 himself, stark and lifeless on the bed. She 
 bent her ear against his lips to listen if he 
 still breathed — she felt his pulse, his heart, to 
 feel if it still beat. All was still as the grave 
 to which that sunlit Eastern room had turned ; 
 and then Elaine, with tears in her eyes and 
 an air of fine distraction on her face and in 
 her manner, hurried into the next room to the 
 Sister, kneeling as she told her beads, saying 
 in a terrified whisper : ' Come ! come, Sister, 
 quickly ! Bring a light ! I cannot hear my 
 husband breathe !' 
 
 When the Sister came and the light was 
 brought, the truth which she already knew 
 became manifest to all the world — the ruined 
 merchant and devoted husband had passed 
 away to those unknown regions where dark- 
 ness prevails, and he had carried her dread 
 secret with him. Loyal to the last, he had 
 
i6o DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 died for her as he had lived for her, and 
 he had died as he had lived, lovine and 
 excusing. 
 
 The Sister was too well disciplined to 
 make an outcry ; and blare of any kind did 
 not fit in with the Ideal to which Elaine's 
 personality was always attuned. To that 
 Ideal of grace, dignity, sweetness, and the 
 self-control which comes from purity and 
 spirituality, noise and publicity were infinitely 
 repugnant. What had to be done must be 
 done with reticence and quietness. The 
 master of the hotel must be communicated 
 with — the authorities of the city — the doctor 
 — and the Mother of the Sister's convent. A 
 note must be written to Aston, for good 
 breeding's sake, and then the rest must be in 
 silence. We all have to die. Grievous as it 
 might be to a beautiful young woman to lose 
 
DULCIE EVERTON i6i 
 
 her adored husband in a hotel in a foreign 
 town, it was something to be discreetly borne; 
 and the innate dignity of a character comes 
 out best under such sharp trials. It was an 
 ordeal ; and Elaine came out of it radiant 
 and unscathed. 
 
 To Aston's British dislike of publicity the 
 decent reserve, the dignified self-control of 
 this half-divine woman was but another jewel 
 in the coronet which crowned her queen 
 among women. It fitted in with his ideas as 
 exactly as with her Ideal. Indeed, the two 
 were identical. And if anything had been 
 wanting to complete the charm which had 
 already been wrought to such good purpose 
 over him it would have been this noble, wise 
 and dignified behaviour on the occasion of 
 her husband's death and her own trying lone- 
 liness. 
 
 VOL. I. II 
 
1 62 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 The letters which passed between these 
 two were frequent and in their own way sug- 
 gestive, though in no respect compromising. 
 In the most delicate manner, but frankly too, 
 Aston offered any help that he could give — 
 personal or pecuniary. With a fine sense of 
 his meaning, with generous recognition of 
 his honour, but also with a lofty adhesion 
 to her own dignity, all offers were refused, 
 and the beautiful widow scored even more 
 heavily than before, for the refusal which 
 disappointed his hopes and increased his 
 respect. 
 
 Still, she gave him leave to think that, 
 when she turned her steps homeward back to 
 France she would be glad of his escort. 
 Alone as she was, without even a maid — left 
 poor by the terrible ruin that had overtaken 
 them — a lonely, journey back to Paris would 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 163 
 
 be a trial she would be grateful to him should 
 she escape. And she would not detain him 
 long here in Tunis. She must just recover 
 her nerves sufficiently to bear the journey 
 and then they could depart. 
 
 This, then, was his consolation, and in this 
 he lived. Meanwhile Elaine procured her first 
 mourninof from the French milliner whom 
 she found here in this Eastern city ; and her 
 own natural taste and skill supplemented the 
 native quickness and professional ignorance 
 of the ' little workwoman ' to such good pur- 
 pose that she appeared in the most touching 
 and becoming attire that ever lovely woman 
 devised for the better enhancement of her 
 beauty. Fair and fascinating as she had always 
 been, she was far fairer, far more fascinating 
 now ; and when Aston first met her, cold 
 Englishman as he was, something crept over 
 
1 64 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 his eyes — a dimness, a strange kind of mois- 
 ture which in a woman would have been 
 tears. 
 
 He spoke no word of sympathy. That too 
 was his way, as silence and reticence were hers. 
 But he pressed her hand significantly as they 
 met, and looked into her eyes with his whole 
 soul in his. How well she knew that look ! 
 How often she had seen it ! and how ably 
 she responded to it ! One swift brief glance 
 of overpowering emotion, then the broad 
 eyelids cast down, and the inner struggle 
 betrayed by the very rigidity of the attitude, 
 accentuated by that one little quiver about 
 the lips — that one barely perceptible flutter of 
 the eyelids. And then — the victory gained, 
 those beautiful brown orbs lifted up to her 
 companion's face, serene, clear, unabashed — 
 as if some angel had passed that way and 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 165 
 
 had shown her spirit the light of heaven — 
 just for one moment forgotten. 
 
 She was the most consummate mistress of 
 facial eloquence that could be found within 
 the four seas. Faintly spoken, like a whisper 
 in the twilight, yet how eloquent it was ! 
 From every feature came some indication of 
 her feelings. Lips, eyes and brows, the 
 dilated nostril and the tell-tale eyelid — it was 
 all the same. What she wanted to make her 
 companion understand, that she could express 
 by a sign as well as another by a word, 
 and Aston was one who had learnt to read 
 her sweet face as though it were an open 
 book with letterpress and illustration dis- 
 played. 
 
 ' When shall you be prepared to start ?' he 
 asked after a pause. ' Do not hurry for me,' 
 he added hastily. ' My time is my own and 
 
1 66 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 it does not signify to me when — to-morrow 
 or a month hence.' 
 
 * I know you are too true to deceive me 
 even for my comfort,' returned Elaine, with 
 a gentle smile — the smile of one so deeply 
 imbued with grief she could afford to put on 
 the semblance of a momentary lightness, 
 
 * I am,' said Aston solemnly. 
 
 ' These dear English — great, good fools 
 they are !' thought Elaine, as she noted the 
 almost tragic fervour of her new lover's 
 answer. 
 
 ' I was thinking of this day week,' said 
 Elaine. ' I am so far shaken by the long 
 agony of that dear death-bed ' — here her 
 sweet eyes filled with tears — ' that I must 
 get back a little nerve and strength before 
 making the journey. Can you wait another 
 week ?' 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 167 
 
 * A dozen,' said Aston. 
 
