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 OF THE 
 UN IVLR5ITY 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
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 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/zrostoryofmont01prae
 
 ZEEO: 
 A STORY OP MONTE CARLO.
 
 ZfiRO: 
 
 A STORY OF MONTE CARLO. 
 
 BY 
 
 MES. CAMPBELL PKAED, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "an AUSTRALIAN HEROINE," "MOLOCH," " NADINE. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I 
 
 LONDON : CHAPMAN AND HALL 
 
 Limited. 
 1884. 
 
 All rights reserved.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 H Clay, Sons, and Taylor, 
 
 BREAD STREET HILL.
 
 4 
 ^4 
 
 8^5 
 
 v,.-^ 
 
 TO MY HUSBAND 
 
 IN AFFECTIONATE ACKNOWLEDGMENT 
 
 OF THE WARM SYMPATHY AND INTEREST 
 
 WITH WHICH HE HAS ENCOURAGED 
 
 ME IN ALL THAT I HAVE 
 
 WRITTEN.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE "DANSE macabre" 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 NUMERO TREIZE 26 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 EXPLANATORY CONVERSATION . . . 48 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A RETROSPECT 67 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 STILL RETROSPECTIVE i)0 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 LOVE VERSUS CREED 112
 
 vi Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 IN THE YEW TREE WALK 129 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE HOTEL DES ANGES , . 149 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WHY DO YOU PLAY ? 163 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IN THE GARDENS OF THE CASINO 177 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ENTER COLONEL CAZALETTE 192 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 NEW year's GREETINGS 206 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 QUART POT TEA 232 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 TRANSI'J 
 
 261
 
 ZEEO: 
 
 a ©tori? of fiDonte Carlo. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE "DANSE macabre." 
 
 It was the last day of tlie old year. Here, 
 in Monaco, there was glorious sunshine, the 
 sky sapphire, the sea like an amethyst ; a 
 touch of mistral in the air, which set the 
 eucalyptus trees rustling and the palms waving, 
 enhancing the clearness of outline and vivid- 
 ness of colouring, and bringing to all but the 
 hypochondriac and the invalid a sense of 
 freshness, buoyancy, and delight in mere animal 
 existence.
 
 2 Zero. 
 
 At three o'clock, however, there were but 
 few people on the terrace or in the garden 
 of the Casino. Most of the visitors at Monte 
 Carlo — except those inveterate gamblers to 
 whom the most dulcet melody could not equal 
 in attraction the whirring of the roulette cylin- 
 der and the chink of gold — were assembled in 
 the theatre, where the afternoon concert of 
 instrumental music was in full j)i'ogress. 
 
 The orchestra was playing the opening of 
 St. Saen's weird Danse Macabre, when George 
 Warrender entered the crowded room and 
 walked up the side gangway. Almost every 
 chair was occupied. A great many strangers 
 had come over from Nice and Mentone. The 
 programme was a medley of modern compo- 
 sitions, even more attractive than that offered 
 upon the " classical Thursdays." Many musical 
 faces among the audience Avore a look of 
 luxurious enjoyment and calm expectancy of a 
 rich pleasure ; but at AVarrender's appearance
 
 The "Danse Macabre." 
 
 there were several backward glances of half 
 subdued annoyance, wbicli made him unwilling 
 to brush past till the piece was over. He 
 halted, and then drawing to one side waited, 
 standing by the closed doorway nearest to the 
 stage. 
 
 He was a noticeable figure against the gorgeous 
 but sombre background. A very tall man, 
 broad in proportion, with a look of alertness 
 and self-reliance, sallow cheeks, square fore- 
 head, flexible characteristic lips, and a most 
 peculiar and touching expression of earnestness 
 in his brown steadfast eyes. 
 
 An Englishman of thirty or thereabouts, but 
 with something of a foreign look — Spanish, 
 Mexican, West Indian — one hardly knew 
 whether to ascribe it to nationality or long 
 sojourn in such distant parts, which faded upon 
 familiarity with the face, leaving only a doubt 
 as to what his calling in life might be. He 
 was evidently not a soldier, in spite of his 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
 >^
 
 Zero. 
 
 somewhat military bearing, nor a sporting 
 country gentleman, thongli his bronzed face 
 gave token of exposure to sun and wind, 
 w^hile no one would for a moment suspect him 
 of being a mere idle pleasure seeker. He had 
 certainly followed some occupation or o1)ject 
 — you fancied a little out of the beaten track 
 — with the keenest interest. There was just 
 sufficient peculiarity and lack of self-conscious- 
 ness in his dress and air to suggest some ab- 
 sorbing pursuit, and to give him the stamp 
 of travel in strange lands. 
 
 The Danse Macabre is a curious piece of 
 music. It is full of trouble and of wild, 
 almost repellent passion. Its burthen seems 
 to be of madness, despair, death ; its refrain, 
 an uncertain wail, broken by abrupt chords 
 and fantastic cadences. 
 
 At one period the violins send forth a 
 plaintive moan, resembling that of a lost 
 spirit in vain seeking rest ; at another, the
 
 The " Danse Macabre." 
 
 melody — dirge-like, mysterious, laden with 
 unutterable woe — thrills the ear ; and again 
 changes into a rapid measure, grotesquely 
 horrible, almost Satanic in its presentment 
 of unholy revelry. The music, in its won- 
 derful trau sit ions from the quaintly frolic- 
 some to the pathetic and morbidly terrible, 
 its complex developments and shifting phases 
 of beauty and almost discord, might be likened 
 to the phantasia of life itself. Perhaps no 
 composition is capable of exercising a more 
 subtle influence upon its hearer, more espe- 
 cially in the case of a temperament strung 
 to sensibility, and labouring under conditions 
 of sorrow or mental excitement. 
 
 As the forces of Nature insensibly pave 
 the way for physical revolutions, so with 
 ourselves, certain crises in existence, brought 
 about by unrecognised agents, seem preceded 
 by a sense of doubt and expectancy, a feel- 
 ing of strangeness and awe, which cause the 
 
 B 2
 
 6 Zero. 
 
 most trifling events to appear momentous, 
 and an accident of conduct or surrounding 
 to be fraught with ominous import. 
 
 Thus with Warrender. He was disap- 
 pointed, unhappy, at variance with the world 
 and with himself. His melancholy was of 
 the kind which, weary of cherishing the 
 diseased offspring of morbid thought, craves 
 for distraction, and longs to throw off its 
 burdens ; not the deep-seated sort which ab- 
 sorbs all outward accessories into its inward 
 weight of care. Eeaction had set in. He 
 thirsted for the stimulus of an interest 
 agrainst which his finer senses should not 
 rebel. His mood was plastic. A new impres- 
 sion might now become an indelible imprint. 
 Passion once awakened, could not slumber 
 again. It unconsciously sought a new 
 object. 
 
 The condition of things favoured the birth 
 of fresh sensation. Is not the very name
 
 The "Danse Macabre." 
 
 Monte Carlo like a whiff of some intoxicat- 
 ing draught ? Here may be found Nepenthe, 
 acting so subtly, that memory, instead of being 
 merged in blank oblivion, evokes visions of 
 the past from which the sting has departed, 
 but which, like the noblest creations of art, 
 are etherealised by a halo of melancholy. At 
 this moment, though the music seemed in 
 a manner to intensify his sadness, it aroused 
 exciting, nay, pleasurable anticipation. He 
 felt himself upon the brink of adventure. 
 Novelty, rebound after deep depression, vague 
 tumult, and an odd feeling of personal 
 remoteness, gave subdued charm to the 
 situation. 
 
 The dim stage, with its tiny star-like 
 lamps ; the bowed figures of the performers ; 
 the strange shapes of the instruments, seemed 
 no more real than a picture at which he 
 might have been abstractedly gazing. The 
 almost human crying of the violins and 'cellos
 
 8 Zero. 
 
 sounded like some voice from a far country, 
 makins: utterance in a Languao;e unintelliofible to 
 his faculties, yet powerfully affecting tlie spiri- 
 tual part of his nature. The sense of bewil- 
 derment deepened within him and confused 
 his vision. The great room incrusted bv gjild- 
 ing, with its glittering chandelier and floridly 
 ornamented ceiling ; the painted figures of 
 scantily-draped women contrasting with the 
 white uncanny masks sculptured here and there 
 upon the walls ; the cosmopolitan audience, 
 every face of woman, man, and maid thrilling 
 the beholder with romantic speculation, each 
 one telling its own story of sin, sorrow, or 
 mere animal j^hlegm — the heated atmosphere 
 weighted with patchouli, frangipani, and cigar 
 smoke ; the faint murmur from the vestibule 
 bearing echoes of artificial mirth — all combined 
 to strike him with a phantasmagoric efi'ect ; 
 so that the scene might have been a vision, 
 and existence a dream, in wliieli the wearv
 
 The "Danse Macabee." 9 
 
 heart- aching, ever present for weeks past, was 
 lulled or forgotten. 
 
 But the moment for drama had arrived. 
 Suddenly his nerves were strung to alertness. 
 His mind became clear of mists. Life was no 
 longer a dream or a spectacle seen through 
 dissolving clouds. A new and vivid conscious- 
 ness pervaded his being — its cause, the striking 
 profile of a lady, who, seated at the inner end 
 of a row of chairs upon the opposite side of the 
 theatre, drew his eyes as a magnet draws steel. 
 
 Warrender bent eagerly forward. His look 
 flashed intelligence. He moved his position 
 till no head intervened between his eyes and 
 the object of their regard. 
 
 The lady, lovely, disdainful, self-absorbed, 
 sat perfectly motionless in her corner, her gaze 
 absently fixed upon the orchestra. 
 
 " Varuna I " exclaimed Warrender half aloud ; 
 then added, as though repenting the involuntary 
 familiarity. *' It is Madame Fano."
 
 10 Zero. 
 
 Though he had never before seen this woman 
 in the flesh, her photograph was well known to 
 him. Madame Fano was the half sister of 
 Helena Kilsyth, the girl he loved, whose refusal 
 to become his wife had driven him to Monte 
 Carlo in search of a moral opiate or counter- 
 irritant to pain. 
 
 Near Madame Fano were two vacant chairs, 
 one in the line behind, at an angle with her 
 own ; by her side, another, which she retained 
 by covering it with her shawl. Warrender, as 
 soon as the music ceased, crossed over and took 
 possession of the former unappropriated place. 
 
 The Danse Macabre concluded the first part 
 of the j)i'ogramme, and was followed by the 
 usual rush back to the g-amins; rooms. Men 
 who had been sitting apparently wrapt in 
 dreamy enjoyment of the music, now glanced 
 round keenly, and rose as if awakened to a 
 sense of pressing business. A soft-eyed Italian, 
 who, from her refined features and inspired
 
 The "Danse Macabre." 11 
 
 expression, might have been the muse of poetry, 
 hastily gathered up her properties from the seat 
 which she had occupied immediately in front 
 of Warrender, and bustled down the narrow 
 gangway. The sounds from the Casino grew 
 louder as the heavy doors were swung open. 
 Soon the theatre was almost empty ; with few 
 exceptions, only representatives of the respect- 
 able British element remaining. Though hardly 
 thus to be characterised, Madame Fano was 
 not lured from her place by the attractions of 
 roulette or trente et quarante. She maintainec' 
 her immovabld'attitude in the corner, though the 
 people sitting next her quitted their places. 
 
 Thus it happened that she and Warrender 
 were left in solitary occupation of their respec- 
 tive rows. For several minutes she remained 
 in the same position, and he had ample oppor- 
 tunity for closely studying her features. 
 
 They were clearly cut, refined, and of almost 
 Grecian regularity — statuesque was the term
 
 12 Zero. 
 
 which best described the face. It was very cold, 
 even hard, when in repose, but it was the sort 
 of face that might be supposed to indicate the 
 capacity for strong feeling. Madame Fano looked 
 as though she had lived her life, so far intensely, 
 but had somehow missed the most thrilling 
 experience of womanhood. Her complexion 
 was pale though the lips were rosy ; the brows 
 delicately arcJied ; the hair brown with a reddish 
 lustre. Its smooth coils w^ere surmounted by 
 a small velvet toque. She was dressed in black. 
 A tightly- fitting mantle of some rich stuff 
 moulded her shapely shoulders. A diamond 
 brooch fcistened the lace at her throat. In her 
 bearing, dignity, listlessness and intense inward 
 pre-occupation blended curiously with an ex- 
 pression of restrained eagerness. " Cold, ego- 
 tistic, passionless, " were the epithets which 
 arose at the first glance. " Impulsive, enthusi- 
 astic, finely susceptible, " said the more pro- 
 longed scrutiny.
 
 The "Danse Macabre." 13 
 
 Her gaze, ere it wandered to the entrance 
 door in search of the companion whom she 
 apparently expected, met that of Warrender 
 for a moment. Assuredly, in the photograph 
 which ornamented Helena Kilsyth's writing table, 
 scant justice had been done to Madame Fano's 
 eyes. But how inadequately, during the course 
 of half an hour's conversation, are conveyed the 
 subtleties of an expressive countenance ! What 
 an impossibility, therefore, that they should be 
 rendered in the brief space of time employed upon 
 a sun 23icture ! Here was presented food for a 
 thousand conjectures. AVas Madame Fano un- 
 happy, or only yearning for happiness ? Had she 
 drunk the dregs of interest, or did she sigh for 
 the draught tantalisingly withheld ? Was she in- 
 different to life, or was it that life seemed to her 
 too momentous to be merged in these surf^ice 
 frivolities ? What was the meaning of that 
 dangerous gleam agitating the dark depths ; and 
 why did an clement of fierceness combine with
 
 14 Zero. 
 
 a softness and dreamy tenderness which left 
 nothinof to be desired in the matter of 
 woinanly charm ? 
 
