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 1. THE UPPER BERTH. By F. MARION 
 
 Crawford. Third Edition. 
 
 2. MAD SIR UCHTRED OF THE HILLS. 
 
 By S. R. Crockett. Second Edition. 
 
 BY REEF AND PALM. By Louis Becke. 
 Preface by the EARL OF PEMBROKE. Second 
 
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 4. THE PLAYACTRESS. By S. R. Crockett. 
 
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 7. TWO STRANGERS. By Mrs. Oliphant. 
 
 8. ANOTHER WICKED WOMAN. By S. 
 
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 By W. E. NORRis. 
 
 10. KAFFIR STORIES. By W. C. Scully. 
 
 11. MOLLY DARLING I By MRS. HUNGER- 
 
 FORD. 
 
 12. A GAME OF CONSEQUENCES. By 
 
 Albert Kinross. 
 
 13. SLEEPING FIRES. By GEORGE GiSSING. 
 
 IN PREPARATION. 
 
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 A MARRIAGE BY CAPTURE. By 
 
 Robert Buchanan. 
 
 Copyright by T. FISHER UNWIN 
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 1. MADEMOISELLE IXE. 
 
 2. STORY OF ELEANOR LAMBERT. 
 a MYSTERY OF THE CAMPAGNA. 
 
 4. THE SCHOOL OF ART. 
 
 5. AMARYLLIS. 
 
 6. HOTEL D'ANGLETERRE. 
 
 7. A RUSSIAN PRIEST. 
 
 a SOME EMOTIONS AND A MORAL. 
 9. EUROPEAN RELATIONS. 
 0. JOHN SHERMAN. 
 
 11. THROUGH THE RED-LITTEN WINDOWS. 
 
 12. GREEN TEA. 
 
 13. 7/J5;Ayr LADEN. 
 
 14. iV.4^Ai2',9 DREAM. 
 
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 17. rzr^ GENERAL'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 18. SAG H ALIEN CONVICT. 
 
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 20. A SPLENDID COUSIN. 
 
 21. COLETTE. 
 -22. OTTILIE. 
 
 sa ^ STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 24. TJ/^ CRUISE OF THE " 17/2^2) DUOK." 
 
 25. SQUIRE HELLMAN. 
 
 26. 4 FATHER OF SIX. 
 
 27. Tfl"^ TFO COUNTESSES. 
 
 28. T^^ SINNERS COMEDY. 
 
 29. C4F^iXi?iZ/A RUSTIC ANA. 
 
 30. TiT^ PASSING OF A MOOD. 
 
 31. (?OZ>'S Tr/iii:. 
 
 32. DREAM LIFE AND REAL LIFE. 
 
 33. T^^ HOME OF THE DRAGON. 
 
 34. ui BUNDLE OF LIFE. 
 
 35. MIMFS MARRIAGE. 
 
 36. TJTJS; ROUSING OF MRS. POTTER. 
 
 37. A STUDY IN COLOUR. 
 
 38. r/f^ fl"OiV. ST AN BURY, AND OTHER&. 
 
 39. Tfl"^ SHEN'S PIGTAIL. 
 
 40. YOUNG SA3I AND SABINA. 
 
 41. r/f^ SILVER CHRIST. 
 
 42. A HUSBAND OF NO IMPORTANCE 
 
 43. LESSER S DAUGHTER. 
 44 HELEN. 
 
 45. OL/FJF' DATS. 
 
 46. OLD 5i20W^iV'<S COTTAGES. 
 
 47. UNDER THE CHILTERNS. 
 
 48. js?y^i2r D4F.S iv^i;ir.SL 
 
 49. CAUSE AND EFFECT. 
 
 50. WHITE UMBRELLAS. 
 
 51. FZrJJiir WHEAT IS GREEN. 
 
SLEEPING FIRES 
 
9 
 
 v^4-4-vtv/ 
 
 Sleeping Fires 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE GISSING 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 *THE ODD WOMEN," EVE'S 
 RANSOM," &c. 
 
 Second Edition 
 
 LONDON 
 
 T. FISHER UNWIN 
 
 1896 
 

 Copyright by T. FISHER UNWIN 
 
 for Great Britain 
 
 and the United States of America. 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 HE rain was over. 
 As he sat reading 
 Langley saw the page 
 llumined with a flood 
 of sunshine, which 
 warmed his face and 
 hand. For a few 
 minutes he read on,, 
 then closed his Aris- 
 tophanes with a laugh 
 faint echo of the 
 laughter of more than 
 two thousand years 
 ago. 
 
 He had passed the 
 winter at Athens, 
 rooms, chosen for the 
 
 occupying 
 
 333397 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 prospects they commanded, in a 
 hotel unknown to his touring 
 countrymen, where the waiters 
 had no English, and only a smat- 
 tering of French or Italian. No 
 economic necessity constrained him. 
 Within sight of the Acropolis he did 
 not care to be constantly reminded 
 of Piccadilly or the Boulevard 
 that was all. He consumed ptlafi 
 and meats generously enriched with 
 the native oil, drank resinated wine, 
 talked such Greek as Heaven per- 
 mitted. At two and forty, whether 
 by choice or pressure of circum- 
 stance, a man may be doing worse. 
 The cup and plate of his early 
 breakfast were still on the table, 
 with volumes many, in many lan- 
 guages, heaped about them. Lang- 
 ley looked at his watch, rose with 
 deliberation, stretched himself, and 
 walked to the window. Hence, at 
 a southern angle, he saw the Par- 
 thenon, honey-coloured against a 
 violet sky, and at the opposite 
 limit of his view the peak of 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 Lycabettus ; between and beyond, 
 through the pellucid air which 
 at once reveals and softens its 
 barren ruggedness, Hymettus bask- 
 ing in the light of spring. He 
 could not grow weary of such 
 a scene, which he had watched 
 through changes innumerable of 
 magic gleam and shade since the 
 sunsets of autumn fired it with 
 solemn splendour , but his gaze 
 this morning was directed merely 
 by habit. With the laugh he had 
 forgotten Aristophanes, and now, 
 as his features told, was possessed 
 with thought of some modern, 
 some personal interest, a care, it 
 seemed, and perchance that one, 
 woven into the fabric of his life, 
 which accounted for deep lines on 
 a face otherwise expressing the con- 
 tentment of manhood in its prime. 
 
 A second time he consulted his 
 watch perhaps because he had no 
 appointment, nor any call whatever 
 upon his time. Then he left the 
 room, crossed a corridor, and entered 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 his bedchamber to make ready for 
 going forth. Thus equipped he 
 presented a recognisable type 
 of English gentleman, without 
 eccentricity of garb, without origi- 
 nality, clad for ease and for the 
 southern climate, but obviously by 
 a London tailor. Ever so slight a 
 bend of shoulders indicated the 
 bookman, but he walked, even in 
 sauntering, with free, firm step, and 
 looked about him hke a man of this 
 world. The face was pleasant to 
 encounter, features handsome and 
 genial, moustache and beard, in 
 hue something like the foliage 
 of a copper-beech, peculiarly well 
 trimmed. At a little distance one 
 judged him on the active side of 
 forty. His lineaments provoked 
 another estimate, but with no 
 painful sense of disillusion. 
 
 Careless of direction, he strolled 
 to the public market the Bazaar, 
 as it is called where, as in the 
 Athens of old, men, not women, 
 were engaged in marketing, and 
 
 lo 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 where fish seemed a commodity no 
 less important than when it nourished 
 the sovereign Demos. Thence, by 
 the Street of Athena, head bent in 
 thought, to the street of Hermes, 
 where he loitered as if in uncer- 
 tainty, indifference leading him at 
 length to the broad sunshine of that 
 dusty, desolate spot where stands the 
 Temple of Theseus. So nearly 
 perfect that it can scarce be called 
 a ruin, there, on the ragged fringe 
 of modern Athens, hard by the 
 station of the Piraeus Railway, its 
 marble majesty consecrates the 
 ravaged soil. A sanctuary still, so 
 old, so wondrous in its isolation, 
 that all the life of to-day around 
 it seems a futility and an imper- 
 tinence. 
 
 Looking dreamily before him, 
 Langley saw a man who drew near 
 a man with a book under one 
 arm, an umbrella under the other, 
 and an open volume in his hands a 
 tourist, of course, and probably an 
 Englishman, for his garb was such 
 
 II 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 as no native of a civilised country 
 would exhibit among his own people. 
 His eccentric straw hat, with a 
 domed crown and an immense brim, 
 shadowed a long, thin visage dis- 
 guised with blue spectacles. A grey- 
 Norfolk jacket moulded itself to his 
 meagre form ; below were flannel 
 trousers, very baggy at the knees, 
 and a pair of sand-shoes. This 
 individual, absorbed in study of the 
 book he held open, moved forward 
 with a slow, stumbling gait. He 
 was arrested at length, and all but 
 overthrown, by coming in contact 
 with the sword-pointed leaf of a 
 great agave. Langley, now close 
 at hand, barely refrained from 
 laughter. He had averted his eyes, 
 when, with no Httle astonishment, 
 he heard himself called by name. 
 The stranger for Langley tried in 
 vain to recognise him hurried 
 forward with a hand of greeting. 
 ^" Don't you remember me ? 
 Worboys." 
 
 " Of course ! In another moment 
 
 12 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 your voice would have declared you 
 to me. I seemed to hear some one 
 calling from an immense distance 
 knew I ought to know the 
 voice " 
 
 They shook hands cordially. 
 
 " Good Heavens, Langley ! To 
 think that we should meet in the 
 Kerameikos ! You know that we 
 are in the Kerameikos ? I've got 
 Pausanias here, but it really is so 
 extremely difficult to identify the 
 sites '' 
 
 Fifteen years had elapsed since 
 their last meeting ; but Worboys, 
 oblivious of the trifle, plunged 
 forthwith into a laborious statement 
 of his topographic and archaeologic 
 perplexities. He talked just as at 
 Cambridge, where his ponderous 
 pedantry had been wont to excite 
 Langley's amusement, at the same 
 time that the sterling qualities of 
 the man attracted his regard. Any- 
 thing but brilliantly endowed, Wor- 
 boys, by dint of plodding, achieved 
 academic repute, got his fellowship. 
 
 13 
 
SLEEPING FIRfiS. 
 
 and pursued a career of erudition. 
 He was known to schools and 
 colleges by his exhaustive editing 
 of the " Cyropasdia." Langley, led 
 by fate into other paths, gradually 
 lost sight of his entertaining friend. 
 That their acquaintance should be 
 renewed " in the Kerameikos " was 
 appropriate enough, and Langley's 
 mood prepared him to welcome the 
 incident. 
 
 " Are you here alone ? " he asked, 
 when civility allowed him to wave 
 Pausanias aside. 
 
 " No ; I am bear-leading. Last 
 autumn, I regret to say, I had a 
 rather serious illness, and travel was 
 recommended. It happened at the 
 same time that Lord Henry Strands 
 I was his young brother's tutor, 
 by the by spoke to me of a lady 
 who wished to find a travelling 
 companion for a young fellow, a 
 ward of hers. I somewhat doubted 
 my suitability the conditions of 
 the case were peculiar but after 
 an interview with Lady Revill " 
 
 14 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 The listener's half-absent smile 
 changed of a sudden to a look of 
 surprise and close attention. 
 
 " I gave my assent. He's a 
 lad of eighteen without parents to 
 look after him, and really a difficult 
 subject. I much fear that he finds 
 my companionship wearisome -, at 
 all events, he gets out of my way 
 as often as he can. Louis Reed is 
 his name. I'm afraid he has caused 
 his guardian a great deal of anxiety. 
 And Lady Revill such an admirable 
 person, I really can't tell you how 
 I admire and respect her she 
 regards him quite as her son." 
 
 " Lady Revill has no child of her 
 own, I believe ? " said Langley. 
 
 " No. You are acquainted with 
 her ? " 
 
 " I knew her before her mar- 
 riage." 
 
 " Indeed ! What a delightful 
 coincidence ! I can't tell you how 
 she impresses me. Of course I am 
 not altogether unaccustomed to the 
 society of such people, but Lady 
 
 15 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 Revill I really regard her as the 
 very best type of aristocratic woman, 
 I do indeed. She must have been 
 most interesting in her youth." 
 
 " Do you think of her as old ? ** 
 Langley asked, with a grave smile. 
 
 "Oh, not exactly old oh, dear 
 no ! I imagine that her age 
 well, I never gave the matter a 
 thought." 
 
 '' Does she seem ? " Langley 
 
 hesitated, dropping his look. 
 " Should you say that her life has 
 been a pleasant one ? " 
 
 " Oh, undoubtedly ! Well, that 
 is to say, we must remember that 
 she has suffered a sad loss. I believe 
 Sir Thomas Revill was a most ad- 
 mirable man." 
 
 " She speaks of him ? " 
 
 " Not to me. But I have heard 
 from others. Not a distinguished 
 man, of course ; silent, as a member 
 of Parliament, I believe, but ad- 
 mirable in all private relations. To 
 be sure, I have only heard of him 
 casually. You knew him r " 
 
 i6 
 
SLEEPlKG FIRES. 
 
 " By repute I should say you 
 are quite right about hinu And 
 this boy gives you a good deal of 
 trouble?" 
 
 '^ No, no ! " Worboys nrrhimfd 
 Inirriedly. ^ I didn't wish to con- 
 vey that impressioa To begin 
 with, one can hardty call him a 
 boy. No, he b sangularly mature 
 fer his age. And yet I dcm't meaa 
 mature; on the omtrary, he abounds 
 in youthfiil fcX&cs. I don't wish 
 to oooirey an impiesrion really 
 it's very difiniH to describe him 
 But of oottne you wiD come and 
 have hmch with OS, Lang^? Hell 
 be at the hotd by one oi'clock, no 
 doubt. I left him writing letters 
 he's alw;^ writing letters* Really, 
 I am tempted to imagine some 
 but he doem't confide in me, and I 
 sddom allow nqrself to talk of any- 
 thing but scrioos sabjects." 
 
 They were moving in the town- 
 ward direction* Lan^ejj divided 
 b etween hb own thoaghts and 
 attention to what his compamon 
 
 17 ? 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 was saying, walked with eyes on 
 the ground. 
 
 " And what have you been doing 
 all these years ? " Worboys inquired. 
 " Strange how completely we have 
 drifted apart. I knew you on the 
 instant. You have changed wonder- 
 fully little. And how pleasant it is 
 to hear your voice again ! Life is 
 so short j friends ought not to lose 
 sight of each other. Soles occidere et 
 redire possunt you know." 
 
 The other gave a brief and good- 
 humoured account of himself. 
 
 " And you have lived here alone 
 all the winter," said Worboys. 
 ," Not like you ; you were so 
 sociable ; the life and soul of our 
 old sym posia though I don't know 
 that I ought to say our^ for I seldom 
 found time to join in such relaxa- 
 tions. A pity ; I regret it. The 
 illness of last autumn made me all 
 at once an old man. And no doubt 
 that's why Louis finds me so un- 
 sympathetic. Though I like him ^ 
 yes, I really like him. Don't 
 
 l8 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 imagine that he is illiterate. He'll 
 make a notable man, if he lives. 
 Yes, I regret to say that his health 
 leaves much to be desired. In Italy 
 he had a troublesome fever not 
 grave, but difficult to shake off. 
 He lives at such high pressure ; 
 perpetual fever of the mind. Our 
 project was to spend a whole twelve- 
 month abroad. We ought not to have 
 reached Athens till the autumn of 
 this year ; yet here we are. Louis 
 can't stay in any place more than 
 a week or so, and to resist him is 
 really dangerous I mean for his 
 health. Lady Revill allows me 
 complete discretion, but it's really 
 Louis who directs our travel. I 
 wanted to devote at least a month 
 to the antiquities at Rome. There 
 are several questions I should like 
 to have settled for myself. For 
 
 instance " 
 
 He went off into Roman archaeo- 
 logy, and his companion, excused 
 from listening, walked in reverie. 
 Thus they ascended the long street 
 
 19 
 
SLEEPING FIRES, 
 
 of Hermes, which brought them to 
 the Place of the Constitution, and 
 in view of Mr. Worboys' hotel, the 
 approved resort which Langley had 
 taken trouble to avoid. As they 
 drew near to the entrance, a young 
 man, walking briskly, approached 
 from the opposite quarter, and of a 
 sudden Worboys exclaimed : 
 " Ha ! here comes our 
 friend." 
 
 young 
 
 2Q 
 
II. 
 
 OUIS, let me introduce 
 you to a very old friend 
 of mine, Mr. Langley. 
 We were contempora- 
 ries at Cambridge, and 
 after many years we 
 meet unexpectedly in 
 the Kerameikos ! " 
 
 The young man 
 stepped forward with 
 peculiarly frank and 
 pleasant address. It 
 was evident at a glance that his 
 physique would support no serious 
 strain ; he had a very light and 
 graceful figure, with narrow 
 shoulders, small hands and feet, and 
 a head which for beauty and poise 
 would not have misbecome the 
 
 21 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 youthful Hermes. Grotesque in- 
 deed was the aspect of his blue- 
 spectacled tutor standing side by 
 side with Louis. On the other 
 hand, when he and Langley came 
 together, a certain natural harmony 
 appeared in the two figures ; it 
 might even have been observed that 
 their faces offered a mutual re- 
 semblance, sufficient to excuse a 
 stranger for supposing them akin. 
 Louis, though only a golden down 
 appeared upon his chin, and the 
 mere suggestion of a moustache on 
 his lip, looked older than he was by 
 two or three years ; perhaps the 
 result of that slight frown, a fixed 
 but not unamiable characteristic of 
 his physiognomy, which was notice- 
 able also on Langley's visage. The 
 elder man bearing his age so lightly, 
 they might have been taken for 
 brothers. 
 
 " I have been to the Cemetery," 
 was Louis's first remark. " Do you 
 know it, Mr. Langley ? The 
 monuments are nearly as hideous 
 
 ^2 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 as those at Naples. There's a 
 marble life-sized medallion of a 
 man in his habit as he lived, and^ 
 by Jove, if they haven't gilded the 
 studs in his shirt-front ! " 
 
 " Hov^^ interesting ! " exclaimed 
 the tutor. "The sculptors of the 
 great age vi^ere just as realistic." 
 
 "With a difference," Langley 
 interposed. 
 
 " And something else that will 
 delight you, Mr. Worboys," the 
 youth continued. " There's a public 
 notice, painted on a board, in con- 
 tinuous lettering, w^ithout spaces 
 just like the Codices ! " 
 
 His emphasis on the last word 
 evidently had humorous reference 
 to Mr. Worboys' habits of speech. 
 Langley smiled, but Worboys was 
 delighted. 
 
 " But they stick a skull and cross- 
 bones on their tombs," pursued 
 Louis. " That's hideously degene- 
 rate. Your ancient friends, Mr. 
 Worboys, knew better how to deal 
 with death." 
 
 2% 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 To Langley's ears this remark 
 had an unexpectedness which made 
 him regard the speaker more closely. 
 Louis had something more in him 
 than youthful vivacity and sprightli- 
 ness ; his soft-glancing eyes could 
 look below the surface of things. 
 
 " You observe, Langley," said the 
 tutor, " that he speaks of my ancient 
 friends. Louis is a terribly modern 
 young man. I can't get him to 
 care much about the classical civili- 
 sations. The idea of his running 
 ofF to see a new cemetery, when he 
 hasn't yet seen the Theseion ! And 
 that reminds me, Langley ; I am 
 strongly tempted to believe with 
 some of the Germans that the 
 Theseion isn't a temple of Theseus 
 at all. I'll show you my reasons." 
 
 He did so, with Ausfilhrlichkeit 
 and Gfundlichkeit^ as they ascended 
 the steps of the hotel. Langley, 
 the while, continued observant of 
 Louis Reed, with whom, presently, 
 he was able to converse at his ease ; 
 for Worboys recognised that the 
 
 24 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 costume in which it delighted him 
 to roam among ruins would be in- 
 appropriate at the luncheon-table. 
 Louis, when the waiter in the 
 vestibule had dusted him from head 
 to heel a necessary service per- 
 formed for all who entered needed 
 to make no change of dress ; he 
 wore the clothing which would 
 have suited him on a warm spring 
 day in England, and the minutiae 
 of his attire denoted a quiet taste, 
 a sense of social propriety, agreeable 
 to Langley's eye. They had no 
 difficulty in exchanging reflections 
 on things Continental. Louis talked 
 with animation, yet with deference. 
 It was easy to perceive his pleasure 
 in finding an acquaintance more 
 sympathetic than the erudite but 
 hidebound Worboys. 
 
 When all three sat down tS the 
 meal, Worboys drew attention to 
 the wine that was put before him. 
 Cotes de Parnes, with the brand 
 of " Solon and Co." 
 
 '' We cannot drink the wine of 
 
 25 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 the gods," he observed with a 
 chuckle, " but here is the next best 
 thing the wine of the philoso- 
 phers." 
 
 Louis averted his face. It was 
 the fifth day since their arrival at 
 Athens, and his tutor had indulged 
 in this joke at least once daily. 
 
 "By the by, Langley, where are 
 you staying ? " 
 
 Langley named the hotel, and 
 briefly described it. 
 
 " How interesting ! Yes, that's 
 much better." 
 
 " I should think so ! " exclaimed 
 Louis. " Why shouldn't we go 
 there, Mr. Worboys ? Living like 
 this, what can we get to know of 
 the life of the country ? That's 
 what I care about, Mr. Langley. 
 I want to see how the people live 
 nowadays. It matters very little 
 what they did ages ago. It seems 
 to me that life isn't long enough to 
 live in the past as well as in the 
 present.'^ 
 
 Yet you concern yourself a 
 
 26 
 
 u 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 great deal with the future, my dear 
 boy," remarked Worboys. 
 
 " Yes ; I can't help that. Isn't 
 the future growing in us ? And 
 surely it's a duty to " 
 
 Either incapacity to express him- 
 self, or a modest self-restraint, caused 
 him to break off and bend over his 
 plate. For some minutes after this 
 he kept silence, whilst Mr. Worboys 
 pleaded, in set phrase, for the study 
 of the classics and all that appertained 
 thereto. Langley observed that the 
 young man ate delicately and spar- 
 ingly, but that he was by no means 
 so moderate in his use of the philo- 
 sophic beverage. Louis drank glass 
 after glass of undiluted wine, a 
 practice which his tutor's classic 
 sympathies ought surely to have dis- 
 approved. But possibly Mr. Worboys, 
 even without his coloured spectacles, 
 had not become aware of it. 
 
 They repaired to the smoking- 
 room, where Louis lit a cigarette. 
 The wine had not made him talka- 
 tive ; rather it seemed to lull his 
 
 27 
 
SLEEPING FIR^S. 
 
 vivacious temper, to w^rap him in 
 meditation or day-dream. He lay 
 back and watched the curHng of 
 the smoke ; on his emotional lips a 
 smile of gentle melancholy, his 
 eyes wide and luminous in mental 
 vision. When he had sat thus for 
 a few minutes, he was approached 
 by a waiter, who handed him two 
 letters. Instantly his countenance 
 flashed into vivid life ; having 
 glanced at the writing on the 
 envelopes, he held them with a tight 
 grasp ; and very shortly, seeing that 
 his friends were conversing, he 
 walked from the room. 
 
 "There now," remarked Wor- 
 boys. "He's been wild with im 
 patience for letters. One of them, 
 no doubt, is from Lady Revill, but 
 it isn't that he was waiting for. Do 
 you know a certain Mrs. Tresilian ? " 
 What /^^ Mrs. Tresihan ? " 
 " Really, I never heard the name 
 till Louis spoke of her. Is she 
 distinguished ? A lady of so-called 
 advanced opinions." 
 
 28 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; the Mrs. Tresilian 
 of public fame, no doubt," said 
 Langley, with interest. "I don't 
 know her personally. Is she a 
 friend of his ? " 
 
 "My dear Langley, it sounds 
 very absurd, but I'm afraid the poor 
 boy has quite lost his head about 
 her. And I suspect I only suspect 
 that Lady Revill wished to re- 
 move him beyond the sphere of her 
 malign influence. She spoke to 
 me of ^unfortunate influences' in 
 his life, but mentioned no name. 
 Who is this lady ? What is her age ? " 
 
 " I know very little of her, ex- 
 cept that she addresses meetings on 
 political and humanitarian subjects. 
 A woman with a head, I believe, 
 and rather eloquent. Her age ? 
 Oh, five and thirty, perhaps, to 
 judge from her portraits. Hand- 
 some, undeniably. How can he 
 have got into her circle ? " 
 
 " I have no idea," Worboys re- 
 plied, with a gesture of helplessness. 
 " I know nothing of that sphere." 
 
 29 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " And they correspond ? " 
 
 " I am convinced they do ; 
 though Louis has never said so. 
 I surmise it from his talk in in 
 moments of unusual expaniiveness. 
 And imagine how it must distress 
 such a person as Lady Revill ! " 
 
 Langley mused before he spoke 
 again. 
 