 ' Thanks — only one more and then I shall 
 ask no more of you. Carry me safely to 
 Paris and your corvee will be over.' 
 
 ' You mean the gates of Paradise will be 
 shut,' said Aston hotly. 
 
 She lifted her lovely hand in warning. 
 
 ' My friend must not indulge himself in 
 hyperbole,' she said. ' Exaggeration is not 
 needed between friends.' 
 
 ' I do not feel it to be either hyperbole or 
 exaggeration,' returned Aston simply. 
 
 But he flushed as he spoke. Even from 
 Elaine censure of the mildest kind was pain- 
 ful, for travel had not made him more subser- 
 vient, though perhaps more self-controlled. 
 
 ' Feelings may be exaggerated as well as 
 words,' she answered. 
 
 Then seeing that hot flush on his face she 
 
1 68 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 once more lifted her eyes with a woman's full 
 caress in them, and Aston felt as if she had 
 thrown herself into his arms and pressed her 
 lips on his. 
 
 It was what she meant he should feel — 
 tasting the full sweet of her womanly sub- 
 mission if also of her womanly reserve and 
 dignity. She must maintain her own posi- 
 tion for self-respect's sake. But — spiritually 
 she was his, and he knew it. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DuLCiE had been married for three years, 
 and time had worked its accustomed changes. 
 BeHef had given place to knowledge, hope to 
 fulfilment, sentiment to reality. By this 
 working of time, by her state of wifehood 
 and her responsibilities of motherhood, the 
 somewhat tepid, somewhat superficial and 
 wholly unexplored affection with which she 
 had married, had grown into a deeper and so 
 far truer feeling. The husband was infinitely 
 dearer than the lover — yet also infinitely 
 more disappointing. 
 
 So purely virginal in heart and soul as 
 
I70 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 Dulcie had been, too fond a lover would have 
 embarrassed, perhaps a little revolted her ; 
 and Martin's love-making, of the very coldest 
 kind that could exist, had not struck her at 
 the time as either meagre or reluctant. He 
 had always been so much like a brother — 
 why should their engagement make any 
 difference ? She had not aroused her sleep- 
 ing senses by premature study of ' awakening ' 
 literature, nor had she gone into that crooked 
 path of self-analysis and self-torture which 
 makes callow youths and curly-headed girls 
 pessimists despairing of human nature, or 
 ' pagans ' demanding to live ' the life of 
 nature.' She was just simply a good, whole- 
 some, modest girl, who took things as they 
 came and as they seemed to be, and worried 
 herself about nothing more recondite than 
 the temperature of Maitre Ange's nose or 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 171 
 
 the smashing of the tender blooms in the 
 garden by last night's storm. 
 
 But with increase of area came Increase of 
 depth in her emotions ; and when accus- 
 tomedness had led to greater familiarity she 
 became dimly conscious of a want she could 
 not particularize, but none the less acknow- 
 ledged. Her husband was kind, what the 
 world calls ' indulgent ' in that he gave her 
 her own way and never coerced nor thwarted 
 her. She was emphatically her own mistress; 
 and knew no stint in her freedom or his 
 liberality. He was always courteous to her, 
 always considerate. But — he was dead. 
 The mistress of his house and the mother 
 of his child, she yet was an outsider and 
 lived in the Court of the Gentiles, not in the 
 Holy of Holies. He opened neither his 
 mind nor his heart to her ; and she felt, how 
 
172 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 should she not ? that some strong, invisible 
 and irremovable barrier stood between them, 
 shutting her out from his inner self. Do 
 what she might she could not make one step 
 nearer to that inner self. Nothing warmed 
 him to enthusiasm — nothing softened him to 
 expansion. His soul was, as he himself had 
 said, like so much burnt-out slag which it is 
 impossible to rekindle into flame ; and the 
 coldness, the deadness of his whole being 
 made itself felt on Dulcie's nature, as the 
 presence of an iceberg reacts on the mercury. 
 She was disappointed and in a sense 
 disillusioned. Though she had woven no 
 rainbow-coloured dreams for herself during 
 the term of her engagement, she had uncon- 
 sciously hoped and dimly foreshadowed. 
 She had looked for an understanding more 
 thorough, more beautiful than that she had 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 173 
 
 had with her brother, thorough and beautiful 
 as this had been. Still, a husband stands 
 even nearer than a brother : and by just so 
 much she looked for more than aught she 
 had had from Aston. And she had received 
 so much less ! She was substantially so little 
 to her husband ! 
 
 She suffered, but she took herself to task 
 for the one part, and she did not give way 
 for the other. His wife, the mistress of his 
 house, the mother of his child, what more 
 did she want ? She asked herself this in 
 those stern accents which the conscience uses 
 when the soul faints for nameless sorrow and 
 vague unsatisfied desire. But stern as her 
 conscience might be, strong as was her 
 determination against spiritual egoism and 
 morbid dissatisfaction, the grieving soul was 
 not to be gainsaid. What did she want more 
 
174 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 than she had ? What indeed ! Only that 
 which constitutes true marriage — his Love, 
 his Selfhood ! 
 
 But she showed nothing of all this She 
 concealed her pain from all eyes, even from 
 those of her mother, whose woman's insight, 
 however, showed her some partial glimpses, 
 not perhaps of the truth, but of something 
 unsatisfactory. Above all she concealed her 
 pain from her husband, as much from loyalty 
 as pride. Ever cheerful, ever responsive to 
 his mood, she did her best to make things 
 well for him. Perhaps in time she might 
 win what was now denied her. So far 
 indeed she knew — she was necessary to his 
 comfort. Without her he would have been 
 personally poor, and his well-being would 
 have suffered. His love for her, such as it 
 was, was but a phase of selfishness ; and she, 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 175 
 
 the essential Dulcie, was neither understood 
 nor loved. Nor was the loss felt, nor was 
 the closer intimacy of soul with soul, heart 
 with heart, desired. 
 
 Slowly and painfully she had come to the 
 recognition of this, and now stood face to 
 face with the bitter truth — her husband, kind, 
 generous, faithful as he might be, did not 
 love her and did not belong to her. 
 