 The person for whom Madame Fano was wait- 
 ing had not yet appeared. It seemed to 
 Warrender that the grey orbs were darkened and 
 dilated by inward impatience. He still looked, 
 admired, and wondered. But now Yaruna's eyes 
 were removed from the entrance door ; and in the 
 withdrawal they again rested upon AYarrender's 
 face. This time for longer. Her gaze seemed 
 compelling, and forced his imagination into fresh 
 play. It was deliberate, questioning, yet also, at 
 once regal and wistful. It might have been that 
 of a queen, mentally appraising the will and 
 ability of a subject to do her bidding ; or it might 
 have been that of a woman in difficulty or distress 
 who fancied that in a stranger's face she discovered 
 signs of the S3mipathy and aid she needed. 
 Involuntarily, and as if in answer to her appeal, 
 Warrender made a slight motion forward. Then,
 
 The "Danse Macabre." 15 
 
 for an instant, the faintest blush rose upon 
 Madame Fano's pale cheek. Her lashes drooped ; 
 her lips curved in an expression of disdain. She 
 half rose as though with the intention of leaving 
 her place, appeared to hesitate, at last subsided 
 into her corner with eyes steadily averted. Thus 
 for some moments she remained. 
 
 Suddenly in an eager undertone, he heard her 
 murmur a single word. 
 
 " Treize, " 
 
 The syllable seemed to fall unconsciously from 
 her lips, and to startle her as though it had been 
 uttered by another person. Was it he himself 
 who had spoken ? He almost imagined so for a 
 second, when he saw her turn, and noted the in- 
 quiring flash of her eyes which accompanied the 
 gesture. Her weary indifference had vanished. 
 It was as if she had been awakened from reverie 
 by a voice she knew. Again she repeated low, 
 but clearly, 
 
 '' Treizey
 
 IG Zero. 
 
 Now she grew restless. Her hands, which 
 had been lying motionless, fidgeted with the 
 fastening of her cloak. Presently she drew off 
 her glove, and took from an inner pocket one of 
 those cases common at Monte Carlo, made to 
 contain a certain amount of gold. She emptied 
 out the coins, carefully counted and replaced them, 
 and for a minute appeared lost in calculation. 
 
 People were re-entering the concert-room. 
 The musicians had returned and were arranging 
 their instruments. There was a rustle of silk 
 by Warrender's side ; and a lady whom he also 
 recognised from haviug seen her portrait, swept 
 past him and seated herself in the chair which 
 Madame Fano had been reserving. 
 
 Even had he been unaware of any relation- 
 ship, the likeness between the two would have 
 told him that they were mother and daughter. 
 Their features w'ere almost identical, but Mrs. 
 Kilsyth did not possess that air of dignity and 
 self-restraint which was noticeable in Madame
 
 The "Danse Macabee." 17 
 
 Fano. Her smile was infantine and uncertain ; 
 she had a quick, almost frightened way of 
 changing the direction of her gaze ; her dress 
 was careless in spite of its richness ; her lips 
 were but half-closed, and belied a certain in- 
 tensity, which made her eyes remarkable. She 
 was restless in her movements, and neither her 
 countenance nor her limbs appeared ever to be 
 in a state of repose, except when she became, as 
 it were, conscious of something to be guarded 
 against in her demeanour, and compelled her 
 features into an expression of almost unnatural 
 quietude. 
 
 She bent excitedly towards Madame Fano, 
 and whispered loudly enough for Warrender to 
 hear the words distinctly : 
 
 ** They were playing the Danse Macahre a 
 few minutes ago ? " 
 . ''Yes, mother." 
 
 Mrs. Kilsyth sank upon the seat next her 
 daughter and gazed dejectedly into vacancy.
 
 18 Zero. 
 
 *' I came to the door intending to join you," 
 she went on in an agitated voice. " But when 
 I heard that music I was obliged to go away 
 again. Do you remember the last time they 
 played it here ? De Kenzi was the conductor. 
 Cazalette sat yonder. I can see his eyes now as 
 they watched you. There are faces which haunt 
 one, and his could not be forgotten. That was 
 five years ago." 
 
 " You are wandering, mother. They have 
 performed that piece many times since ! " 
 
 " But I have not heard it. I have watched the 
 programmes, and upon such occasions have 
 avoided this part of the Casino. That night the 
 very air seemed heavy with something imminent. 
 It was all madness, fever, tumult ! Don't look 
 at me so strangely. The bare recollection of 
 some things excites me. You know what Dr. 
 Frederick Holt said, when he put me in his great 
 chair, and looked me through and through, 
 ' Madam, your temperament is your curse.' Oh,
 
 The "Danse Macabre." 19 
 
 that I were one of those good and happy people 
 who eat, digest, and sleep ! Varuna, there is 
 something strange in the moral atmosphere to- 
 day." 
 
 "You find it so '? " asked Madame Fano, 
 composedly. " I think that you are right. 
 Fate is hovering over us. The music has affected 
 me also. I remember the night you speak of. 
 It was the night but one before — before I gained 
 my freedom." 
 
 " Hush ! " said Mrs. Kilsyth wildly, though still 
 almost in a whisper, ''you mustn't talk of 
 freedom, it's only slaves who speak of freedom- 
 Of course ive are free. But listen ! " she laid her 
 hand upon her daughter's arm, and continued 
 impressively, " Varuna, I am in despair. Your 
 dream last night was the whisper of a lying 
 prophet. One hundred and twenty times did I 
 stake on 34, the hundred and twenty-first, I had 
 the louis between my fingers — I knew tliat the 
 number was coming up ; but the hand of fatality 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 20 Z^PvO. 
 
 held my will. I could not lay the coin down. 
 You know how it is wdth me, the inspiration 
 comes, and with it a sort of numbness. I tried 
 the trente et quarante room. Fatality again ! 
 I was simply playing against the tables. A 
 run of nineteen on black. And the Greek was 
 dealing ! Can you account for it ? I have 
 never yet known you dream falsely. You have 
 lost me ten thousand francs to-day." 
 
 '' The day is not yet finished," replied Madame 
 Fano calmly. 
 
 *' But my purse is empty. I dare not draw 
 again on Bernhardt 's. I can play no more un- 
 less you will lend me a few napoleons." 
 
 " No," said her daughter, sadly yet firmly. 
 " Our bargain must be strictly kept. You are 
 too excitable, If I had once begun to lend you 
 stray napoleons, we should both have been 
 ruined long ago." 
 
 Mrs. Kilsyth held up her hands with a w41d, 
 dramatic gesture. " Oh, how cold you are !
 
 The "Danse Macabre." 21 
 
 how calculating ! You haven't the least warmth, 
 or spontaneity in you ! " she exclaimed in the 
 tone of one who utters lightly- weighed re- 
 proaches. " Great Heavens ! " she continued 
 rapidly and with gathering excitement. " To 
 think of all that I have sacrificed for you, while 
 you are blind, unconscious as a stone ! There's 
 a spell upon me. Just as I was about to stake 
 again, when, had I acted upon my inspiration 
 I should have recouped all my losses. Lord 
 Bretland came up and spoke to me. The devil 
 was in his tongue. ' Do you know that Cazalette 
 is to be here immediately ? ' he said. I faltered ; 
 the louis fell from my hand — then, ' Rien ne va 
 plus J It was the voice of destiny. My chance 
 was gone. Varuna, did you dream of Cazalette 
 last night ? " 
 
 Madame Fano started. Her face chanored 
 
 o 
 
 perceptibly. "Mother," she whispered in her 
 sweet but incisive tones, " remember that tlicre 
 are people round us who do not understand your 
 
 c 2
 
 22 Zero. 
 
 strange way of talking. What do you mean ? 
 Is Cazalette coming here ? " 
 
 " Next week. Lord Bretland saw him in 
 Paris. He inquired if we were at Monte Carlo. 
 Yaruna, let us leave this place for a time. Let 
 us go to Cannes, Florence, Eome — anywhere that 
 would not mean stagnation. I am tired. I have 
 los-t so much of late, my nerves are out of order. 
 I want change of scene and occupation. We will 
 come back when Cazalette has gone, and bring 
 luck with us. Then I can pay him my debts." 
 
 " You owe him money '? " exclaimed Yaruna. 
 
 " Oh a trifle. Don't speak of it. But that 
 man is the herald of misfortune, I am certain 
 that some calamity will happen to us if we stay 
 here." 
 
 " AYe cannot leave Monte Carlo now, mother, 
 I have strong; reasons', for wishing; to remain. 
 You refused to winter in Eome, when I uro-ed 
 it not long ago — and now — it is too late. Why 
 do you want to avoid Cazalette ? "
 
 The " Danse Macabre." 23 
 
 Mrs. Kilsyth did not answer. 
 
 Madame Fano looked at tlie elder lady keenly, 
 inquiringly. " Mother," said she in a whisper, 
 but not so low as to be inaudible to Warrender, 
 who was also able to note the deep sadness of 
 her manner, " it would be the blind leading the 
 blind were I to take you away from Monte 
 Carlo. We are like creatures who can only 
 inhabit one element. We both want to escape 
 from ourselves. Where can we do that so 
 effectually as here ? And just now, I could not 
 live anywhere else." She s]3oke vehemently, 
 then continued more gently, "It is not for me 
 to tell you that if your nerves are shaken, the 
 fault is partly your own. You should not be 
 afraid of wakeful nights. They are terrible ; do 
 I not know that ? But not more terrible than 
 the price you pay for drug-bought sleep. In 
 this state of mind and body your brain conjures 
 up phantoms ; your dread of Colonel Cazalctte 
 is one of them. I have more cause than you to
 
 24 Zero. 
 
 shrink from the past, of which he reminds me. 
 But see, / do not flinch. Granted that he has 
 a sort of evil fascination over weak women ; let 
 us stand firm and defy him. We will go back 
 to the roulette room, mother. Have some faith 
 in me still. You shall see me put my inspiration 
 to the test." 
 
 " Is it a number ? " asked Mrs. Kilsyth 
 eagerly. " The tables are bewitched. You are 
 safe in trusting the wdldest fancy. But I 
 beseech you, Varuna, do not run the risk of 
 staking with your own hand. Have you no 
 lovers here to-day ? Where is Alec Fordham ? 
 Or there is Wrentzel " 
 
 Varuna's lips curled. " That was a half- 
 hearted adoration. To-day he is the Princess 
 Titchakoff's shadow." 
 
 *' Then St. George — surely tbere was never 
 man more attracted. But for the last few days, 
 Varuna, you have been unlike yourself." 
 
 Madame Fano made no reply to this
 
 The " Danse Macabre." 25 
 
 observation. The band was playing a crisp, 
 precise gavotte, by Corelb, a passionless piece 
 of harmony, full of quaint roulades, delicate 
 appoggiaturas, and carefully premeditated affec- 
 tations. At its conclusion both ladies left their 
 places ; and Warrender, full of curiosity and 
 amazement, followed them to the Eoulette 
 Salle.
 
 CHAPTEK 11. 
 
 N U M E R T R E I Z E. 
 
 In the second gaming-room the crowd was at 
 its height. The atmosphere was fetid. The 
 heavy ornamentation and Moorish tracery on 
 walls and ceiling seemed dulled with the haze 
 of human breath. For pervading sounds there 
 were the subdued hum of voices, the tramp of 
 feet upon the parquet, the chink of coin, the 
 whirling of the cylinder and rattling of the 
 marble, all melting into a low indefinite roar, 
 broken at intervals by the level calls of the 
 croupiers. 
 
 Nowhere than at Monte Carlo does the 
 social sea present a more glassy surface. 
 There is something grotesque and revolting in
 
 NuMERO Teeize. 27 
 
 this outward serenity. It resembles the deadly 
 quietude of a beast lying in wait, or the 
 treacherous smoothness of a quicksand when 
 it has closed over its prey. 
 
 Whatever horrors teem below, the uninitiated 
 observer beholds only stoical indifference or 
 light frivolity — a show in which the performers 
 seem actuated by no more intense purpose 
 than aimless search for amusement, or the 
 thrall of habit which has become boredom. 
 It needs the magnifying glass of a vivified 
 consciousness to show forth the greed, sensu- 
 ality, unappeasable craving for stimulus to 
 jaded sensation, depravity of spirit, and deep 
 despair, concealed under tense muscles, painted 
 cheeks, and artificial smiles. 
 
 All this was but vaguely felt by Warren der : 
 the scene bewildered him, while he was yet 
 sensible of a faint feeling of disappointment. 
 If here life were at high pressure, the tragedy 
 masked itself by an affectation of phlegm. He
 
 28 Zeko. 
 
 had not been long enough at Monte Carlo to 
 have become habituated to the strange con- 
 centration of interest which compelled this 
 vast assemblage into one narrow groove of 
 occupation too momentous for any outward 
 show of excitement. The scene seemed to 
 him an apt illustration of destiny in its 
 operations upon the tide of human affairs. It 
 affected him somewdiat in the same manner as 
 the sight of an Eastern opium den, in w^hich 
 all, drugged into unnatural calm, in resjDective 
 stages of uneasiness or beatitude, tread an 
 imaginary path leading to a fictitious goal of 
 bliss, and are indifferent to every actuality of 
 life save the poisoned influence of the hour. 
 