 "You mean that she fears for 
 his or the lady's morals ? " 
 
 "Oh, dear me, I didn't mean 
 that ! But the effects on a young, 
 excitable nature of such principles 
 as Mrs. Tresilian appears to hold ! 
 Perhaps you are not aw^are of the 
 strong conservatism of Lady Revill's 
 mind ? " 
 
 " I see," faltered the other. " She 
 seriously desires to guard him from 
 ' advanced opinion ' ? " 
 
 " Most seriously. I have told you 
 that she has almost a maternal affec- 
 tion for the boy. How it must 
 shock her to see him going off into 
 those wild speculations seeking to 
 undermine all she reverences ! " 
 
 30 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " Is he such a revolutionist ? " 
 Langley asked, with a smile. 
 
 " Well, I have sometimes thought 
 him a sort of Shelley," ventured the 
 tutor, with amusing diffidence. 
 "Though I don't know that he 
 writes verses. However, you see 
 the points of similarity ? A strange 
 youth, altogether. As I said, I 
 can't help liking him. I daresay 
 he'll outgrow his follies." 
 
 Langley smoked and was silent. 
 The other, thinking the subject 
 dismissed, uttered a remark tending 
 to matters archaic ; but Langley 
 disregarded it and spoke again. 
 
 " What's his origin do you 
 know ? " 
 
 "Really, I don't. He never 
 speaks of it Lady Revill only 
 said that he was an orphan, and 
 her ward." 
 
 " Where has he been educated ? " 
 
 " Private tutors, and private 
 schools. Of course Lady Revill 
 wishes him to pass to a University, 
 but it seems he is set against it. 
 
 31 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 He has some extraordinary idea 
 that he is old enough, and educated 
 sufficiently, to begin the serious 
 business of life ; though I don't 
 gather what he means exactly by 
 that. I conceive that Mrs. Tresi- 
 lian is responsible for such vagaries. 
 He appears to reprobate the thought 
 of being connected vi^ith the aris- 
 tocracy part of his Shelleyism, of 
 course. I almost believe that he 
 would like to take some active part 
 in democratic politics." 
 
 " H'm the type is familiar," 
 murmured Langley. " Nothing 
 very abnormal about him, I dare- 
 say. And it occurred to Lady 
 Revill that your companionship 
 might abate these ecstasies ? " 
 
 ''That," Worboys replied, with 
 modesty, " appears to have been her 
 view. A student who has given 
 some proof of soHd attainment might 
 naturally seem " 
 
 "To be sure," interposed the 
 other, suavely. " But our young 
 friend seems cut out for rather 
 obstinate independence." 
 
 ? 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 "I really fear so." And Mr. 
 Worboys shook his sage head. 
 
 At this moment Louis re-entered 
 the room. He had a flushed face, 
 and an air of exaltation. Stepping 
 rapidly up to the two men, he 
 threw himself upon a chair beside 
 them, and said with a boyish 
 laugh : 
 
 "Well, Mr. Worboys, I'm quite 
 ready for the Theseion or the 
 Kerameikos, or anything you like 
 to propose. But when are we 
 going to Salamis and to Marathon 
 and to climb Pentelikon ? I 
 should really like to see Marathon. 
 And Thermopylae better still. Of 
 course we must get to Ther- 
 mopylae." 
 
 This led to a discussion with 
 Langley of facilities for travel m 
 the remoter parts of Greece. It 
 ended in their all strolling out 
 together, and having a drive to 
 Phaleron, on the white dusty road 
 which is the fashionable course for 
 carriages and equestrians at Athens. 
 
 33 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 Worboys talked about the ^' Long 
 Walls " ; Louis Reed was in a spor- 
 tive spirit, and found mirth in 
 everything. Their companion said 
 little, but listened good-naturedly 
 and smiled. Once, too, when his 
 eyes had been fixed for a moment 
 on the boy's bright countenance, he 
 seemed to sigh. 
 
 ^1 
 
III. 
 
 N the view of most 
 of his acquaintances, 
 Edmund Langley's 
 life seemed to have 
 followed a very smooth 
 and ordinary course. 
 There was no break of 
 continuity, no sudden 
 change in himself or 
 his circumstances, in 
 the retrospect of two 
 and twenty years : 
 that is to say, since 
 he began to disappoint 
 the friends who had 
 looked to him for a 
 brilliant career at Cambridge. Bril- 
 liant, in a manner, it was j in his 
 undergraduate group he shone as a 
 leading light, and later his reputa- 
 
 35 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 tion as a man of clever and im- 
 posing talk, held good with those 
 who regretted his failure in the 
 contests of scholarship. He left 
 the University with a mere degree, 
 and went to London to read law. 
 
 It was very leisurely reading, for 
 no necessity spurred him on. His 
 ambitions at that time were politi- 
 cal, and he enjoyed a private income 
 which allowed him to think of 
 Parliament ; personally devoted to 
 a liberal culture, he was prepared 
 to take the popular-progressive side, 
 and to accept with genial humour 
 those articles of the popular creed 
 which he no longer held with his 
 early enthusiasm. But nothing 
 came of it. When, in his twenty- 
 sixth year, an opportunity of candi- 
 dature offered itself, he declined for 
 rather vague reasons, and soon after 
 it became known that he was to 
 accompany on extensive travels a 
 young nobleman, who had been his 
 contemporary at Cambridge. Six 
 months after their departure from 
 
 ^6 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 England, the luckless Peer suffered 
 a perilous accident, which lamed 
 him for life. They returned, and 
 Langley, for some fifteen years, 
 remained with his friend as private 
 secretary. In that capacity he had 
 very little to do, but the life was 
 agreeable ; he found satisfaction in 
 the society of a liberal-minded circle, 
 learned to smile at the projects of 
 his early manhood, and soothed his 
 leisure with studies utterly remote 
 from any popular or progressive 
 programme. The nobleman's death 
 enriched him with a legacy of 
 which he stood in no need what- 
 ever, and murmuring to himself^ 
 " To him that hath shall be given,' 
 he wandered off to spend a year or 
 two abroad. 
 
 Beneath this placid flow of exis- 
 tence lay hidden a sorrow of which 
 he spoke to no one. The occasion 
 of it was far behind him, in the 
 years of turbulent youth ; for a long 
 time it had troubled him little, and 
 only when his spirits invited care ; 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 but these latter months of solitude 
 tended to revive the old distress, 
 with new features attributable to 
 the stage of life that he had 
 reached. He knew not whether to 
 be glad or sorry, when a casual 
 meeting at Athens brought vividly 
 before his mind the bygone things 
 he had so Ions; tried to forjjet. 
 
 After the drive with Worboys 
 and Louis Reed, he returned to his 
 hotel in a mood of melancholy. 
 The evening, usually a pleasant 
 enough time over his books, dragged 
 with something worse than tedium; 
 and the night that followed was 
 such as he had not known for many 
 years. Out of the darkness, a tor- 
 menting memory evoked two faces ; 
 the one pale and blurred, refusing 
 distinct presentment, even to the 
 obstinate efforts which, in spite of 
 himself, he repeated hour after hour; 
 the other so distinct, so living, that 
 at moments it thrilled him as with 
 a touch of the supernatural a light 
 on the features, a play of expression, 
 
 38 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 all but a voice from the moving lips. 
 Faces of character much unlike, 
 though both female, and both young. 
 The one which haunted himelusivel); 
 had but a superficial charm : no 
 depth in the smiling eyes, no in- 
 tellectual beauty on the brows ; the 
 moment's fancy of sensual youth ; 
 powerless to subdue, to retain. 
 The other, clear upon the gloom, 
 spoke a finer womanhood, so much 
 more nobly endowed in qualities of 
 flesh and spirit that its beauty seemed 
 to scorn comparison. Animation, 
 self-command, the dignity of breed- 
 ing and intelligence, lighted its 
 lineaments. It was the woman 
 whom a man in his maturity desires 
 unashamed. 
 
 In these visions of the troubled 
 night he saw also a large house, old 
 and pleasant to the eye, which stood 
 beyond the limits of a manufactu 
 ring town, planted about with fair 
 trees, and walled from the frequented 
 highway. He heard a soft roll of 
 carriage wheels on the drive, the 
 
 39 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 sound of cheery voices beneath the 
 portico^ he felt the languid, scented 
 air of an old-time garden, where 
 fruits hung ripe. And in the 
 garden walked Agnes Forrest, 
 youngest of the children of the 
 house, but already in her twenty- 
 first year. Her father was no man 
 of yesterday's uprising, but the son 
 and grandson of substantial mer- 
 chants ; he sat among his family 
 and his guests, a reverend potentate. 
 The suggestion of her name did 
 not well accord with Agnes' cha- 
 racter. Had humility been her 
 distinguishing virtue, Langley would 
 never have made her his ideal of 
 womanhood. He knew her strono^ 
 of will, and found her opinions 
 frequently at variance with his 
 own ; all the more delightful 
 to perceive his influence in the 
 directing of her mind. She was 
 no great student, and took her full 
 share in the active pleasures of life ; 
 rode as well as she danced ; seemed 
 to have admirable judgment in dress ; 
 
 40 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 enjoyed society, and liked to shine 
 in it. Her ridicule of sentimentali- 
 ties by no means discouraged the 
 lover ; it suited his taste, and could 
 throw no doubt upon the capacity 
 for strong feeling which he had 
 often noted in her. The general 
 conservatism of her thought was 
 far from distasteful to him, smile as 
 he might at some of its manifesta- 
 tions ; she never opposed reason 
 with mere feminine prejudice, and 
 Langley was disposed to regard 
 woman as the natural safeguard of 
 traditions that have an abiding value. 
 She was not a girl to be lightly 
 wooed, and won as a matter of 
 course. Her beauty and her bril-' 
 liant social qualities cost him many 
 an anxious hour, even when he 
 believed himself gently encouraged. 
 She did not conceal her ambitions ; 
 happily, he felt that she credited 
 him with abiHties of the conquering 
 kind. 
 
 The old-time garden, and two 
 who walked there, with long silences 
 
 41 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 between the v/ords that still dis- 
 guised their deeper meaning. Lang- 
 ley knew himself peculiarly welcome 
 to the parents, and felt a reasonable 
 assurance that Agnes wished him to 
 speak. On this same day, as it 
 chanced. Sir Thomas Revill, the 
 borough member, a widower of 
 middle age, was one of the guests. 
 Mr. Forrest seemed less cordial to 
 the baronet than to the friend of 
 lower rank. But Langley let the 
 day pass, for a scruple restrained 
 his tongue. After a night when 
 temptation had all but vanquished 
 conscience, he sought a private 
 interview with Agnes' father. 
 
 " Mr. Forrest," he began frankly, 
 yet with diffidence, "you cannot 
 but see that I love your daughter, 
 and that I wish to ask her if she 
 will be my wife." 
 
 " I have suspected it, my dear 
 Langley," was the old man's reply, 
 as he smiled with satisfaction. 
 
 " I dare not speak to her until 1 
 have told you something, which 
 
 42 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 perhaps you will think ought to 
 have forbidden me to approach 
 Miss Forrest at all. Three years 
 ago, in London, I formed a con- 
 nection which resulted in my 
 becoming the father of a child. 
 The mother subsequently married, 
 and left England, taking this child 
 with her her own desire, and with 
 the consent of her husband. I could 
 not oppose it ; perhaps I hardly felt 
 any desire to do so, though I need 
 not say that mother and child both 
 had a claim upon me which I never 
 dreamt of disputing. Her place in 
 life was below my own, and she 
 married a man of her own class. 
 When she last took leave of me 
 we had lived apart for more than a 
 year I told her that, if circum- 
 stances ever made it necessary, she 
 was to look to me again for aid, and 
 that, if ever she desired it, I would 
 bring up the child in every way as 
 my own short of public acknow- 
 ledgment. She went to South Africa, 
 and I have since heard nothing. 
 
 43 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 But there is still the possibility 
 that I may be called upon to keep 
 my word. This I am obliged to 
 tell you. I cannot speak of it to 
 Miss Forrest." 
 
 He paused with eyes cast down, 
 and Mr. Forrest kept a short 
 silence. 
 
 "An unpleasant business, Lang- 
 ley," the old man remarked at 
 length, in a perplexed, but not a 
 severe voice. " Of course you are 
 right to speak of it. A very awk- 
 ward matter." 
 
 He mused again, then began to 
 interrogate. Langley answered 
 with all frankness. He was not 
 responsible for the girl's lapse from 
 virtue ; that must be laid to the 
 account of the man who at length 
 married her. In every respect, 
 save for this trouble of conscience, 
 he was honourably free. 
 
 " The deuce of it is," exclaimed 
 Mr. Forrest, at last, "that women 
 have a way of their own of regard- 
 ing this sort of thing. For my 
 
 44 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 own part well, a young man is a 
 young man. You were three and 
 twenty. I can understand and excuse^. 
 But women " 
 
 It did not occur to him to ask 
 who the girl was, and on this point 
 Langley offered no information 
 beyond what he had said of her 
 social position, 
 
 "I know quite well, Langley, 
 that this, as it regards yourself, 
 forms no presumption whatever 
 against your making Agnes a good 
 husband, if you married her. Your 
 self-respect won't allow you to urge 
 assurances of that ; I know it all 
 the same, because I have a pretty 
 fair knowledge of you. But women 
 think differently. There's nothing 
 for it, I fear : I must talk with my 
 wife about it." 
 
 Langley bowed to the decision 
 he had foreseen. He went away 
 with misery in his heart, cursing the 
 honesty that had made him speak. 
 Mr. Forrest's liberality of view 
 might, only too probably, be ex- 
 
 45 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 plained by his certainty that Agnes' 
 mother would never consent to the 
 proposed marriage. " Should I my- 
 self give my daughter to a man 
 who came with such a story ? " 
 
 A day passed, and again he was 
 closeted with the old man. 
 
 " Langley, my wife won't hear 
 of this being mentioned to Agnes." 
 
 Oh, cursed folly ! And it seemed, 
 now, such an easy thing to have 
 kept silence. 
 
 "It's my own fault. I ought 
 never to have dared " 
 
 " Remember, Langley, how very 
 recently these things have hap- 
 pened." 
 
 "I know I see all the folly, and 
 worse, that I have been guilty of. 
 Pardon it, if you can, Mr. Forrest, 
 to one who is for the first time in 
 love and with Agnes." 
 
 Ten minutes, and all was over. 
 Langley tnarned from the house, 
 thinking to see its occupants no 
 more. 
 
 But to the relief of misery came 
 
 46 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 common-sense. What right had 
 he thus to turn his back on Agnes 
 without a word of explanation ? 
 His mysterious behaviour could not 
 but result in confidences of some 
 kind between Agnes and her parents. 
 They, worthy people, assuredly 
 would spare him ; but, short of 
 telling the truth, how could they 
 avoid misrepresentation which in 
 Agnes' mind must have all the 
 effect of calumny ? Impossible 
 to let the matter end thus. He 
 wrote to Mr. Forrest, and urged, 
 with all respect, his claim to be 
 judged by Agnes herself. Was 
 she yet one and twenty ? In any 
 case she had attained responsible 
 womanhood. He begged that this 
 point might receive consideration. 
 
 " We were obliged to speak to 
 Agnes," replied the father. " We 
 have told her that something has 
 happened which unexpectedly makes 
 it impossible for you to think of 
 marriage. This was all. I fear 
 you have no choice but to preserve 
 
 47 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 absolute silence. Agnes is just of 
 age, but her mother and I feel very 
 strongly that, out of regard for her 
 happiness, you ought to think of 
 her no more. Our friends, of 
 course, shall never surmise anything 
 disagreeable from our manner when 
 you are spoken of. At the worst it 
 will be imagined that Agnes has 
 declined to marry you." 
 
 Regard for his old friends kept 
 Langley silent for a week ; then 
 his passion overcame him. He 
 wrote two letters one to Agnes, 
 simply offering marriage ; the other 
 to Mr. Forrest, saying what he had 
 done, asserting his right, and begging 
 that Agnes might be told the plain 
 facts of the case before she answered 
 him. The next day brought Mr. 
 Forrest's reply, a few coldly civil 
 lines, stating that Agnes had been 
 informed of everything. Another 
 day, and Agnes herself wrote, just 
 as briefly a courteous refusal. 
 
 Then Langley left England with 
 his friend the nobleman. He had 
 
 48 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 battled through amorous despair, 
 but the disaster seemed to drain his 
 life of hope and purpose ; succumb- 
 ing to fatality, he must make the 
 best of sunless years. 
 
 A few months of travel dispelled 
 this unnatural gloom. He began 
 to foster the thought that Agnes' 
 parents were both aged j it could 
 not be expected that either would 
 be alive ten years hence, and half 
 that period might see both removed. 
 If Agnes cared much for him, she 
 would wait on the future. If he 
 had been mistaken, and her heart 
 were not gravely wounded, she 
 would make proof of liberty by 
 marrying another man. In which 
 case 
 
 Langley knew not how securely 
 he had come to count upon Miss 
 Forrest's fidelity, until one day the 
 news reached him that she was 
 Miss Forrest no longer. Agnes had 
 married the middle-aged member of 
 Parliament, and henceforth must be 
 thought of as Lady Revill. That 
 
 49 
 
SLEEPING FIRES 
 
 chapter of life, whether or not the 
 doom of his existence, was finally 
 closed. She had waited barely a 
 twelvemonth, so that, in all likeli- 
 hood, his timid love-making had 
 but feebly impressed her. Another 
 twelvemonth, and Mr. Forrest was 
 dead; two years later Agnes' mother 
 followed him. Oh, the folly of it 
 all ! The imbecile hesitation where 
 common-sense pointed his path ! 
 She liked him well enough to marry 
 him, and probably her life, as well 
 as his own, must miss its consum- 
 mation because he had played the 
 pedant in morals. 
 
 This regret had long lost its 
 poignancy, though it imparted a 
 sober tinge to the epicureanism 
 whereby Langley thought to direct 
 his otherwise purposeless life. But 
 the course of years shaped into con- 
 scious sorrow that loss which, as a 
 young man, he had hardly regarded 
 as a loss at all. He grew to an 
 understanding of the wantonness 
 with which he had acted in so 
 
 SO 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 lightly abandoning his child. Whilst 
 the petty casuistry of his relations 
 with Agnes Forrest was capable of 
 compelling him into perverse hero- 
 ism, he had committed what now 
 seemed to him a much graver 
 recklessness perhaps, indeed, a 
 crime with but the faintest twinge 
 of conscience. His child, his son, 
 would now be grown up a young 
 man, about the same age as Louis 
 Reed ; and in such companionship 
 how different would the world 
 appear to him ! In love with 
 Agnes, he had been glad to rid 
 himself of a troublesome and dan- 
 gerous responsibility. For the 
 mother and this fact he had with- 
 held in his confession belonged to 
 the town in which the Forres ts 
 were practically resident, and where 
 he had other friends^ a coincidence 
 unknown to him when he made 
 her acquaintance in London, 
 Rescued from the evil of sense 
 only to be rapt aloft by romantic 
 passion, what thought had he of 
 
 51 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 the duties and the rewards of pater- 
 nity ? Now, a sobered and some- 
 what lonely man, he saw the result 
 of his hasty act in a very different 
 light. Perchance the boy was dead ; 
 if living, better perchance that he 
 should have died. What future 
 could be hoped for him, delivered 
 into such hands ? 
 
 For the disregard of duty con- 
 science offered excuse. His rela- 
 tions with the girl had worn no 
 semblance of conjugality ; they 
 never lived together ; he had seen 
 the child but once or twice ; every 
 obligation imposed by the worldly 
 code of honour he had abundantly 
 discharged. The girl, moreover, 
 had not loved him ; he found her 
 (though ignorant of the circum- 
 stances till long afterwards) on the 
 brink of hopeless degradation, the 
 result of her having been forsaken 
 by the man for whom she strayed, 
 and whom she subsequently mar- 
 ried. As far as she was concerned 
 he might reasonably be at rest, for 
 
 52 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 in all probability his conduct saved 
 her from the abyss. But such 
 reasoning did not help him to for- 
 get that he had had a son, and that 
 he had wantonly made himself 
 childless. It were well if the child 
 did not at this moment think with 
 bitterness of an unknown parent, 
 or, thinking not at all, live basely 
 amid base companions. 
 
 He had never sought for tidings 
 of them ; it was possible, and 
 merely possible, that inquiries in 
 the town he never revisited might 
 have had results. But if the child's 
 mother had wished to communicate 
 with him she could always have 
 done so ; that was provided for at 
 their parting. It might be that 
 neither she nor the boy had ever 
 needed him ; the man she married, 
 a petty traveller in commerce, per- 
 haps behaved well to them in the 
 new country ; that the girl was 
 permitted to take her child seemed 
 in her husband's favour. For her, 
 too, did it not speak well that she 
 
 53 
 
SLEEPING FIRES, 
 
 would not forsake the li^-tle one ? 
 A weak, silly girl, but not without 
 good traits ; he remembered her, 
 though dimly, with kindness nay, 
 with a certain respect. After 
 all 
 
 Well, it was the sight of Louis 
 Reed that had turned him to 
 melancholy musing. A son of 
 that age, a handsome, intelligent 
 lad, overflowing with the zeal and 
 the zest of life , with such a one at 
 his side how lightly and joyously 
 would he walk among these ruins 
 of the old world ! What flow off 
 talk ! What happiness of silent 
 sympathy ! 
 
 So passed the night. 
 
 54 
 
the poet, 
 which is 
 
 IV. 
 
 HE window of Lang- 
 ley's bedroom opened 
 on to a balcony, 
 pleasant to him in 
 early morning for 
 the air and the view. 
 Over the straggling 
 outskirts of Athens 
 he looked upon the 
 t plain, or broad valley, 
 ' where Cephisus, with 
 scant and precious 
 flow, draws seaward 
 through grey-green 
 olive gardens, down 
 from Acharnae of 
 past the bare hillock 
 called Colonus, to the 
 
 55 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 blue Phaleric bay. His eye loved 
 to follow a far-winding track, mile 
 after mile, away to the slope of 
 Aigaleos, where the white road 
 vanished in a ravine ; for this was 
 the Sacred Way, pursued of old by 
 the procession of the Mysteries 
 from Athens to Eleusis. 
 
 Here, on a morning when earth 
 and sky were mated in unutterable 
 calm and loveliness, he stood 
 dreaming with unquiet heart. 
 " They lived their Hfe, enjoyed to 
 the uttermost the golden day that 
 was granted them. And I, whose 
 day is passing, can only try to for- 
 get myself in the tale of their 
 vanished glory. Is it too late ? 
 Are the hopes and energies of life 
 for ever withdrawn ? " 
 
 A voice called to him from 
 below 3 he looked down into the 
 street and saw Louis waving a 
 friendly hand. 
 
 " Do you feel disposed to climb 
 Lycabettus ? " shouted the young 
 man. 
 
 5^ 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " Gladly ! With you in a mo- 
 ment." 
 
 It was ten days since their first 
 meeting, and in the meanwhile 
 they had been much together ; 
 occasionally without Worboys, 
 whose archaeologic zeal delighted in 
 solitude. Langley found an in- 
 creasing pleasure in Louis' society, 
 evinced by the readiness with which 
 he hastened forth to meet him. 
 This companionship revived in him 
 some of the fervours of youth ; 
 even strange as it seemed to him 
 turned his mind to some of the 
 old ambitions. Yet he tried to 
 subdue the symptoms of febrile 
 temperament which overcame Louis 
 in sympathetic conversation ; good- 
 humouredly, almost affectionately, 
 he struck the note of disillusioned 
 age ; and it gratified him to see 
 how the young man put restraint 
 upon himself to listen patiently and 
 answer with respect. Already, in a 
 measure, he was succeeding where 
 Worboys had so signally failed. 
 
 57 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 At a vigorous pace they breasted 
 the hillside, turning often to gaze 
 at the dazzling whiteness of Athens 
 below them, and at the wondrous 
 panorama spreading around as they 
 ascended. On reaching the quar- 
 ries Louis pointed with indignation 
 to the girls and women who toiled 
 at breaking up stone. 
 
 " That's the kind of thing that 
 makes me detest these countries ! " 
 
 "What about cotton-mills and 
 match factories ? " said Langley. 
 " It's better breaking stone on Ly- 
 cabettus." 
 
 " Well, both are alike damnable. 
 Women shouldn't work in such 
 ways at all." 
 
 " Doesn't your friend Mrs. Tre- 
 silian prefer it to idle dependence 
 upon men ? " 
 
 "Perhaps so," Louis replied, 
 with the brightness of countenance 
 which always ' accompanied a 
 thought of Mrs. Tresilian. " But 
 that's only for the present, until 
 society can be civilised. Talking 
 
 58 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 of that reminds me of something I 
 wanted to ask you. Wouldn't it 
 be possible for me to get some 
 day an inspectorship of factories? 
 How are they appointed ? " 
 
 " Good heavens ! This is your 
 latest inspiration ? " 
 
 " Please don't be contemptuous, 
 Mr. Langley. I see no reason 
 v/hy I shouldn't be able to qualify 
 myself. It's the kind of thing that 
 would suit me exactly." 
 