 Suffering makes us weak or strong — 
 peevish or self-controlled. It does not leave 
 us as it found us, but is the true thaumaturge 
 by whom we are transformed — the Ithuriel 
 by whose touch we discover the secret truth 
 of our nature. With Dulcie it brought forth 
 strength and self-control. It forced on her 
 a double life, in which however was no 
 duplicity. The Dulcie whom friends and 
 relations canvassed, caressed, talked with and 
 
176 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 looked at, was one person ; the Dulcie, stand- 
 ing undisguised to herself and before God, 
 was another. It was the beginning of the 
 evolution which time and circumstance were 
 to complete. And it was not an ignoble 
 beginning. 
 
 By what ' underground railway ' the secrets 
 of families are carried abroad in country 
 places, not the keenest detective that ever 
 served under Vidocq or peered through the 
 disguises of Vautrin could accurately deter- 
 mine. All that we can say is — they do get 
 known, well as we may imagine we have 
 masked, concealed, hidden. Hidden ? — not 
 a bit of it ! Ah, our cupboards have glass 
 doors and the neighbourhood understands 
 the anatomy of that fleshless skeleton quite 
 as well as do we ourselves. All our secret 
 sores are proclaimed on the house-top ; and 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 177 
 
 what we think is known only to ourselves 
 and perhaps that other — is common property, 
 passed from hand to hand and whispered in 
 the twilight from mouth to mouth. 
 
 For all Dulcie's absolute reticence and as 
 absolute self-control, it got bruited abroad 
 that the Harrowby marriage was not a happy 
 one. The cause might be obscure and simply 
 conjectural, but the result was accepted as an 
 absolute fact : — 'They are not happy.' 
 
 Mrs. Amanda Potts, in her character of 
 husband-hater, did not wonder at it. Dulcie 
 Everton was far too good for a surly satur- 
 nine brute like Martin Harrowby — only a 
 shade less objectionable than her own sorry 
 possession ; but Lucinda Ware, being a 
 spinster, thought that the wife held the keys 
 of the situation and that if a marriage proved 
 unsuccessful the woman, and the woman 
 
 VOL. I. 12 
 
178 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 alone, was to blame. Except indeed where the 
 man was notoriously unfaithful or a drunkard ; 
 and Martin Harrowby was not this ! 
 
 The Vicar was both distressed and puzzled. 
 He had known these two young people from 
 their birth onwards, and he knew how good 
 she was and believed him to be as true. 
 That any rift should have come into the 
 well-tuned lute of this alliance was a mystery 
 to him, and a sorrow as well. Still, he could 
 not shut his eyes to the patent melancholy of 
 Martin and to the grave kind of self-contain- 
 ment which Dulcie did her best to disguise 
 by smiles from the lips outward, and social 
 sympathy which lacked nothing but inward 
 reality. But it was no business of his to 
 interfere. Common talk beneath the breath 
 in the twilight is not a public scandal, and 
 the merchandise carried by the underground 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 179 
 
 railway is dangerous ware to handle in the 
 market-place. 
 
 He contented himself then, with a certain 
 increase of quasi-paternal tenderness in his 
 manner to both, trying to make them under- 
 stand, without expressing the fact, that he 
 was waiting there, ready to act as father 
 confessor to one or both should they 
 have aught to confess which it would be a 
 relief to their over-burdened souls to get 
 rid of. 
 
 Captain George Jones refused to believe 
 in the report at all ; and Percy Merritt wrote 
 a sonnet in the local paper about the broken 
 wing of a fair white dove, which he invited 
 to come to his bosom for healing. The 
 young curate took a lofty tone. When 
 grapes are sour, the fox, sometimes disdaining 
 the jump for aught so terrestrial, talks 
 
i8o DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 astronomy and the stars ; and thinks that 
 vineyards should be planted on the tops of 
 mountains, and that all the mischief in life 
 comes from a low level. 
 
 So they chattered among themselves, these 
 good, uninteresting citizens ; and no one came 
 near the truth, nor could have understood it 
 if he had. 
 
 * You are sure that Martin is well ?' asked 
 Dulcie's mother in her sweet calm way, which 
 yet was not unsympathetic. It was only not 
 hysterical. 
 
 ' I think so. So far as I know,' said Dulcie. 
 Her mother caught at the implied admission. 
 ' So far as you know !' she returned. ' A 
 wife should know all about her husband, my 
 dear. It is your duty to know !' she added 
 looking at her daughter ; * not only to think 
 but to know.' 
 
DULCIE EVERTON i8i 
 
 ' He never complains ; and he dislikes 
 being asked about himself so of course I do 
 not worry him,' said Dulcie, trying to speak 
 lightly. 
 
 ' He does not seem very communicative,' 
 said Mrs. Everton. 
 
 ' He never was, if you remember,' was the 
 reply. 
 
 Her face was bent over her work and her 
 mother did not see it. She dropped her 
 scissors ; and when she lifted up her head 
 after stooping, the flush that dyed her cheeks 
 scarlet was accounted for. 
 
 * There ought to be thorough confidence 
 between husband and wife,' said Mrs. Everton. 
 
 ' Oh, there is that !' said Dulcie with a 
 little laugh, admirably done. It sounded 
 quite natural, even to a mother's sensitive 
 ear. ' But you know, mother dear, many 
 
1 82 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 people hate to be asked about themselves 
 and made a fuss with. Martin does. I dare 
 say if he felt really ill he would tell me ; but 
 if he feels only a little out of sorts I think he 
 likes to be left alone and unnoticed ; so I just 
 watch quietly, and order for dinner what I 
 think is best for him without saying a 
 word.' 
 
 Dulcie spoke a little rapidly, and rather as 
 one who wants to exhaust the subject in 
 hand, and to have done with it. 
 
 * We are all noticing- how dull and de- 
 pressed he looks,' said the mother, glancing 
 up at her daughter. 
 
 ' Oh, do you think so ?' returned Dulcie, 
 heroically mendacious. ' He is bright enough 
 at times ; but I know he does not care for 
 society, and the old distaste seems to be 
 growing on him.' 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 183 
 
 ' It is a pity. It makes people talk/ said 
 the mother. 
 
 A fluttering little quiver stirred Dulcie's 
 close-shut mouth. 
 
 ' They might find something better to talk 
 about than poor Martin's health !' she cried 
 with the same admirably executed laugh as 
 before. 
 
 'You know what country neighbours are!' 
 returned her mother. 
 
 ' Yes, there is always that wonderful 
 pleasure in mares' nests,' she returned. 
 
 * Still, I wish he looked a little more 
 cheerful,' said Mrs. Everton making a rather 
 sudden lunge. 
 