 Lines three or four deep, of almost every 
 variety of the social creature, pressed thickly 
 round the roulette table. The outer rows, 
 English principally, had come over from Nice 
 or Mentone, salving conscience by the pretext 
 of music, and taking pleasure in the reflection
 
 NuMERO Tkkize. 29 
 
 that they were now in a position to moralise 
 from personal observation upon the debasing 
 effects of legalised gambling. These were for 
 the most part spectators, except when now 
 and then a more frisky matron or adven- 
 turous miss laid down a five -franc piece upon 
 the even chance, and watched the result with 
 an anxiety and pantomimic show of satisfaction 
 or disappointment, as the coin was raked up 
 or doubled, which contrasted curiously with 
 the imperturbable demeanour of those in the 
 inner circle to whom loss or gain meant 
 perhaps the serious question of existence. 
 Here, jostling each other, were representatives 
 of every type and nationality. A Eussian 
 prince flung down his notes royally upon the 
 colours side by side with a fresh-faced Ox- 
 onian, who ruefully beheld one small pile after 
 another swept away from the dozens. An 
 English countess, the patrician calm of her 
 delicate face marred by an expression of
 
 30 Zi^RO. 
 
 unlovely triumph, gathered in her winnings 
 over the shoulders of a be-rouged, bejewelled 
 hag, whose bony fingers were in their turn 
 occupied in a judicious placing of louis upon 
 various numbers. An innocent fair-haired girl, 
 leaning over her husband's chair, touched 
 shoulders with a Parisian beauty of doubtful 
 reputation. A so-called " great lady," florid of 
 face, broad of proportions, in a tight-fitting cloth 
 costume, and with a well-stuff'ed reticule at her 
 belt, imperiously directed the lean, sallow-faced, 
 high-bred looking man wlio accompanied her, 
 where to lay the notes which she lavishly 
 supplied. Seated before her, the lowest type 
 of sharper — unshorn, unkempt, haggard, and 
 blear-eyed — carefully pricked his card, playing 
 cautiously and pocketing a fair proportion of 
 his gains, while he threw an occasional glance 
 of contempt towards an emaciated, worn-out 
 libertine opposite, whose trembling hands and 
 reckless play indicated the stage of desperation.
 
 NuMERO Tkeize. 31 
 
 Here, a member of the so-called Fraternity of 
 St. Vincent cle Paul watched his opportunity 
 to pick up and cherish any foundling stake 
 left exposed by the carelessness of its owner. 
 There, a withered crone begged boldly for a 
 five-franc piece wherewith to try her luck for 
 the^' price of a dinner and a night's lodging. 
 The lady appealed to, whom Warrender per- 
 ceived at once to be Mrs. Kilsyth, took out 
 her purse. It contained a single coin. This 
 she placed in the claw-like hand, adding a 
 word of gratuitous advice. 
 
 "Try the first dozen. Low numbers are 
 coming up." Then she turned to her daughter 
 and said in her inconsequent manner, " Poor 
 suffering humanity ! Who could refuse to give 
 a wretched woman five francs ; but my 
 generosity has robbed me of my only chance 
 of beardinjx fortune this eveninii." 
 
 Madame Fano was silently and intently 
 watching the game. The withdrawal from the
 
 32 Z6ro. 
 
 table of a now penniless gambler created a 
 rift in the crowd and brought Warrender to 
 her side. Without moving a muscle, she 
 seemed to become aware of his proximity, and, 
 after a moment, turned directly upon him that 
 glance of inquiry which had startled him in 
 the theatre. He was certain that she meant 
 to speak to him ; and so strongly had she 
 seized upon his thoughts, that the evident 
 intention awakened in him no surprise. For 
 an instant she hesitated ; then, in silvery 
 neutral tones, addressed him in French : 
 
 " Would Monsieur have the great kindness 
 to place this stake upon numero treizef 
 
 She held towards him a rouleau of gold. It 
 was the maximum allowed upon any single 
 number. 
 
 AVarrender replied in English, with (X)ld po- 
 liteness : " With pleasure, madame," and was 
 stretching forth his arm, when Mrs. Kilsyth 
 interposed :
 
 NuMERO Treize. 33 
 
 ^' Not this moment. Let my poor specimen 
 of humanity have her chance. One would not 
 beggar oneself in charity and nullify the gift. 
 There," as the number was proclaimed. " Five. 
 I felt certain she would win. If I had staked 
 that coin myself, fifteen, twenty, or anything 
 else over the dozen would certainly have 
 turned up. Well, there is consolation in 
 the thought that I have done a kindness to 
 one even more unfortunate than myself." She 
 heaved a deep sigh. 
 
 " Now," said Madame Fano, pointing to- 
 wards the table. 
 
 Warrender leaned forward and put down the 
 gold as he had been directed. There was a 
 faint murmur among the players, and several 
 pairs of eyes wandered round till they rested 
 upon Madame Fano's face. AVarrender observed 
 that three or four altered their stakes. He 
 knew instinctively that Varuna's gaze was fixed 
 not upon the table but upon himself An
 
 34 Zero. 
 
 intense excitement caused his pulses to tingle. 
 The moment had become dramatic. He felt 
 that he was the instrument of fate. 
 
 The wheel revolved, the ball rattled into its 
 compartment. *' Rien ne va plus,'' ^vas uttered 
 in the croupier's automatic monotone — a mo- 
 ment — " Treize. Noir, Impair et Manque." 
 
 Many eyes turned again towards Varuna. 
 She was still looking at Warrender, and stood 
 perfectly quiet, very pale, and with lips tightly 
 pressed together. She did not appear em- 
 barrassed by the attention she excited. Three 
 or four of the players smiled significantly, 
 shrugged their shoulders, and became again 
 absorbed in calculation, while several of those 
 standing watched her witli quickened interest, 
 evidently prepared, should she continue playing, 
 to follow her lead. Her cool venture seemed to 
 betoken invincible luck, or an infallible system 
 which placed her al)ove the sport of chance. 
 
 Warrender waited while louis and five-franc
 
 NuMEEO Treize. 35 
 
 pieces were being meted variously to the coins 
 scattered upon the cloth. A swift, penetrating 
 suggestion turned him hot. He was ashamed 
 of his agitation — ashamed of the pleasurable 
 triumph with which he placed a little mass of 
 gold and several crisp notes in Madame Fano's 
 hand. He had fancied that a smile at least, 
 would reward his success. But, to his dis- 
 appointment, she bestowed upon him no such 
 mark of gratitude. Her eyes did not even 
 meet his, as in a few formal phrases she 
 expressed her cold thanks. With a stately 
 bow, she moved away, and after a few 
 moments he saw both mother and daughter 
 pass out into the vestibule. 
 
 Presumably, they had quitted the Casino. 
 Warrender lingered for a short time, not play- 
 ing, for strangely enough, he felt no inclination 
 to back further his own or Madame Fano's 
 luck. But her shadow lingered near him. The 
 
 manner in which she influenced his imagination 
 VOL. I. D
 
 36 Z^RO. 
 
 was unaccountable, yet a fact impossible to 
 ignore. The other men and women in the 
 room were no more to him than a crowd of 
 lifeless, painted automatons. She alone seemed 
 of flesh and blood. She alone stimulated his 
 faculties. 
 
 Nevertheless, the inward debate which she 
 aroused was by no means to her advantage. 
 Unfamiliar as he was with the type she might 
 be supposed to represent, he had always held 
 the vice of gambling in abhorrence. Ho'w 
 much more so when exhibited in the person 
 of a woman — in that of Helena Kils}^h's 
 sister I Could he imagine Helena herself breath- 
 ing the corrupt atmosphere which surrounded 
 the roulette table ? He shuddered at the 
 thought. And yet he had lieard her speak 
 of her mother in terms almost of adoration 
 - — of her sister with the warmest enthusiasm. 
 
 He was obli2;ed to admit that Madame Fano's 
 bearing and style of beauty were at total
 
 NuMJERO Treize. 37 
 
 variance with the life she seemed to be leading. 
 Was it to be supposed that she was a mere 
 slave to her mother's passion for gambling *? 
 No. The conversation he had overheard proved 
 that she shared the propensity, and also that 
 both were victims to the most dcOTadino- 
 superstition. Had Varuna's augury been based 
 upon a dream of the night before, upon -a 
 conjunction of dates, or upon the ticket which 
 had been handed her in lieu of her umbrella ? 
 Or — and he remembered the enigmatical look 
 which had been turned upon him — was it 
 possible that he himself was connected with 
 her inspiration, and that some fateful pre- 
 sentiment had prompted the choice of him as 
 her deputy ? Her mode of addressing him 
 forbade the supposition that she recognised 
 him from hearsay or description as her sister's 
 friend ; and however unconventional might 
 have l)een her conduct, her hauglity dismissal 
 showed plainly that she repented the action, 
 
 D 2
 
 38 Z^RO. 
 
 and was aware that it might lay her open to 
 misconstruction. 
 
 With his mind still full of these thoughts, 
 he too left the gaming rooms. Upon the steps 
 leading down to the square, he was accosted 
 by a very pretty, very stylishly- dressed, hot- 
 house-flower-like young lady, to whom an ac- 
 quaintance of his own — a good-looking man, 
 elderly, well got up, and blending in his person 
 the stamps of Bohemianism and ftishion — was 
 devoting himself with languid relish. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Warrender," said the lady, "and 
 who would have dreamed of seeiug you in 
 this naughty place ? How long have you 
 been here ? " 
 
 "About two hours," replied Warrender, re- 
 turning the greeting, it must be confessed 
 with some doubt as to the identity of his 
 interlocutor. But it was dis^^elled by her next 
 words. 
 
 " When last I heard of you, you were
 
 NuMERO Teeize. 39 
 
 supposed to be excavating buried cities in 
 Peru — oh, Mexico ? Thank you, Lord Bretland, 
 I knew that it had somethino- to do with 
 Prescott and Pizarro ; but, as you have more 
 than once remarked, we Australians are apt 
 to be a little casual. That is because of the 
 immensity of the country, you know : it 
 affects our ideas. Still, for a barbarian, joii 
 must admit that I am teachable." 
 
 '' For a barbarian, your taste in dress, and 
 your appreciation of the niceties of advanced 
 civilisation, are something quite — quite extra- 
 ordinary," observed Lord Bretland, in his dry, 
 halting manner, which gave the impression of 
 a vast fund of thought that it was undesirable 
 to communicate. 
 
 The young lady laughed, and met Warren der's 
 look of vogue interrogation with a quizzical 
 smile. 
 
 " Now, confess that you don't in the least 
 know who I am. I'll give you three guesses
 
 40 Zero. 
 
 at my name, tlie penalty to be paid in 
 twelve-button gloves, six and a quarter, mind, 
 and Swedish kid " — she held up her slim, 
 daintily cased hands. " In the meantime, 
 while you are cudgelling your memory, we'll 
 take a turn in the Gardens, for even my 
 passion for roulette won't enable me to endure 
 the atmosphere of the Casino for more than 
 half-an-hour straight ofiV 
 
 " Does your vanity, Miss Crosbie, allow you 
 to suppose that my memory requires stimula- 
 tion ? " asked Warrender wdth somewhat forced 
 gallantry. " I have the most vivid recollection 
 of a picnic in Ullagong Scrub, and of the 
 kneading of a damper on a sheet of bark 
 by those very fingers. Upon a former oc- 
 casion, when I had the pleasure of seeing 
 you, you were haranguing your father's 
 electors upon the adv^antages they w^ould 
 derive from supporting the Dead Lock system ; 
 and the time before that vou were e^ood
 
 NUMIERO TrEIZE. 41 
 
 enough to give me lessons in playing the 
 Jew's-harp." 
 
 " Oh, spare me the shame of all these 
 reminiscences. Civilisation has done wonders 
 for me. My husband began my education 
 in Australia. Lord Bretland is continuing 
 it at Monte Carlo. There, you have lost 
 your bet, Mr. Warrender. Did you imagine 
 that I was following the example of your 
 American friends, and travelling round Europe 
 all on my own hook ? If you will come and 
 dine with me this evening at the Hotel des 
 Anges — and, by the way, you'll see a good many 
 angels there, only I'm afraid some of them 
 have fallen from the starry spheres — I'll 
 introduce you to General Featherstone, and, 
 to some one much more attractive, if you 
 haven't already made her acquaintance." 
 
 '' Ah, yes, that I can answer for," said 
 Lord Bretland. " Not half-an-hour ago I saw 
 Warrender lay down the maximum on numSro
 
 42 Z^RO. 
 
 treize, and hand Madame Fano the winnings. 
 You hadn't your eyes about you, Mrs. 
 Featherstone." 
 
 " Well, if I was blind, some one else used 
 their eyes — and to considerable purpose ! I 
 must say that you haven't wasted any time, 
 Mr. Warrender. But I advise you not to be 
 too reckless. Do you know that Madame 
 Fano is called the Vampire ? Ghoulish, isn't 
 it ? But her uncanniness lies in her conduct 
 rather than in her person, as no doubt you 
 have discovered for yourself." 
 