 " Oh, admirably ! Ordained 
 from eternity, in the fitness of 
 things ! Pray, has Mrs. Tresilian 
 suggested it ? " 
 
 " No. But she certainly would 
 approve it. The difficulty is to 
 find an employment in which I 
 can be of some use to the world. 
 I hate the idea of the professions 
 and the businesses, with nothing 
 before me but money-making. 
 And I've tried incessantly to think 
 of something respectable you 
 know what I mean by that which 
 I could hope to do effectually. It 
 
 59 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 would delight me to get an inspec- 
 torship of factories and workshops. 
 The satisfaction of coming down 
 on brutes who break the laws 
 every kind of law ^just to save 
 their pockets ! Don't you feel how 
 glorious it would be to prosecute 
 such scoundrels ? " 
 
 Langley glanced at the glowing 
 face and smiled. 
 
 "Yes, I can sympathise with 
 that. But I believe an inspector 
 has to be a man of long practical 
 experience." 
 
 "I must make inquiries. I 
 would gladly go and work at some 
 mechanical trade to qualify myself." 
 
 " What would Lady Revill think 
 of the suggestion ? " 
 
 For a moment Louis hesitated. 
 His features were a little clouded. 
 
 " I don't think she would 
 seriously object when she saw my 
 motives." 
 
 " But you have told me that 
 such motives make very little appeal 
 to Lady Revill." 
 
 60 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " The fact is, Mr. Langley, I 
 am as far from understanding her 
 as she is from understanding me. 
 It would be outrageous ingratitude 
 if I said, or thought, that she has 
 any but the best and kindest in- 
 tentions. You know, I daresay, 
 how much I owe to her. But 
 there it is ; there is no getting over 
 the fact that we can't see things 
 from the same point of view. She 
 isn't by any means an obstinate 
 aristocrat ; she can talk liberally 
 about all sorts of things, and I 
 know she has the kindest heart. 
 Well, why should she take such 
 care of me^ the son of insignificant 
 people, except out of mere good- 
 ness ? But she has such strong 
 personal antipathies. I've never 
 mentioned it, but she hates the 
 name of Mrs. Tresilian. Now, of 
 course I can't be ruled by such 
 prejudices in her. You don't think 
 I ought to be, do you ? " 
 
 " It's a delicate point," answered 
 Langley, looking far off. "As 
 
 6i 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 you say, you have great obliga- 
 tions " 
 
 He paused, and Louis continued 
 abruptly : 
 
 "Yes. That's why I am so 
 anxious not to incur more. That's 
 why I don't want to go to Oxford. 
 I should do her no credit there, for 
 one thing ; study isn't my bent. 
 I want to be doing something. I 
 seem to be acting inconsiderately, 
 but I feel so sure that Lady Revill 
 will admit before long that I did 
 right. Remember that I don't 
 want to get up in public and rail 
 against all the things she values. 
 I couldn't do that. All I aim at 
 is some work of quiet usefulness ; 
 something, too, which will make 
 me independent. When I was a 
 boy it didn't matter so much I 
 mean my obstinate self-will. Often 
 enough I behaved very badly ; I 
 know it, and I'm ashamed of it ; 
 but then I was only a boy. Now 
 it's very different ^ and in the 
 future " 
 
 62 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 Louis broke off, as if checked 
 by a thought he found it difficult 
 to utter. 
 
 " I haven't asked you," he added, 
 when his companion kept walking 
 silently on, " whether you know 
 Lord Henry Strands." 
 
 " I knew nothing but his name, 
 until Mr. Worboys spoke of him." 
 
 " Did he say ? " 
 
 Langley encouraged him with 
 interrogative look. 
 
 " I've never spoken about it to 
 Mr. Worboys, and I don't know 
 
 whether . But it's so important 
 
 to me that, if I am to talk of myself 
 at all, I can't help mentioning it. 
 And in Lady Revill's circle I don't 
 see how it can help being talked 
 about. I believe that she will marry 
 Lord Henry." 
 
 Langley stopped, but immediately 
 turned his eyes upon the landscape, 
 and spoke as if it alone had arrested 
 him. 
 
 " You see the dark mountain top 
 ^ar away there to the right of 
 
 63 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 Salamis. That's Akrokorinthos. 
 Ah, you were saying that Lady 
 Revill may marry again. And in 
 that case, you think your position | 
 might be still more difficult ? " | 
 
 " If she married Lord Henry I 
 Strands. He and I can't get on It 
 together. Now he is an obstinate I 
 aristocrat, and the kind of man j*- 
 well, I'd better not say how I feel I 
 towards him. It astonishes me that I 
 Lady Revill can endure such a man. 
 People with titles are often very 
 pleasant to get on with , but he . 
 I wish you knew him, Mr. Langley. 
 I should so like to hear what you i 
 thought of him." 
 
 "You have no reason" Lang- 
 ley spoke slowly "for thinking 
 that this marriage will take place, 
 except your own surmise ? " 
 
 "Well he comes so often. And 
 his sister is so intimate with Lady 
 Revill. I'm sure it's taken for 
 granted by lots of people." 
 
 I see." 
 
 Something in the tone of this 
 
 64 
 
I 
 
 SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 brevity caused Louis to look at the 
 speaker with uneasiness. 
 
 " I'm afraid you think I oughtn' 
 to have mentioned it. But really, 
 it's very much like talking about 
 royal marriages. One somehovir 
 doesn't feel " 
 
 " I meant no reproof," said Lang- 
 ley. " Stop ; here's a good place 
 to rest. I see there are a lot of 
 people up at the Chapel. It's a 
 month since I was here." 
 
 His eyes wandered over the vast 
 scene, where natural beauty and his- 
 toric interest vied for the beholder's 
 enthusiasm. Plain and mountain ; 
 city and solitude ; harbour and 
 wild shore ; craggy islands and 
 the far expanse of sea : a miracle of 
 lights and hues, changing ever as 
 cloudlets floated athwart the sun. 
 From Parnes to the Argolic hills, 
 what flight of gaze and of memory ! 
 The companions stood mute, but 
 it was the younger man who be- 
 trayed a lively pleasure. 
 
 "What's the use," he exclaimed at 
 
 65 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 length, "of reading history in books ! 
 Standing here I learn more in five 
 minutes than through all the grind of 
 my school-time, ^gina Salamis 
 Munychia nothing but names 
 and boredom , now I shall delight 
 to remember them as long as I live ! 
 Look at the white breakers on the 
 shore of Salamis. It's all so real to 
 me now ; and yet I never saw any- 
 thing like these Greek landscapes 
 for suggesting unreality. I felt 
 something of that in Italy, but this 
 is more wonderful. It struck me 
 at the first sight of Greece, as we 
 sailed in early morning along the 
 Peloponnesus. It's the landscape 
 you pick out of the clouds, at 
 home in England. Again and 
 again I have had to remind my- 
 self that these are real mountains 
 and coasts." 
 
 Langley roused himself from op- 
 pressive abstraction, and put into 
 better words this common sense of 
 mirage due to the air and light of 
 Greece. He spoke deliberately, 
 
 66 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 and as if his thoughts were still half 
 occupied with things remote. The 
 frown imprinted on his features 
 conveyed an impression of gloom ; 
 which was rarely its effect. 
 
 " How do you like the smoking 
 mill-chimneys at Piraeus ? " he 
 asked suddenly. 
 
 "Oh, of course that's abomin- 
 ation." 
 
 " Ah, I thought you would per- 
 haps defend iu The Greeklings 
 of to-day would be only too glad if 
 their whole country blackened with 
 such fumes." 
 
 " Well, they have their lives to 
 live. They can't feed on the 
 past." 
 
 Louis apologised with a smile 
 for his matter-of-fact remark ; but 
 Langley surprised him by saying 
 abruptly : 
 
 " You're quite right. They have 
 their lives to live ; and if they want 
 mill-chimneys, let them be built 
 from Olympus to Taenarum." 
 
 Wherewith he turned away, and 
 
 67 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 moved a few paces with restless 
 step. Louis followed slowly, his 
 eyes cast down, and did not speak 
 until the other gave him a glance 
 of singular moodiness. 
 
 "Fm afraid I often disgust you, 
 Mr. Langley." 
 
 " Nay, my dear fellow ; that you 
 have never done," was the kindly- 
 toned answer. "I meant what I 
 said. You are right a thousand 
 times right in pleading for to-day. 
 It's good to be able to appreciate 
 such a view as this ; but it's infi- 
 nitely better to make the most of 
 one's own little life. I get a black 
 fit now and then when I remember 
 how much of mine has been wasted 
 that's all." 
 
 Concession such as this from a 
 man he had quickly learned to like 
 and respect stirred all the modesty 
 in Louis. 
 
 "My trouble is," he said, "that 
 I haven't knowledge enough to 
 make me feel secure, when I take 
 my own way. I may be blundering 
 
 68 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 as all very young men are apt to 
 do." 
 
 ^' Don't be in a hurry, that's the 
 main thing. Above all, don't act 
 in disregard of Lady Revill." 
 
 " That's what I wish never to 
 do," Louis answered fervently. 
 " And I should like to tell you that 
 Mrs. Tresilian has always spoken 
 in the same way. Lady Revill 
 dislikes her can't bear the mention 
 of her name. She thinks I have 
 got a great deal of harm from Mrs. 
 Tresilian. Not long before I left 
 England, she told me as much, in 
 plain words, and it made me so 
 angry that I said things I'm sorry 
 for now. I am hasty-tempered ; I 
 flare up, and call people names, and 
 that kind of thing. It's a bad fault, 
 I know ; but surely it's a fault also 
 to hate people out of mere pre- 
 judice." 
 
 "You can hardly call it mere 
 prejudice, in this case," objected 
 Langley, walking with head bent 
 again. 
 
 09 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 "But I do! Lady Revill has 
 never taken the trouble to inquire 
 what sort of woman Mrs. Tresilian 
 is, and what she really aims at. 
 When I told her too violently, 
 I admit that Mrs. Tresilian had 
 begged me always to think first of 
 what I owed to my guardian, she 
 simply didn't beheve it. Of course 
 she didn't say so, but I saw she 
 wouldn't believe it, and that enraged 
 me. There is no better, nobler 
 woman living than Mrs. Tresilian ! 
 Every day of her life she does 
 beautiful, admirable things. Her 
 friendship would honour any man 
 or woman under the sun ! " 
 
 The Hstener restrained a smile. 
 
 " I can quite believe you. But 
 I am equally convinced that Lady 
 Revill is, in her own way, as good 
 and conscientious. They would 
 never like each other " 
 
 " The fault would be entirely on 
 Lady Revill's side," broke in Louis, 
 now glowing with the ardour of 
 his scarcely disguised passion. 
 
 70 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " Mrs. Trcsilian is incapable of 
 prejudice ; but Lady Revill " 
 
 " You must remember," inter- 
 posed Langley, " that I once knew 
 her. I don't suppose she has altered 
 very much, in essentials." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mr. Lang- 
 ley. I am forgetting myself again." 
 
 " No, no ; speak as you think. 
 It's a long time ago j Lady Revill 
 may have altered very much. You 
 think her hopelessly prejudiced in 
 matters such as this." 
 
 " I only mean, after all," said the 
 young man, "that she belongs to 
 her class." 
 
 "There's a good deal of enlighten- 
 ment among the aristocracy nov^a- 
 days," rejoined Langley, v^ith a 
 smile. 
 
 "No doubt. I have seen signs 
 of it here and there. But Lady 
 Revill " 
 
 "Is altogether old-fashioned, you 
 were going to say." 
 
 " Not those words ; but it's true ; 
 she prides herself on being old- 
 
 7i 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 fashioned. And really, I should 
 like to know why. It isn't as if she 
 were a silly or ill-educated woman." 
 
 Langley laughed. 
 
 " After all," he said, with humor- 
 ous gravity, " the old ways of 
 thinking didn't invariably come of 
 folly or ignorance. Never mind ; 
 I know what you mean, and I 
 can sympathise with you. I think 
 it very Hkely, too, that the habits or 
 her life have prevented her blind 
 from developing, as it once promised 
 to. 'For many years Lady Revill 
 has taken a great part in we won't 
 say social life, but in the life of 
 society." 
 
 "And the surprising thing," ex- 
 claimed Louis, "is that she doesn't 
 care for it." 
 
 "Why do you think she doesn't ! " 
 his companion asked, with a look 
 of keen interest. 
 
 "From observin-g her at various 
 times. Society far more often bores 
 her than not. I have seen her 
 tired and disgusted after being 
 
 72 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 among people, and she has often 
 spoken to me contemptuously of 
 society life on the whole. That's 
 the contradiction in her character." 
 
 " No contradiction, necessarily, 
 of her old-fashioned views." 
 
 " I mean," Louis explained, " that 
 despise it as she may, she allows 
 herself to be society's slave. She 
 would perish rather than commit 
 some trifling breach of etiquette. 
 Anothbr inconsistency : she is pro- 
 foundly religious." 
 
 " Life is made up of such incon- 
 gruities," said Langley. 
 
 " Evidently ; and they astound 
 me. I believe that if Lady Revill 
 acted on her convictions, she would 
 have to give all she possesses to the 
 poor, and join a sisterhood, or some- 
 thing of the kind. And I really 
 think she is often much troubled 
 by her conscience. All the more 
 astonishing to me that she feels 
 such a hatred of the people who try 
 to carry religion into practice 
 such as Mrs. Tresilian." 
 
 73 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 The boy talked on, and Langley 
 kept a long silence. 
 
 " On the whole, then," he said at 
 length, absently, " you don't think 
 Lady Revill has found much satis- 
 faction in life." 
 
 " Indeed I don't ! " Louis replied 
 with emphasis. "And, what's 
 more, I am convinced that if she 
 marries Lord Henry Strands she 
 will have less happiness than ever." 
 
 Langley walked on a little, then, 
 as if shaking off reverie, spoke with 
 sudden change of tone. 
 
 " I forgot to ask you what Mr. 
 Worboys is doing this morning." 
 
 " Oh, he is busy writing-up his 
 notes. It's a tremendous business 
 always." 
 
 "Well, I envy him. He has a 
 purpose in life. You and I, Louis, 
 have still our vocations to discover." 
 
 It was the first time that he had 
 used this familiar address. The 
 young man reddened a little, and 
 looked pleased. 
 
 " You, Mr. Langley ! " 
 
 74 
 
SLEEPING FIRESo 
 
 "You think me too old to have 
 anything before me ? Do I strike 
 you as a decrepit senior ? " 
 
 "Of course not," answered the 
 other, laughing. " I meant that I 
 thought your vocation was scholar- 
 ship." 
 
 "Nothing of the kind. I am 
 no more a scholar than you are. 
 To be sure, I like the old Greeks. 
 The mischief is that I haven't paid 
 enough heed to them." 
 
 Louis gave an inquiring glance. 
 
 "What do you suppose it amounts 
 to," asked Langley, " all we know 
 of Greek life ? What's the use of 
 it to us ? " 
 
 " That's what I have never been 
 able to learn. It seems to me to have 
 no bearing whatever on our life to- 
 day. That's why I hate the thought of 
 giving years more to such work " 
 
 " You'll see it in a different light 
 some day," said Langley. " The 
 world never had such need of the 
 Greeks as in our time. Vigour, 
 sanity, and joy that's their gospel," 
 
 75 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " And of what earthly use," cried 
 the other, " to all but a fraction of 
 mankind ? " 
 
 "Why, as the ideal, my dear 
 fellow. And lots of us, who might 
 make it a reality, mourn through 
 life. I am thinking of myself." 
 
 Louis walked on with meditative, 
 unsatisfied smile. 
 
 76 
 
V. 
 
 DAY or two after this 
 Langley had a morning 
 appointment with Wor- 
 boys at the Central 
 Museum, where the 
 archaeologist wished to 
 invite his friend's " very 
 serious attention " to 
 certain minutiae of the 
 small copy of the Athena 
 Parthenos. Nearly half 
 an hour after the time 
 mentioned Worboys had 
 not arrived, yet he prided himself 
 on habitual punctuality. Impatient, 
 and beset with thoughts which ill 
 prepared him to discuss the work of 
 Pheidias, Langley loitered among 
 
 77 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 the sepulchral marbles. These 
 relics of the golden age of Hellas 
 had always possessed a fascination 
 for him ; he had spent hours among 
 them, dwelling with luxury of 
 emotion on this or that favourite 
 group, on a touching face or exqui- 
 site figure ; ever feeling as he 
 departed that on these simple 
 tablets was graven the noblest 
 thought of man confronting death. 
 No horror, no gloom, no unavail- 
 ing lamentation ; a tenderness of 
 memory clinging to the homely 
 life of those who live no more ; a 
 clasp of hands, the humane symbc- 
 lism of drooping eyes or face 
 averted ; all touched with that 
 supreme yet simplest pathos of 
 mortality resigned to fate. But he 
 could not see it as he was wont, 
 and he knew not whether this 
 inability argued an ignoble turmoil 
 of being, or yet another step in 
 that reasonable unrest of manhood 
 which had come upon him like an 
 awakening after sluggish sleep. 
 
 78 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 A rapid step approached him. It 
 was Worboys at last, and wearing a 
 look of singular perturbation. 
 
 " A thousand apologies, my dear 
 Langley, for this seeming neglect. 
 I couldn't get here before. Some- 
 thing very troublesome has hap- 
 pened. I must beg your advice 
 your help." 
 
 They walked apart, for other 
 visitors had just come within ear- 
 shot. 
 
 "By this morning's post," pur- 
 sued Worboys, " Louis has had a 
 letter I don't know from whom, 
 though I suspect which has upset 
 him terribly. He came to me at 
 once, after reading it, and declared 
 that he must return to England 
 immediately. In vain I begged for 
 an explanation ; he would tell me 
 nothing except that go he must, 
 and go he would. Straightway he 
 began making inquiries about 
 steamboats. I am bound to say 
 that he treats me in very incon- 
 siderate fashion. Of course I could 
 
 79 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 not dream of letting him go back 
 alone ; my responsibility to Lady 
 Revill is of the gravest. In this 
 state of mind he is as likely as not 
 to fall ill : in fact, when he came to 
 me an hour ago, I thought he was 
 in a high fever. Now, what am I 
 to do, Langley ? Happily he can't 
 get off to-day, but " 
 
 " Who do you suspect the letter 
 was from ? " 
 
 "Mrs. Tresilian, that source of 
 all our woes. I'm sure the occa- 
 sion is unspeakably preposterous. 
 The idea of this lad believing him- 
 self in love with a woman of that 
 age and position ! And what's the 
 good of his going ? Really, one is 
 tempted to imagine very strange 
 things. I shouldn't like to calum- 
 niate Mrs. Tresilian " 
 
 "The letter may not be from 
 her at all. Just as likely, I should 
 say, that it is from Lady Revill. 
 Well, I don't see how you are to 
 detain him if he's determined to 
 go.' 
 
 80 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 "Lady Revill will be exceed- 
 ingly displeased," said WorboySj at 
 the height of nervous exasperation. 
 "In her very last letter she said 
 that we were not, in any case, to 
 return before midsummer, though 
 discretion was accorded me as to 
 how and where we should spend 
 the time. I should be ashamed to 
 face her. It's monstrous that a 
 man in my position should find 
 himself powerless over a boy of 
 eighteen ! And to leave Greece 
 just when I am " 
 
 " It's confoundedly annoying," 
 the other interrupted, absently. 
 
 " Will you see him ? Will you 
 try what you can do ? " 
 
 " If you don't think he'll bid me 
 mind my own business." 
 
 " Nothing of that sort to fear. 
 He always behaves like a gentle- 
 man in words, at all events. But 
 for that I'm afraid I should never 
 have got on with him at all. He's 
 a thoroughly good fellow, you 
 know ; it's only his outrageous 
 
 8i 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 excitability, and this unaccountable 
 
 affair with . Well, well, as 
 
 you say, I may be mistaken. But 
 I don't like the way he looks 
 when I plead Lady Revill's direc- 
 
 tions." 
 
 " Does he defy them ? " 
 
 " Simply declares that he has no 
 power to obey her, but he looks 
 savagely. Will you come to the 
 hotel ? " 
 
 Langley consulted his watch. 
 
 " No. I'll send a note as quickly 
 as possible asking him to come and 
 see me early in the afternoon. 
 Better to let him calm down a 
 little. You say no steamer leaves 
 the Piraeus to-day ? " 
 
 " None. And he's too late for 
 the train that would take him to 
 Patras. He won't sneak off; that 
 isn't his way. It'll all be done 
 openly and vehemently, depend 
 upon it." 
 
 They parted, and Langley soon 
 dispatched his note of invitation. 
 At three o'clock, as he sat in the 
 
 S2 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 book-cumbered room, smoking his 
 longest pipe for he wished to 
 receive the visitor with every 
 appearance of philosophic repose 
 Louis joined him. So troublous 
 was the expression of the pale, 
 handsome face ; so pathetic its pre- 
 sentment of the eternal tragedy 
 youth, ignorant alike of itself and 
 of the world, in passionate revolt 
 against it knows not what; that 
 the older man could not begin con- 
 versation as he had purposed, with 
 tranquil pleasantry. He rose, 
 offered his hand, pressed the other's 
 warmly, and said, in a grave 
 voice : 
 
 " Fm very sorry to hear that you 
 are going away." 
 
 " I must. I, too, am sorry, Mr. 
 Langley. But I must go to Patras 
 to-morrow, and leave by the steamer 
 which sails for Brindisi at mid- 
 night." 
 
 The voice quivered in its effort 
 to express unchangeable purpose 
 without undignified vehemence. 
 
 83 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " That's most unfortunate. If 
 we had been longer acquainted I 
 should have felt tempted to ask 
 whether a deputy could save you 
 this trouble, for I myself am leaving 
 for England very soon." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Langley ; it 
 is impossible. I must go." 
 
 " Let us sit down. It's no use 
 pretending that I don't see how 
 upset you are. You have had bad 
 news, and your journey will be no 
 pleasant one. At your age, Louis, 
 it's no joke to be travelling for a 
 week with misery for one's com- 
 panion." 
 
 The young man was sitting bent 
 forward, his hands locked together 
 between his knees. 
 
 "Nor at any age, I should 
 think," he answered, trying to 
 smile. 
 
 " Oh, well, one takes things 
 more resignedly later on. I sup- 
 pose Mr. Worboys will go with 
 you ? " 
 
 He says he feels obliged to. 
 
 84 
 
 (( 
 
I 
 
 SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 It's too bad, I know. I seem to be 
 acting selfishly. But" his voice 
 faltered on a boyish note "I 
 simply can't help it. Something 
 has happened I can't go on living 
 here at any cost I must get back 
 
 to London " 
 
 Gradually, patiently, with infi- 
 nite tact, always assuming that 
 the journey was a settled thing, 
 Langley brought him to disclose 
 the disastrous necessity. That 
 morning, said Louis, he had heard 
 from Mrs. Tresilian ; a short 
 letter, which it drove him frantic 
 to read. Mrs. Tresilian wrote a 
 good-bye. She informed him that 
 a gentleman name unmentioned 
 had called upon her with a strange 
 request that she would hold no 
 more communication with Louis 
 Reed. This person represented to 
 her that, however innocently, she 
 had made serious mischief between 
 Louis and the lady to whom he 
 owed everything, upon whom his 
 future depended. The explanation 
 
 b 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 that followed allowed her no choice ; 
 she must say farewell to her dear 
 young friend, though hoping that 
 the severance would not be final. 
 It was her simple duty, out of 
 regard for him, to do so. So she 
 begged that he would not write 
 again, and that, on his return to 
 England, he would not see her. 
 
 " And I know who has done 
 this ! " the young man exclaimed 
 passionately. "Lady Revill would 
 never have done it herself. I can't 
 believe that she knows of it I 
 can't ! I have told her frankly that 
 I corresponded with Mrs. Tresilian, 
 and she said only that she regretted 
 the acquaintance. No ; it's that 
 man I have spoken of to you : Lord 
 Henry Strands." 
 
 "That sounds a trifle improb- 
 able." 
 
 " I dare say, but I know it ! He 
 has done this, thinking it would 
 please Lady Revill. Of course she 
 tells him everything about me. 
 Well, it only drives me into what 
 
 86 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 must have come before long. I 
 must ask Lady Revill to give me 
 my independence. I shall go out 
 into the world and work for my own 
 living. I'm going back to tell her 
 this." 
 
 "And to tell Mrs. Tresilian 
 also," remarked Langley, with his 
 kindest smile. 
 
 Louis averted his face. 
 
 " I have told you how I regard 
 her," he said, in a tone of forced 
 firmness. " Her friendship is more 
 
 valuable to me than Why 
 
 should I be called upon to give it 
 up ? The thought of her is the 
 best motive in my life. Without 
 that, I don't know what may be- 
 come of me. I should very likely 
 go headlong " 
 
 Langley checked the hurrying 
 sentences. 
 
 "Don't strike that note, my 
 dear boy. I know what you mean 
 by it, but it isn't in harmony with 
 the rest of you ; it isn't manly." 
 