 * Oh, that is his own affair ! So long as 
 he is all right at home it does not so much 
 matter,' answered Dulcie with her rapid 
 guard of heroic mendacity. ' By the bye, 
 
1 84 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 mother,' she said suddenly ; ' when did you 
 hear from Aston last ? I have not had a 
 letter for three weeks now. Have you 
 heard ?' 
 
 ' Yes, I forgot to tell you. I had a letter 
 this morning. He is in Paris.' 
 
 'Oh, I am so glad of that! He will be 
 coming home, then, soon I suppose ? What 
 joy ! He has been away so long!' 
 
 ' Four years,' said Mrs. Everton with a 
 sigh. ' It seems to me so strange that a boy 
 should care to stay away so long from home,' 
 she added with the home-staying mother's 
 ignorance of the impulses which stir the 
 young lions she has brought into the world 
 — her want of sympathy with their desire for 
 adventure, experience, unshackled liberty and 
 essential masculinity of life. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Dulcie, assenting for love, but 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 185 
 
 a little more alive to the true state of things 
 than was her gentle mother. ' But he will 
 soon come home now ; and how glad we shall 
 all be !' 
 
 ' I wish he would marry Ida Grantley,' 
 said Mrs. Everton. ' She is a charming girl, 
 and she will have a handsome fortune I 
 should say when her father dies. They have 
 no other children, and he is well, and more 
 than well off.' 
 
 ' She is a dear girl,' returned Dulcie, to 
 whom the person and not the property was 
 everything. 
 
 This small bit of worldliness in her almost 
 saintly mother was the one sole trait in her 
 character with which Dulcie had no sympathy, 
 and on which she never cared to touch. 
 
 ' Aston used to like her well enough,' con- 
 tinued the mother. 
 
i86 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 ' Yes, but I think only as a kind of play- 
 thing, like a small sister. I do not think he 
 was ever even prospectively in love with 
 her,' said Dulcie. ' They were too much 
 together — too intimate when they were boy 
 and girl,' 
 
 ' Not more so than you and Martin,' 
 objected Mrs. Everton. 
 
 ' No, perhaps not. But then that was 
 different,' said Dulcie, staunch and illogical. 
 
 At that moment Martin came in from the 
 solitary ride which made part of his every- 
 day programme — the one bit of overt selfish- 
 ness of which he was habitually guilty. He 
 rode for two or three hours alone, never by 
 any chance taking Dulcie with him — never 
 offering to accompany her in her drives or 
 walks — never asking her to go with him. In 
 these long solitary excursions he gave himself 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 187 
 
 up to himself. His thoughts were free, and 
 his sorrow might have full sway. There was 
 no one near to note the changes of his face, 
 to see the spasm of despair followed by the 
 anguish of unavailing love and undying 
 memory. He was here his own master, and 
 for these hours — free. 
 
 So worn and grave and preoccupied he 
 looked, as he came now into the drawing- 
 room where his young wife sat with her 
 mother! In the midst of all the tranquil 
 beauty that surrounded her, fighting with 
 wild beasts in her own heart and so far 
 conquering and subduing them, Dulcie's lot 
 was as pitiable as his — and more bravely 
 borne. 
 
 * I have just been asking Dulcie if you are 
 quite well, dear,' was Mrs. Everton's greet- 
 ing. 
 
1 88 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 ' Well ? Yes, I am perfectly well,' Martin 
 answered. ' Did Dulcie say I was not ?' he 
 asked a little feverishly. 
 
 ' No indeed,' cried Dulcie with a smile. 
 Yet she spoke hurriedly, one might almost 
 have said nervously, with a dash of hysterical 
 haste in her manner. Had it not been 
 Dulcie the word would have stood. ' I said 
 you were quite fit, so far as I knew.' 
 
 ' Surely,' returned Martin gravely. 'There 
 is nothing on earth wrong with me.' 
 
 ' One gets anxious, unnecessarily so,' said 
 Mrs. Everton, making her amende. 
 
 ' Quite unnecessary, so far as I am con- 
 cerned,' said Martin, still grave. 
 
 ' So you will not trouble yourself any more, 
 mother mine, will you ?' asked Dulcie 
 caressingly. 
 
 ' No, my love, I will not,' answered Mrs. 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 189 
 
 Everton, making an effort to smile and speak 
 lightly. 
 
 But she said to herself, after she had taken 
 her leave and was on her way home : 
 
 * There is something, I am sure of it, 
 and Dulcie is deceiving me and defending 
 him!' 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 Aston's roving propensities and somewhat 
 slack-reined handling of life had always been 
 a cross to his more rigid and less expansive 
 father — as well as a cause of spiritual terror, 
 because of spiritual danger, to his pure and 
 chastened mother. None the less, he was 
 their son, the heir of the estate and the 
 holder of the family name — the one on whom 
 depended the honour of the race and its 
 continuance in honour and prosperity. And, 
 though they had not been sympathetic with 
 the restlessness of his vigorous boyhood, nor 
 could they now understand what pleasure he 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 191 
 
 could find in remaining in such God-forsaken 
 places as he seemed to prefer to more civiHzed 
 demesnes, they loved him and longed for 
 him, and urged him to return home without 
 much more delay. 
 
 All sorts of things seemed waiting for that 
 return. Mr. Everton had sundry schemes 
 connected with his fields and farms which he 
 thought would ultimately benefit the estate, 
 but which he did not wish to set afloat until 
 Aston had gone into the matter with him and 
 should approve. Mrs. Everton thought that 
 the mystery of sorrow — of disappointment 
 and virtual crookedness which evidently hung 
 over her daughter's marriage, would be 
 cleared away when once her brother was at 
 home to stand by his sister's side, if need 
 be, or to bring Martin to his senses if also 
 need be. 
 
192 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 Then, Ida Grantley had grown up by now 
 into the perfect womanhood of just twenty- 
 one ; and she was fine enough and good 
 enough to be any man's choice, let who 
 would be the chooser. And if Aston would 
 but take a fancy to her and marry her, what 
 joy that would bring to both households 
 alike ! 
 
 To the Grantleys it would be as fine a 
 landing for their daughter as they would care 
 for — to the Evertons it would be the guarantee 
 for Aston's stability of abode, and a proof 
 that his sack of wild oats was emptied 
 finally and for good. And he had been 
 abroad so long now, it was but reasonable to 
 suppose he had satisfied his nomadic propen- 
 sity, and would be ready to take up his 
 residence as an English gentleman should, in 
 the neighbourhood where he would eventually 
 
DULCIE EVER TON 193 
 
 be a personage, and among the people whom 
 it would one day be his duty to influence and 
 lead. 
 