 " I have discovered uotliing," replied Warren- 
 der — but though he spoke stiffly, there was an 
 inflection of eagerness in his voice, which 
 Mrs. Featherstone was quick to notice — " except 
 that Madame Fano is a very charmino-lookino- 
 lady, whose greatest peculiarity appears to be 
 that of liking to play roulette at an inconve- 
 niently crowded table, and to whom my lon^T arm 
 was of some slight service this afternoon."
 
 NuMEEO Treize. 43 
 
 " A peculiarity which a good many people 
 here share," said Mrs. Featherstone. " Come, 
 I don't believe in all this haphazard business. 
 You had better make a clean breast of 
 everything, Mr. Warrender, or confess at once 
 that this is not the first time you have staked 
 for Madame Fano." 
 
 "It is perfectly true, Mrs. Featherstone, 
 that I have never seen Madame Fano before 
 to-day," said Warrender coldly. 
 
 " By the way," interrupted Lord Bretland, 
 "you will remember our meeting at the 
 Kilsyths' ? We went with the Abbey party to 
 the Militia Ball at Hallingford in July. You 
 must have been as horrified as I was, to 
 hear of poor old Sir John's death." 
 
 " Sir John Kilsyth dead ! " echoed Warren- 
 der, pausing suddenly, his face pale and 
 disturbed. " What do you mean ? I have 
 heard nothing of it. You know that I left 
 England three months ago — rather more, 1
 
 44 Zero. 
 
 believe. I liave been in the back woods of 
 America out of reach of newspapers." 
 
 "Then, where have you turned up from 
 now k 
 
 " From Paris ; I was one night in England. 
 Tell me when did this ha})pen, and how." 
 
 " His horse rolled over him in the hunting- 
 field the first run of the season, two months 
 ago. Poor old Sir John ! A bit of a Puritan, 
 and not equal to marching with the times — - 
 but what a splendid old fellow he was ! It 
 is a sad thing for his niece, though I am 
 told that she always resented not having 
 been placed under her mother's guardianship. 
 Mrs. Kilsyth has her turn now. Well, I 
 hope that Miss Helena will not develop the 
 family mania." 
 
 AVarrender was silent. A rush of painful 
 thought and bitter recollections effaced the 
 vivid impressions of the last few hours. Once 
 more his mind was filled with the image of
 
 NuMEEO Treize. 45 
 
 Helena Kilsyth. Serene, pure, majestic, to 
 associate her with these surroundings seemed 
 profanation. Her name choked him. What 
 right had he to show any anxiety ? He was too 
 proud, too self-conscious to ask questions which 
 might betray the wound she had inflicted. 
 He turned abruptly to Mrs. Featherstone — 
 " You were speaking of Madame Fano ? " 
 " Perhaps I had better profit by that little 
 hint, and discreetly hold my tongue, since you 
 appear to be on terms of intimacy with her 
 sister. Lord Bretland, your diplomacy has 
 been rather thrown away. Mr. Warrender and 
 I are old friends, and don't need to stand 
 on ceremony with each other. What is the 
 mystery ? Is he going to marry Miss Kilsyth, 
 or was his great-aunt a distant cousin of 
 Monsieur Fano's grandmother ? By the way I 
 hear that Colonel Cazalette is to appear in the 
 scene shortly ; I mean to ask him how Madame 
 Fano disposed of a troublesome encumbrance.
 
 46 Z:6ro. 
 
 I am convinced tliat he is in all Mrs. Kilsyth's 
 secrets, for the old lady becomes more mad in 
 manner than is even her wont whenever his 
 name is mentioned. I am not at all satisfied 
 that Monsieur Fano himself mixed his night 
 draught. An overdose of morphia is such an 
 easy way of accounting for sudden death." 
 
 Lord Bretland laughed a little awkwardly. 
 
 " Ah, ye-es — do you think so ? " he said in 
 his negative interrogative fashion. *' It would 
 take a great deal to kill Mrs. Kilsyth. I've 
 seen her swallow half a bottle -full of laudanum 
 straight off — fact, I assure you. She is a little 
 queer at times. I have always accounted for 
 it in that way." 
 
 Mrs. Featherstone looked steadily at 
 Warrender with her audacious blue eyes. 
 
 " You see, I haven't spent two winters at 
 Monte Carlo for nothing. That's the worst of 
 this place ; it upsets all one's nice notions about 
 human nature. No one is mildly wicked here."
 
 NUMERO THEIZE. 47 
 
 " Is it insinuated that poor Madame Fano 
 poisoned her husband ? " asked Warrender. 
 " The biography of this lady promises to be 
 interesting. Pray continue, Mrs. Featherstone. 
 My acpaintance with Miss Kilsyth does not 
 entitle me to become the champion of her 
 family." 
 
 " Well, let us sit down," said Mrs. Feather- 
 stone, placing herself upon a bench, and 
 indicating by a slight motion of her arm that 
 there was room for Warrender at her side. 
 " Did you ever see such a glorious even- 
 ing ? The colouring of the water reminds 
 me of Sydney Harbour, and I declare, 
 these lank, sickly gum-trees make me feel quite 
 sentimental."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 EXPLANATORY CO]SVERSATION. 
 
 Never had the small principality presented 
 a more fascinating aspect. The sun was sinking 
 behind the glittering domes and spires of the 
 Casino. The tiny peninsula lay sleeping on 
 the sea's bosom ; and far to the south that 
 mystic Mediterranean, scarcely touched by an 
 horizon line, blended almost imperceptibly with 
 the sky. Higher, lay a golden lake dotted 
 with soft islets of* purple ; and, higher still, 
 dark, billowy masses of cloud crested by foamy 
 splashes. On the east, a faint, flame-like glow 
 spread over land and water, shrouding the 
 hills above i\lentone in a rosy haze. The
 
 Explanatory Conversation. 49 
 
 nearer heights of Mont Agel and Mont Bataille 
 rose, seamed and barren, above the olive 
 woods at their base, making a sombre back- 
 ground to gaily ornamented villas and 
 semi-tropical gardens ; while just below their 
 summits the white Cornice ]^oad -wound in 
 zig-zag fashion towards Koquebrune, a sun- 
 illuminated patch which seemed to have slipped 
 down from the rocks above. 
 
 "Madame Fano is as much a feature of 
 Monaco as the Tete du Chien or the palace of 
 the Grimaldis," continued the pretty Australian. 
 '' Yonder villa," pointing to a fanciful minareted 
 building embowered in olives nnd j)^^l^s, 
 which from where they sat was visible to 
 the left of the gardens, " belongs to Mrs. 
 Kilsyth ; but at the present ^time it is being 
 redrained or redecorated, so that the two 
 ladies are among the angels at our hotel. As 
 they are a source of profit to the landlord, 
 and of entertainment to the inmates, no one
 
 50 Zero. 
 
 is particularly anxious that the villa should 
 be in a state for occupation." 
 
 " Has Mrs. Kilsyth been long a widow ? " 
 asked Warrender absently. " But, of course, 
 I remember. Who was she "? " 
 
 " Oh, if it is a question of genealogy, you 
 must go to Lord Bretland. My aquaintance 
 with Debrett and Burke is still in an elemen- 
 tary stage. Lord Bretland, who was Mrs. 
 Kilsyth?" 
 
 *' She was — a widow," slowly returned Lord 
 Bretland. 
 
 " So we naturally conclude. But widows 
 are not brought into the world ready made. 
 Who was Madame Fano's father 1 " 
 
 " He was, according to tradition, an Eastern 
 scholar. His origin is shrouded in obscurity ; 
 but it has been said that he belonged to the 
 tribe of Israel. He wrote a book about the 
 Vedic Mythology, and died before he had had 
 the happiness of beholding the inflmt face of
 
 Explanatory Conversation. 51 
 
 Madame Fano, wliom, in tribute to his memory, 
 his disconsolate widow named after the Vedic 
 god Varuna, not taking into account the 
 consideration of sex." 
 
 " Very clearly stated," said Mrs. Featherstone. 
 " Anyhow, it is a satisfaction to feel that one's 
 mind is being improved. I wasn't acquainted 
 with the gentleman called Yaruna. The Vedic 
 gods aren't much known in the bush. Go on, 
 Lord Bretland ; Mrs. Kilsyth's biography ought 
 to be worth hearing." 
 
 ^^ Yes, I think so, especially if one could hear 
 it from her own lips. Mrs. Kilsyth is so candid, 
 and so communicative about most things, not 
 everything — her antecedents, for instance. Fve 
 heard it said that she is of South American 
 origin, and I have been told that her father is 
 in a madhouse. I can give a bald outline of 
 her story, and that is all, Mrs. Featherstone. 
 The interesting widow of the Eastern savant 
 devoted herself to the education of her dauo-liter, 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
 -oc\ty of
 
 52 Zero. 
 
 and to the investigation of systems at Homburg 
 and Baden — systems for discovering the secrets 
 of numbers. She ^vasn't always successful. 
 The air of a Kursaal is unhealthy. Miss 
 Varuna fell ill ; had to be taken to the Engadine, 
 where, alas ! were no gaming-houses. But we 
 are told that for a short time love may be as 
 potent a source of excitement as gambling ; and 
 Passion, Superstition, and Hysteria form three 
 sides of a moral triangle. Eeginald Kilsyth 
 was at the Chalet at Pontresina. You, Warrender, 
 at any rate, know something about the Kilsyth 
 history, or ought to do so, since your j^lace 
 adjoins Hallingford." 
 
 ''It is a fact," replied Warrender, " that I 
 knew almost nothing about the place or its 
 surroundings till I took possession a few 
 months ago. Then my stay was a short one, 
 and Sir John Kilsyth never talked of his 
 brother." 
 
 " And pray remember that I only came over
 
 Explanatory Conversation. 53 
 
 from Australia two years ago/' interjected Mrs. 
 Featherstone. 
 
 Lord Bretland turned towards her. " There 
 are in the family two properties and two 
 religions. Marelands goes with the title. That 
 branch has been Protestant, I might almost say 
 Puritan, since the days of Cromwell. Halling- 
 ford Abbey descended for generations in a 
 younger and Roman Catholic branch, till, failing 
 other heirs, estates and religions were joined in 
 the person of old Sir William, the father of the 
 late baronet and of the Eeginald we are talking 
 of. He would have been glad enough to do 
 away with distinctions of faith, but, "oddly 
 enough, Regie became imbued with the traditions 
 of the place, turned pervert of his own accord, 
 and, when he inherited the Abbey, was as rabid 
 a Roman Catholic as you could find in Rome — 
 or in England, which is saying more. There 
 was even a talk of his joining the priesthood. 
 However, our fascinating friend settled that. 
 
 E 2
 
 54 Z^RO. 
 
 The dear widow became suddenly inspired with 
 an enthusiasm for romance and religion. She 
 sighed for the innocent and domestic joys of 
 life. She sighed for spiritual consolations. For 
 some time the gaming-rooms knew her not. She 
 turned Catholic also, or might have been so 
 before, for all I know, and Kilsyth married 
 her." 
 
 Lord Bretland paused under the somewhat 
 embarrassing consciousness that he was speaking 
 energetically, and had allowed himself to be- 
 come dramatic. His fishy eyes shot a gleam of 
 animation upon his listeners. Both appeared 
 profoundly interested. Mrs. Featherstone gave 
 a little eager nod, and smiled quizzically. 
 ^' That must have been a lono' time ao^o ? " 
 Lord Bretland shook his head mournfully. 
 *'Ye-es. Ah, Mrs. Featherstone, you have en- 
 trapped me into a confession of my age. 
 Eighteen years ago I was a young man, and I 
 also was staying at Pontresina."
 
 Explanatory Conveesation. 55 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Featherstone decidedly, 
 " I am not at all surprised that your friend did 
 not become a priest. Setting aside her beauty 
 — and I'm pretty sure that must have been 
 considerable, if at five-and-twenty Mrs. Kilsyth 
 was as talkative, as inconsequent, and as amus- 
 ing as I find her at fifty — she must have been 
 simply irresistible." 
 
 "At all events," contmued Lord Bretland, 
 " Eegie Kilsyth never quite fell out of love 
 with his wife, though he very soon became 
 aware of her absolute unreliableness. It was 
 quite pretty to hear him making excuses for her 
 eccentricities. He got into the way of treating 
 her as a spoiled child, and of considering her 
 as little accountable for her actions. On the 
 whole, he resigned himself to the inevitable 
 with a fairly good grace, and was rather amused 
 by her vagaries. Mental equilil)rium isn't tlie 
 least necessary to make a woman beloved. The 
 more kaleidoscopic she is, the greater her charm.
 
 56 Z^RO. 
 
 It's wonderful what a trick of manner will 
 do!" 
 
 " I quite agree with you," retorted Mrs, 
 Featherstone, " when one sees the sort of 
 women who make the greatest fools of men." 
 
 " Well, to return to poor Mrs. Kilsyth ; 
 English life did not suit her excitable tem- 
 perament. A course of waters at Homburg 
 every year became perfectly necessary for her 
 health. The confessional lost its attraction. 
 Out of sheer perversity she apostatised, and 
 took a plunge into atheism by way of variety." 
 
 " But I must say," interrupted the Australian 
 lady, ''that Mrs. Kilsyth is now quite a fervent 
 Catholic. She does not play in Passion Week ; 
 and I never saw any one look a greater picture 
 of misery." 
 