 Louis accepted the rebuke ; he 
 
 87 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 coloured, and said nothing. There- 
 upon his friend began to talk in an 
 impressive strain ; with gravity, 
 with kindliness that almost had the 
 warmth of affection, with wisdom 
 which would not be denied a hear- 
 ing. He pointed out that no harm 
 whatever had been done by the 
 officious stranger. Mrs. Tresilian's 
 friendship had merely proved itself 
 anew, and in a way that did her 
 credit. Now, which of two pos- 
 sible courses was the more likely 
 to commend itself to her respect : a 
 wild rush from abroad, with youth- 
 ful heroics to follow, or a calm, 
 manly acceptance of her own view 
 of the situation, with assurance that 
 their mutual regard could not suffer 
 by a temporary silence ? 
 
 '' If you find anything reasonable 
 in all this, let me go on to make a 
 proposal. For purposes of my own 
 I must go to England, and I may 
 as well start to-morrow as a week 
 hence. I shall see Lady Revill as 
 soon as I arrive. I mean " he 
 
 88 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 lowered his voice, and spoke with 
 peculiar deliberation " I have a 
 reason of my own for wishing to 
 see her. It is sixteen years since 
 we met, but our acquaintance was 
 intimate, and there's no possibility 
 of her receiving me as a stranger. 
 Now, will you allow me to speak 
 for you to Lady Revill ? No word 
 shall pass my lips which you would 
 disown. Will you stay in Greece, 
 or, at all events, on the Continent, 
 until you have heard from me, and 
 from her ? " 
 
 He paused, knowing the first 
 reply that trembled on his hearer's 
 lips. Impossible ! Louis declared 
 that it would be misery beyond 
 endurance. His relations with 
 Lady Revill had grown intolerable. 
 He could not permit even the 
 kindest friend to act for him in 
 such circumstances. 
 
 Langley watched the flush that 
 deepened on the face wrung with 
 impetuous emotions. His sympathy 
 grew painful ; he was on the point 
 
 
 8q 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 of saying, " Well, then, we will 
 travel together." Biat other 
 thoughts prevailed with him ; he 
 struggled to support the aspect of 
 equanimity, and talked on with a 
 resolve to impose his reasonable 
 will, if by any effort it might be 
 done. Louis was reminded that 
 the post would still convey his 
 letters whithersoever he pleased. 
 
 "I dare say you have already 
 replied to Mrs. Tresilian ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And told her that you were 
 coming straightway ? Now, if I 
 were Mrs. Tresilian (don't laugh 
 scornfully), nothing would please 
 me better, after receiving that 
 piping-hot epistle, than to get 
 another couched in far more 
 thoughtful language. You don't 
 forget that this admirable lady will 
 suffer a good deal if she is com- 
 pelled to believe that her friendship 
 has really been a cause of injury to 
 you ? " 
 
 That stroke told. The young 
 
 90 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 man fixed his eyes on a distant 
 point and became silent. Langley 
 talked on, calmly, irresistibly. 
 Little by little he permitted himself 
 a half authoritative tone, which the 
 listener seemed very far from re- 
 senting. Langley had learnt from 
 his sympathetic imagination that 
 the repose of acquiescence w^ould 
 seem sw^eet to one in Louis's state 
 of mind, if only perfect confidence 
 were instilled together with it. He 
 spoke long and familiarly, revealing 
 much of himself, at the same time 
 that he displayed his complete 
 understanding of the trouble he 
 strove to soothe. And in the end 
 Louis yielded. 
 
 " In that case," he said, his 
 voice hoarse with nervous exhaus- 
 tion, " I can't stay at Athens. I 
 must be moving. I should perish 
 here." 
 
 "We'll settle that with Mr. 
 Worboys. You had better go and 
 *sail among the Isles Aegean.' 
 Do you know Landor's ' Pericles ' ? 
 
 91 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 Oh, you must read it. Here, I'll 
 lend it you. Return it when we 
 meet in England." 
 
 Louis took the volume mechani- 
 cally. 
 
 " I know it will all be useless. 
 You will write and tell me what I 
 already know. If you imagine that 
 Lady Revill can be persuaded by 
 reasoning " 
 
 " I don't," interrupted the other, 
 with a peculiar smile. 
 
 " I feel convinced, Mr. Langley, 
 that you will find her very different 
 from the lady you knew so many 
 years ago. Even since I was old 
 enough to observe such things, I 
 have noticed a change in her ; she 
 is colder, harder " 
 
 Langley still smiled. 
 
 " Yet, you say, not happy in her 
 coldness and hardness. Bear in 
 mind that I am something of an 
 old-fashioned Tory myself; perhaps 
 we shall find points of sympathy to 
 start from." 
 
 " You are the most advanced of 
 
 92 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 Radicals compared with Lady Re- 
 vill." 
 ^ Langley mused. 
 "By the by," he said, as his 
 companion rose, " there seems to 
 have been an understanding that 
 you were not to return, in any case, 
 till after midsummer." 
 
 " Yes. And the reason is plain." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 "It means, of course, that on 
 my return I shall find her married." 
 
 " It is the merest conjecture on 
 your part," said Langley, knitting 
 his brows. "As likely as not you are 
 altogether mistaken in that matter." 
 
 Louis smiled with youthful con- 
 fidence. 
 
 " We shall see." 
 
 His friend moved across the 
 room, and turned again, restlessly. 
 
 " You admit that you have abso- 
 lutely no authority but your own 
 surmises ? " 
 
 "True. But it's sure as fate 
 and very wretched fate. I don't 
 speak selfishly ; pray don't imagine 
 
 L 
 
 93 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 anything of that kind ; Vm not 
 capable of it. Whatever I say of 
 Lady Revill, I " he hesitated " I 
 have a son's love for her. And 
 that's w^hy I loathe the thought of 
 her marrying such a man. But for 
 him, with his hateful pride, things 
 would never have come to this pass 
 between us. He has made her dis- 
 Hke me, and I regard him as my 
 worst enemy. She puts me out of 
 her way she is sorry she ever had 
 anything to do with me and yet I 
 have no one else ^" 
 
 The emotion which broke his 
 voice, as far as possible from un- 
 manly complaint, touched the lis- 
 tener profoundly. 
 
 " Give me your hand, Louis. I 
 pledge you my word that this shall 
 be settled in some way satisfactory 
 to you. Be of good heart, old 
 fellow, and trust me." 
 
 " You will do all that any one 
 can, Mr. Langley." 
 
 " Perhaps more than any one else 
 could. We shall see." 
 
^ 
 
 VL 
 
 N the morning Langley 
 had a talk with Wor- 
 boys. The tutor, far 
 from exhibiting jeal- 
 ousy of his friend's 
 superior influence, was 
 delighted at the un- 
 hoped - for turn oi 
 things. 
 
 " It would have cut 
 me to the heart," he 
 declared, " to go away 
 without having visited 
 either Delphi or Olym- 
 pia. We shall be able 
 to take them on the 
 homeward route. I agree with 
 you that it will be well to spend a 
 week or so in travel among the 
 islands. We will go to Suros 
 
 b 
 
 95 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 (Syra, they call it), ^^hence, I 
 understand, we can get to Delos. 
 Thence to Euboea, to Thermo- 
 pylae, and perhaps as far north as 
 the Pagasaean Gulf (Gulf of Volo, 
 they barbarously name it), which 
 would allow us a gHmpse of Pe- 
 lion." 
 
 The greater part of the night 
 Langley spent in packing and 
 letter-writing. His heavy luggage 
 would follow him to England. 
 When he looked around him on 
 trunks and portmanteaux ready for 
 removal, it wanted but an hour of 
 daybreak ; from his sitting-room 
 window he saw a pale pearly rift in 
 the sky above Hymettus. Merely 
 to rest his limbs, for sleep he could 
 not, he threw himself on the bed. 
 
 " Thanks to you, friend Louis ! 
 You have given me the push for 
 which I waited, and it will impel 
 me who knows how far ? Per- 
 haps at this time next year but 
 that lies in the lap of the gods." 
 
 Worboys came to him after 
 
 96 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 breakfast, and announced that Louis 
 would be at the railway station to 
 see him ofF. 
 
 " He looks a ghost this morn- 
 ing, poor fellow. What a cala- 
 mity to have such nerves ! I can't 
 remember that I was anything 
 like that at his time of life. My 
 father used to call me the young 
 philosopher." 
 
 They reached the station a quar- 
 ter of an hour before train-time, 
 and found Louis pacing the plat- 
 form. Drawing Langley aside, he 
 talked with feverish energy, repeat- 
 ing all his requests and demands of 
 the day before. When the traveller 
 entered the shaky little carriage 
 Louis still kept near to him ; silent 
 now, but with anxious eyes watch- 
 ing his countenance. As the train 
 began to move they looked for a 
 moment fixedly at each other. In 
 that moment the two faces were 
 strangely alike. 
 
 The line makes a circuit over 
 the plain of Attica, and turns west- 
 
 97 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 ward through the hollow between 
 Aigaleos and Parnes. Thence, in 
 view of the bay so closely guarded 
 by lofty Salamis as to seem an 
 inland water, it runs to Eleusis,and 
 a railway porter shouts the name 
 once so reverently uttered. A little 
 beyond rise abruptly those jagged 
 peaks which were the limit of Attic 
 soil; and then comes Megara, its 
 white houses clustered over the two 
 round hills ; silent, sleepy, ignorant 
 of its immortal fame. On by the 
 enchanted shore, looking now 
 across a broader sea to softly- 
 limned JEgim and the far moun- 
 tains of Troezene ; until the 
 isthmus is reached, and the train 
 passes over that delved link of west 
 and eastern gulfs which the ancient 
 world cared not to complete. " Non 
 cuivis homini^^ murmured Langley 
 to himself, as he stretched his limbs 
 on the platform at Corinth ; gazing 
 now at the mighty bulk of Gera- 
 neion, dark, cloud-capped ; now at 
 the noble heights of the ancient 
 
 ,98 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 citadel, Akrokorinthos. Once 
 more he could enjoy these visions, 
 for with movement there had come 
 to him a cheery quietude, a happi- 
 ness of resolve. 
 
 Forward now by the coast of 
 Peloponnesus, through mile after 
 mile of currant fields and olive 
 plantations, riven here and there b)^ 
 deep track of torrents which at 
 times rush from the Achaean moun- 
 tains. Through a long afternoon 
 his gaze turned across the blue strip 
 of sea, beholding as in a magic 
 mirror those forms which appear to 
 be bodied forth by the imagination 
 rather than viewed with common 
 sight : Helicon, shapen like a sum- 
 mer cloud, vast yet incorporeal, far- 
 folded, melting from hue to hue ; 
 and more remote Parnassus, glim- 
 mering on the Hquid heaven with 
 its rosy wreath. 
 
 At Patras he was in the world 
 again. A clamour of porters and 
 hotel-touts ; a drive through chok- 
 ing dust ; dinner at a table where 
 
 99 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 he heard all languages save Greek ; 
 then the purchase of his ticket for 
 Brindisi. Exhausted in mind and 
 body, he shipped himself as soon as 
 possible, and slept for many hours. 
 On awaking he found himself 
 within sight of Corfu Corcyra, as 
 he remembered with a smile, think- 
 ing of Worboys. But it was the 
 modern world ; he could now give 
 little thought to Homer or to 
 Thucydides. In his last gHmpse of 
 Parnassus he had bidden farewell to 
 the old dreams. English people 
 were on board, and their talk 
 sounded not unpleasant to him. 
 
 Another night (to his impatience, 
 the whole day was spent at Corfu), 
 and he rose early for a view of the 
 Italian shore. There it lay, a long 
 yellow line, whereon, presently, a 
 harbour became visible. Not Brun- 
 disium, but Brindisi. A great 
 English steamship was putting 
 forth, bound for India ; he watched 
 it with a glow of pleasure, even of 
 pride. 
 
 lOO 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 A brief delay at the port, then 
 onward by rail once more. By 
 sunny-golden sands of Calabria, 
 where yet linger the Hellenic 
 names ; northward through rugged 
 mountains, to Salerno throned above 
 her azure bay ; by the vine-clad 
 slopes of Vesuvius, by the dead city 
 of the menaced shore, into a regal 
 sunset burning upon Naples. 
 
 I 
 
 lOI 
 
r^'*^^ 
 
 VIL 
 
 IS arrival in London was 
 at mid- day ; the sky 
 heavily clouded, and the 
 streets lashed with a 
 cold rain. Until late 
 in the evening he sat 
 idly at his hotel reading 
 newspapers, but before 
 going to bed he wrote 
 a few lines addressed to 
 Lady Revill. A formal 
 note, constructed in the 
 third person. Would Lady Revill 
 grant an interview to Mr. Edmund 
 Langley, who was newly returned 
 from Athens ? No more. 
 
 Were the lady in town he might 
 receive an answer by the evening 
 
 102 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 of next day. But the day passed, 
 and no letter arrived for him. A 
 second day went by ; and only on 
 the morning of the third was there 
 put into his hand a small envelope, 
 which he knew at a glance to be 
 the reply he awaited. He opened 
 it with nervous haste. Lady Revill 
 apologised for her delay ; she was 
 in the west of England, and would 
 not be back in town until Saturday 
 evening. But if Mr. Langley could 
 conveniently call at eleven on Mon- 
 day morning, it would give her 
 pleasure to see him. 
 
 Friday, to-day. By way of kill- 
 ing an hour he wrote to his friends 
 at Athens. It was long since time 
 had dragged with him so drearily, 
 for he did not care to seek any of 
 his acquaintances, and could fix his 
 attention on nothing more serious 
 than the daily news. To his sur- 
 prise, the last post on Saturday 
 brought him a letter with a Greek 
 stamp. Auguring ill, he struggled 
 with the cacography of Mr. Wor- 
 
 103 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 boys, which conveyed disagreeable 
 intelligence. 
 
 "We were to have sailed from 
 the Piraeus for Syra on the afternoon 
 of the day after you left us, but I 
 grieve to say that this was rendered 
 impossible by an attack of illness 
 which befell our young friend. He 
 could neither sleep nor eat, and was 
 obliged to confess when we had 
 absolutely reached the harbour 
 that he felt unable to go on board. 
 I felt his pulse, and found him in a 
 high fever. One circumstance con- 
 tributing to this was doubtless a 
 long and exhausting walk which he 
 took on the day of your departure ; 
 if you can believe it, he positively 
 walked for some nine hours, on an 
 empty stomach, returning in a great 
 perspiration long after sunset. This, 
 in one of his constitution, was 
 sheer madness, as I forthwith told 
 him. From the Piraeus we re- 
 turned as quickly as possible to 
 Athens, and medical aid was sum- 
 moned. Our excellent doctor seems 
 
 104 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 not to regard the crisis as alarming, 
 but he forbids any movement. How 
 often I have tried to impress upon 
 Louis that these southern climates 
 do not permit of the excesses in 
 bodily exertion v^^hich may with 
 impunity be indulged in at home ! 
 I have telegraphed to Lady Revill, 
 as she desired me always to do in 
 case of illness. I shall send other 
 dispatches from time to time, and 
 you will thus, probably, be aware of 
 what is going on before you receive 
 this letter." 
 
 " Poor lad ! poor lad ! " was the 
 burden of Langley's thought for the 
 rest of the evening. 
 
 On the morrow, precisely at the 
 appointed hour, he made his call in 
 Cornwall Gardens. It was long 
 since he had stood at any door with 
 an uncomfortable beating of the 
 heart. The sensation revived, with 
 hardly less than their original inten- 
 sity, those pangs with which he had 
 entered old Mr. Forrest's presence for 
 the fetal interview sixteen years ago. 
 
 los 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 The door opened, and solemnly, 
 behind a solemn footman, he ascended 
 the stairs, vaguely percipient of the 
 marks of wealth and taste about 
 him, breathing a fragrance which 
 increased the trouble of his blood. 
 In vain he strove to command 
 himself. It was like the ascent of 
 a scaffold ; every step lengthened 
 his physical and mental distress. 
 
 A murmur of the footman's voice; 
 a vision of tempered sunlight on 
 many rich and beautiful things ; a 
 graceful figure rising before him. 
 It was over. The mist cleared from 
 his eyes, and he was a man again. 
 
 Lady Revill received him with 
 grave formality, almost as though 
 they met for the first time. He 
 had not expected her to smile, but 
 her absolute self-control, the perfec- 
 tion of her stately reserve, excited 
 his wonder. On him, it was clear, 
 lay the necessity of breaking silence; 
 but the phrases he had prepared were 
 all forgotten. Their greeting was 
 mere exchange of bows ; he must 
 
 io6 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 plunge straightway into the business 
 which brought him here. 
 
 " I have just returned from 
 Greece." A motion bade him be 
 sealed, and he took the nearest 
 chair. ^' At Athens I encountered 
 by chance an old friend of mine, 
 Mr. Worboys, and thus I was led 
 into acquaintance with Mr. Louis 
 Reed." 
 
 Lady Revill sat still and mute. 
 When the speaker paused, she 
 regarded him with an air of ex- 
 pectancy which puzzled Langley ; 
 it was an intense look, calm yet 
 suggesting concealed emotion. 
 
 "I am sorry to hear," he con- 
 tinued, straying from a tenor of 
 speech which threatened to be both 
 stiff and vague, "that Mr. Reed 
 fell ill just after I left. I had a 
 letter on Saturday from Mr. Wor- 
 boys." 
 
 The lady spoke. 
 
 " I received a telegram on Friday. 
 Mr. Reed was then better -, but his 
 illness, I fear, has been dangerous." 
 
 107 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 Her voice reassured Langley, so 
 nearly was it the voice of days gone 
 by. In face and figure Lady Revill 
 retained more of youth than he had 
 allowed himself to expect ; on the 
 other hand, her beaaty appeared to 
 him of less sympathetic type than 
 that which his memory preserved. 
 She was thirty-seven, and, like most 
 handsome women who have lived to 
 that age amid the numberless privi- 
 leges of wealth, had lost no attribute 
 of her sex ; feminine at every point, 
 she still, merely as a woman, dis- 
 composed the man who approached 
 her. Yet her features had under- 
 gone a change, and of the kind that 
 time alone would not account for. 
 Langley defined it to himself as 
 loss of sweetness, for which was 
 substituted a cold dignity, capable 
 of passing into austere pride. This 
 was independent of her gravity 
 assumed for the occasion ; he saw 
 it inseparable from her countenance. 
 He felt sure that she did not often 
 smile. In silence her lips were 
 
 io8 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 somewhat too closely set a pity, 
 seeing how admirable was their 
 natural contour. 
 
 She was so well dressed that 
 Langley had no consciousness of 
 what she wore, save that it shim- 
 mered pearly-grey. Her hair had 
 not changed at all ; now as then, 
 she well understood how to make 
 manifest its abundance, whilst sub- 
 duing it to the fine shape of her 
 head. Her hand bore only two 
 rings, the plain circlet and the 
 keeper ; its beauty was but the 
 more declared. 
 
 " I knew nothing of this illness 
 when I wrote asking your per- 
 mission to call. But it was or 
 Louis that I wished to speak." 
 
 Again he saw the singular expec- 
 tancy in Lady Revill's look. Her 
 eyes fell before his scrutiny. He 
 continued. 
 
 " When I learnt that he was your 
 ward, I of course felt a greater inte- 
 rest in him. I told him I had known 
 you before your marriage, and in 
 
 109 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 that way we quickly formed a 
 friendship. It is as his friend that 
 I must now venture to speak to 
 you. I came to England with this 
 purpose, after persuading him, with 
 great difficulty, to give up an inten- 
 tion he had of coming hurriedly 
 back himself. The news of his 
 illness hardly surprised me. I left 
 him in a terribly excited state the 
 result of a letter he had received 
 from London." 
 
 Langley talked on without con- 
 straint, but not without an uncom 
 fortable sense that he must appeai 
 impertinent in the eyes of the mute, 
 grave listener. Her coldness, how- 
 ever, had begun to touch his pride ; 
 he felt the possibility of braving 
 considerations which would have 
 embarrassed him seriously enough 
 even had Lady Revill betrayed some 
 tenderness for their common memo- 
 ries. 
 
 " A letter from me ? " she asked, 
 in deliberate tones. 
 
 " From Mrs. Tresilian." 
 
 no 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 A shadow crossed her face. Her 
 lips grew harder, 
 
 " In a boy's spirit of confidence," 
 Langley pursued, " he had talked to 
 me of Mrs. Tresilian, whom I know 
 only by name. He had told me that 
 he regarded her as a very dear friend, 
 and told me also that it was a friend- 
 ship of which his guardian disap- 
 proved. Then, one morning, Mr. 
 Worboys came to me in great 
 anxiety ; Louis had been somehow 
 upset by a letter, and was bent on 
 returning to England as soon as 
 possible. Mr. Worboys asked me 
 to aid him in opposing this resolve. 
 I did so, and successfully, but not 
 until Louis had told me the facts 
 of the case. Mrs. Tresilian had 
 written to him that their friendship 
 must come to an end, the reason 
 being that she had learnt how dis- 
 tasteful it was to you. A gentleman, 
 unnamed, had called upon her, and 
 begged her to make this sacrifice 
 out of regard for the young man's 
 welfare." 
 
 Ill 
 
i 
 
 SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 With satisfaction he perceived 
 that his narrative v^as overcoming 
 the Hstener's cold reserve. It be- 
 came obvious that Lady Revill had 
 no knowledge of these details. 
 
 " I cannot think," she said, " that 
 any one known to me has behaved 
 in that strange manner." 
 
 "Louis had no choice but to 
 believe his friend's explanation. I 
 thought it probable that he had 
 written to you on the subject." 
 
 "He wrote a very short and 
 vehement letter. But it contained 
 no word of this." She paused for 
 an instant, then added, " All he had 
 to say to me was that he begged me 
 to grant him his independence, that 
 he wished to go forth into the world 
 without assistance or advice from 
 any one, and more to the same 
 effect. I have had such letters from 
 him before." 
 
 "You can understand now how 
 he came to write in that strain." 
 
 Langley spoke, in spite of himself, 
 with less scrupulous respect than 
 
 112 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 hitherto somewhat curtly. On 
 Louis's behalf, he resented Lady 
 Revill's unsympathetic tone. 
 
 " I can understand," she said, 
 " that the person whom he calls 
 his friend may have wrought cruelly 
 upon his feelings ; but I repeat that 
 no acquaintance of mine can possibly 
 have had any part in the matter." 
 
 Langley reflected, and controlled 
 his tongue, which threatened to 
 outrun discretion. 
 
 "In any case. Lady Revill, his 
 feelings were cruelly wrought upon, 
 and to that the poor boy's illness is 
 due. May I speak now of some- 
 thing that had entered my mind 
 even before this event ? Louis 
 talked a good deal to me of his 
 position and of his aims. You will 
 do me the justice to take for granted 
 that I in no way encouraged him in 
 discontent. On the contrary, I did 
 my best to keep him reminded of 
 how young he was, and how in- 
 experienced. Happily there was 
 no need to insist upon the deference 
 
 113 H 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 he owed to your wishes ; on that 
 point he showed a right feeling. 
 But at the age of eighteen, and 
 with a temperament such as his, 
 it is difficult always to act unselfishly, 
 or even rationally. Whatever the 
 source of it, he is possessed with a 
 resolve to be as he puts it of 
 some use in the world. You know 
 the meaning of that formula on the 
 lips of a young man nowadays. He 
 is going through the stage of hot 
 radicalism. Education for its own 
 sake seems to him mere waste of 
 time. The burden of the world is 
 on his shoulders." 
 
 Langley's smile elicited no re- 
 sponse. But Lady Revill had 
 abandoned her statuesque pose, and 
 her countenance reflected anxious 
 thoughts. 
 
 "Mr. Worboys," she remarked 
 coldly, " seems to have been unable 
 to influence him." 
 
 " Quite unable, though I should 
 say that travel had not been without 
 its good eflFect. Mr. Worboys has 
 
 114 
 
oLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 too little understanding of his pupil's 
 mind." 
 
 "What were you about to sug- 
 gest, Mr. Langley ? " 
 
 "Nothing very definite. But I 
 think I can enter into Louis's feel- 
 ings, and I seemed to attract his 
 confidence, and this suggested to 
 me that I might be of some service 
 if other influences failed. I know 
 that I am inviting a rebuke for 
 officiousness. A word, and I efface 
 myself again. But if you permit 
 me to serve you, I would gladly do 
 all I can." 
 
 "The difficulty is very great," 
 said Lady Revill, " and I feel it as a 
 kindness that you should wish to 
 help me. But how ? I am slov/ 
 to catch your meaning." 
 
 "All I should ask of you would 
 be a permission to continue, with 
 your good will, the relations with 
 Louis which began at Athens. I 
 am an idle man, without engage- 
 ments, without responsibilities. 
 When Louis comes home, would 
 
 ns 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 you consent to my taking up, in- 
 formally, the position Mr. Worboys 
 will relinquish ? It would give me 
 a purpose in life which I feel the 
 want of and it might, I think, 
 afford you some relief from anxiety." 
 