 Wherefore, they wrote to him, now in 
 Paris, letters of urgent beseeching ; and to 
 the mother's prayers were added the father's 
 screeds of graver remonstrance. 
 
 But still Aston lingered on in Paris, and 
 the flimsiness of his excuses — the thread- 
 bare quality of his reasons, became more 
 apparent in every letter that he sent in 
 reply. 
 
 ' He is in some difficulty,' said the father. 
 • Perhaps he wants money ?' 
 
 His mind refused to contemplate the pos- 
 sibility of any son of his being in mischief — 
 caught in disastrous toils of cards or women. 
 Pips and Delilahs were equally foreign 
 to his own experience, and he had not 
 
 VOL. I. 13 
 
194 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 imagination enough to forecast them for 
 others. 
 
 ' Perhaps he is ill and will not tell us,' said 
 the mother, her pale lips quivering. 
 
 ' No — it is money,' repeated Mr. Everton. 
 * He may have been incautious — young men 
 often are — and been robbed by some plausible 
 scoundrel whom he trusted. And he is un- 
 willing to come to me again. He has spent 
 more than I agreed on when he went away, 
 and he is proud and honourable. Depend 
 upon it, that is it.' 
 
 ' Then send him a cheque to-day,' said 
 Mrs. Everton with an air of relief 'If it is 
 only this, it is easily got over.' 
 
 ' Still — young men must learn from experi- 
 ence,' half objected the father. 
 
 Not that he grudged the money. It was 
 simply, as he said, the value of a lesson in 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 195 
 
 life by the hard teaching of experience by 
 which he wished his son to profit. If he had 
 been fool enough to be gulled by some 
 plausible scamp who had played on his 
 credulity, his vanity, his ignorance, it would 
 not be a bad thing for him to suffer the con- 
 sequences. It would teach him more wisdom 
 for the future. 
 
 But Mrs. Everton had none of that Spartan 
 sense. Her mother's heart went out to the 
 suffering son and she thought all the lesson 
 he needed had been fully learned by now. 
 
 ' Oh !' she said, with her sweet Madonna 
 face full of love and pleading ; ' you must 
 not be too hard on him, dear Fa! If he has 
 been foolish — and we do not know that he has, 
 remember — he has suffered for it quite enough 
 by now. So send him a cheque and tell him 
 that if it is not enough he can have more — 
 
196 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 only that he is to come home. All we ask of 
 him is — to come home !' 
 
 * Mothers are the ruin of men,' said Mr. 
 Everton— a smile robbing his words of all 
 bitterness. * Do you not know that those 
 who eat sour grapes must have their teeth 
 set on edge ?' 
 
 ' Not if I have the keys of the sugar-basin!' 
 said Mrs. Everton, laughing a little forcedly, 
 for she was not quite sure that her husband 
 would do as she wished, and she was breaking 
 her heart about her boy. 
 
 Besides, she wanted him at home for her 
 own private little schemes, as has already 
 been said ; and between her belief that he 
 would put that hidden crookedness straight 
 at Hayes Hill, and her desire that he should 
 fall in love with Ida Grantley, she had cause 
 enough to fret over the delay, and to long for 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 197 
 
 Aston's return as a weary night-watcher 
 longs for the uprising of the sun. 
 
 ' Well ! Well ! I suppose I must do as 
 you wish,' said Mr. Everton, yielding with 
 pretended reluctance, but inwardly not sorry 
 to have his sterner notions set aside by his 
 wife's softer wishes. 
 
 Even good people, and sincere as well as 
 good, are sometimes grateful for that kind of 
 coercion which forces them into leniency 
 when their ideas of abstract morality would 
 have made them implacable. Wherefore, 
 the letter was written ; a lumping sum was 
 sent in a valid cheque ; and father and 
 mother both believed that now the stone of 
 stumbling, whatever it might have been, was 
 removed and their son would find his way 
 home without delay. 
 
 The money came opportunely to Aston. 
 
198 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 The wreck of poor Jacques Courcelles' for- 
 tunes yielded but little salvage — less indeed 
 than he had anticipated. And her slender 
 resources, added to her high-bred ignorance 
 of commercial details, and her very natural 
 continuance in the costly habits to which she 
 had been accustomed, made the charge of 
 Elaine's comfort an onerous one, and the 
 money now sent a decided godsend. It 
 also enabled Aston to bring matters to a 
 crisis. Hitherto he had not spoken to the 
 point. Though he knew himself beloved, by 
 every sign that a pure and saintly woman can 
 give without shame or sin, he knew also that 
 human nature has its code of propriety even 
 as society and Mrs. Grundy have theirs. He 
 would not seem to triumph with unseemly 
 haste over the poor dead obstructer that had 
 gone. She should have time to weep those 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 199 
 
 tears which were but decent for a man who 
 had loved her, though he himself had been 
 all unloved and unlovely. Nothing should 
 be done in indecent haste. Nevertheless, 
 the expenses of his present position were 
 greater than Aston could bear ; those letters 
 from home became ever urgent and more 
 urgent ; and now the culmination of all was 
 reached in this earnest desire from his parents, 
 accompanied by a remittance so generous as 
 to make obedience to their wish a righteous 
 necessity. Here then was the turning-point 
 — here came the moment when thinors must 
 be cleared, and times, dates and plans declared 
 — when conventionality must give place to 
 the real needs of life — and when the dead 
 must be forgotten for the livingr. 
 
 ' It is very soon,' sighed Elaine. ' My 
 mourning is too fresh, dear friend.' 
 
200 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 She held the balance between respect for 
 the dead and love for the living with con- 
 summate skill. 
 
 * But how can I leave you alone in Paris, 
 as things are !' cried Aston. ' Will you not 
 cast aside your scruples and marry me now at 
 once ? I JUMst ro home. It is imperative. 
 Will you not come with me .'*' 
 
 ' Is there no alternative ?' she asked, 
 raising her eyes to his with that sweet look 
 of reliance on a man's sounder judgment 
 which turns a clod into a poet and a coward 
 into a hero. 
 