 "Mrs. Kilsyth has passed through many 
 phases of spiritual experience. Eeligion is 
 Colonel Cazalette's foible, and it was he who 
 some time later broug;ht her baclv to the bosom
 
 Explanatory Conversation. 57 
 
 of the Church. But Kilsyth felt her falling 
 away deeply. Folly, even the milder forms of 
 vice, he could pardon readily, but not disrespect 
 to his creed. This, his will, made about that 
 very time, proved. At his death, which hap- 
 pened about ten years after the marriage, it 
 was found that he had left the whole of his 
 property to Helena on the condition that she 
 was brought up a strict Koman Catholic, and 
 had appointed his brother her guardian. Mrs. 
 Kilsyth's natural rights were barely recognised, 
 and only in the event of Sir John dying after 
 Miss Helena had attained the age of eighteen, 
 would she be permitted to live with her mother, 
 while Mrs. Kilsyth's jointure was so tied up in 
 the hands of trustees that the heirs of Monsieur 
 Blanc have haj^pily only reaped the benefit of 
 her yearly income." 
 
 " And Madame Fano ? " asked Warrender. 
 
 ** Varuna, who during these years had resided 
 under her stepfather s roof, was naturally not
 
 58 Zero. 
 
 mentioned in his will. She and Mrs. Kilsyth 
 
 left England together. Dear old Sir John 
 
 hated his sister-in-law as much as it was in his 
 
 natm^e to hate any woman, and was rejoiced to 
 
 be quit of her. You can imagine the scene. 
 
 The little orirl, Helena, clinoringr with tears 
 
 and entreaties to her mother, who had always 
 
 a most extraordinary fascination for this child 
 
 of another breed ; Varuna cold and disdainful ; 
 
 Mrs. Kilsyth frantic, tearing her passions to 
 
 tatters — a tigress robbed of her young. Poor 
 
 lady ! if her emotions are undisciplined and 
 
 evanescent they are certainly genuine — for a 
 
 short time at least. '^ 
 
 " Lord Bretland, " interrupted Mrs. Feather- 
 stone, " are you a victim to Mrs. Kilsyth's 
 elderly charms, that you insist upon analysing 
 her virtues and peculiarities so exhaustively ? 
 Don't you see it is the daughter in whom Mr. 
 Warrender feels so deep an interest l " 
 
 "Varuna Fano's story is a tragedy of Monte
 
 Explanatory Conversation. 59 
 
 Carlo, " said Lord Bretland gravely. "'* Mother 
 and daughter took up their abode here, and fell 
 in with a queer set. At seventeen Varuna was 
 married in Nice to a good-looking, coarse, dis- 
 sipated hrute, for whose conduct there was but 
 one excuse — a depraved appetite for opium. He 
 was found one morning dead from an overdose 
 of morphia ; and the kindest action which he 
 ever performed towards his wretched wife was 
 when he left her a widow, penniless, and bur- 
 dened with an idiot child. The suicide was 
 never very clearly proved, but Fano had been 
 losing heavily, and the administration did all 
 they could to hush up the affair. " 
 
 Lord Bretland ceased speaking. There was a 
 pause. Warrender made no comment upon the 
 strange history that he had heard, but biting the 
 end of his moustache gazed vacantly seaward. 
 Presently, Lord Bretland, all dramatic intona- 
 tion gone from his voice, listlessly remarked 
 that they were transgressing the canons of the
 
 60 Z^RO. 
 
 Eiviera in lingering after the sunset chill ; and 
 Mrs. Featherstone rose with a clinking of her 
 bangles and a rustle of her satin skirts. 
 
 " Come, Mr. Warrender, you are going to dine 
 with us, and be introduced to my husband. I 
 can't promise you a place beside the enchantress ; 
 but I'll invite you to meet her in our salon at 
 11.30 this evening to drink punch and to see 
 the new year in. Where are you going to 
 stay ? " 
 
 " I believe that my luggage has been sent to 
 the Hotel des Anges," answered "Warrender. 
 
 Mrs. Featherstone professed unbounded 
 pleasure at this information, and proceeded to 
 descant upon the excellence of the cuisine. As 
 they crossed towards the square a little group 
 approached, consisting of a lady, lean, well 
 dressed, of the bird-like aristocratic style' of fea- 
 ture, who seemed the embodied essence of 
 British Philistinism ; a stout, red-faced, cheery- 
 looking German gentleman ; and a sallow?
 
 Explanatory Conversation. 61 
 
 melancholy- visaged middle-aged man in whose 
 appearance were curiously combined the military 
 air with that of the dilettante, and who gave 
 the impression of making a continual effort to 
 reconcile himself with uncongenial circumstances. 
 " That is my husband, " whispered the pretty 
 Australian. "Now, how shall I classify him? 
 There's a certain type of man one meets every- 
 where, " she continued, as gravely as though she 
 were giving a lecture. " He is a ' fellow. ' All 
 his male friends are * fellows.' They are not 
 particularly clever, or artistic, or anything else ; 
 they're simply good fellows. Well, that is 
 exactly what my husband is not. I don't mean 
 to say that he is artistic — in the way of pictures 
 and china — or of the sesthctic tribe. Music is his 
 forte. He is trying to compose an opera, and 
 when he is not wrapped up in harmonies, he is 
 really decidedly entertaining. I must say," she 
 added, with her affected air of simplicity, " that 
 I prefer a man in his maturity. That is.
 
 62 Zero. 
 
 because I am so young. Do you think that I 
 shall et'cr be old enough to love a boy ? The 
 lady walking with him is one of the people at 
 our hotel. How much soap and hot water do 
 you think would be required to take the starch 
 out of her 1 Mrs. Livingstone, let me introduce 
 Mr. Warrender. Mr. Braunstein, have you 
 given Jules proper instructions about the punch 
 for our orgie this evening? My husband, 
 General Featherstone — Mr. Warrender." 
 
 In the confusion of introductions that took 
 place the party divided, and Warrender found 
 himself walking beside Lord Bretland. 
 
 " It does not say much for the natural 
 resources of civilised beings, when one's brain 
 can be stimulated by the vapid nonsense that 
 is talked in a place like this, " remarked Lord 
 Bretland, who, after his fashion, was some- 
 thing of a philosopher. " Here have I been 
 for the last two months, studying the world 
 compressed into the space of a few square
 
 EXPLANATOEY CONVERSATION. 63 
 
 yards. Certainly I have the advantage of being 
 able to retire into my villa — where, by the way, 
 you must come and breakfast with me to-morrow 
 — when the spectacle becomes too painful ; but 
 there is no doubt that the sight of all the 
 frivolity, exaggeration, hardened vice, and arti- 
 ficial goads to sated senses, which are displayed 
 at Monte Carlo, is a liberal education. We live 
 our satires now-a-days, instead, of writing them. 
 One gets a bird's-eye view of the whole social 
 system here, and the absence of dividing fences 
 brings about a wideness of symj)athy that may 
 or may not be beneficial, but is at least en- 
 lightening. You know the story of the Duchess 
 
 of , who, when one of the croupiers refused 
 
 to cash her cheque, imperiously asserted her 
 rank. * Madam,' said he with a bow, ' all 
 ladies are duchesses here ! ' " 
 
 Warrender made an impatient gesture. 
 
 " The place may amuse you," he said ; "to 
 me it is absolutely sickening. There is no
 
 64 Zero. 
 
 stronger instance of the bad effect it may have 
 upon people born for nobler things than the 
 story you were telling a little while ago." 
 
 " Poor Madame Fano ! You must not judge 
 of her entirely by what you hear. It is my 
 opinion that her unhappy marriage has petrified 
 her very soul. That woman possesses, I am 
 convinced, the strongest capacity for devotion 
 — all expended in this vile passion for gambling. 
 They call her the' ' Vampire,' but not for the 
 reason you may perhaps suppose. I don't 
 believe that she has ever in her life unbent to 
 any man. She is passionless, inaccessible, and 
 pure as the edelweiss." 
 
 " Yet why — why ? " began Warrender eagerly, 
 and paused. 
 
 " Why do men follow her like a pack of fools, 
 and throw themselves down precipices in despair 
 at her coldness ? Because the attentions of a 
 certain great personage first of all made her the 
 fashion. Because her iciness piques curiosity
 
 Explanatory Conversation. 65 
 
 and excites ardour; and because she has a 
 superstitious fancy that it is impossible for her 
 to win at play unless her money is staked by a 
 man who loves her. Don't you see the con- 
 nection of ideas ? It is like that weird fairy 
 tale in which a magician rules the princess, and, 
 under penalty of death, propounds riddles to her 
 suitors. The lady's pleasure- garden rattles with 
 human skeletons ; she herself is disdainful, 
 weary, wretched. She is under a spell, from 
 which but one can release her. So with Varuna. 
 Teach her to love, and the evil enchantment 
 will be broken." 
 
 "You are still half a poet, Bretland." 
 " No — only an observer : but I am poetic 
 enough to cherish the belief that, for a woman, 
 the one potent god of the universe is Love. I 
 have my theories about Varuna. She is not 
 what she seems. That woman is the victim of 
 some secret dread, not of any definite enemy, 
 but of imprisoned forces within her own nature.
 
 66 Zero. 
 
 Some day they will burst their bonds, and she 
 will be changed. Here w^e are at my diggings . 
 will you come in and have a sherry and bitters 
 before the table dhote ? You will find it 
 amusing at the Des Anges, I often go there my- 
 self, but to-night I have an engagement. We 
 shall meet later at the Casino." 
 
 Warrender declined the invitation. Instead 
 of proceeding to the hotel, however, he turned 
 again into the garden, and, seating himself upon 
 a bench facing the sea, gave himself up to 
 reverie. His thoughts wandered back several 
 years to the time of his first meeting with 
 Helena Kilsyth.
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 At twenty-four George Warrender was ap- 
 pointed private secretary to the governor of one 
 of our most distant and lately formed colonies. 
 
 He was a second son, and liis prospects in 
 life could not be called brilliant. The appoint- 
 ment had been obtained for him through the 
 influence of his godfather — an eccentric, and, 
 to him, unknown gentlemian — to whose notice 
 he had by some lucky chance been suddenly 
 recommended. Mr. Poynsett was unmarried 
 and wealthy. He expressed a wish to make 
 his godson's aquaintance, and invited George to 
 his place. Branches. Thither Warrender went 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 68 Zf:RO. 
 
 a few days before the date fixed for his 
 departure from England. 
 
 His host was a valetudinarian of sedentary 
 pursuits, who remained for the greater part 
 of the day shut up in his study. Warrender 
 liked being out of doors and was fond of 
 sport; but in April there was little or nothing 
 of that sort to keep him employed. His time 
 hung rather heavily upon his hands, and he 
 spent most of his days in aimless wandering 
 about the place. 
 
 The estate adjoining Branches was . called 
 Hallingford Abbey, and belonged to a Eoman 
 Catholic family which had been lately enriched 
 by the discovery of coal upon the property. The 
 late owner had not long been dead, and it was 
 held in trust for the heiress, a little girl of ten. 
 
 These particulars Warrender learned inci- 
 dentally during his conversations with the 
 gardener at Branches. The subject had no 
 especial interest for him, except that he had
 
 A Eetrospect. 69 
 
 asked to see the house and permission had 
 been refused. He was, however, an enthusiastic 
 lover of nature ; and Hallingford Chase offered 
 him almost equal attractions. It was easy of 
 access and a pleasant resort on those spring 
 days — more so, now, he thought, than when in 
 the full glory of summer foliage. 
 
 He delighted in strolling through the grassy 
 rides where the young green mingled with the 
 withered brown, and where the dead leaves of 
 the year before made a crisp sound beneath his 
 feet. The hawthorn was putting forth its tender 
 shoots, and the hazel bushes were thickening 
 with green. The ground was spangled with 
 blue-bells and primroses, and the gentle wood- 
 anemones bent their graceful heads to a tiny 
 stream which trickled beneath overhanging 
 fronds of fern. The sunbeams quivered upon 
 violet- studded beds of moss, where each dry 
 tendril was distinct, and which gave out the 
 delicious scent of woody earth. 
 
 F 2
 
 70 Zero. 
 
 It was intense enjoyment to lie idly dream- 
 ing with eyes upraised to heaven's blue, or 
 piercing the mazy vista of interlacing boughs 
 and soft verdure. The wind soughed through 
 the budding branches overhead in long mono- 
 tonous swells, followed by sudden lulls, and 
 then the birds broke in with their chorus of 
 sweet cooings and inarticulate gurglings. There 
 was the pretty note of the yellow-hammer, 
 the trill and full chirrup of the chaffinch, the 
 too ivheej too vjhee of the thrush, and yet 
 another sound, not of wind or l)ird, which 
 seemed to proceed from a leafy hollow screened 
 by a small thicket of hazel and low bracken 
 fern, and which he knew dipped down abruptly 
 behind where he lay. In his present position 
 the interior was quite hidden from his view : 
 but the sound was unmistakable. It was that 
 of a child sobbing. 
 
 This was no ordinary paroxysm of infantile 
 grief. The sobs were deep and stifling as
 
 A Eetkospect. 71 
 
 though drawn upward from the very soul. 
 Every now and then they subsided for a few 
 moments, and then there arose a most pitiful cry 
 of "Mamma, mamma. Oh I want mamma." 
 