 Lady Revill sat with eyes cast 
 down ; she kept so long a silence 
 that Langley allowed himself to 
 utter his impatient thought. 
 
 " You don't like to say that you 
 think me unfit for such a charge ? " 
 
 "I had nothing of that sort in 
 iiiind, Mr. Langley," she answered, 
 in a lowered and softened tone. 
 
 " You shrink from restoring me, 
 thus far, to your friendly confidence." 
 
 " That is not the cause of my 
 hesitation." 
 
 Langley winced at this reply, 
 which was spoken with a return 
 to the more distant manner. 
 
 " In brief, then," he said quietly, 
 " my offer is unwelcome, and I must 
 ask your pardon for venturing it." 
 
 " You misunderstand me. I am 
 very willing that you should act as 
 you propose." 
 
 ii6 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 It seemed to him, now, that Lady 
 Revill assumed the tone of granting 
 a suit for favour. Moment by mo- 
 ment her proximity, her voice, 
 regained the old power over him, 
 and with the revival of tender 
 emotion he grew more sensitive 
 to the meanings of her reserve. 
 
 " But," he remarked, " you foresee 
 a number of practical difficulties ? " 
 
 Very strangely, she again kept a 
 long silence. Her visitor rose. 
 
 "I ought not to ask you to 
 decide this matter at once. Lady 
 Revill. Enough if you will give 
 it your consideration." 
 
 " It is decided," she made answer, 
 rising also, but with a hesitation, all 
 but a timidity, which did not escape 
 Langley's eye. "My difficulty is 
 that I must acquaint you with 
 certain facts concerning Louis 
 which I don't feel able to speak 
 of in this moment." 
 
 "If you will let me see you at 
 another time " 
 
 " Do you remain at the hotel ? " 
 
 117 
 
SLEEPING FIRES 
 
 "For the present. I have no 
 home." 
 
 "Believe, Mr. Langley, that I 
 feel the kindness v^^hich has brought 
 you here." 
 
 She seemed of a sudden anxious 
 tu atone for cold formalities. Her 
 face, he thought, had a somewhat 
 brighter colour, and the touch of 
 diffidence in her bearing v^as more 
 perceptible. 
 
 " If you knew how glad I am to 
 speak with you once more " 
 
 Suppressed emotion at length 
 betrayed itself in his voice, and he 
 stopped. 
 
 " I will let you hear very soon," 
 said Lady Revill. 
 
 She offered her hand, and Langley 
 at once withdrew. When he had 
 left the house it surprised him to 
 find how short the interview had 
 been, and he was puzzled at the 
 abruptness of its termination. He 
 had imagined that they would talk 
 either for a mere five minutes or 
 for a couple of hours. 
 
 ii8 
 
VIII. 
 
 UT the worst of his 
 suspense was over. He 
 could now seek such 
 congenial acquaintances 
 as he had in town, and 
 look to their society 
 with the relish born of 
 long solitude. Never a 
 man of many friends, 
 he knew himself wel- 
 come at all times in 
 certain households of 
 good standing ; and for 
 some years he had belonged to one 
 of the most agreeable of literary 
 clubs. It was early in the London 
 season ; a man who felt that he had 
 somehow entered upon a new lease 
 of life could not do better, whilst 
 
 119 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 grave possibilities hung in the 
 balance, than live as London pre- 
 scribes to those w^ho have means 
 and leisure, taste and social con- 
 nexions. 
 
 First of all, however, he dis- 
 patched a letter to Louis Reed ; a 
 letter wrarm with the kindest 
 sympathy, and full of hopeful 
 suggestiveness. All was going well, 
 he assured Louis, and news more 
 definite should come before long. 
 
 He thought it likely that some 
 days would elapse before he heard 
 from Lady Revill ; and so, when 
 he rose on the following morning, 
 he had no special anxiety to inquire 
 for letters. But on entering the 
 cofFee-room, he saw that the un- 
 expected had happened ; there was 
 a letter for him, and from Lady 
 Revill. Having given his order for 
 breakfast, he broke the envelope. 
 It contained several pages of writing, 
 which, to his surprise, did not begin 
 with any form of epistolary address ; 
 at the end, he saw, stood merely 
 
 120 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 the signature, " Agnes Revill." In 
 one whom he believed so careful 
 of conventionalities, this seemed 
 strange. Hastily he glanced over 
 the first page ; then he folded the 
 letter, and cast a glance about him 
 a glance of bewilderment, of appre- 
 hension, as though afraid of a 
 stranger's proximity. Catching a 
 waiter's eye, he rose, and directed 
 that his breakfast should be kept 
 back till he again ordered it ; then 
 he went upstairs to his bedroom. 
 
 Sunshine flooded the room. Stand- 
 ing with his back to the window, 
 and so that the morning glory 
 streamed upon the paper in his 
 hand, he read what follows : 
 
 "In the autumn of 1877, a year 
 after my marriage, I went to spend 
 a fortnight with my parents, at their 
 home. Whilst staying there, I 
 heard, in family talk, that a middle- 
 aged couple who were old friends of 
 ours, their name Reed people in a 
 humble position, whom I think you 
 never met, and perhaps never heard 
 
 121 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 spoken of had recently adopted a 
 child, a little waif of three years old. 
 I called upon them, and they told 
 me, as far as they knew it, this 
 child's history. 
 
 " A few years before, a young 
 and parentless girl, whom they had 
 known since her childhood, had 
 disappeared from the town ; her 
 name was Eliza Morton. Suspicion 
 arose that she had gone away with 
 a man named Hollingdon, a com- 
 mercial traveller, and some attempts 
 were made to discover her where- 
 abouts, but these efforts failed. But 
 in the summer of 1877, Mrs. Reed 
 one day received a message from 
 the young woman, who had re- 
 turned to the town, and lay ill at 
 a lodging-house. Mrs. Reed went 
 to see her, and found her in a dying 
 state. The woman said that she 
 was married, and to the man who 
 had been suspected of leading her 
 astray ; the child she had with her, 
 a little boy, was the offspring of 
 this union. Hollingdon had taken 
 
 122 
 
S^ SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 ^er abroad, to South Africa, where 
 ^^ventually he deserted her, but not 
 without leaving her suiiicient means 
 to return to England. For twelve 
 months she had been in failing 
 health, and it was with difficulty 
 that she reached her native town. 
 Fearing she might not recover, she 
 appealed to Mrs. Reed on behalf of 
 the child, whose name, she said, 
 was Percival Louis Hollingdon. 
 After a consultation with her 
 husband, Mrs. Reed consented to 
 take charge of the child should 
 the mother die an event which 
 happened a few days later. 
 
 " The Reeds thought it doubtful 
 whether the young woman had 
 really been married ; she wore a 
 wedding-ring, but evaded questions 
 as to the date and place of the 
 ceremony. That, however, did not 
 affect their promise on the child's 
 behalf. Childless themselves, they 
 were very willing to adopt this poor 
 little boy, v/hose intelligence and 
 prettiness made him interesting for 
 
 123 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 his own sake. So he was taken 
 into their home. As Mrs. Reed 
 had no Hking for the name Percival, 
 she decided to use the child's second 
 name, and call him Louis. For 
 patronymic he received their own, 
 and so grew up as Louis Reed. 
 
 " As years went on, I frequently 
 saw this child, who grew much 
 endeared to his adoptive parents. 
 When he was seven, Mrs. Reed 
 died. Her husband survived her for 
 two years only, and in broken 
 health. Shortly before his death, 
 in 1882, I went to see him, and 
 on this occasion he revealed to me 
 a fact which had been known to 
 him for about six months a fact 
 relating to Louis Reed's origin. 
 He said that he had received a visit 
 from the man Hollingdon, who, 
 newly back from wanderings over 
 the world, was making inquiries in 
 the town concerning his wife, and 
 had been directed to Mrs. Reed. 
 On learning all that had happened, 
 Hollingdon declared that the dead 
 
 124 
 
I 
 
 SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 woman had spoken falsely in saying 
 that her child was his also. It was 
 true that he had married Elizr 
 Morton, but only after she had 
 lived, in London, with another man, 
 to whom she had borne a child. 
 He affirmed that, out of love for the 
 girl, who had broken with her 
 ' protector,' he permitted her to take 
 the child when they were married 
 and went abroad together. Subse- 
 quently, he confessed, he deserted 
 his wife, partly because he wished 
 for a child of his own, and felt 
 jealous of her devotion to the little 
 boy. Asked if he knew the name 
 of this boy's father, he said that it 
 was Langley. 
 
 "There seemed no reason to 
 doubt the story. The dying woman 
 had doubtless been ashamed to con- 
 fess the whole truth to her friends ; 
 she wished to leave an honourable 
 memory, and thought, no doubt, 
 that she was doing the best thing 
 for her child. With its father she 
 either could not, or would not, 
 communicate. 
 
 125 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 "As you have interested yourself 
 in Louis Reed, I felt it necessary 
 to inform you of these circum- 
 stances. On Mrs. Reed's death, I 
 made myself responsible for the 
 boy's future. A small sum of 
 money was left for his use when he 
 should come of age. Mrs. Reed 
 had had him well taught at a day- 
 school, and his education proceeded 
 much as it would have done had he 
 been my own child. During the 
 last three years, he has regarded my 
 house as his home, and me as legally 
 his guardian. He knows that the 
 Reeds were not his parents, having 
 learnt that from the talk of his early 
 schoolfellows ; and on the one 
 occasion when he asked me about 
 his origin, I thought it the wisest 
 course to profess total ignorance. 
 From Mr. and Mrs. Reed, it 
 appears, he had learnt nothing on 
 this point." 
 
 After this came the simple signa- 
 ture. 
 
 An hour elapsed before Langley 
 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 left the room, and went down to 
 breakfast. The unobservant waiter 
 remarked no change in him, but in 
 truth the interval had changed his 
 aspect wonderfully had lent his 
 features the vivacity of youth, and 
 given him a lighter step, a more 
 animated bearing. As he sat at the 
 breakfast table and affected to read 
 the newspaper, his vision was more 
 than once dimmed with moisture ; 
 he smiled frequently. 
 
 After the meal, he wrote to Lady 
 Revill, and, in imitation of hei 
 example, omitted epistolary forms. 
 
 " Will you let me see you very 
 soon ? May I come to-morrow 
 morning, at the same hour as 
 yesterday ? Edmund Langley." 
 
 He was engaged to lunch at 
 Hampstead, and he walked all the 
 way thither from Trafalgar Square ; 
 it seemed the pleasantest mode of 
 passing so fine a morning. For he 
 had an unfamiliar surplus of energy 
 to work off J and the buoyancy of 
 his spirits could not find adequate 
 
 127 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 play save in the open air and the 
 sunshine. After his climb up the 
 northern heights, finding that he 
 would have half an hour to spare, 
 he executed a purpose which had 
 only come into his mind when the 
 beginning of fatigue enabled him to 
 think more soberly ; he went to the 
 post-office and wrote a telegram 
 addressed to Worboys at Athens. 
 "Send me news of Louis without 
 delay." This dispatched, he walked 
 on in meditation. " All danger was 
 over some days ago," ran his 
 thoughts. " But I must know how 
 he is. And to-morrow evening 
 yes, to-morrow evening I start for 
 Greece again ! " 
 
 His hostess, a charming woman, 
 as she talked with him after 
 luncheon, paid a merry compliment 
 to the health and brilliancy he had 
 brought back from the classic land. 
 Langley, absorbed at the moment 
 in his own thoughts, said, as though 
 replying : 
 
 " Do you know Mrs. Tresilian ? " 
 
 128 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " A singular question ! Has she 
 any credit for your air of happi- 
 ness ? " 
 
 "I am not acquainted with her, 
 but I wish to find some one who is." 
 
 " Be your wish fulfilled. I know 
 Mrs. Tresilian, and have known her 
 for years." 
 
 "Yes," said Langley, with a 
 smile, "I am fortune's favourite. 
 Pray tell me something about her." 
 
 "Oh, she is delightful. Dine 
 with us on Sunday, and I think I 
 can promise you shall meet her." 
 
 " I shall probably be thousands of 
 miles away. But what can you tell 
 me of Mr. Tresilian ? " 
 
 "Monsieur is a most estimable 
 man," answered the lady, with a 
 face of good-humour. "Somewhat 
 older than his wife, it is true, but a 
 model of the domestic virtues, and 
 sincerely respected by all who know 
 him though I am bound to say 
 they are few. His passion is for 
 agriculture ; he lives for the most 
 part on his farm in Norfolk." 
 
 129 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " And Mrs. Tresilian prefers the 
 town ? " 
 
 " She is a citizeness of the world, 
 and lives wherever she can do good. 
 I am quite serious. A great deal of 
 nonsense is talked and believed about 
 her. She is 'advanced/ but I wish 
 all women were equally to the fore 
 in work and spirit such as hers." 
 
 " I am very glad indeed to hear 
 this," said Langley, in a grave tone. 
 " I thought it probable." 
 
 " Oh, generous man ! How your 
 view of probabilities becomes you ! " 
 
 '' I am getting old, remember. 
 Let the young enjoy the privilege 
 of cynicism. And yet there are 
 young people, even in our day,' who 
 can think with the generosity which 
 ought to be the note of youth." 
 
 "Happily," returned the hostess, 
 "I know one or two girls, of 
 course." 
 
 " Of course ? Not a bit of it. I 
 was thinking of a noble-spirited boy." 
 
 He dropped his eyes, for they 
 dazzled. 
 
 130 
 
3^/\i^ 
 
 IX, 
 
 |IS hope of receiving a 
 telegram from Athens 
 before night was dis- 
 appointed. But he did 
 not allow this to dis- 
 turb him J it might 
 be explained in several 
 ways. The notorious 
 uncertainty of postal 
 matters in Greece made 
 it possible that Worboys 
 had not yet received 
 the message. All was well ; he 
 looked forward with the steadfast 
 gaze of a rapt visionary. 
 
 - The morning would bring a 
 reply from Lady Revill ; and in 
 this his confidence was justified. 
 She expected him at eleven o'clock. 
 
 131 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 When he entered the drawing- 
 room, it was vacant. He moved 
 about, glancing at the pictures and 
 other objects of interest ; and 
 presently his eye fell upon a 
 photograph of Louis, which stood 
 on a table. An excellent likeness ; 
 he regarded it with such intense 
 delight that he was not aware of 
 the entrance and approach of Lady 
 Revill ; her voice, bidding him 
 good morning, called his startled 
 attention, and he took with un- 
 thinking ardour the hand she 
 offered. 
 
 " Have you any news from 
 Athens ? " 
 
 "None." She withdrew her 
 hand, and retired a little, but did 
 not sit down. " As the last tele- 
 gram was so reassuring, I feel no 
 uneasiness." 
 
 Her demeanour had more suavity 
 than on the former occasion. Still 
 reserved, still clad in her conscious 
 dignity, and speaking with the voice 
 of one who has much to pardon, she 
 
 132 
 
I 
 
 SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 manifested relief; and Langley felt 
 no check upon the impulses which 
 demanded utterance. 
 
 " I telegraphed yesterday rnorning, 
 but there was no reply when I left 
 the hotel. No news is of course 
 good news. As soon as I have 
 heard, I shall start." 
 
 For Athens ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 They exchanged a look. Lady 
 Revill did not invite him to be 
 seated, and her wandering eyes, as 
 she stood in the unconsciously fine 
 attitude of a tall, graceful woman, 
 expectant, embarrassed, explained 
 the neglect of forms. 
 
 " Why have you kept this from 
 me ? " he proceeded. " But for an 
 accident, should I never have 
 known it ? " 
 
 " Perhaps, never. Perhaps, when 
 Louis attained manhood." 
 
 "May I hope to know your 
 reasons ? " 
 
 " You do not doubt the truth of 
 the story on which it all de- 
 
 133 
 
SLEEPING FIRES 
 
 pends ? " she asked, without regard- 
 ing him. 
 
 " How can I doubt it ? Every 
 detail in your narrative is true so 
 far as they come within my own 
 knowledge." 
 
 " Yet no suspicion crossed your 
 mind at Athens ? " 
 
 " How could I have been led to 
 such a thought ? The name 
 Louis but then it wasn't the 
 name by which his mother called 
 him the name of her own 
 choosing. And the fact of your 
 guardianship; was that Hkely to 
 turn my suspicions towards the 
 truth ? " 
 
 Lady Revill cast a glance towards 
 Louis's portrait on the table. 
 
 "Did no one with whom you 
 were in company perceive a 
 personal likeness ? " 
 
 " Worboys seems not to have 
 observed anything of the kind. Is 
 there a likeness ? " 
 
 He turned to the photograph, 
 and then again to Lady Revill, with 
 
 134 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 a light of ingenuous pleasure on his 
 face. 
 
 " I don't understand," she an- 
 swered coldly, " how the resem- 
 blance escaped any one who saw 
 you together." 
 
 ' Langley smiled, with difficulty 
 repressing a laugh of joy. 
 
 "Mr. Worboys lives in the 
 ancient world ; modern trivialities 
 make no impression upon him. 
 And this Hkeness confirmed you 
 in the belief of what you had been 
 told ? " 
 
 His voice, vibrant with glad 
 feeling, fell to a note that was 
 almost of intimacy. 
 
 " I am surprised," said Lady 
 Revill, taking a few steps and 
 laying her hand upon a chair, " that 
 the revelation seems so welcome to 
 you." 
 
 " It is more to me than I dare tell 
 you," he answered with a fervour 
 which seemed to resent her lack of 
 sympathy. " How you yourself 
 feel towards Louis, I cannot know ; 
 
 135 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 yet you must have some under- 
 standing of what it means to a man 
 very much alone in the world when 
 he finds that Louis is his own son." 
 
 " Have you ever tried to dis- 
 cover what had become of the 
 child ? " 
 
 *' Never. Will you forgive a 
 question I am obliged to ask you 
 in return ? It is this : Did your 
 parents speak of me to you, when 
 I went away, with absolute con- 
 demnation ? Or did they offer 
 any excuses for my behaviour in 
 their house ? I took care that my 
 story should be made known to you. 
 But will you let me know in what 
 shape it was related ? " 
 
 Lady Revill seated herself; 
 Langley remained standing. The 
 great joy that had befallen him 
 overcame his oppressive self-con- 
 sciousness ; and the thought that 
 this beautiful woman, whom in his 
 heart he still named ^* Agnes," had 
 for years been mother to his son, 
 gave him a right of intimate 
 
 .136 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 approach not to be denied by her 
 stateliest gravity. 
 
 " I only knew," was her distanc 
 answer, " that you had a responsi- 
 bility which forbade your marriage." 
 
 " That is extremely vague." He 
 began to speak as one who demands, 
 rather than requests, an explanation. 
 " Besides, it was not true." 
 
 " How can you say that ? " Lady 
 Revill looked upon him for an 
 instant with surprise. " You have 
 acknowledged the truth of what 
 I put in writing." 
 
 "There was no responsibility 
 that forbade marriage. When I 
 told your father my story, he took 
 time to think about it, and I then 
 heard from him that it was deemed 
 impossible to speak to you of such 
 things. I accepted this decision, 
 but only for a day. Then I under- 
 stood that respect for your parents 
 must not make me unjust to myself 
 and perhaps to you. When I 
 wrote, at length, asking you to be 
 my wife, I wrote at the same time 
 
 137 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 to your father, telling him of the 
 step I had taken, and requesting 
 that you should be informed of all 
 I had let him know. It seemed 
 my only course : rightly or 
 wrongly, our habits forbid a man 
 to speak of such" things to the girl 
 he wishes to marry. Is it possible 
 that your father, in replying that 
 you had heard * everything,' did not 
 tell the truth ? I know what 
 crimes good people will commit in 
 the name of morality ; but surely 
 Mr. Forrest was incapable of such 
 transaction with his honour ? " 
 
 The listener's countenance grew 
 fixed as a face in marble. Langley, 
 unheeding its frigid reproof, went 
 on. 
 
 " Did you know all the facts ? 
 Or only that I was father of a 
 child ? Or perhaps not even as 
 much as that ? " 
 
 The statue spoke. 
 
 " I knew of the child's existence. 
 It was enough." 
 
 " From my point of view, far 
 
 138 
 
if 
 
 SLEEPING FIRES, 
 
 from enough. You were never 
 told that the child's mother, of her 
 own desire, had married another 
 man and taken the child away ? " 
 
 ^' The knowledge could not have 
 affected my opinion." ' 
 
 It was spoken with undisguisable 
 effort. Langley, watching her face 
 intently, saw a quiver of the brows 
 and of the hard-set lips. 
 
 ^* Ah, then you did not know. 
 In telling you so much, and no 
 more, your parents did me a 
 grave wrong." 
 
 " Mr. Langley, your own wrong- 
 doing was so much graver that 
 I cannot see what right you have 
 to reproach them." 
 
 His blood was now warm ; his 
 pride rose in contest with hers. 
 
 " In a case Hke this, Lady Revill, 
 the question of right or wrong can 
 only be decided on a most intimate 
 acquaintance with the circum- 
 
 stances." 
 
 " I think otherwise. Admission 
 of one fact is enough." 
 
 139 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " There we are at issue, and 
 I daresay neither of us would care 
 to argue on the subject. But in 
 one respect your natural kindness 
 has overcome the severity of your 
 creed. You did not visit upon the 
 child the sins of the father." 
 
 Lady Revill was silent. 
 
 *^ If you had condemned me," 
 proceeded Langley, "because I 
 neglected my duty to the boy, 
 I could have said little enough to 
 excuse myself. There, indeed, I 
 was guilty. The circumstances 
 made it difficult for me to act 
 otherwise than I did ; but none 
 the less I threw aside carelessly the 
 gravest responsibility that can be 
 laid upon a man. In your view, no 
 doubt, it was my first duty to marry 
 the mother. To have done that 
 would have been to lay the founda- 
 tion of life-long misery. My 
 selfishness if you like saved me 
 from worse than folly. But it is 
 true that I ought not to have given 
 up the child to an unknown fate. 
 
 140 
 
[ SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 The mere ceremony of marriage is 
 of no account ; but a parent is 
 bound by every kind of law in the 
 interests of his child." 
 
 A movement in his hearer 
 checked him. Turning, he saw 
 that a servant had entered the 
 room. The man silently ap- 
 proached, and presented a salver 
 on which lay a telegram. 
 m "I think this is from Athens," 
 ' said Lady Revill, when they were 
 alone again. 
 
 Langley waited, his pulse quick- 
 ened with expectation . He watched 
 the delicate hands as they broke the 
 envelope, saw them unfold the 
 paper, saw them suddenly fall. 
 
 "What news ?" 
 
 Her eyes had turned to him. In 
 their stricken look, in the blanching 
 of her cheeks and of her parted lips, 
 he read what lay before her. 
 
 " Will you let me see ? " he said 
 quietly. 
 
 She gave him the telegram. 
 
 " Grieve to say that Louis died 
 
 141 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 this morning. Painless and like 
 a sleep. Please let me know your 
 wishes." 
 
 He looked to the sunny window,^ 
 but saw nothing. Dark wings 
 seemed to beat over him, and chill 
 him with their shadow. Lady 
 Revill had risen ; the sound of a 
 sob escaped her, and she trembled, 
 but her eyes were tearless. Then 
 Langley faced her again. 
 
 " I must reply at once. What is 
 your wish, Lady Revill ? " 
 
 " My wish is yours. Would you 
 like him to be brought to 
 England ? " 
 
 " Why ? What does it matter ? " 
 he answered in a hard voice. 
 
 " It is yours to decide." 
 
 Her utterance echoed the note of 
 his. They stood regarding each 
 other distantly, their faces stricken 
 with a grief which they strove to 
 master. 
 
 "Let him be buried among the 
 *uins," said Langley, with bitter 
 emphasis. 
 
 142 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 He laid the telegram on a table ; 
 stood for a moment in hesitancy ; 
 turned to his companion. 
 
 " Good-bye." 
 
 Her lips moved, as if to speak the 
 same word ; but another sob caught 
 her breath. Commanding herself, 
 she flashed a look at him, and said 
 impulsively : 
 
 "Do you lay it to my charge ? " 
 
 Langley was over-wrought ; a 
 flood of violent emotion broke 
 through all restraint. 
 
 " Why have you stood for years 
 between me and my son ? What 
 right had you to withhold him 
 from me ? " 
 
 "I see no shadow of right in 
 your reproach. You cast him off 
 when he was a little child. What 
 claim had you upon him when he 
 grew up ? " 
 
 "Again you speak in ignorance 
 of what happened. It was against 
 my will that I let his mother take 
 him away. She could pretend no 
 love for me, but she loved her child. 
 
 143 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 and I was unable to refuse her. 
 There was an understanding that, 
 if ever she needed help, she would 
 let me know. In acting as she did, 
 afterwards, she broke her promise 
 to me. I foresaw the possibility of 
 what came about. She knew how 
 to communicate with me. The 
 child would have been brought up 
 under my care. But she wished to 
 die in the odour of respectability." 
 