 ' I see none. Do you ?' he answered 
 
 His heart was beating wildly, his hopes 
 were high, but yet he would not press his 
 claims too strongly. She should not be 
 overmastered against her will. Ever in their 
 joint lives she should be the arbiter. Only — 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 201 
 
 he would if he could persuade her judgment 
 — make her the voluntary executant of his 
 desire, but he would not overpower her mind 
 — at the best he would but lead it. It was 
 a subtle distinction, but one that was clear 
 to himself. And it was clear to her, this 
 shrewd and penetrating woman, who dealt 
 with men as a modeller deals with clay, and 
 who had never yet found one so resolute as 
 not to be moulded by her crafty manipula- 
 tion, never one so sharpsighted as not to be 
 blinded by her pretty pretences. 
 
 She asked nothing better than a speedy 
 marriage with Aston Everton. She had no 
 fancy for her role of widow for the one part, 
 doubled with that of fiancee for the other. 
 And — she was thirsting for revenge on 
 Martin and the woman he had married. 
 
 But she had to yield by degrees — step by 
 
202 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 step — gracefully, reluctantly in the initial 
 stages — till at last she surrendered once and 
 for allj conquered by her lover's strength and 
 convinced by his reasonings. 
 
 The world lost one of its finest actresses 
 when this clever cosmopolitan elected to try 
 what it was like to have an assured income 
 and a stable position, and to mingle with the 
 pure water of conventional respectability the 
 ardent wine of secret devergoiidage. Fine as 
 had been her actingf all throuQ-h her married 
 life with Jacques Courcelles, she surpassed 
 herself now with her lover, Aston. She 
 understood the difference there was in the 
 character of their devotion and their blind- 
 ness. With poor Jacques it had been quand 
 nieme ; with Aston it was ' So long as.' The 
 one had loved her beyond honour, self- 
 respect, and even beyond self-preservation. 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 203 
 
 He had loved her, not her qualities, and he 
 would have gone on loving her in naked 
 disrepute as fondly as when he believed her 
 his faithful, blameless, stainless wife. The 
 other loved her for what he believed her 
 to be, as well as for herself — her beauty — her 
 womanhood. He had not loved her so much 
 had he not loved honour more ; and the day 
 when he should find out that he had loved 
 a simulacrum, a cheat and not a woman of 
 high and lofty principle, of pure conduct and 
 noble aspirations — as he believed her to be — 
 on that day his love would die, and loathing 
 would take its place. This too Elaine fore- 
 saw, and for this she made up her line of 
 action and marshalled her resources. Hence, 
 if left alone in Paris, she knew that she must 
 live a life of absolute discretion and dulness : 
 and this was not a pleasant prospect to one 
 
204 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 steeped to her very lips in the love of excite- 
 ment and intrigue. 
 
 The marriage then was agreed on ; and it 
 was to take place so soon as the necessary- 
 legal formalities should be completed. There 
 would be no religious complications, for Elaine 
 was a Protestant according to the Church of 
 England ; though, out of sweet womanly 
 complaisance to poor Jacques, who was some- 
 what of a ddvot, she said, she had been 
 married to him according to the rites of the 
 Romish Church. But in reality she her- 
 self was a Protestant, and always had been — 
 had she not been born and baptized in 
 England, and was she not English for at 
 least half her being ? Hence, things did not 
 take so long as they vv'ould have done, had 
 the French authorities been interested. The 
 English Consul made shorter work of the 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 205 
 
 matter ; and always, if Elaine's delicate 
 scruples were not satisfied, the tie could be 
 reknit with still firmer strands after they had 
 reached England and home. Meanwhile, 
 this was valid enough ; and now they were 
 man and wife. 
 
 * Man and wife till death us do part !' said 
 Aston in a kind of subdued ecstasy. ' Mine 
 for time and eternity.' 
 
 ' Yours for time and eternity !' echoed 
 Elaine, catching his tone and repeating 
 it. 
 
 But now the thing had to be told to the 
 authorities at home. When standing at a 
 little distance from this necessary plunge, it 
 had seemed to Aston as a mere nothing. 
 Elaine was so transcendent, she was her own 
 justification for what might look like an act 
 of folly, or at the least as an act of rashness. 
 
2o6 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 She would carry her welcome with her, and 
 father and mother would both receive her as 
 their beloved and honoured daughter so soon 
 as they should see her. Of this he had felt 
 certain, and therefore he had not feared 
 in anticipation the plunge that must be 
 taken. 
 
 It was somewhat different when the 
 moment came and he had to write. Through 
 all his ecstatic delight, through all his pas- 
 sionate love and appreciation of the treasure 
 he had won and secured, he was con- 
 scious of a certain difficulty when it came 
 to the formal announcement of his marriage. 
 Stripped of all sentiment — setting aside her 
 supremacy among women and reduced to the 
 beggarly elements of fact — there it was — the 
 marriage of a young man without a penny he 
 could call his own, and dependent for his 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 207 
 
 allowance on the goodwill and liberality of 
 his father ; a marriage, too, made without 
 consultation with his parents — without their 
 knowledge or consent until it was completed. 
 And the woman he had married, dowered as 
 she might be with far more than the gross 
 wealth of what men call fortune, yet in 
 respect of that fortune, practically penni- 
 less. 
 
 Well ! it was an awkward little knot of 
 circumstances, take it how he would, and 
 it was not easy to smooth out the various 
 kinks belonging to this entangled thread and 
 make it seem to the parents at home as a 
 wise and substantial thing to have done. 
 But ever Aston went back on his one great 
 line of defence : ' When they saw her they 
 would understand all, and they would approve 
 because they would love.' 
 
2o8 DULCIE EVERTON 
 
 So he comforted himself and stilled the little 
 snakes of anxiety that began to stir about his 
 heart. For what if his father should prove 
 obdurate ? — what if he should resent this 
 marriage as an insult to his own parental 
 authority and an unjustifiable claim on the 
 parental resources ? What then could he 
 do, a ' handless ' man in the way of a 
 profession, as he was ? How could he 
 support Elaine as she ought to be supported 
 if this dread possibility should come to 
 pass ? 
 
 He would not think of it. The deed was 
 done now and they must accept it. If even 
 the first news were received by his parents 
 with displeasure, there was always that irre- 
 sistible charm to be worked. And when 
 once they had seen Elaine the whole thing 
 would be clear. They would love her and 
 
DULCIE EVERTON 209 
 
 forgive him — they would accept her and be 
 proud of her, and what was the most impor- 
 tant of all — they would provide for her accord- 
 ing to her deserving. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. 
 
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 Duchess of Powysland. 
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 FhiUstia. 
 