 '' Poor little thing!" said Warrender to himself. 
 " Has she lost herself, I wonder ? Or is her 
 mother dead ? and if so, how can I comfort 
 her ? " 
 
 He got up and cautiously approached the 
 leafy thicket which fringed the upper edge of 
 the |)it. He knew the spot. At his feet was 
 a rocky bank, shelving more gradually to his 
 right and left. On the other side the hollow 
 was open and stretched away in a lovely glade. 
 The floor was carpeted with moss and spring 
 flowers. Two or three Scotch firs clung to the 
 side of the little cliff. The grey stone was 
 overgrown with ivy, and here and there a 
 rough bench had been hewn. 
 
 On one of these a little girl was lying. Her 
 head was buried in her arms, but a mass of
 
 72 . Zero. 
 
 fair hair fell over her shoulders. She could 
 not, he thought, be more than ten or eleven, and 
 her limbs were small for her age. Her slender 
 frame was convulsed with anguish, and still 
 at intervals she repeated the cry " Mamma, 
 mamma ! " Then for a few minutes she wept 
 silently. Presently she raised herself to a 
 sitting posture, and stretching forth her half 
 bare arms cried in a tone of despair — 
 
 " Oh, I can't bear it. I'm so lonely. I want 
 my mamma. Why are they so cruel ? Why 
 won't they let me go to my mother ? " 
 
 After this outburst a sense of contrition 
 seemed to come over her. She folded her 
 hands devoutly, and repeated the simple 
 formula of her faith : " Oh, my God, because 
 Thou art so good I am very sorry that I have 
 sinned against Thee by my impatience and my 
 ingratitude." He could not see her face, but 
 watched and listened, deeply interested in her 
 words and gestures, which were at once so
 
 A Eetrospect. 73 
 
 childlike and so old. She was praying still, 
 but in lower tones. She besought the Blessed 
 Virgin to intercede for her mother and for 
 herself. She invoked her patron saint in the 
 quaint language of the Catholic ritual. Poor 
 child ! Nay, happy child ! To her the unseen 
 world was a living reality. 
 
 Her prayers seemed to soothe and pacify 
 her. "With a sorrowful but resigned air she 
 rose and walked away from the shadow of the 
 cliff. Pausing a few paces distant, she turned 
 and looked upward almost in his direction. 
 Thus she became fully visible to him. Never 
 had he beheld so mournful, so wistful a face. 
 The wonder seemed that a child so sensitive, 
 so fragile, could ever have been created and 
 sent forth to buffet with the world. 
 
 She was curiously, almost fantastically, dressed 
 in a manner which forbade the supposition 
 that she had been recently made an orphan 
 She wore a frock of dark crimson velvet,
 
 74 Zero. 
 
 quaintly cut, and adorned with deep lace at 
 the throat and wrists. Her golden hair 
 lay in little rings upon her forehead after the 
 fashion of an old picture. Her eyes had a 
 deep searching gaze inexpressibly sad, like that 
 of one haunted by an ever recurring memory. 
 
 So absorbed was Warrender in his observa- 
 tions that he forgot to take any precautions 
 against startling her. An involuntary move- 
 ment of his foot sent a stone rolling: down 
 the steep incline, and attracting her attention 
 revealed his whereabouts. Her eyes met his, 
 and making a step forward he stood unconcealed, 
 raising his hat with a gesture of apology. 
 
 The expression of surprise which crossed 
 her face, and something stately and un- 
 consciously commanding in the air with which 
 she acknowledged his greeting, told him at 
 once that he was in the presence of the little 
 mistress of Hallingford. 
 
 He hurriedly descended the slope where it
 
 A Reteospect. 75 
 
 was more gentle in its incline, and stood 
 bareheaded before her. 
 
 " You have been watching me," said the 
 little girl flushing slightly. " Did you mean to 
 watch me ? What are you doing here ? People 
 are not allowed to walk in this wood unless 
 they are friends of my uncle." She paused 
 and eyed him, at first questioningiy, then, with 
 doubts as to his condition evidently dispelled, 
 she added, *'You are a gentleman, are you 
 not ? " 
 
 Warrender's heart throbbed with pity and 
 interest ; he could not smile. 
 
 " I hope so " he answered. " I don't know 
 your uncle ; but the person I am staying 
 with has permission to walk here." 
 
 *' What is his name ? " she asked with the 
 manner of a little princess. 
 
 "Mr. Poynsett." 
 
 She shook her head. " I never heard of 
 him ; and I have not seen you before ; but
 
 7^ Zero. 
 
 I like your face. It reminds me of a picture 
 of Jolin the Baptist at Marelands. Will you 
 stay and talk to me for a little while ? You 
 look kind, and as though you could help 
 people to be happier. You wish to do so, 
 don^t you?" 
 
 The grave directness of the child's gaze, 
 the pathetic quiver of her lips, and the old- 
 fashioned precision of her language, which 
 showed that she had lived much with grown 
 up people, moved Warrender exceedingly. 
 He obeyed her gesture of invitation, and 
 seated himself upon the stone bench she had 
 formerly occupied, while she leaned against 
 the wall of the little amphitheatre, with her 
 eyes never moving from his face. Her earnest 
 look seemed to demand a reply to her 
 question. 
 
 " I wish with all my heart that I could 
 help you," he said. '' I heard you crying, and 
 that was why I stayed — because I wanted to
 
 A Eeteospect. 11 
 
 do anything I could to make you less miser- 
 able. Tell me all about your trouble. I'm 
 only a stranger, but I'm very sorry for you." 
 She stretched forth her hand to him with that 
 childlike confidence which is so rarely de- 
 ceived. "My little girl," he went on "tell 
 me why you are so unhappy." 
 
 " I want my mother," she answered with 
 inexpressible sadness. " She has gone away 
 and they will not let her come back to 
 me." 
 
 " AVhere is she ? " 
 
 " In Italy, or France, I don't know which. 
 Hotel des Strangers, Nice, that is where they 
 live." 
 
 " They ? " he repeated in a perplexed tone. 
 
 " There is my sister too. She is a great deal 
 older than I am, and she is tall and like no one I 
 have ever seen, she is so beautiful. She did not 
 laugh and dance and sing like my mother, she 
 was grave and very fond of reading ; and she
 
 78 Z^RO. 
 
 was always good to me. I love her very 
 much." 
 
 " Who will not let your mother come back to 
 you ? " he asked, greatly puzzled. 
 
 " I don't know. No one here knows her 
 except uncle John, and he has told me that he 
 can't do anything, and does not want to talk of 
 her. It was because of something my father 
 wrote before he died — ^I can't tell what it means. 
 This used to be her home ; and now they say 
 that she has no right here, and that God is 
 angry with her because she will not pray or go 
 to church." 
 
 " She is not a Catholic then ? " 
 
 " She was so once ; oh I remember so well her 
 taking me into the chapel and making me kneel 
 before the altar, and I thought that she was 
 like Our Lady, only more beautiful, if that could 
 be. But Father Clifford says that she has been 
 led astray by evil counsel, and that I can only 
 pray for her forgiveness, and be patient till it
 
 A Eeteospect. 79 
 
 is granted. How shall I know ? Do you think 
 that she will ever be allowed to come back 
 here ? " 
 
 " It is impossible for me to say," answered 
 Warrender. " Perhaps when you are older you 
 will go to her." 
 
 The child shook her head. ''No, I am always 
 to stay here, except when I am with uncle John 
 at Marelands. This place will belong to me 
 when I am twenty-one, then I can do as I 
 please. I shall have great power. The Church 
 will require much of me. This is what Father 
 Clifford says. If I marry and have children, 
 they must be Catholics ; and I must only marry 
 a Catholic." 
 
 Warrender smiled this time at the child's 
 naive statement. " You are — " he began, and 
 paused, not clearly remembering the name of 
 the little heiress. 
 
 " I am Helena Kilsyth." 
 
 " And have you no one at home ? " said
 
 80 Zero. 
 
 Warren cler — " no one to love you and take care 
 of you ? Are you allowed to wander alone in 
 the wood ? " 
 
 " There are a great many people to take care 
 of me," said the child ; "but no one to love me 
 — not as there used to be. They think I don't 
 see the difference because I say nothing ; but 
 one knows when one is loved. It is like some- 
 thing in the air ; you feel it. Love is not 
 flattery or being allowed to do as you please. 
 Fratilein is very good ; but she is always a 
 little glad when Father Clifford takes me out, 
 or when she has a cold, as to-day, and can sit 
 by the fire and drink mulled beer, and do no 
 lessons. And when I ask her to let me come 
 into the wood, she says yes, because I fidget her 
 indoors, and the air is good for me ; and if I 
 promise not to go beyond call of Sophie I may 
 sit here by myself. So Sophie stays over there 
 in the avenue, she says I am quite safe as 
 long as I only come nere ; and people are not
 
 A Eetrospect. 81 
 
 allowed to walk in the wood without asking 
 leave." 
 
 " Dear little Helena," said George, " I am 
 glad I came here to-day, if it is only because 
 I saw you in trouble. I think talking to me has 
 done you good already. Do you often cry in 
 that way, or were you specially unhappy ? " 
 
 " I was so disappointed," murmured the child. 
 " It must be because I am not good enough," 
 she added dejectedly ; '' not because prayer is 
 of no use. I did pray so — with my whole 
 heart." 
 
 " For what, my child ? " 
 
 "You know the stories of the saints?" He 
 did not dare answer in the negative lest her 
 confidence should be checked ; and she con- 
 tinued, '* They came more often to children 
 than to grown up people, and it was generally 
 in woods and quiet places. All last night I lay 
 awake thinking of St. Lucy, and of how her 
 prayers for her mother had been answered ;
 
 82 Zero. 
 
 and oil ! " she cried fervently, clasping her 
 hands, " what is the body compared with the 
 soul?" 
 
 " So you came here to-day hoping that one 
 of the saints would appear to you and assure 
 you that your prayers had been heard ? " 
 
 " It would be so beautiful to think that my 
 guardian angel watched over my mother too, 
 and brought us near to each other. I should 
 find it easier then to have patience till I am 
 grown up ; and I should not be afraid, as I 
 often am, that before ten years are over my 
 mother will have forgotten me." 
 
 " Oh, impossible !" cried Warrender. " Why 
 should you fear that ? You are allowed to 
 write to each other 1 " 
 
 ^' My mother does not often answer my 
 letters. It is because she loves me so much 
 that she does not wish to be reminded of me ; 
 thinkino' of me makes her miserable — it makes 
 
 o 
 
 her ill. I ought not to want that she should
 
 A Eetrospect. 83 
 
 be unhappy, so when I write I say very little 
 of what is in my heart. Perhaps she thinks, 
 like the rest, that because I am a little girl I 
 forget easily. Oh if some one — who knew — 
 could tell me if it were right for us not to 
 think of each other ! That could not be. It 
 would be better if she were dead, for then 
 I could pray for her. " 
 
 The child's sobs broke forth again. She 
 struggled against them, but ineffectually. 
 Touched to the quick, and longing to give her 
 comfort, Warrender fondled and soothed her. 
 After a time she became calm, and looked up at 
 him with innocent affection. A child's trust is 
 so readily given. There are no conventional 
 barriers to be overleaped ere the inner sanctuary 
 can be gained. 
 
 " My little Helena," said Warrender, '' I 
 don't know your mother or the reasons for 
 your separation from each other ; but I can 
 tell you what I think and feel, and what I 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 84 Z^RO. 
 
 am sure is best for you. Our prayers are not 
 always answered as we expect. We pray for 
 something as if our life depended upon it, and 
 we are bitterly grieved because what w^e long 
 for seems withheld : — but it may be coming to 
 us all the while in quite another form to the 
 one we hoped for." 
 
 A light broke over the child's face. " I 
 understand," she said ; " I wanted to see St. 
 Lucy, and instead, there came you." 
 
 " No, I did not mean that. Tm afraid I can't 
 be of much use to you. I am goiug away 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Away ! " she repeated blankly. " Where ? " 
 
 " To a place so far off that I don't think you 
 would know its name. I am going away from 
 my friends aud relations, and shall be almost as 
 lonely as you are. Don't you see, Helena, 
 it's a sort of law in this life that we can't be 
 with those we care for. If we had only our 
 bodies and there were nothing beyond seeing
 
 A Eeteospect. 85 
 
 and hearing, that would be terrible, but there's 
 something within us which can bridge over 
 seas, which can almost compel the one we 
 are thinking of to think of us in return. 
 That is love. And when it has been once felt it 
 can never die, it's just as real as we ourselves — 
 more real, for it will last after death. If a 
 common love is like that, what do you think 
 a mother's love must be ? — a mother's love 
 that is just a part of nature — a law in itself. 
 So, Helena, you must never stifle your 
 beautiful ■ fancies about your mother. They 
 are drawing her to you all the time ; and 
 you don't know the good you may be doing 
 her. Let her be your guardian saint. Love 
 her always, think of her, pray for her. Don't 
 ever fear that she will forget you, for that 
 is simply impossible. And remember that 
 what I say is true. Sympathy makes distance 
 and separation seem as nothing. You will 
 not be lonely when you are thinking of her 
 
 G 2
 
 86 Z^RO. 
 
 and looking forward to the day which shall 
 bring you together. Ten years is not such a 
 long time ; it will soon pass away. I know 
 parents in India who were obliged to send 
 their children from them, and did not see 
 them again till they were grown np. They 
 did not forget." 
 