 " And does your conscience ac- 
 quit you in all other respects ? " 
 Lady Revill asked, she, too, the 
 mere mouthpiece of tumultuous 
 feelings. " Have you no thought 
 of the first sin the source of all 
 that followed, including your 
 misery now ? " 
 
 " Say what you will of that," 
 he answered scornfully. "The 
 moral folk of the world take good 
 care that what they choose to call 
 crimes shall not go unpunished, 
 and then they point to an avenging 
 Providence. You, no doubt, in 
 keeping my son from me, con- 
 
 144 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 sidered yourself to be discharging a 
 religious duty. You feared, per- 
 haps, that his father would corrupt 
 him. If the boy had died before I 
 sr^vv him, you would have written 
 me a letter, pointing the moral of 
 the tragedy. You have robbed me 
 of years of happiness. And how 
 much happier would his young life 
 have been ! As it was, you con- 
 demned him to a struggle with 
 conditions utterly unsuited to his 
 nature. Your prejudices of every 
 kind, your lack of sympathy with 
 all that is precious to a generous 
 young mind in our time did no 
 perception of this ever trouble you ? 
 Perhaps, after all, I was wrong in 
 what I granted just now. Perhaps 
 you knew all that the boy was suffer- 
 ing, and accepted it as the penalty he 
 had to pay for his father's vileness ? " 
 " You don't know what you are 
 saying ! " exclaimed the other, 
 shrinking before his vehemence, 
 and now gazing at him with 
 sorrowful rebuke. 
 
 145 
 
SLEEPING FIRES, 
 
 ' " What reason had you ? " He 
 stepped nearer. His face had aged 
 by many years, and showed wrinkles 
 hitherto invisible ; his eyelids were 
 red and swollen, as though from 
 weeping. " How do you justify 
 yourself. Lady Revill ? " 
 
 "The child was not yours," 
 she answered, with troubled breath. 
 " You gave him up to his mother, 
 and it was her right, when dying, 
 to choose what guardian she would." 
 
 " Even so, you were not the 
 guardian chosen. When you learnt 
 the truth from Mrs. Reed, it was 
 your duty to communicate with 
 me. But you are right ; I am 
 talking wildly and foolishly. Noth- 
 ing can be undone. The boy lies 
 dead at Athens. Let him be buried 
 there among the ruins." 
 
 As he once more turned from 
 her, his eye fell upon Louis's por- 
 trait. He moved towards it, and 
 stood gazing at the ardent face ; 
 then, without looking round, said 
 in a thick voice : 
 
 146 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " Have you one of these that you 
 can give me ? " 
 
 "Take that. There are others 
 that you shall have." 
 
 " Is there one taken Ibng ago 
 when he was a little boy ? " 
 
 " Several. You shall have them." 
 
 "Tell me this speak frankly, 
 plainly. Had you any true affec- 
 tion for him ? " 
 
 " Why else should I have treated 
 him as though he were a child of 
 my own ? " 
 
 " Did you ? That is what I want 
 to know. Or was it only the con 
 scientious discharge of what you 
 somehow came to think your duty ? " 
 
 Lady Revill looked at him with 
 searching eyes. 
 
 " Did he speak," she asked, " as 
 if I had behaved to him without 
 affection ? " 
 
 " He spoke of you with respect." 
 
 " With nothing more ? " 
 
 It was all but a cry of pain, and 
 Langley subdued his voice in an- 
 swering. 
 
 147 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " Remember that we were 
 strangers to each other ; mere 
 acquaintances, it seemed, and of 
 such different ages. Remember, 
 too, that he was at the time of life 
 when a boy's simplicity is out- 
 grown, and the man's thoughtful- 
 ness has not yet developed. I found 
 in him and it is saying much 
 not a trace of ungenerous feeling. 
 He spoke with regret of the trouble 
 and anxiety he had caused you." 
 
 " Never heartlessly," interrupted 
 the listener. " Never in a way that 
 could make me sorry I had " 
 
 Her voice broke ; she bent her 
 head. 
 
 " He said more ; and judge of 
 the strength of his feeling, that he 
 could overcome a boy's shame, and 
 speak of such things. He confessed 
 to me, in his bitterness, that he 
 loved you with a son's love ; and 
 lamented that you had lost all kind- 
 ness for him." 
 
 " It was not true ! How could 
 he think that ? " 
 
 148 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " What is the use of love that is 
 never shown ? " 
 
 " He turned from me he made 
 friends of people who taught him 
 to rebel against my wish in every- 
 thing." 
 
 "You were mistaken," said 
 Langley. "I know who you are 
 thinking of. That friend of his, 
 from first to last, spoke no word 
 disrespectful to you. She did not 
 even know that you had found 
 fault with him on her account. 
 And when some one or other told 
 her how serious the matter was 
 getting, you know how she wrote 
 to him." 
 
 " An easy magnanimity. 
 
 " It is you who seem to find the 
 reverse of magnanimity so easy. I 
 know nothing of this woman, ex- 
 cept what I heard from Louis. 
 Public report is worthless ; though 
 you, doubtless, make it the whole 
 ground of your prejudice against 
 her. I believe that she did act 
 magnanimously, or at all events in 
 
 149 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 honest kindness ; out of regard 
 both for him and for you. I know 
 a lad can be fooled by the most 
 worthless woman, but this is no 
 such case." 
 
 " I bring no charge against her," 
 said Lady Revill, coldly, "except 
 that the result of her influence, 
 whether she proposed it or not, 
 was to set Louis's mind in opposi- 
 tion to all I desired." 
 
 " What did you desire ? " 
 
 She seemed to disdain an answer. 
 
 " Perhaps," Langley went on, 
 without harshness, " you had some 
 memory of me of views I used to 
 hold and your intention was to 
 make of him a man as unlike me 
 as possible. I am not what I was 
 unhappily. Life has killed off so 
 many of my enthusiasms, as it does 
 in most men. You did me the 
 honour, perhaps, of imagining me 
 still warm on the side of poor 
 wretches still cold to the aristo- 
 cratic ideal. You sought to repress 
 in the boy all that did him most 
 
 150 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 credit his unselfish aspirations, 
 his bright zeal for justice and 
 mercy his contempt for idle and 
 conceited worldlings. I once knew 
 a woman who would never have 
 done that but the world has 
 changed her." 
 
 " You talk in utter ignorance of 
 me," Lady Revill replied. 
 
 "Whatever your motive, the 
 result was the same." 
 
 Emotion again shook her. 
 
 ^' I tried to do my duty, and you 
 are the last person who should re- 
 proach me if I mistook if I failed 
 to make his boyhood a time of 
 happiness " 
 
 " His life," said Langley, after a 
 few moments of painful silence, 
 "was not unhappy. His troubles 
 came of no idle or shameful cause, 
 and he was full of purpose. If he 
 could have grown up at my side ! 
 If I could have led him on, taught 
 him, watched the growth of his 
 mind what a companion ! what a 
 friend ! And I have wasted my 
 
 151 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 life, idled and sauntered through 
 the years, whilst, unknown to me, 
 that duty and that happiness lay 
 within reach ! 
 
 Lady Revill gazed at him ap- 
 pealingly through tears. 
 
 "No," he continued, with a 
 gesture of impatience, " 1 shall not 
 forget myself again. I spoke in 
 maddening pain ; it was true, I 
 didn't know what I said. I am 
 ashamed to have spoken to you like 
 that to you. You had reasons 
 for what you did ; never mind 
 what they were." 
 
 Again there was silence, and 
 Lady Revill sank wearily upon a 
 seat. 
 
 " Shall you go to Athens ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " What use to see a grave ? 
 But yes ; I shall go. 
 
 "You do wish him to be buried 
 there ? " 
 
 " Yes. In the little cemetery by 
 the Ilissus. Ah, you know nothing 
 of all that" 
 
 152 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 "Is it beautiful like the ceme- 
 tery at Rome ? " 
 
 " No ; not in that way. A poor 
 little patch of ground. But it lies 
 close by the ruins of a great temple, 
 and at evening the shadow of the 
 Acropolis falls upon it. He was learn- 
 ing to love Athens -y and if I could 
 have gone back to him . I should 
 have started to-night. In a week 
 I thought to be with him again." 
 
 When he paused Lady Revill 
 asked under her breath : 
 
 "You would at once have told 
 him ? " 
 
 " You think I should have shrunk 
 from it," he answered, with a re- 
 vival of scornful emotion. " Oh, 
 how the proprieties imprison you ! 
 How the pretty hypocrisies of life 
 constrain the nobler part of you ! " 
 
 "To you, then," she exclaimed, 
 a hot flush upon her cheeks, "all 
 decency, all shame, is the restraint 
 of hypocrites ? " 
 
 " No ; but the false feelings that 
 take their name. You would thinjj: 
 
 I S3 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 it more becoming, I dare say, to 
 have let him remain fatherless, than 
 to confess that, twenty years ago, I 
 was young, and had a young man's 
 passions." 
 
 " Poor boy ! I can hardly grieve' 
 that he is dead." 
 
 " At least, that is logical," said 
 Langley, with answering bitterness, 
 " for you would have liked him to 
 feel a misery worse than death in 
 the knowledge of his birth. And 
 perhaps he would really have felt it. 
 Perhaps the influence of his educa- 
 tion, the moral lessons you have 
 assiduously taught him . Oh, let 
 us make the best of what can't be 
 helped ; let us be content that he 
 is dead." 
 
 Lady Revill rose from her chair. 
 
 " Mr. Langley, shall I reply to 
 this telegram, or will you do so ? " 
 
 " I will do so, in your name." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 It was a dismissal. Langley 
 glanced at the photograph, but did 
 not take it. Lady Revill, however, 
 
 1 54 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 moved quickly, and put it into his 
 hand. 
 
 "Your grief is very bitter," she 
 said, in a shaken voice. 
 
 Their hands just touched, and 
 he left her. 
 
 155 
 
HE day passed in a 
 moody and fretful 
 indecision. There 
 was a telegram from 
 Worboys, repeating 
 the words of that 
 addressed to Lady 
 Revill 'y he carried 
 it about with him, 
 and read it times 
 innumerable. The 
 photograph he had 
 put away ; but the 
 face it represented 
 came before his 
 mind persistently, 
 and, by a morbid trick of the imagi- 
 nation, changed always to a deathly 
 rigidness, with eyes closed and 
 sunken cheeks. 
 
 156 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 From harassed sleep, he awoke 
 when it was yet dark, and the 
 sudden return of consciousness was 
 a shock that left him quivering 
 with shapeless fears. He did not 
 know himself, could not recover 
 his personality. It was as though 
 a man should turn to the glass, 
 and behold the visage of a stranger. 
 So much had crowded into the two 
 brief yesterdays : a joy undreamt, 
 the glowing forecast of a life's 
 happiness, a stroke of fate, and 
 thereupon that whirling hour that 
 made him think and speak so 
 wildly. Trying to remember all 
 he had said, he was racked with 
 something worse than shame. It 
 seemed impossible that a moment's 
 anguish could so disfigure a ripened 
 mind, stultify the self knowledge 
 of philosophic years. What foolish 
 insults had he uttered ? It was like 
 the behaviour of crude youth, stung 
 into recklessness by a law of life 
 unknown to him. 
 
 When day broke, he rose, half 
 
 157 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 dressed himself, and sat down in 
 the twilight with pen and paper. 
 
 " For all my frenzy of yesterday, 
 I beg your forgiveness. I owed you 
 gratitude, and behaved with bruta- 
 lity. Will you write a few words, 
 and say that you can make allow- 
 ance for what was spoken at such 
 a time ? Do not think that 
 revealed myself as I am ; that was 
 the spirit of long years ago, which 
 in truth I have outlived. Forgive 
 me, and tell me that you do." 
 
 Whilst it was still very early, he 
 went out and posted this. An hour 
 after, there came regret for having 
 done so ; and through the morning 
 he wandered miserably about un- 
 familiar streets. 
 
 Early in the afternoon, he des- 
 patched a telegram to Hampstead, 
 asking for the address of Mrs. 
 Tresilian. No sooner was it sent 
 than he remembered that a glance 
 at a Directory might perhaps have 
 saved the trouble ; so forthwith he 
 searched the volume. "Tresilian, 
 
 158 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 Frederick James," no other of the 
 name appeared ; and this gentle- 
 man's house was in Connaught 
 Square. But Langley could not 
 be sure that it was the residence 
 of the lady he sought ; after all, 
 he must await the reply from his 
 friend. It arrived in an hour's time, 
 and astonished him. 
 
 '' Mrs. Tresilian's address 34, 
 East Lane, Bermondsey." 
 
 Was she, then, even more enthu 
 siastic in her cause than he had 
 imagined ? Did she positively 
 dwell among the poor ? 
 
 After brief hesitation he took a 
 hansom, and was driven towards the 
 glooming levels of South-east Lon- 
 don. In Bermondsey the cabman 
 had to ask his way. When East 
 Lane was at length discovered 
 Langley alighted at the end, dis- 
 missed his vehicle, and explored the 
 by-way on foot. He found that 
 No. 34 was a larger house than its 
 neighbours ; it had recently under- 
 gone repairs, and looked not only 
 
 159 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 clean, but, to judge from the win- 
 dows, comfortably furnished. In 
 answer to his knock appeared a 
 very pretty woman, very plainly 
 dressed, whose face, unless he were 
 mistaken, declared her name. 
 
 " I wish to see Mrs. Tresilian." 
 
 " Will you come in ? " was the 
 pleasantly toned invitation ; and he 
 followed to a sitting-room on the 
 ground floor, a room simple as could 
 be, but at the same time totally 
 unlike the representative parlour of 
 Bermondsey. There the pretty 
 woman faced him with, " I am 
 Mrs. Tresilian." 
 
 " My name is Langley " 
 
 He could add no particulars, for 
 at once his hostess exclaimed viva- 
 ciously : 
 
 " And you have come from 
 Greece ! You have been with 
 Louis Reed!" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " But how did you find me ? 
 Louis doesn't know of this place, 
 does he ? " 
 
 1 60 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 Langley explained, and Mrs. 
 Tresilian laughed at what she 
 called the perfidy of their Hamp- 
 stead friend. 
 
 " I know all about you from a 
 letter of Louis's. How is he ? 
 Not ill, I hope ? " 
 
 The pause which Langley made, 
 and his dark look, alarmed her. In 
 a few words he told what had be- 
 fallen. The listener, clasping her 
 hands in a gesture of sincere grief, 
 stood for a moment voiceless ; then 
 her eyes filled. 
 
 " Oh, poor boy ! poor boy ! 
 Do you know, Mr. Langley, what 
 great friends we were ? Oh, and I 
 expected so much of him. He 
 seemed so " 
 
 She had to turn away. Langley, 
 choking with a gentler sorrow than 
 he had yet felt, regarded her through 
 tears that would not be restrained. 
 Often he had smiled at the name 
 of Mrs. Tresilian, knowing only Oi 
 certain extravagances which served 
 to caricature her personality in the 
 
 i6i 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 eye of the world ; he saw her now 
 as she had appeared to Louis, ad- 
 miring scarcely less than he sympa- 
 thised. 
 
 " Tell me about him, Mr. Lang- 
 ley. Was he quite well when you 
 left him ? " 
 
 "In fair health, I thought. But 
 
 ^" He changed the form of his 
 
 sentence. " Did he not write to 
 you very recently ? " 
 
 She exhibited much distress. 
 
 "Yes. I had a letter only a day 
 or two ago. And how unhappy it 
 will always make me to think that 
 
 Do tell me all you know. 
 
 You seem to keep something back. 
 If he said anything to you I will 
 explain my reasons " 
 
 Langley related the events of his 
 last two days at Athens, and the 
 listener sat with bent head, her 
 tears falling. When he ceased she 
 made an effort to calm herself; 
 then, with perfect simplicity, made 
 known the reason for what she had 
 done. It was a sacrifice imposed 
 
 162 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 by her genuine affection for Louis. 
 She had never known, until some 
 one authorised to speak came and 
 told her, that Louis's guardian 
 looked with the strongest disap- 
 proval upon their friendship ; the 
 matter was represented to her so 
 very gravely that there seemed no 
 alternative, though it broke her 
 heart to write as she did. And 
 Louis's letter in reply was so manly, 
 so noble 
 
 " He wrote so ? " Langley inter- 
 rupted eagerly. 
 
 " How proud I should be to show 
 you the letter, if it were not too 
 sacred ! And I seem to have only 
 just read it, fresh from his hands. 
 How is \t possible that the poor boy 
 can be dead ? I can't believe it ! " 
 
 "You speak, Mrs. Tresilian, of 
 some one who came to you with 
 authority. Now, when I men- 
 tioned this fact to Lady Revill, she 
 utterly denied that any friend of 
 hers could have taken such a step."^ 
 
 " Then I must justify myself, at 
 
 i6t 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 any cost," answered the other, with 
 dignity. " The gentleman who 
 called was Lord Henry Strands. 
 He came to the house in Con- 
 naught Square it was the day 
 before I left to come here and 
 went so far as to tell me in con- 
 fidence that Lady Revill would 
 shortly become his wife. Of that, 
 Mr. Langley, I am sure you will 
 not speak. I must tell you, for I 
 can't bear that you should think I 
 acted frivolously." 
 
 Langley kept silence. His 
 habitual frown expressed a gloomy 
 severity, and Mrs. Tresilian seemed 
 unable to move her eyes from him. 
 
 "Are you well acquainted with 
 Lady Revill ? " she asked, diffi- 
 dently. 
 
 "Till the other day it is years 
 since we met." 
 
 "What I have said surprises 
 you ? " 
 
 " No. I have heard of Lord 
 Henry Strands. But," he added 
 slowly, " it is clear that he came to 
 
 164 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 you without authority from Lady 
 ReviU." 
 
 ^^ There seems no doubt of that." 
 Mrs. Tresilian's eyes, still moist, 
 gleamed with indignation. "I 
 know Lady Revill only by name, 
 but I have heard people say all 
 sorts of pleasant things of her. Of 
 course I was sorry to know how 
 she thought of me, but I could not 
 for a moment, considering Louis's 
 age, countenance him in disregard- 
 ing her wishes." 
 
 " Can you forgive me for 
 questioning you further can you 
 tell me anything of Lord Henry 
 Strands ? " 
 
 "I know nothing of him. He 
 looks a man of forty, and seems 
 well-bred, though perhaps a little 
 conscious of his rank." 
 
 Their eyes met for a moment, 
 and Mrs. Tresilian again seemed 
 to discover something in the visi- 
 tor's face which strongly held her 
 attention. 
 
 " Do tell me, if you can," she 
 
 I 
 
 165 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 continued, " whether it's true that 
 Lady Revill has a very bad opinion 
 of me?" 
 
 "She has conservative preju- 
 dices." 
 
 " And do you suppose that Louis 
 had lost any of her favour on this 
 account ? BeHeve me, Mr. Lang- 
 ley, I never had a suspicion of it. 
 He never spoke to me of any such 
 thing." 
 
 " I fear there is no doubt that 
 they differed on this point." 
 
 "And perhaps for that very 
 reason he was sent abroad ? Oh, 
 how cruel it is ! I must think 
 myself in part the cause of his 
 death I " 
 
 Her tears flowed again. But 
 Langley, in his kindest voice, en- 
 deavoured to reassure her, repre- 
 senting that the actual and sufficient 
 cause of Louis's being sent to travel 
 was the young man's disinclination 
 to enter upon a University career. 
 For this self-will, as he knew, Mrs. 
 Tresilian could in no way be held 
 
 i66 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 responsible ; Louis's radicalism had 
 begun to flourish before ever he 
 met with her. 
 
 "You felt a great interest in 
 him, I am sure ? " said the lady, 
 presently ; and again her look fixedly 
 encountered his. 
 
 "It was inevitable," Langley 
 answered, in a low voice, "after 
 once talking with him." 
 
 Their conversation lasted for an 
 hour ; before they parted Mrs. 
 TresiHan explained the meaning of 
 her residence in East Lane. She 
 belonged to an informal sisterhood, 
 who had recently undertaken to 
 live, two or three together, and in 
 turns, among this poor population, 
 for example and for help. They 
 kept no servants ; all the work of 
 the house was done by their own 
 hands. Each of them took up her 
 abode here for three weeks at a 
 time. 
 
 "But I never spoke of it to 
 Louis," she said sadly. " I ceased 
 to tell him of such things when I 
 
 167 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 found that it disturbed his thoughts. 
 He was so good and generous. He 
 wished to be doing something him- 
 self. But it was his time for study, 
 
 and Oh, but I shall always 
 
 reproach myself ! I did harm, great 
 harm ! " 
 
 Langley, standing in readiness to 
 take his leave, murmured a few 
 words of deep feeling ; and as they 
 shook hands Mrs. Tresilian looked 
 into his face with eves that thanked 
 him. 
 
 i68 
 
the widow of 
 ihe plighted 
 Strands ! In 
 been untrue 
 forbid that he 
 that spirit 
 
 XL 
 
 HEN the next morn- 
 ing brought no letter 
 from Lady Revill, 
 Langley ground his 
 teeth ; he keenly 
 repented his haste 
 in sending off that 
 passionate plea for 
 her forgiveness. 
 What was to be ex- 
 pected of a woman 
 dyed to the core in 
 conventionality ? 
 Sir Thomas Revill 
 wife of Lord Henry 
 asking pardon he had 
 to himself. Heaven 
 should have outlived 
 of revolt which so 
 
 169 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 ofFended her little soul ! If to- 
 morrow he heard nothing he would 
 write once more, and in a more 
 self-respectful strain ; then back to 
 Athens, to stand by his son's 
 grave. 
 
 But in the evening came a reply. 
 It was written on black-edged 
 note-paper of the finest quality, and 
 couched in terms of irreproachable 
 correctness. " Dear Mr. Langley," 
 it began. Yes ; she would no 
 longer countenance informalities ; 
 he was henceforth to be an acquain- 
 tance like any other. " This 
 afternoon I am leaving town again, 
 to stay for a time at my house in 
 Somerset. You would no doubt 
 like to have some of the things that 
 belonged to Louis, such as books 
 and papers , these shall be put at 
 your disposal when you return to 
 England. Moreover, as you know, 
 I am trustee of a small fund which 
 would have been his when he came 
 of age ; in this matter your wishes 
 will be consulted by my solicitors. 
 
 170 
 
i^ SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 pelieve me, dear Mr. Langley, 
 Withfully yours, ." 
 
 How gracious ! What delicate 
 regard for his feelings ! 
 
 He sat late in the smoking-room, 
 turning over newspapers. His 
 hand fell upon a journal of society, 
 and he wondered idly whether it 
 contained any mention of the names 
 in which he was interested. Here 
 was one. Lord Henry Strands, 
 said a rumour, had it in mind to 
 purchase the house in Hyde Park 
 Gardens, vacant since the death of 
 So-and-so. To be sure ^ a natural 
 step. And, a little further on, the 
 polite chronicler announced that 
 Lady Revill had returned to town 
 for the season, having spent the 
 greater part of the winter at her 
 delightful country home in the west 
 of England. The name of her 
 estate was Fallowfield, and it lay 
 near the interesting and beautiful 
 village of Norton St. Philip, in 
 Somerset, celebrated as having been 
 the resting-place of the ill-fated 
 
 171 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 Duke of Monmouth just before the 
 battle of Sedgmoor. With other 
 particulars ; but on the leading 
 point the newsman for once was 
 wrong. 
 
 Norton St. Philip. To that part 
 of England, Langley was a stranger. 
 With purposeless curiosity he reached 
 for Bradshaw, but the name of the 
 village did not appear in the index. 
 An out-of-the-way place. The 
 estate had probably belonged to Sir 
 Thomas. Langley yawned, and 
 went to bed. 
 
 In the morning he paid an early 
 visit to his club, and for the sole 
 purpose of consulting a gazetteer 
 or guide-book. He found that the 
 village of Norton St. Philip lay 
 some three miles from a Httle place 
 named Wellow, which was a 
 station on the Somerset and Dorset 
 railway, only six miles from Bath. 
 Again he referred to Bradshaw. 
 The 1. 15 express would land him 
 at Bath by 3.30 ; and thence, 
 after waiting an hour and a half, 
 
 172 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 he could reach Wellow by half 
 past five. He sat musing, and 
 frowning, till the clock pointed to 
 eleven ; then returned to his hotel. 
 Here again he mused and frowned, 
 till nearly noon. 
 
 At one o'clock he drove up to 
 Paddington, with a travelling-bag. 
 The first part of his journey passed 
 without pleasure or impatience ; he 
 watched the telegraph-wires in 
 their seeming sway, up and down, 
 up and down ; saw the white steam 
 of the engine float over green 
 meadows ; and was at Bath before 
 he had time to unfold his news- 
 paper. An unobservant stroll in 
 the town, and a meal for which he 
 had no appetite though fasting 
 since formal breakfast killed the 
 moments until he could proceed. 
 At Wellow he found himself amid 
 breezy uplands. There was no 
 difficulty in procuring a conveyance 
 to Norton St. Philip. He liked 
 the drive, and liked, too, the ap- 
 pearance of the old inn, a fifteenth- 
 
 173 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 century house, which at length 
 received him. 
 