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 Babvlon. 
 
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 Othello's Occupation. 
 
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 Vaehti and Esther. 
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 Chaplain of the Fleet. 
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 Beyond the Dreams of 
 
 Avarice. 
 
 All Sorts and Condi 
 
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 Dorothy Forster. 
 Uncle Jack. 
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 Children of Gibeon. 
 Herr Paulus, 
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 Martyrdom of Madeline 
 Love Me for Ever. 
 Annan Water. 
 Foxglove Manor. 
 ROB. BUCHANAN & HY. MURRAY 
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 Bv MACLAREN COBBAN. 
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 Blind Love. 
 
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 Armadale. | AfterDark 
 
 No Name. 
 
 Antonlna. 
 
 Basil, 
 
 Hide and Seek. 
 
 The Dead Secret. 
 
 Queen of Hearts. 
 
 My Miscellanle.s, 
 
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 Man and Wife. 
 
 Poor Miss Finch. 
 
 Mi.ss or Mrs. ? 
 
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 Paul Foster s Daughter. 
 
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 Geoffory Hamilton. 
 
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 Two Girls on a Barge. 
 
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 His Vanished Star. 
 
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 Romances of the Old Seraglio. 
 
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 The Adventures of a Fair Rebel. 
 
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 Tales of Our Coast, 
 
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 Diana Barrington. 
 Proper Pride. 
 A Family Likeness. 
 Pretty Miss Neville. 
 A Bird of Passage. 
 
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 Hearts of Gold. 
 
 By ALPHONSE DAUDET. 
 
 The Evangelist ; or, Port Salvation, 
 
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 Mr. Sadler s Daughters. 
 
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 The Fountain of Youth. 
 
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 A Castle in Spain. 
 
 CROKER. 
 
 'To Let.' 
 
 Mr, Jervis. 
 
 Village Tales & Junglg 
 
 Tragedies, 
 The Real Lady Hilda, 
 
28 
 
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 By. J. LEITH DERWENT. 
 
 Our Ija4y of Tears. | Circe's Lovers. 
 
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 Tracked to Doom. I The Mystery of Jamaica 
 
 Man from Mancliester. | Terrace. 
 
 By A. CONAN DOYLE. 
 
 Tlie Firm of Girdlettone. 
 
 By S. JEANNETTE DUNCAN. 
 
 A Daughter of Today. | Vernon's Aunt. 
 
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 The New Mistress. I The Tiger Lily. 
 
 Witnefs to the Deed. | The White Vfrgin. 
 
 By PERCY FITZGERALD. 
 ratal Zero. 
 
 By R. E. FRANCILLON. 
 One by One. I Ropes of Sand. 
 
 A Dog and bis Shadow. Jack Doyle's Daughter. 
 A Real Queen. I 
 
 Prefaced by Sir BARTLE FRERE. 
 
 Fandurang Han. 
 
 BY EDWARD QARRETT. 
 The Capel Girls. 
 
 By PAUL QAULOT. 
 The Red Bhirts. 
 
 By CHARLES GIBBON. 
 Robin Oray. | The Golden Shaft, 
 
 Loving a Dream. 
 By E. 
 
 The Lost Heiress. 
 A Fair Colonist. 
 
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 GLANVILLE. 
 
 I The Fosslcker. 
 I The Golden Rock. 
 J. GOODMAN. 
 The Fate of Herbert Wayne. 
 
 By Rev. S. BARING GOULD. 
 Red Spider. I Eve. 
 
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 Corlnthla Marazion. 
 
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 The Days of his 'Vanity. 
 
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 Under the Greenwood Tree. 
 
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 A Waif of the Plains 
 A Ward of the Golden 
 
 Gate. 
 A Sappho of Green 
 
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 Col. Starbottle's Client. 
 
 Susy. 
 
 Sally Dows. 
 
 A Protegee of Jack 
 
 Hamlin s. 
 BellRinger of Angel's. 
 Clarence. 
 
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 Beatrix Randolph. 
 
 David Poindexter 3 Dis- 
 appearance. 
 
 The Spectre of the 
 Camera. 
 
 Garth 
 
 Ellice Quentin. 
 
 Sebastian Strome. 
 
 Dust. 
 
 Fortune B Fool. 
 
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 Ivan de BIron. 
 
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 Agatha Page. 
 
 By G. A. HENTY. 
 
 Rujnb the Juggler. t Dorothy's Double. 
 
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 The Common Ancestor. 
 
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 Lady Vemer's Flight. I The Three Graces. 
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 The Leaden Casket. I Self- Condemned. 
 That Other Person. | Mrs. Juliet. 
 
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 Honour of Thieves. 
 
 By R. ASHE KING. 
 
 A Drawn Game. 
 
 ' Zhe Wearing of the Green,' 
 
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 Madame Sans. Gene. 
 
 By HARRY LINDSAY. 
 
 Rhoda Roberts. 
 
 By E. LYNN LINTON. 
 
 Patricia KembaJl. I Sowing the Wind. 
 
 Under which Lord? The Atonement ofLeam 
 
 ■ My Love I ' Dundas. 
 
 lone. The World Well Lost. 
 
 Paston Carew. 1 The One Too Many. 
 
 By HENRY W. LUCY. 
 
 Gideon Fleyce. 
 
 By JUSTIN McCarthy. 
 
 Miss Misanthrope. 
 Donna Quixote. 
 Red Diamonds. 
 Maid of Athens. 
 The Dictator. 
 The Comet of a Season. 
 
 A Fair Saxon. 
 
 Linley Rochford. 
 
 Dear Lady Disdain. 
 
 Camiola 
 
 Waterdale Neighbours. 
 
 My Enemy's Daughter. 
 
 By JUSTIN H. McCARTHY. 
 A London Legend. 
 
 By GEORGE MACDONALD. 
 
 Heather and Snow. | Pbantastes. 
 By L. T. MEADE. 
 A Soldier of Fortune. | In an Iron Grip. 
 By BERTRAM MITFORD. 
 
 The Gun-Runner. I The King 3 Asseu?,!. 
 
 The Luck of Gerard Renshaw Faiuiins's 
 Ridgeley. | Quest. 
 
 By J. E. MUDDOCK. 
 
 Maid Marian and Robin Hood. 
 Basile the Jester. 
 
 By D. CHRISTIE MURRAY. 
 
 A Life's Atonement, 
 
 Joseph's Coat. 
 