 He paused. Helena had drawn closer to 
 him, and was now bending forward, looking up 
 at him, all her soul in her gaze. " Oh tell 
 me more, tell me more ! " she cried. 
 
 " Pain and separation and silence are often 
 no one's fault," continued George "only part 
 of the crookedness of life. The world seems 
 sometimes like an ill-fitting piece of mosaic — 
 none of the pieces join, none of the colours 
 harmonise — or very seldom. We puzzle and 
 fret and can't make out the plan of it, or if 
 there is any phui at all. We are all like children 
 in that ; it is bard for us to accept the sad- 
 ness and mystery of life as a thing that must
 
 A Retrospect. 87 
 
 be ; and we long blindly for what would not 
 be good for ns if it were given. So, my 
 poor little girl, you must not pray that 
 miracles may be done for you. Don't expect 
 that saints will come down from Heaven and 
 talk to you. God works in a better way. He 
 sends comfort throug-h the living- • and when 
 He makes you turn for sympathy to the people 
 around you, He is educating you and them, 
 for He is drawing forth love from their heart 
 and yours." 
 
 The child's eyes seemed to become larger and 
 more spiritual ; her lips were parted as if she 
 were drinking in every word that he uttered. 
 Warrender had been carried away by his own 
 simple eloquence. At that moment a shrill call 
 sounded in the distance, " Mees Helcne, Mees 
 Helene ; it is time to go in." The child started 
 and rose to her feet. Warrender rose too. 
 
 " That is Sophie," said Helena. " I promised 
 to go back as soon as she called me. Good-bye,
 
 88 Zero. 
 
 kind, kind man. I shall think of everything 
 you have said. I shall think of the bridge of 
 love, and I shall send my heart across it every 
 day, every night, to meet my mother's heart. 
 Oh, yon have helped me ! You have been 
 good ! I will remember you too — always. Tell 
 me your name." 
 
 Warrender wrote his name upon a leaf in 
 his pocket-book and gave it to her. She spelled 
 out the syllables with childlike pains. 
 
 " George AVar-ren-der. Good-l^ye, George 
 Warrender. I wish you weren't going away. 
 I wish you lived near here. I hope that you 
 will not be very long. I will never forget you." 
 
 Warrender lifted the little hand and kissed 
 it with chivalrous tenderness. 
 
 '' Nor I you. But I should like very much 
 to know if, as time goes on, you become happier. 
 I am quite sure that you will do so ; but I 
 shall be wonderino- ; and it would oive me 
 pleasure if some day you would \\Tite me a
 
 A Eetrospect. 89 
 
 little letter, and tell me that you are happier — 
 only that. Will you ? " 
 
 "Yes/' replied Helena, "willingly. But tell 
 me where to write." 
 
 He wrote an address legibly upon the slip 
 of paper he had given her. 
 
 " There ! That is not where I am going ; 
 but a letter will always be sent to me. And 
 by and by I shall come back again." 
 
 A gleam of joy irradiated the child's sorrowful 
 face. " Then perhaps I shall be grown up, and 
 able to do as I please at Hallingford. And 
 you will come and see me ? Promise me that 
 you will come and see me." 
 
 " Indeed, I will promise that gladly," answered 
 Warrender ; and then, with a long, earnest look, 
 the child turned and left him.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 STILL RETROSPECTIVE. 
 
 A GOOD many months later Warrender received 
 a letter directed in unformed handwriting, and 
 forwarded from the address he had given 
 Helena. 
 
 ''My Dear George Warrender, 
 
 " I write to you because I promised and 
 because I am realljj happier now. I did nut 
 wTite before because we went to Marelands. 
 Fraiilein went away, and another lady came who 
 loves me better, and I have to do a oreat manv 
 lessons. But there is no wood here and no chapel 
 — no real chapel. And tliere was nothing to 
 make me mucli happier except thinking of what
 
 Still Eetrospectivf. 91 
 
 you said. John the Baptist is like you. Uncle 
 John was very kind, and had that picture put 
 into the little room at the top of the house, 
 which they have made into an oratory for Father 
 Clifford. It makes me remember your face. 
 My mother did not write to me for a long while. 
 My sister Yaruna was married ; and now her 
 husband is dead, and she has a little baby who 
 is sick, so my mother was very unhappy. Do 
 you remember what you said — that God sends 
 comfort by the living ? There was a kind good 
 gentleman where she lives. I think he must 
 be like you. Father Clifford says that it is 
 through him my prayers have been answered, 
 for now, my mother has come back to the 
 Church. It is he who showed her the way. I 
 am very happy. I never feel lonely when I 
 can think of my mother. At night I dream 
 of her ; and in the daytime I fancy that I 
 can see her face — so beautiful and good and 
 loving. Perhaps some day you will know her.
 
 92 Z^RO. 
 
 " I have nothing more to tell you, except that 
 I will never forget you ; and I hope that you 
 will come back soon and that you will remember 
 your promise. Are you a Catholic like me ? 
 I want so to know. And are you rich ? I 
 don't think you can be or you would not have 
 gone away. If you are not rich I should like 
 to give you some of my money, half of it if 
 you please, for you helped me very much, and 
 I remain, 
 
 '' Your affectionate friend, 
 
 " Helena Kilsyth." 
 
 Mr. Poynsett was dead and had left Branches 
 to George Warrender. 
 
 The young man was in Mexico when this 
 news reached him. He was in no haste to 
 return to Europe. His work was not done. 
 Eesearch into the history of a l)ygone civilisa- 
 tion absorbed his energies. He waited till he
 
 Still Eetrospective. 93 
 
 had accomplished all the explorations possible 
 with his limited resources, and then set sail 
 for England, not with any strong feeling of 
 elation, bnt with a mild pleasure at the pros- 
 pect of seeing his own people again, and 
 distinct satisfaction in the thought that the 
 means were assured him for prosecuting his 
 favourite branch of discovery. He went home 
 first and stayed some weeks with his relations, 
 and it was more than a year before he took 
 possession of his new kingdom. 
 
 As he walked about the Branches estate, 
 renewing his acquaintance with servants who 
 only vaguely remembered him, and recognising 
 landmarks wliicli it could hardly be said were 
 familiar to him, the one incident, during his 
 short visit to the j)lace years before, which 
 had seized upon his imagination, and had lain 
 deep in his memory ever since, now started 
 into new vividness. 
 
 He asked his old friend, the c^ardencr, if
 
 94 Zero. 
 
 Hallingford Abbey were inhabited, and if Miss 
 Kilsyth still lived with her uncle. 
 
 The old man nodded his head. " She be 
 bound to live with Sir John till she comes of 
 age. Miss Helena is a fine young lady, sir, 
 and will have a mort of money. It's a pity 
 she is so set upon her religion. But she is 
 kind to every one, Protestants and Papists 
 alike, and the poor are ready to jump for joy 
 when they hear the family is coming to 
 Hallingford. That's only once a year about, 
 for the shooting ; for Sir John, he likes the 
 hunting and Marelands as is natural, being his 
 own place. They are all at the Abbey now, sir ; 
 and Pm told there's company in the house." 
 
 Warrender strolled on towards the wood. 
 He thought of the promise he had made 
 the little girl, and wondered if she had 
 forgotten it, or if she connected the new 
 owner of Branches with her one day's friend. 
 He remembered the scene in the Chase as
 
 Still Retrospective. 95 
 
 though it had taken place but yesterday ; 
 the little girl's anguish of grief, her innocent 
 response to his appeal ; her simple superstition 
 — if indeed it were superstition. Did she still 
 wander alone in woods, he thought, hoping that 
 a St. Lucy or a St. Helena would be sent from 
 Heaven in answer to her prayers to set straight 
 this tangled skein of life. He smiled to him 
 self, as, his vague intention becoming a purpose, 
 he stepped forth briskly to the Chase. All the 
 w^ay his fancy played about her image, and 
 by the time he reached the dell he had con- 
 jured up a very distinct vision of the grave, 
 pure-eyed child whose little hand he had 
 kissed so chivalrously at parting. 
 
 " I wonder if she would think me like 
 John the Baptist now ! " he said to himself. 
 It was summer time, and the ground was no 
 longer gaily spangled, nor was there in the 
 air that wonderful sense of exhilaration which 
 is so often felt while walking in a wood
 
 96 Zero. 
 
 during spring. The grassy aisles were closed 
 in by dense foliage, the bracken fern grew 
 high. The leaves scarcely whispered to each 
 other, so still was the atmosphere. In the 
 shade there were mysterious depths of greenery. 
 Everything seemed very still. Occasionally a 
 startled hare would cross the path, or a young 
 pheasant would flutter among the under- 
 growth. Now and then might be heard the 
 bell-like note of the cuckoo or the cooing of wood- 
 pigeons ; but the birds had found their mates, 
 and the concert of trilling songsters was over. 
 
 According to the laws of romance, Helena, 
 the woman, should have been waiting by the 
 old grey stone embankment where Helena the 
 child had bidden Warren der farewell. Was it 
 possible that he had expected to see her, and 
 if not, Avhy did he feel a pang of disappoint- 
 ment ? No Helena was there. Everything 
 else was just as memory had pictured it, the ivy- 
 grown rocks, the rudely-hewn bench, the mo^sy
 
 Still Eetrospective. 97 
 
 carpet, the Scotch firs ; the very thicket of 
 hazel, from the shelter of which he had been a 
 compassionate witness of the little heiress's grief. 
 He lingered a short while on the spot, again 
 speculating whether or not she had forgotten 
 him, and half inclined to at once put her 
 assurances to the test. But the dread of en- 
 countering a large party deterred him. He 
 walked aimlessly down the glade, and at last 
 found himself on a cleared rise overlook ino- 
 the Abbey. It was a stately pile. The front 
 had evidently been rebuilt and modernised and 
 showed an extensive tract of lawn and pleasure- 
 garden, which again merged in a finely timbered 
 park, bordered on one side by the wood he had 
 quitted. The most interesting part of the 
 building lay in the rear, where remained the 
 original cloisters, quadrangle, and chapel. The 
 monks' refectory had been turned into offices 
 and the fishponds had been filled up. A long 
 nairow avenue of yews stretched at right angles
 
 98 Z^RO. 
 
 from the house, and formed a sombre but 
 picturesque background to an old-fashioned 
 garden, which in its turn was divided by a 
 low yew hedge from the gayer and more 
 elaborate parterre. 
 
 Warrender struck across the park, and pre- 
 sently gained the yew tree avenue, scarcely con- 
 sidering that this was not the proper approach 
 to the Abbey, or if he did so, reassuring himself 
 by the reflection that it would be easy to ask a 
 gardener for directions. A small iron gate ad- 
 mitted him into the walk ; but so dense was the 
 shadow cast by these ancient trees, so gloomy, 
 silent and mysterious did the place appear in 
 contrast to the moving lights and gay verdure 
 without, that he felt as though he had stepped 
 out of the world of to-day into a region con- 
 secrated to an austere past. 
 
 Here and there, were some remains of old 
 masonry, a monastic looking gateway, and a 
 crumbling wall wliich closed in one side of
 
 Still Retrospective. 99 
 
 the walk. Towards the centre there was a 
 break in the straight line of avenue ; the yew- 
 trees grew more irregularly, and here stood a 
 little covered platform, where was erected a 
 shrine with a marble image of the Virgin 
 crowned by fresh flowers, and ajDparently tended 
 by some loving hand. Warren der did not at 
 first perceive the pavilion, which was screened 
 by the branches of a yew-tree, projecting be- 
 yond its companions. As he approached it, he 
 was surprised to find himself confronted by 
 a young lady. 
 
 She was standing upon the moss-grown 
 steps leading to the platform, and advanced 
 with a smile rather of politeness than of 
 welcome, evidently imagining the footsteps to 
 be those of a guest in the house ; but when 
 the first glance told her that this was a 
 stranger she seemed surprised, halted, and 
 looked again. 
 
 Warrendcr took ofi" his hat and she bowed 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 100 Zero. 
 
 slightly ; then as they looked at each other 
 a curious light broke over her features. He 
 had no difficulty in recognising her. Her face 
 having been old for her years, had altered 
 very little. There was the same air of gentle 
 stateliness, the same candid brow and clear 
 sad gaze, the same expression of mingled 
 innocence and wistfulness, which had charmed 
 him in the child. 
 
 ^' Do you remember me ? " he asked 
 simply. " I am George Warrender." 
 
 She held out her hand to him with frank 
 pleasure. " Oh, I am glad to see you again. 
 I have never forgotten that day in the wood, 
 when you were so kind to me. I should 
 have known you, if only by your voice. So 
 you have kept your promise ? " 
 
 " I hardly hoped that you would recollect 
 that, and welcome me ; but I was determined 
 to see for myself." 
 