 Not till night had fellen did he 
 go forth and ramble in the direction 
 of Fallowfield, some half-hour's walk 
 along a leafy road. Having looked 
 at the closed gates, and the lighted 
 windows of the lodge, he rambled 
 back again. At bedtime he thought 
 of nothing in particular unless it 
 were the Duke of Monmouth, 
 
 But the shining of a new day 
 quickened his life. When he 
 opened his window, spring breathed 
 upon him with the fragrance of all 
 her flowers, and birds sang to him 
 their morning rapture. He no 
 longer marvelled at the impulse 
 which had brought him hither, but 
 smiled to think that he had so^ 
 much more of resolute manhood 
 than in the prime of youth. 
 
 When the sun was high, he 
 again walked over to Fallowfield, 
 and by inquiry at the lodge ascer- 
 tained that Lady Revill had in 
 truth returned from town. By a 
 
 174 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 winding drive of no great length 
 he approached the house : a most 
 respectable structure, which declared 
 the hand of a Georgian architect. 
 The garden at all events was 
 beautiful, and lovely in their new 
 leafage were the trees that stood 
 about. 
 
 In the imposing hall, he waited 
 with no less painful tremor than 
 on presenting himself at the house 
 in Cornwall Gardens. When led 
 at length into a room, he saw with 
 satisfaction that it was no chamber 
 of state, but small and cosy, with 
 windows that opened upon a little 
 lawn. Here again he had to endure 
 some minutes of solitude, marked 
 by heart-throbs. Then sounded a 
 soft rustle behind the screen which 
 concealed the door, and Lady Revill 
 advanced to him. She wore a garb 
 of mourning, admirable of course 
 in its graceful effectiveness, and 
 somehow, despite the suggestion of 
 grief, not out of harmony with the 
 bright spring day. Unsmiling, yet 
 
 I7S 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 with the friendly welcome which 
 became her as a country hostess, she 
 offered her hand. 
 
 " I am so sorry that you should 
 have had to make such a journey 
 to see me. I thought you had left 
 England. If I had known that 
 there was anything you wished to 
 speak of immediately " 
 
 The civil address struck Langley 
 mute. He had not imagined that, 
 face to face with him, Lady Revill 
 would adhere to the convention- 
 alities of her last letter. 
 
 " Could it not have been done by 
 correspondence ? " she added, as they 
 seated themselves. 
 
 " I had no choice but to come. 
 I couldn't go away without seeing 
 you again. The memory of our 
 meeting in London is too painful 
 to me." 
 
 Her mood, it seemed, was gentle, 
 for she listened with bent head, and 
 answered softly. 
 
 " Hadn't we better forget that, 
 Mr. Langley?" 
 
 176 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " I cannot forget that I gave you 
 cause to think very ill of me." 
 
 " No. I have no such thought." 
 She was gravely kind. " I did not 
 reply directly to your letter, because 
 I felt sure that you would under- 
 stand my omission to do so. The 
 blow that fell upon you was so 
 sudden and so dreadful." 
 
 " But upon you also it fell," said 
 Langley, when she paused. 
 
 " More heavily than perhaps you 
 are willing to believe." 
 
 He searched her face for evidence 
 of this, and a moment elapsed. 
 Then, with a collected manner, 
 Lady Revill again spoke. 
 
 "As the opportunity offers, let 
 me ask whether you have seen Mrs. 
 Tresilian." 
 
 " I called upon her." 
 
 ^' Before leaving town, I had a 
 letter from her. We don't know 
 each other, and I have never wished 
 to know Mrs. Tresilian ; but she 
 wrote, seemingly, in great distress, 
 reproaching herself with having 
 
 177 M 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 contributed to Louis's fatal illness. 
 Whether there can be any truth in 
 fhat, I am unable to decide. As 
 it was from you, I find, that she 
 learnt the particulars, I am afraid 
 you left her under the impression 
 that she was to blame." 
 
 " I tried not to do so." 
 
 '' In this letter," proceeded Lady 
 Revill, " Mrs. Tresilian repeats 
 what I was so surprised to learn 
 from you, the story of some one 
 having called upon her in my name. 
 Please tell me, Mr. Langley, 
 whether this was mentioned in 
 your conversation." 
 
 " We spoke of it," he answered 
 steadily. 
 
 "I believe I have a right to 
 ask what you learnt from Mrs. 
 TresiHan." 
 
 Langley faced the challenge, ad- 
 miring the stern beauty of his 
 questioner as she uttered it. 
 
 " Certain facts were mentioned 
 in confidence," he said. "But it 
 can hardly be a breach of confidence 
 
 178 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 to repeat them to you. The 
 gentleman who called upon Mrs. 
 Tresilian was Lord Henry Strands." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 Their eyes met unwaveringly. 
 On Lady Revill's cheek mantled a 
 soft glow, but she continued in 
 the same voice, melodious always, 
 though in the note of royal 
 command. 
 
 " Did Lord Henry Strands offer 
 any explanation of the step he had 
 taken ? " 
 
 He did." 
 
 " Kindly tell me what it was." 
 
 '' In confidence, he told Mrs. 
 Tresilian that you would shortly be 
 married to him.'' 
 
 Thank you." 
 
 The colour had died out of her 
 face. Without venturing even a 
 glance, Langley waited for her next 
 words j he could not surmise what 
 they would be, for her " Thank 
 you " was uttered in an uncertain, 
 absent tone, very unlike that of the 
 interrogator. 
 
 179 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 "It was not true," she said at 
 length, coldly. 
 
 He raised his eyes. In the same 
 moment Lady Revill stood up, and 
 spoke once more with the self- 
 possession of a friendly hostess. 
 
 "Would you Hke to see the 
 gardens ? If you will wait a 
 moment." 
 
 Quickly she reappeared with 
 covered head. She talked of flowers 
 and trees, but her voice sounded t6 
 him only as distant music ; he 
 answered mechanically, or not at 
 all. A direct question recalled him 
 to himself. 
 
 " Do you return this afternoon ? " 
 
 " I am uncertain. I haven't 
 thought about it." 
 
 Utterly confused he could only 
 stare at the shadow upon the grass. 
 Lady Revill walked on, and again 
 drew his attention to some detail 
 of gardening. Able at length to 
 answer in ordinary tones, he met 
 her look, and for the first time she 
 smiled. A smile of no meaning ; 
 
 1 80 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 the mere play of facial muscles 
 trained to express suavity. 
 
 " You are alone here ? " he asked. 
 
 " At present. But I am ex- 
 pecting guests this afternoon two 
 little nieces, who will stay for a few 
 weeks with me." 
 
 Reviving his recollections of her 
 family, Langley was about to ask 
 whose children these were ; but 
 Lady Revill spoke again, and on 
 another subject. 
 
 " Will you tell me somethmg of 
 Mrs. Tresilian ? I am afraid I 
 have done her injustice. Probably 
 I have been misled by public 
 opinion. You are well acquainted 
 with her ? " 
 
 " Not at all. I had never met 
 her before." 
 
 He continued vaguely ; careful 
 to avoid specific eulogy, yet sug- 
 gesting a favourable estimate. And 
 ^ven whilst speaking, he was dis- 
 satisfied with himself, for he knew 
 that to any one else he would have 
 given a much bolder description of 
 
 i8i 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 Mrs. Tresilian. Conscience re- 
 buked him for cowardice. 
 
 Conversing thus, they had passed 
 through a shrubbery, and reached 
 an open spot, sheltered with larch 
 trees, where stood a small building 
 of no very graceful design. Lady 
 Revill explained that it was a 
 mortuary chapel, built by the 
 original owner of Fallowfield to 
 contain his wife's tomb. The 
 family was Roman Catholic. 
 Nothing of general interest marked 
 the interior ; it had been converted 
 to the uses of Protestantism, and a 
 clerical guest or the incumbent of 
 the parish, occasionally read service 
 here. 
 
 "This path," she added, with 
 her hand upon a little wicket which 
 opened into the consecrated spot, 
 " leads through the plantation to 
 the high road in the direction of 
 the village." 
 
 Was it a dismissal ? Langley 
 stood in miserable embarrassment ; 
 he seemed to have lost all his tact. 
 
 182 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 all his breeding ; he could behave 
 neither as a man of the world nor 
 as an impassioned lover. A boobyish 
 boy could not have been more at a 
 loss how to act or speak. Then 
 he saw that Lady Revill was again 
 smiHng. 
 
 " Will you give me the pleasure of 
 your company at luncheon ? " she 
 said. 
 
 This excessive courtesy restored 
 command of his tongue. He 
 answered, in a matter-of-fact phrase, 
 that he feared the time at his dis- 
 posal was too short ; he had better 
 follow this path to the village. 
 
 " I mentioned in my letter," 
 began Lady Revill ; and then paused, 
 her eyes wandering. 
 
 " Thank you ; it was very kind. 
 You will let me write to you when 
 I have decided where I shall live." 
 
 She offered her hand, gravely ; 
 the dismissal was now in form. 
 Without word of leave-taking, 
 Langley touched her fingers, and 
 passed through the little gate* 
 
 183 
 
XII. 
 
 E travelled back to 
 London. With no 
 intention of remaining 
 there, and with no 
 settled purpose of going 
 further ; rest he could 
 not, and the railway 
 journey at all events 
 consumed what else 
 must have been hours 
 of intolerable idleness. 
 For the fire that so 
 long had slept within him, hidden 
 beneath the accumulating habits of 
 purposeless, self - indulgent life, 
 denied by his smiling philosophy, 
 thought of as a mere flash amid the 
 ardours of youth the fire of a life's 
 passion^ no longer to be disguised 
 
 184 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 or resisted, burst into consuming 
 flame. He had accustomed himself 
 to believe that his senses were sub- 
 dued by reason, if not by time j and 
 nature mocked at his security. No 
 hapless lad, tortured by his twentieth 
 year, suffered keener pains than 
 Langley through the night that 
 followed. 
 
 It was solace to him that Lady 
 Revill had expressly declared herself 
 a free woman. The very fact of 
 her having done so seemed to crush 
 his hope : for the dismissal that fell 
 from her lips signified, more pro- 
 bably than not, a passing anger 
 with the indiscreet Lord Henry ; 
 she would shame the man and bring 
 him to his knees, but only for the 
 pleasure of forgiving him. Such a 
 suitor was not likely to have so far 
 presumed without solid assurance j 
 and Agnes Revill was not the 
 woman to cast away, for so trifling 
 a cause, the hope of high dignities. 
 
 A few days passed, and in the 
 meanwhile he again communicated 
 
 i8s 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 by telegraph with Worboys. The 
 archaeologist made known his in- 
 tention of remaining in Greece ; he 
 had written to Lady Revill, and at 
 the same time to Langley. There- 
 upon Langley addressed Lady Revill 
 in a formal letter, asking her wishes 
 with regard to the marking of 
 Louis's grave. The reply leaving 
 him free to act in this matter as he 
 chose, he wrote to Worboys that 
 the grave should remain, for the 
 present, without stone or memorial. 
 In less than a week it seemed 
 to him that he had struggled through 
 a month the goad again drove him 
 westward. He reached the old inn 
 at Norton St. Philip, and under 
 cover of darkness prowled about the 
 precincts of Fallowfield. The next 
 morning, as he strayed with falter- 
 ing purpose along the high road, 
 an open carriage passed; in it sat 
 Lady Revill with two little girls. 
 Whether she saw him or not he 
 was unable to determine. Perhaps 
 not, for she was leaning back, and 
 
 i86 
 
t 
 
 SLEEPIIsTG FIRES. 
 
 had an inattentive air. But this 
 glimpse of her face fevered him. 
 He returned to the inn and wrote a 
 letter, which, after all, he shrank 
 from dispatching. 
 
 Shortly before sunset he walked 
 along the path by which, a week 
 ago, he had left Fallowfield. It was 
 too late for an ordinary call at the 
 house ; he half purposed dehvering 
 his letter to a servant, that Lady 
 Revill might read it and think of it 
 to-night. He passed through the 
 larch plantation, where birds were 
 loud amid the gold-green branches, 
 and on coming within sight of the 
 little chapel lingered wearily. If he 
 meant to approach the house from 
 this point he must wait till gloom 
 had fallen ; there was too much risk 
 of encountering some one in the 
 gardens. 
 
 He leaned against a trunk. 
 
 The sun went down ; the birds 
 grew silent. Possessed by unen- 
 durable longing he moved forward. 
 But daylight still lingered, and 
 
 187 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 courage to enter the gardens failed 
 him. Pausing by the chapel door, 
 he laid a hand upon the ring, and 
 turned it ; the door opened, not 
 without noise, and as he was about 
 to enter a figure rose in the dusk. 
 His heart leapt. Lady Revill had 
 been either sitting or kneeling 
 alone, and now she faced the in- 
 truder. 
 
 He drew back, closed the door, 
 and stepped aside. In two or three 
 minutes he heard the door creak as 
 it again opened. Lady Revill came 
 forth, and stood looking in his di- 
 rection. Then, with a few quick 
 steps, he advanced towards her. 
 
 " Mr. Langley, why are you 
 here ? " 
 
 " Because I can't live away from 
 you. Because it is so much harder, 
 now, to relinquish the best hope of 
 life than it was years ago." 
 
 Question and answer were uttered 
 rapidly, on hurried breath. Gazing 
 steadfastly at the face before him, 
 Langley saw that it was pale and 
 
 i88 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 discomposed ; the eyes seemed to 
 bear marks of tears. 
 
 "Then," she rejoined in the same 
 moment, " I must tell you at once, 
 without choosing phrases, that you 
 are guilty of strange folly." 
 
 " That may well be. But the 
 folly has too strong a hold on me. 
 I am sorry to have broken in upon 
 your privacy ; but very glad to have 
 met you. Of course I had no idea 
 you were in the chapel." 
 
 "You ought not to be here. It's 
 unworthy of you ; and if I am to 
 live in fear of being surprised when- 
 ever I come out alone . What 
 more have we to say to each other ? " 
 
 "If only you will hear me ! 
 When one has wasted so many 
 years of life, ever so faint a hope 
 of recovering the past becomes a 
 strong motive." 
 
 "Wasted ? Why have the years 
 been wasted ? " 
 
 She endeavoured to speak with 
 her usual cold dignity, but her voice 
 had lost its firmness. Langley could 
 
 i8^ 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 not take his eyes from her ; pallid, 
 disdainful, with tormented brows, 
 the face had a wonderful beauty in 
 this light of afterglow. 
 
 " Why ? " he echoed sadly. 
 " Folly, of course. But the natural 
 enough result of what we both 
 remember." 
 
 " And whose the blame ? " broke 
 from her lips. " Whose the 
 blame ? " 
 
 " Who is ever to blame for spoilt 
 lives ! Fate, I suppose : a con- 
 venient word for all the mistakes 
 we live to be ashamed of." 
 
 "Convenient for those who can 
 think so Hghtly of a crime. Your 
 mistake! And what of the other 
 lives that it condemned to un- 
 happiness ? " 
 
 "Yours, at all events," said 
 Langley, with downcast eyes, "did 
 not suffer from it." 
 
 She looked scornfully at him, and 
 answered with bitter irony. 
 
 " That thought must be a com- 
 fort to you." 
 
 190 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 ^' Why not ? " His face was 
 suddenly agleam. "What Hfe can 
 have been happier than Lady 
 Revill's ? " 
 
 " Only your own, perhaps. Oh, 
 is it worth while to waste our sar- 
 casm on each other ? You can say 
 nothing that I care to hear. If the 
 best of life is over, so is the worst, 
 thank God ! Let us remember 
 that we are man and woman, and 
 respect ourselves." 
 
 "It is because I have learnt to 
 respect myself the strongest, 
 truest desire of my life that I am 
 here." 
 
 " At my cost ! " she uttered 
 passionately. "Do I find pleasure 
 in remembering all the misery you 
 brought upon me ? " 
 
 " Surely you are a little unjust. If 
 your life has been unhappy, are not 
 you in part to blame for it yourself ? 
 You don't talk of fate ; you ac- 
 count us resDonsible for what we 
 do." 
 
 " With your views, it isn't to be 
 
 191 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 expected you should understand me. 
 What can you know of the revolt 
 against my own feelings the dis- 
 gust with life. Oh, how can you 
 know what passes in the mind of a 
 girl who loses at once all faith and 
 hope ? " 
 
 " My views," answered Langley, 
 with gentleness, "allow me to 
 imagine all that. They allow me, 
 also, to compare your acts and mine. 
 It would be easy to flatter you by 
 taking all the blame upon myself. 
 Men generally do so ; it helps, they 
 think, to make life possible. They 
 do it 'out of respect for women.' 
 But I can see in it nothing respect- 
 ful ; much the reverse. It is as 
 good as saying that a woman cannot 
 be expected to see facts and to 
 reason upon them. On my side 
 there was wrong-doing ; let that be 
 granted. But what of your mar- 
 riage ? Excuse it as you may, was 
 it not worse than what / had to 
 avow ? You plead outraged feel- 
 ings, loss of faith and hope, driving 
 
 192 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 you, I suppose, into a sort of cynical 
 worldliness. I, on the other hand, 
 plead my youth and manhood a 
 far more valid excuse." 
 
 She stood motionless, avoiding his 
 eyes. 
 
 "And it is idle to pretend," he 
 went on, still quietly, "that you 
 can judge me now as you did then. 
 It is worse than idle to stand before 
 me as an injured woman, austere in 
 her rectitude. Whatever / have to 
 regret, you^ Lady Revill, have yet 
 more." 
 
 The dusk thickened. A breeze 
 stirred in the larches. Lady Revill 
 cast a sudden' look in the direction 
 of the house, and moved a few 
 steps ; then paused, and faced her 
 companion again. 
 
 " You came to tell me this ? " 
 
 " No. To tell you that the love 
 you rejected is stronger now than 
 then. I could not do so whilst I 
 thought that you loved another 
 man." 
 
 " You never thought it." 
 
 193 N 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " I could not suppose that Lord 
 Henry Strands spoke falsely." 
 
 " Nor did he. I had given him 
 every reason, short of absolute pro- 
 mise, to believe that I v^ould marry 
 him. But what has marriage to 
 do v^ith love ? " 
 
 " Little enough, I dare say, as a 
 rule. Perhaps I have no right, 
 even now, to speak to you as if you 
 were a free woman ? " 
 
 " Oh, I am free." She laughed. 
 " Free as ever I was." 
 
 ''If so, I have more to say. 
 After all, I can honestly take upon 
 myself the blame for all that hap- 
 pened. If only I had not been 
 such a pedant m morals ! I was 
 absurd, when I thought myself 
 nobly honest. I had no right what- 
 ever to make known what I did." 
 
 Lady Revill met his eyes, and for 
 a moment reflected. 
 
 "You not only had the right," 
 she answered, " but it was your 
 plain duty." 
 
 "But think. Your parents did 
 
 194 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 not deal honestly with me nor 
 with vou. You were not told the 
 whole truth. And I might have 
 foreseen that. They wished to 
 guard you from .me," 
 
 '' It would have made no diiFer- 
 ence." 
 
 " Perhaps not and yet I think 
 it would. You were not a girl of 
 the brainless kind. You condemned 
 me because I seemed to have acted 
 with vulgar unscrupulousness j 
 whereas I had ftdfiUed e\ ery obliga- 
 tion." 
 
 "You never offered to many 
 her." 
 
 " Thank heaven, no ! " He went 
 on vehemently. "Are you deter- 
 mined to echo the silliest cant ? 
 What sort of marriage would that 
 have been ? Have we not known 
 of such ? You are speaking in 
 defiance of all that life has taught 
 you. I, when I committed that 
 folly of telling your father an irre- 
 levant fact, at all events believed 
 myself to be compelled in honour 
 
 I9S 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 to do SO. But you, with your 
 knowledge of the world, degrade 
 yourself when you repeat mere 
 moral phrases, wholly without appli- 
 cation. Neither for the mother's 
 sake, nor for the child's, ought I 
 to have married her : and you know 
 it. It was my plain duty to marry 
 the woman I loved who let me 
 hope that she loved me in return. 
 I ought to have said not a word of 
 things past and done with." 
 
 "But they were not done with." 
 
 " Yes 5 in any sense that could 
 have affected our marriage. Suppose, 
 when you had been my wife for a 
 long time, you had learnt of the 
 poor boy's existence even as you 
 did. Can you wrong yourself so 
 utterly as to pretend that this would 
 have troubled our happiness ? I 
 know you too well. You are not 
 a woman of that kind." 
 
 Again she turned, and moved a 
 few paces. Her hands hung clasped 
 before her. 
 
 " One thing you have said truly," 
 
 196 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 were her next words, in a low, sad 
 voice. "My parents did not deal 
 honestly with me. They owed me 
 the whole truth. Still, it would 
 have made no difference." 
 
 "At the moment, perhaps not. 
 But it would have saved you from 
 that marriage ; and in a year or 
 two " 
 
 " You can't understand. We see 
 life so differently." 
 
 Langley stepped towards her. 
 
 "That is what I don't believe. 
 You hoodwink yourself with the 
 old prejudices, which you have long 
 outgrown, if only you could bring 
 yourself to confess it. Listen, 
 Agnes." She shrank, startled ; but 
 he repeated the name, just above his 
 breath. "By your own admission 
 life has satisfied you just as little as 
 it has me. We both see it from 
 much the same point of view ; we 
 both look back on a dreary failure. 
 You have lived in slavery to all 
 manner of conventional hopes and 
 fears playing your part well, of 
 
 197 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 course but a part of which you 
 were weary from the day you 
 undertook it. You have had social 
 success, honour and hate the 
 memory of it. I well, you know 
 the course that I have followed. 
 Not even my flatterer could name 
 it a 'career.' A Hfe of sluggish 
 respectability. Oh, infinitely re- 
 spectable, I assure you ! An im- 
 maculate life, by the ordinary 
 standard ; and what a waste of 
 golden, irrecoverable time ! If you 
 and I had met in the year after 
 your marriage, and in a flood of 
 passion had braved everything 
 going away together defying the 
 sleepy world : how much more 
 worthy of ourselves than this 
 honourable ignominy ! " 
 
 '' You forget yourself." 
 
 *' I have forgotten myself too 
 long. It was Louis who awakened 
 me, taught me how low I had sunk. 
 Did his bright young life never 
 excite the same feeling in you ? 
 Was conscience really on your side 
 
 198 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 when you tried to shape him to the 
 respectable pattern ? " 
 
 She raised her hands, as if in 
 appeal, and let them fall again. 
 
 " Since I met you again, I have 
 learnt how much of youth there is 
 still in me. Shall I give up my 
 dearest hope, as I did so many years 
 ago ? You too are young ; and 
 you have learnt the worthlessness of 
 mere social ambition. Isn't it true ? 
 Another upward step was before 
 you ; a higher title ; but the cost 
 of it was a lie and you could not ! " 
 
 " Yes j that is true," she answered, 
 softly. 
 
 " And the poor boy hadn't he a 
 part in it ? " 
 
 She kept silence. Dusk was 
 passing into clouded night j the 
 breeze in the larches sang more 
 loudly. 
 
 " You have not told me why you 
 kept him to yourself, and treated 
 him as a child of your own." 
 
 *' One often acts without reasoned 
 motive." 
 
 199 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " But in looking back in re- 
 calling the time when you must 
 have debated with yourself " 
 
 " I did wrong," she uttered im- 
 pulsively. " Forgive me for that 
 forgive me, and let us say good- 
 bye." 
 
 " No ! I said good-bye once, 
 to my sorrow. Agnes, in a new 
 life " 
 
 He tried to take her hand, but 
 she withheld it, and spoke with 
 sudden firmness. 
 
 " I shall not marry again. I have 
 made it impossible, and purposely." 
 
 " How ? You fear the judgment 
 of your world ? " 
 
 " I fear nothing, but the voice of 
 my own conscience I can't talk 
 about it ; my mind is made up. I 
 shall never marry again. I have 
 said all I can say y now we must 
 part." 
 
 ^' And you will waste your life to 
 the end ? " he said, distantly. 
 
 Lady Revill flashed a glance at 
 him, and spoke with nervous tremor. 
 
 200 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " Waste ? Why need my life be 
 wasted ? Is there no hope for me 
 apart from your society ? " 
 
 " If I answer what I think " an 
 involuntary laugh broke the words 
 *^none! If I didn't believe that 
 you and I were destined for each 
 other, I should not be here. I 
 believed it long years ago. I 
 believed it again, when I talked of 
 you at Athens. And I have believed 
 it more strongly than ever since the 
 grief we have suffered in common. 
 Nothing that you have said destroys 
 my confidence." 
 
 " Then words have no meaning." 
 
 "You have made marriage im- 
 possible how ? " 
 
 "Marriage with you was long 
 ago made impossible, by your own 
 act. 
 