 Coals of Fire. 
 
 Old Blazer's Hero. 
 
 Val Strange. | Hearts. 
 
 A Model Father. 
 
 By the Gate of the Sea. 
 
 A Bit of Human Nature. 
 
 First Person Singular. 
 Cynic Fortune. 
 The Way of the World. 
 BobMartin's Little Girl. 
 Time'3 Revenges. 
 A Wasted Crime. 
 In Direst Peril. 
 Mount Despair. 
 
 By MURRAY and HERMAN. 
 
 The Bishops' Bible. I Paul Jones s Alias. 
 
 One Traveller Returns. | 
 
 By HUME NISBET. 
 
 ' Bail Up I ' 
 
 By W. E. NORRIS. 
 
 Saint Ann's. | Billy BeKew. 
 
 By G. OHNET. 
 A Weird Gift. 
 
 By OUIDA. 
 
 Held in Bondage. 
 
 Strathmore. 
 
 ChandoE. 
 
 ■Under Two Flags. 
 
 Idalia. 
 
 Cecil Castlemaine a 
 
 Gage. 
 Tricotrin. 
 Fuck. 
 
 Folle Farine. 
 A Dog of Flanders. 
 Pascarel. 
 Signa. 
 
 Princess Napraxine. 
 Ariadne. 
 
 Two Little Wooden 
 
 Shoes. 
 In a Winter City. 
 Friendship. 
 Moths. 
 Rnf&no. 
 Pipistrello. 
 A Village Commune. 
 Blmbi. 
 Wanda. 
 
 Frescoes. I Othmar. 
 In Maremma. 
 Byrlin. | Guilderoy. 
 Santa Barbara. 
 Two Offenders. 
 
 By MARGARET A. PAUL. 
 
 Gentle and Simple. 
 
 By JAMES PAYN. 
 
 Lost Sir Massingberd. 
 Less Black than We're 
 
 Painted. 
 A Confidential Agent. 
 A Grape from a Thorn. 
 In Peril and Privation. 
 The Mystery of Mir- 
 By Proxy. [bridge. 
 The Canon's Waid. 
 Walter s Word. 
 
 High Spirits. 
 Under One Roof. 
 Glow worm Tales 
 The Talk of the Tovi.-n. 
 Holiday Tasks. 
 For Cash Only. 
 The Burnt Aullion. 
 The Word and the WiU. 
 Sunny Stories. 
 A Trying Patient. 
 
CHATTO & WINDUS, PUBLISHERS, PICCADILLY. 
 
 29 
 
 The Piccadilly (^/6) Novels — continued. 
 
 By Mrs. CAMPBELL PRAED. 
 Outlaw and Lawmaker. I Obrlstlna Chard. 
 
 By E Z. PRICE. 
 Valtntlna. | Mrs. Lancaiter's Rival. 
 
 The Foreigners. I 
 
 By RICHARD PRYCE. 
 Ultt Maxwell's Affections. 
 
 By CHARLES READE 
 
 Slngleheart andDonble- 
 
 face. 
 Good Stories of Men 
 
 and other Animals. 
 Hard Cash. 
 Peg WofBneton. 
 Christie Johnstone. 
 Griffith Gaunt. 
 Foul Play. 
 
 The Wandering Heir. 
 A Woman-Hater. 
 A Simpleton. 
 A Perilous Secret, 
 Seadiana. 
 
 It li Hever Too Late to 
 
 Mend. 
 The Double Marriage. 
 Love Me Little, Love 
 
 Me Long. 
 The Cloister and the 
 
 Hearth. 
 The Course of True 
 
 Love. 
 The Antohiography of 
 
 a Thief. 
 Put Tourself In His 
 
 Place. 
 A Terrible Temptation. 
 The Jilt. 
 
 By Mrs. J. H. RIDDELL. 
 Weird Stories. 
 
 By AMELIE RIVES. 
 Barbara Dering. 
 
 By F. W. ROBINSON. 
 The Hands of Justice. 
 
 By DORA RUSSELL. 
 A Country Sweetheart. | The Drift of Pate. 
 
 By W. CLARK RUSSELL. 
 Ocean Tragedy. Is He the Man 7 
 
 My Shipmate Ionise. The Good Ship 'Mo- 
 Alone on Wide Wide Sea hock.' 
 The Phantom Death. The Convict Ship. 
 
 By JOHN SAUNDERS. 
 Gny Waterman. I The Two Dreamers. 
 
 Bound to the Wheel. { The Lion in the Path. 
 
 By KATHARINE SAUNDERS. 
 Margaret and Elizabeth I Heart Salvage. 
 Gideon's Rock. Sebastian. 
 
 The High Mills. I 
 
 By ADELINE SERGEANT. 
 Dr. Endlcott s Experiment. 
 
 By HAWLEY SMART. 
 Without Love or Licence. 
 
 By T. W. SPEIGHT. 
 
 A Secret of the Sea. | The Grey Monk. 
 
 By ALAN ST. AUBYN. 
 A Pellow of Trinity. I In Face of the World. 
 The Junior Dean. Orchard Damerel . 
 
 Master of St.Benedlct's. The Tremlett Diamonds 
 To his Own Master. I 
 
 By JOHN STAFFORD. 
 Dorlf and I. 
 
 By R. A. STERNDALE. 
 The Afghan Enlfe. 
 
 By BERTHA THOMAS. 
 Proud Maisie. | The Violin-Player. 
 
 By ANTHONY TROLLOPE. 
 
 The Way we Live Now. | Scarborough's Family. 
 
 Fran Frohmann. 
 
 By FRANCES 
 
 Like Ships upon the 
 Sea. 
 
 The Land-Leaguer 
 
 E. TROLLOPE. 
 
 Anne Fumess. 
 Mabel's Progress. 
 
 By IVAN TURGENIEFF, &c. 
 
 Stories tiom Foreign Novelists. 
 
 By MARK TWAIN. 
 The American Claimant. I Pudd'nhead Wilson. 
 Thefl.OOO.OOOBank-note. Tom Sawyer,Detectlve. 
 Tom Sawyer Abroad. | 
 
 By C. C. FRASER-TYTLER. 
 
 Mistress Judith. 
 
 By SARAH TYTLER. 
 
 Lad^ Bell. { The Blackball Ghosts. 
 
 Buried Diamonds. | The Macdonald Lasis. 
 
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 Zeph. 
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 :dy. 
 
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 Quittance in Full 
 
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