 " Evasion \ and you don't believe 
 what you say. Not my act, but 
 the false light in which it was 
 shown to you. I dare to say that 
 you loved me, and I was not as 
 unworthy of you as you were made 
 
 201 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 to think. Let your tongue be as 
 frank as your heart, and say that 
 you wish for the old time back 
 again, with clearer knowledge. And 
 you have it ! " 
 
 " I must leave you." 
 
 "To go and sorrow that the 
 world, or your own false pride, for- 
 bids you doing as you would. Pre- 
 sumption, you call it ? I dare 
 everything, for your sake as well 
 as my own. I know how strong 
 it is all I have to overcome. If I 
 had been bolder, then, how diffe- 
 rent our lives ! I ought not to 
 have accepted your refusal. I ought 
 to have spoken with you, face to 
 face, and told you all with my own 
 lips. Then, even if you had still 
 refused me, you would never have 
 married the man you did not love. 
 I have more courage now. You 
 know what might be said of me 
 a man with just a bachelor's income. 
 Do I care ? I know that you can 
 have no such thought. You do 
 not doubt for a moment the sincerity 
 
 202 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 of my love. And but for habit 
 pride " 
 
 "Yes, if it will convince you. 
 Nothing you can ever say will 
 prevail against them." 
 
 "Agnes, you are too proud to 
 live on in the old way. You will 
 respect yourself. The foolish hum- 
 drum of such a life as you have 
 led " 
 
 "My life is my own. I have 
 better use for it than to surrender 
 it into another's hands. It is true 
 that I shall live no longer in the old 
 way. I shall have few friends. Mr. 
 Langley, will you be one of them ? " 
 
 Her voice was soft, but implied 
 no submission. It sounded weary, 
 and Langley, after a moment's 
 silence, offered his hand. 
 
 " Will you let me see you again ? " 
 
 " If you give me your word that 
 it shall be only as a friend. And 
 not soon. Not till you have been 
 to Athens again." 
 
 "I can't promise that. Let me 
 see you in a month's time." 
 
 203 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 Lady Revill turned towards the 
 house, but looked back, and spoke 
 hurriedly. 
 
 ^' You give me your word not to 
 try to see me for a month ? " 
 
 He promised, and the next 
 moment stood there alone. Through 
 the deep shadow of the trees, he 
 made his way to the meadow path. 
 Before him, in the western sky, 
 glimmered a rift of pale rose, sever- 
 ing storm-cloud. The burning heat 
 of his temples was allayed ; then a 
 sudden chill ran over him, and his 
 teeth chattered. 
 
 204 
 
XIII. 
 
 E had caught a cold, 
 and spent a sufficiently 
 miserable fortnight in 
 getting rid of it. His 
 spirits were not im- 
 proved by the arrival 
 of a long letter from 
 Athens, giving him a 
 full account of Louis's 
 illness and death. On 
 the day after receiving 
 it, he sent this letter to 
 Mrs. Tresilian ^ for it contained 
 mention of her. "If I don't get 
 over this," Louis said, at the moment 
 of the unexpected relapse which 
 rapidly proved fatal, "tell Mrs. 
 Tresilian that to the end I thought 
 of her just as I wrote last." 
 
 On recovery, Langley was for 
 
 205 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 two or three days the guest of his 
 friends at Hampstead, and there 
 occurred his next meeting with 
 Mrs. Tresilian. They walked 
 together in the pleasant garden, and 
 conversed with an intimacy like 
 that of long acquaintance. From 
 talk concerning Louis, the lady 
 passed to a kindred subject. 
 
 " A week ago I heard from Lady 
 Revill a very kind and very 
 surprising letter. Perhaps you 
 already know of it ? " 
 
 "An answer to a letter you 
 wrote ? " 
 
 " No. I did write, almost 
 immediately after you came to see 
 me ; I couldn't help doing so. The 
 answer to that came quickly a few 
 lines of very formal poHteness, tell- 
 ing me nothing at all. I was the 
 more surprised when I heard again. 
 I could hardly believe what I read. 
 Lady Revill wished to know whether 
 it was in her power to help in the 
 work with which my name was 
 connected." 
 
 206 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " A week ago ? " 
 
 " Ten days, perhaps. What does 
 it mean ? A friend had told her 
 something about the Bermondsey 
 settlement, and it interested her 
 greatly. Personally she could do 
 nothing ; but if a stranger might 
 be allowed to ofFer help in the shape 
 
 of money . Of course it was 
 
 worded very nicely, and in the 
 upshot it amounted to this, that 
 our society might draw upon her to 
 any extent ! I was really at a loss 
 Can you explain ? " 
 
 Langley shook his head, smiling. 
 
 " But you, I have no doubt, are 
 the ' friend ' she mentioned." 
 
 "Lady Revill asked me for some 
 account of what you were doing. 
 I didn't foresee anything of this 
 kind. It was hardly the sort of 
 offer you could accept, I suppose ? " 
 
 " I thought a great deal about it. 
 We, down yonder, are in no par- 
 ticular want of money ; it's personal 
 assistance we need. I wrote at 
 some length, explaining this. I 
 
 207 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 added, however, that there were 
 enterprises in which I took an 
 interest, which wanted as much 
 money as could be got. In a day 
 or two I heard again ; just as nice 
 a letter. It's a wretched thing 
 that people misunderstand each 
 other so, just because they are 
 never brought in contact. I 
 thought Lady Revill detested me, 
 and my opinion of her well, it 
 was not favourable. From poor 
 Louis's talk, I got the idea that she 
 was in many ways an excellent 
 woman, but narrow-minded, and 
 rather arrogant. Her first note 
 confirmed it. But now she writes 
 in the most amiable spirit ; with 
 something the very reverse of pride. 
 What does it mean ? " 
 
 " I can only suppose that Louis's 
 death has touched the better part of 
 her nature." 
 
 After a pause, Mrs. Tresilian 
 asked : 
 
 " How IS Lord Henry Strands 
 likely to regard this change ? " 
 
 208 
 
I 
 
 SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " Impossible to say." 
 
 Langley spoke in a tone of in 
 difference, and the subject was 
 dropped. 
 
 "Could you dine with me on 
 Thursday, next week ? " said the 
 other, presently. " In Connaught 
 Square, I mean, not in East Lane. 
 My brother will be there. I am 
 sure he would like to know you ; 
 he's a good scholar, I believe, and 
 I has travelled in the East. Nowa- 
 
 I days he lives at " She named 
 
 a town of the North Midlands. 
 " He goes in for municipal affairs, 
 and sometimes signs his letters to 
 me ' Paul the Parochial.' He takes 
 a pride in his provincialism, and 
 really I think he's doing a lot of 
 good work. Do you know the 
 town at all ? " 
 
 " Never was there." 
 
 "Paul seems to have unearthed 
 all the local talents," went on Mrs. 
 Tresilian, in her mirthful spirit. 
 " He rails against centralisation, 
 persuades the large people to live 
 
 I 
 
 209 o 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 at home and be active and so on. 
 A good deal of Ruskin in it, of 
 course, but he has ideas of his own. 
 Will you come on Thursday ? " 
 
 " I will, with pleasure." 
 
 It was an odd experience when, 
 among the little group of people 
 assembled for dinner at his friend's 
 house, Langley found at least three 
 whose names had long been held 
 by him in contempt or abomination. 
 There was a political woman, from 
 whose presence, a short time ago, 
 he would have incontinently fled ; 
 this evening he saw her in a human 
 light, discovered ability in her talk, 
 and was amused by her genial 
 comments on things of the day. 
 A man known for his fierce oratory 
 in connection with " strikes," turned 
 out a thoroughly good fellow, 
 vigorous without venom, and more 
 than tinctured with sober reading. 
 The third personage, an eccentric 
 offshoot of a noble house, showed 
 quite another man at close quarters 
 than as seen through the medium 
 
 210 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 of report. After the society in 
 which, when he saw society at all, 
 his time had chiefly been spent, 
 Langley tasted an invigorating 
 atmosphere. These people, one 
 and all, had a declared object in 
 Hfe, and seemed to pursue it with 
 single-mindedness. But most was 
 he pleased with Mrs. Tresilian's 
 brother ; in many respects, as five 
 minutes' talk assured him, a man 
 after his own heart : refined, scho- 
 larly, genial. This gentleman be- 
 gan by speaking of Louis Reed, 
 whom he had met only once, but 
 whose qualities he discussed with 
 such sympathetic insight, such 
 generous appreciation and kindly 
 regret, that the listener had much 
 ado to command his feelings. 
 
 He found an opportunity of 
 private speech with his hostess, and 
 inquired whether Lady Revill was 
 still in the country. Mrs. Tresilian 
 thought so. 
 
 " I should like to meet her," she 
 added, " but I still feel doubtful of 
 
 211 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 my reception if I appeared before 
 her in the flesh. We have again 
 exchanged letters to the heaping 
 of more coals upon my head. Her 
 deference really shames me. The 
 rascal that is in all of us in all 
 women, that is to say laments that 
 I am not a professional organiser of 
 sham charities. What an oppor- 
 tunity lost ! You know that I 
 don't talk of this to every one," 
 she added gravely, " I feel sure that 
 her motive is one which you and I 
 are bound to respect." 
 
 Not many days had now to elapse 
 before Langley would be released 
 from the promise which forbade 
 him to approach Fallowfield. He 
 Kved impatiently, but the gloom 
 was passing from his mind, and 
 hope grew one with resolve. An 
 effort enabled him to interpret the 
 " month " liberally ; he waited till 
 the close of the fifth week, then 
 wrote to I>ady Revill, and begged 
 permission to see her. His reason 
 for writing before he journeyed into 
 
 212 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 Somerset was a suspicion that Lady 
 Revill, would not be found in her 
 country home ; it surprised him not 
 at all when her reply came with 
 only the inevitable delay from the 
 house in Cornwall Gardens. In 
 friendly phrase, he was invited to 
 call next day. 
 
 On entering, he saw with sur- 
 prise that the hall was stripped of 
 its ornaments, and all but bare. 
 No hour having been mentioned, 
 he had come in the afternoon ; but 
 plainly he need not fear the pre- 
 sence of ordinary callers. From 
 somewhere within echoed the sound 
 of hammering. A maid-servant 
 admitted him ; proof that the regu- 
 lar establishment had been broken 
 up. 
 
 From the drawing - room had 
 vanished all pictures and bric-d-brac; 
 only the substantial furniture re- 
 mained. Langley tried to recognise 
 a good omen, but chill discomfort 
 fell upon him, and Lady Revill's 
 countenance she stood waiting in 
 
 3X3 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 the middle of the room did not 
 support his hope. She smiled, in- 
 deed, shook hands with show of 
 cordiality, and began at once to 
 apologise for the disorder about her ; 
 but this endeavour to seem cheerfully 
 at ease put no mask upon the pain- 
 worn features. 
 
 "I shall be so glad when it's 
 over," she said, with a smile, turn- 
 ing from Langley's gaze. " I hate 
 business of every kind." 
 
 " You will have no house in 
 town ? " 
 
 " I shall never live in London 
 again." 
 
 Langley threw aside his hat and 
 gloves, stood for a moment with his 
 hands behind him, then looked 
 steadily at her. 
 
 ^' Somewhere on the Continent 
 wouldn't that be better ? " 
 
 " No. Fallowfield will be my 
 home." 
 
 "You know why I have come 
 to-day ? " 
 
 Their eyes met. He saw the 
 
 214 
 
I 
 
 SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 quivering strain she put upon her- 
 self to reply quietly. 
 
 "Much better that you hadn't 
 come. But let it be over as soon as 
 possible." 
 
 " Your answer is still the same ? " 
 
 " As I told you it v^ould be." 
 
 The sound of hammering came 
 from above. Langley struggled with 
 the frantic impulse of his nerves. 
 
 " What are you going to do 
 down there ? " he asked, with un- 
 civil abruptness. 
 
 " Live very quietly, and and try 
 to atone for all my sins and follies." 
 
 Her voice broke midway, but 
 she forced it to complete the sen- 
 tence. 
 
 " I see. In other words, bury 
 yourself alive. Turn ascetic tor- 
 ment yourself find merit in misery. 
 And in defiance of the brain that 
 tells you that this is the greatest sin 
 and folly of all ! Well, happily it 
 isn't possible." 
 
 " The impossible thing," she 
 answered, in a tone of forbearance. 
 
 215 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 *' is to make you understand how 
 much I have suffered, and how 
 greatly I have changed." 
 
 Her soft, low accents subdued his 
 violence. 
 
 "Dearest, how can you so de- 
 ceive yourself? You you to be 
 cloistered, and imagine that your 
 soul will profit by it ! You know 
 it is mere illusion. Do good, if 
 you will ; and first of all," he 
 smiled, " give yourself to the man 
 whose supreme neeTl is the need of 
 you." 
 
 " You have had my answer." 
 
 " Only the answer prompted by 
 a mistaken sense of duty. Your 
 duty is to fulfil yourself to be all 
 it is in your power to be. Yield 
 yourself to a man's love, and be 
 perfect woman." 
 
 He held his hands to her ; she 
 drew back, and spoke impetuously. 
 
 " You mean the woman who has 
 no will of her own ? You have my 
 answer, and must accept it." 
 
 He gazed at her, as if for a 
 
 2X6 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 moment doubting ; but saw that 
 in her face which roused him to 
 impassioned tenderness. 
 
 " How strange it is, Agnes. We 
 seem so far apart. The long years 
 of utter separation the meeting at 
 length in cold formality the bitter- 
 ness, the reproaches so much that 
 seems to stand between us ; and 
 yet we are everything to each other. 
 If you were the kind of woman who 
 has no will of her own, could I love 
 you as I do ? And if I were less 
 conscious of my own purpose, would 
 you listen to me ? There is no 
 question of one yielding to the 
 other, save in the moment which 
 overcomes your pride and leaves you 
 free to utter the truth. Those are 
 the old phrases of love-making 
 they rise to a man's tongue when 
 his blood is hot. We shall never 
 see the world with the same eyes : 
 man and woman never did so, never 
 will; but there is no life for us 
 apart from each other. Our very 
 faults make us born companions. 
 
 217 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 Your need of me is as great as 
 mine of you. We have forgiven 
 all there is to forgive ; we know 
 what may be asked, and what may 
 not. No castles in the air ; no 
 idealisms of boy and girl ; but two 
 lives that have a want, and see but 
 the one hope of satisfying it." 
 
 He waited, and saw her lips still 
 harden themselves against him. 
 
 " You pretend to read my 
 thoughts, yet you have no under- 
 standing of my strongest motive. 
 This is quite enough to prove that 
 we are really far apart, and not only 
 seem to be so." 
 
 "Then add one word," said 
 Langley. " Say that you don't love 
 me say it plainly and honestly 
 and there's an end." 
 
 Her self-command was over- 
 borne by a rush of tears. 
 
 " Why will you torture me ? I 
 am trying so hard to do right. My 
 life is misery, and there is only one 
 way to gain peace of mind. I 
 must do as my conscience bids. 
 
 218 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 It is you who deceive yourself 
 What real love can you feel for a 
 w^oman whom you can't respect ? 
 You have said you don't respect 
 me and how should you ? I have 
 lived so basely. Since my marriage, 
 not a day I can look back upon 
 without shame. I am trying to 
 humble myself; to live in the spirit 
 of the religion which I believe^ 
 though I have so long forgotten it. 
 I hated Mrs. Tresilian, because she 
 seemed to rob me of the love I 
 prized so. It was paltry jealousy 
 of a piece with all the rest of my 
 life. Now I have forced myself to 
 beg for her good will. I will do all 
 I can to help her in the way she 
 taught Louis to follow. And you, 
 too, I have injured, in my selfish- 
 ness. Forgive me, if you can. 
 For me there is no happiness or 
 only in self denial. I have lived 
 through the worst ; I have broken 
 with the world which was every- 
 thing to me ambitions, pleasures. 
 Don't make it harder for me. I 
 
 219 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 am doing as you bid me trying 
 to be all it is in my power to be 
 all the good^ after so much evil." 
 
 Langley had grasped her hand. 
 
 "If you can make me believe 
 that your life will really be better 
 apart from me. I wait for that 
 one word. Do you love me, or 
 not ? " 
 
 She drew away, but he detained 
 her. The trembling body which 
 at any moment his strength could 
 overcome seemed to declare his 
 victory over the soul. Conventions, 
 social and personal, the multiform 
 restraints upon civilised man before 
 the woman he desires, but who will 
 not yield herself, vanished like a 
 tissue in fire. She was falling, but 
 his arm supported her. So slight 
 and weak a tenement of flesh, now 
 that the proud spirit was exorcised. 
 Holding her, heart to heart, he saw 
 the anguished pallor of her face flush 
 into rosy shame, saw the moist eyes 
 dilate, the lips throb all of her 
 divinely young and beautiful. 
 
 220 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " No no I cannot 
 
 "You can and will " 
 
 " I cannot marry you ! I have 
 said that I should never marry again, 
 said it so solemnly " 
 
 "To some one else, you mean. 
 What of that ! It h force majeure^ 
 
 He laughed exultantly. 
 
 " I cannot ! " 
 
 "Not at once. Time to think 
 and understand and accept your 
 dread fate why, of course. Time 
 even to repent, Agnes, though not 
 in sackcloth and ashes. You have 
 done ill, and so have I, but it is not 
 to be repaired by asceticism. Break 
 down the walls about you not add 
 to their height and thickness ! Walk 
 in the summer sunlight, dearest, 
 and look to the rising of many a 
 summer sun ! " 
 
 " What right have I to take the 
 easy path ? " 
 
 "Health and joy are the true 
 repentance. All sins against the 
 conscience what are they but sins 
 against the law of healthy hfe ? " 
 
 221 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 " I have sinned so against others. 
 And to make no atonement in my 
 own suffering " 
 
 " The old false thought. Health 
 and joy it is what life demands of 
 us. And then remember. To 
 marry a mere unheraldic mortal, 
 to exchange the style of chivalry 
 for a bourgeois prefix is not that 
 punishment enough ? I almost fear 
 to ask it of you," 
 
 She released herself and stood 
 apart, head drooping. 
 
 "I have given no promise. A 
 long time must pass " 
 
 Langley smiled. 
 
 222 
 
XIV. 
 
 N an October afternoon 
 Langley sat in his old 
 room at Athens, writing. 
 But no books were piled 
 about him, and his coun- 
 tenance had undergone 
 a change since the day 
 when he bent in idle 
 ' enjoyment over the page 
 of Aristophanes. It was 
 graver, yet not so old ; 
 smoother, but more 
 virile. Play of features 
 
 a light in the eye, a motion of 
 
 brow and lips expressed the 
 thoughts he was penning. 
 
 " Once, when we turned together 
 out of the hot, dusty highroad into 
 a little village graveyard shadowed 
 
 223 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 with cypresses it was near Colonus, 
 by the banks of the Cephisus Louis 
 read with pleasure the Greek words 
 painted on the wooden crosses : 
 Ev6d8e KelraL classical Greek, 
 looking so strange to him in this 
 modern application. Could it have 
 been done without pedantry, I 
 should have liked to set the words 
 on his marble ; to my ear they are 
 better than ' Here lies ' ; so restful 
 in their antiquity, echoing so softly 
 the music of the old world. But 
 the simplest inscription is the best 
 the one name by which we called 
 him, and the date of his death. 
 Happily he does not lie among the 
 foolish monstrosities of the Greek 
 cemetery, which I described to you 
 the skulls and bones, the gilded 
 shirt-studs, and so on. Your wish 
 is respected : on the marble is 
 carved a cross. 
 
 '' The day has been hot, and in 
 the town intolerably glaring. Soon 
 after sunrise I went to Phaleron and 
 bathed, then lingered about the sea- 
 
 224 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 shore, thinking well, of what 
 should I think ? You were in your 
 garden, no doubt, among the leaves 
 and flowers of English autumn. I 
 saw you walking there, alone, and 
 hoped that your thoughts were on 
 the shore of Attica. 
 
 "Then a midday meal with 
 Worboys. I like the old pedant, 
 and feel for him no little respect. 
 After all, he does what I myself am 
 bent on doing ; the business of 
 archaeology has taken such strong 
 possession of him that he lives in. it 
 with abounding vigour. He has no 
 thought at all for the modern world ; 
 to him every interest of to-day 
 save the doings of excavators 
 seems vulgar and irrelevant. After 
 all, this is admirable. All the more 
 so that he is utterly devoid of 
 personal ambition ; he cares not 
 the least to make a name, and to 
 be respectfully regarded by his 
 fellows. He loves an inscription 
 for its own sake. If he has a per- 
 sonal hope in the matter, I rather 
 
 225 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 think it would take the form of a 
 desire to die in the trenches, and 
 be buried at Colonus along with 
 Ottfried Muller and Charles Lenor- 
 mant. But he is too humble to 
 express such a wish. 
 
 " Heavens ! you should hear him 
 talk of you. The Medici had no 
 such incense of laudatory gratitude 
 as Worboys burns daily upon your 
 altar. He sincerely believes that 
 history can show no grander 
 instance of benevolent and enlight- 
 ened patronage. He will carve your 
 name on the walls of some temple 
 yet unearthed. He will chant you 
 in the valleys of Peloponnesus, and 
 perhaps in the wildernesses of Asia 
 Minor. Now all this is very fine ; 
 it tells of a sound heart, and possibly 
 of a brain far from contemptible. 
 Woman in the flesh he will never 
 love (he speaks tenderly of the 
 Caryatides on the Acropolis), but 
 you he worships. I find it inspirit- 
 ing to be with him. By the by, I 
 have of course told him nothing. 
 
 ^26 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 About Louis he shall never know 
 more than he does now. 
 
 " The day after to-morrow he 
 goes off with his German friend. 
 They are more than brothers. For 
 my own part, I stay here until I 
 have a letter from you. I am 
 impatient, of course. Whatever 
 you write ' 
 
 A knock at the door stayed his 
 hand. He bade enter, and there 
 appeared a boy, who, showing white 
 teeth in a smile, and uttering a few 
 words of Greek, delivered a letter. 
 
 Alone again, - Langley let the 
 unbroken envelope lie before him. 
 He could read the first post-mark, 
 and he observed the date. When 
 his hand was quite steady, he took 
 a penknife and released the sheet of 
 note-paper. It presented but a few 
 lines. After reading them several 
 times, he put the letter in his pocket, 
 hid away his own unfinished writing, 
 and went out. 
 
 A few hours later he dined with 
 Worboys and the archaeologist's 
 
 227 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 German comrade. It was a cheer* 
 ful meal, but Langley chose to Hsten 
 rather than to talk. Afterwards 
 they sat smoking for a long time ; 
 then the English friends walked a 
 short distance together, 
 
 "It*s uncertain, then, how long 
 you stay ? " said Worboys. 
 
 " No. I have decided to leave 
 to-morrow. And, by the by, I am 
 going back to be married." 
 
 Worboys stood still. 
 
 " You amaze me ! " 
 
 "Surely there are more im- 
 probable things ? " 
 
 " Of course, of course. But 
 
 you never hinted . Will you 
 
 tell me who it is ? " 
 
 "Yes. You know her. It is 
 Lady Revill." 
 
 Worboys drew a deep breath, and 
 clutched his friend's hand. 
 
 " I can't say what I should wish 
 to. This is wonderful and mag- 
 nificent ! Ah, what things have 
 happened since we met in the 
 Kerameikos ! " 
 
 228 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 When Langley was in his room 
 again he returned to the unfinished 
 writing. 
 
 " I was interrupted by the arrival 
 of your letter. After reading it, I 
 went out and rambled till dark. 
 The sunset was unspeakably glorious 
 - the last of many such that I have 
 seen at Athens. This morning I 
 wished that you were here ; at 
 evening, as I stood on the Areopagus, 
 I was glad to know that I had to 
 travel to find you in the world of 
 realities. 
 
 "As Louis said, this is mere 
 fairyland ; to us of the north, an 
 escape for rest amid scenes we hardly 
 believe to be real. The Acropolis, 
 rock and ruins all tawny gold, the 
 work of art inseparable from that of 
 nature, and neither seeming to have 
 bodily existence ; the gorgeous 
 purples of Hymettus ; that cloud 
 on Pentelikon, with its melting 
 splendours which seemed to veil the 
 abode of gods what part has all 
 this in our actual life ? Who cares 
 
 229 
 
SLEEPING FIRES. 
 
 to know the modern names of these 
 mountains ? Who thinks of the 
 people who dwell among them ? 
 Worboys is right ; living in the 
 past, he forgets the present alto- 
 gether. I, whose life is now to 
 begin, must shake off this sorcery 
 of Athens, and remember it only as 
 a delightful dream. Mere fairyland ; 
 and our Louis has become part of it 
 to be remembered by me as calmly, 
 yet as tenderly, as this last sunset. 
 
 " Dearest, I finish this letter and 
 post it here. It may possibly reach 
 you at Fallowfield a few hours be- 
 fore I come. I have no word of 
 thanks, no word of love that I can 
 write. But already I am with you. 
 Yes, let the past be past. To you 
 and me, the day that is still granted 
 us." 
 
 THE END, 
 
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