 " I remember a great many things about
 
 Still Eeteospective. 101 
 
 you/' answered Helena, blushing slightly ; " my 
 letter among them. I must have been a 
 very stupid little girl, Mr. Warrender — and 
 how you must have smiled at my foolishness ! 
 I wanted to share my fortune with you, didn't 
 I ? " She laughed softly. " And now you 
 are the owner of Branches, and have come 
 to live near us. How strange it is ! We 
 only heard of your arrival yesterday. Uncle 
 John is so anxious to know you ; he rode 
 over to call upon you this morning. When 
 you go back, or rather, when you meet him 
 here — for you will stay to luncheon, won't 
 you! — you will find that he has left an 
 invitation for you to dme here this evening." 
 " It is very good of you. Miss Kilsyth, to 
 make me feel myself at home so quickly. 
 You know I am a stranger here in every sense. 
 I hardly knew Mr. Poynsett, though he was 
 my god father, and was never at Branches in 
 my life, except during that one visit when I 
 
 H 2
 
 102 Z^RO. 
 
 was so ill mannerly as to trespass upon your 
 property." 
 
 " And you have been away ever since," 
 said Helena. '' I hear that you have been in 
 Mexico, finding out those wonderful buried 
 cities ; you must tell me about them some 
 time. But I think it much more strange that 
 you should recollect me, than I you. Besides, 
 I had your picture to remind me," and she 
 smiled. '' You are not so much like John 
 the Baptist now, except perhaps in this, that 
 you look as though you were very much in 
 earnest. There are some things in one's 
 childhood," she went on, "which stand out 
 much more vividly than others, though at 
 the time they don't seem important. I 
 suppose that in a kind of way, they are crises 
 in our inner lives. What happened afterwards 
 made me think much more of all that you 
 said that day." 
 
 "It is easy to read backwards by later
 
 Still Eeteospective. 103 
 
 lights," said Warrender. ''But we only know 
 ourselves how it is, that some trivial occur- 
 rences affect us deeply, and seem to set in 
 operation forces within ourselves which change 
 
 the current of life." 
 
 He lonsred to ask her to what event she 
 
 o 
 
 alluded, and if she had seen her mother dur- 
 ing these years, but did not venture to do so. 
 She saw and interpreted his hesitation. 
 
 " You are wondering why I should have 
 taken your words so to heart. Did not my 
 letter tell you ? Don't you remember saying 
 that the love between mother and child could 
 never fail because it was a reality — a law 
 of nature ? You were right. It only needed 
 time to prove that truth. My mother and 
 I have never met since, nevertheless we seem 
 to grow nearer and nearer as years go on. 
 She is now a fervent Catholic. Think what a 
 bond that is between us, and how I can lean 
 upon her in thought, and model my life upon
 
 104 Z^RO. 
 
 what I believe hers to be. She writes to me 
 very often, never long letters but always loving 
 ones. She encourages me to tell her everything 
 that is in my mind ; to be with her and my 
 sister is the dream of my life. It will be 
 fulfilled some day." 
 
 " You have still two or three years to 
 wait ? " 
 
 " Yes, w^hile they pass I remain of course 
 with my uncle, then I shall come to dear 
 old Hallingford and my mother and sister 
 will live with me. We shall be so happy all 
 together. Uncle John and my mother are 
 prejudiced against each other. There was 
 trouble about my f^ither s will which made 
 breaches between them. But when I am 
 twenty-one all that will l)e over, and he 
 will have foithfully fulfilled his trust, they 
 will then know and appreciate each other. 
 But," she added in a difi^erent tone, " I am 
 troubling you about my aftairs, which after
 
 Still Eetrospective. 105 
 
 all cannot interest you much. Though I 
 seem to know you so well, Mr. Warrender, we 
 are scarcely more than strangers to each other, 
 and I ought to remember that I am not a 
 child now." 
 
 " Oh, do not shut me out from sympathy 
 with you," exclaimed Warrender impulsively. 
 " It has often done me good to think of your 
 childish confidence in me. That kind of thing 
 is like an appeal to one's honour. It made me 
 wish to be good. I have wondered about you 
 so many times. If you knew how glad I am 
 to see you now looking well — and happy ! " 
 
 A shade passed over the young girl's face. 
 " Oh yes, I am happy. But I don't think it 
 is my nature to be exuberantly joyful. That, 
 you may perhaps imagine, Mr. Warrender, 
 when I tell you that this yew walk is the 
 place I am most fond of in the Abbey 
 grounds. Isn't it a curious spot ? so quiet 
 and so mournful. I sit here sometimes on
 
 106 Zero. 
 
 moonlight nights, when — as is rarely the 
 case — -we are at Hallingforcl in the summer 
 time. You can't think how beautiful it is 
 then, such vivid contrasts of deep shadow 
 and silvery light. Did you come upon it 
 by chance ? " 
 
 ''A fortunate chance," said Warrender, 
 ''since I have seen you. I had a half-formed 
 intention of calling at the Abbey, but I 
 heard that you had your house full, and was a 
 little shy at the thought of facing a number 
 of strangers. It would have been embarrass- 
 ing had you not recognised me." 
 
 " There was no danger of that, as you 
 have seen. Shall' we go in-doors now ? I dare 
 say that you won't find the strangers so very 
 formidable. They are nearly all going away 
 the day after to-morrow, when the Militia 
 ball is over. Lord Bretland — one of them — 
 knows you, or at least has been staying with 
 your people. It was he who told me about your
 
 Still Eetkospective. 107 
 
 exploits, and your wanderings. What a number 
 of places you have been to, Mr. Warrender. 
 The Fiji Islands. That was where you went 
 first, wasn't it ? Australia ! Mexico ! — Do you 
 know Monaco ? " she asked suddenly. 
 .• / " The naughty little principality ? No." 
 
 " Why do you say that '? Don't you know the 
 story of how the spirit of St. Devote in the form 
 of a dove, guided the boat which held the body 
 of the martyred saint to its resting-place 
 there ? " 
 
 She looked at that instant so like the child 
 Helena, that he smiled involuntarily. 
 
 '^ One does not think of that legend," he an- 
 swered. " The name is associated with the gaming 
 rooms, and the tales told of suicide and ruin." 
 
 " It is not a legend," she exclaimed eagerly — 
 then added, " you are not a Catholic ? " 
 
 " No," he replied. 
 
 She looked at him earnestly for a moment, 
 disappointment, faint inquiry depicted upon her
 
 108 Z^RO. 
 
 expressive features. " We don't live iu the 
 world," she said thoughtfully, '' and I suppose 
 that I have never realised what harm comes of 
 gambling. It is like the existence of public 
 houses, which one is obliged to accept. And 
 yet what sorrow they cause ! But there must be 
 a great many people who go to Monaco not for 
 the sake of play, just as the priest's mission is 
 to the wicked and unfortunate. My mother 
 and sister are living at Monte Carlo." 
 
 Warrender made some commonplace remark 
 upon the beauty of the climate ; and Miss 
 Kilsyth remained silent for some moments. Her 
 frank communicativeness seemed checked. It 
 was as though some impalpable barrier had risen 
 between them. They talked only of ordinary 
 subjects till they had left the yew-tree walk 
 and were again in the world of sunshine and 
 realities. He fancied as they neared the house 
 that her manner unconsciously became graver 
 and more conventional. This impression was
 
 Still Eetrospective. 109 
 
 deepened a few moments later when lie saw 
 her among her guests. She was sweet and 
 cordial, but a little shy, very quiet, and joining 
 uncertainly in the conversation, as though her 
 interests and pursuits were not those of her 
 companions, and she feared to obtrude them 
 disagreeably. But her exceeding grace and 
 gentle dignity made her one of the most 
 charming of hostesses. 
 
 A good many people were lounging in the 
 hall when they entered, and Sir John Kilsyth, 
 ruddy-faced, keen-eyed, dry in speech, the 
 English sportsman written on every line of his 
 somewhat vulpine features and compactly -built 
 figure, had just returned from his morning ride. 
 
 He greeted Warrender with bluff cordiality, 
 and pressed upon him the hospitality of the 
 Abbey, though he seemed surprised to find him 
 already acquainted with Helena. Then followed 
 a rather halting explanation and abridged account 
 of the meeting with her eight years before.
 
 no Z^Ro. 
 
 TLis little incident told volumes concerning the 
 relations between uncle and niece, friendly, even 
 affectionate, as was their bearing to each other. 
 
 A suave, extremely gentlemanly Catholic 
 priest took his place at luncheon upon Miss 
 Kilsyth's left. His manners w^ere prepossessing, 
 he had travelled much, was apparently above 
 prejudices, and did not disdain a good story. 
 Warrender felt half sad, half amused, to observe 
 the tact with which Father Clifford accommo- 
 dated himself to the style of conversation 
 Sir John preferred, and the evident antagonism 
 existing between the two. He conceived an 
 Englishman's dislike towards the priest, though 
 obliged to admit that it was hardly justified. 
 
 Sir John had much advice to give concerning 
 the management of Branches, and the gentlemen 
 lingered late over the luncheon table. Warren- 
 der was surprised to find that the priest had 
 views upon subsoil and the rotation of crops, 
 and had a fund of information generally upon
 
 Still Eetrospective. Ill 
 
 the pursuits of county gentlemen. The after- 
 noon was spent in pleasant lounging about the 
 garden — lawn tennis and a tour of inspection 
 with Helena of the older part of the building. 
 He returned to Branches only in time to put 
 on his evening clothes and drive back again. 
 It had been arranged that he should dine and 
 sleep at the Abbey upon that evening and the 
 following, when he was to accompany the Kilsyth 
 party to the militia ball.
 
 CHAPTEE VL 
 
 LOVE VERSUS CREED. 
 
 An intimacy so begun deepens quickly. 
 Warrender waltzed tlirice with Helena, and 
 before the third waltz was over knew that he 
 was most reverently in love with her. The feeling 
 seemed to be a part of himself, and to have 
 taken root in his being years before, though he 
 had only now discovered its existence. It was 
 calm, elevating, reasonable, the healthy love 
 which a man may feel deep down in his heart 
 for a true pure-eyed woman, and which, from 
 its very nature, can never die or wholly lose 
 its influence upon his better self. 
 
 He did not dance much that evening, but 
 stood apart taking a strange delight in watching
 
 Love versus Creed. 113 
 
 her. All the time he was thinking that she 
 did not quite belong to the circle in which she 
 moved. She smiled and danced, and was gracious 
 in her reserved way to the men, who on account 
 of her beauty, and perhaps her wealth, laid 
 themselves out to please her. But there was 
 in her every look and gesture a sweet, serious 
 dignity that rebuked frivolous gallantry. He 
 observed when she was talking to her j)c'irtners 
 that she never shed upon them that rare, tender 
 smile which on her recognition of him the day 
 before had illuminated her face, and which he 
 learned later was only called into play when 
 her deepest feelings — those connected with her 
 religion or with her mother — were touched. 
 Occasionally their eyes met, as it were across 
 a gulf, and the glance seemed to imply a 
 peculiar sympathy. This thought was grateful 
 to him ; but he knew that the look was directed 
 with a child's unconsciousness. No thought 
 of the possibility of any nearer bond had
 
 114 Zero. 
 
 crossed Helena's mind, nor, he knew, would 
 occur to her till he made some definite advance. 
 
 He sat beside her duringr the long; drive 
 home, and though she hardly spoke, there came 
 over him a wonderful feeling of peace and happi- 
 ness in the mere contact of her soft white 
 drapery, and in breathing the perfume of the 
 flowers which she carried. 
 
 Upon the morrow most of Sir John's visitors 
 departed, and the ojd gentleman insisted that 
 Warrender should take up his abode at the 
 Abbey for a week. Thus he was admitted into 
 the holy seclusion of Helena's home life. He 
 sat with her in her own little sanctum, abund- 
 antly adorned with photographs of her mother 
 and sister. He rode with her ; he walked 
 with her ; he spent long hours with her in 
 the wood where they had first met. They were 
 like brother and sister in their intercourse, except 
 for that indefinable something in George's manner 
 which was not fraternal, and which was per-
 
 Love versus Ce.eed. 115 
 
 ceivecl by Father Clifford if not by Helena. 
 The priest did not approve of the intimacy, 
 but he could not openly thwart Sir John, who 
 encouraged Warrender's addresses, and for the 
 present the surest safeguard lay in Helena's 
 unconsciousness. 
 
 The week lengthened into a fortnight before 
 Warrender returned to Branches ; but oven 
 then, a great part of his days were s|)ent in 
 Helena's society. Books, missions of mercy, 
 the little concerns of every day, afforded so 
 many pretexts for being together, till meetings 
 had become a necessity. So two months had 
 passed away. September came, and with it 
 the week fixed for the Kilsyth's return to 
 Mar elands. 
 
 Warrender was ill-versed in the signs of 
 dawning affection ; but it seemed to him that 
 of late Helena had shown consciousness of his 
 love, and that her manner encouraged him to 
 hope. She was perhaps a little less frank in 
 
 VOL I. X
 
 116 Zero. 
 
 her speech than she had been at first ; but 
 then they conversed now upon more purely 
 personal topics ; mere friendly intimacy merges 
 so imperceptibly into something much closer 
 and deeper, and perhaps there was no surer 
 sign of mutual attachment than the long 
 silence which often fell between them, and the 
 glances which surprised each other and quickly 
 drooped. He perceived, sometimes, that her 
 voice had a note of lingering tenderness when 
 she bade him farewell, and wondered, inwardly 
 rebuking his presumption, whether she too 
 counted the hours of their separation. He 
 thought that he observed an occasional look 
 of trouble upon her face, and sjDcculated as 
 to its cause and whether it were in any way 
 connected with the foreis^n letters for which 
 she watched so eagerly. Every movement 
 of hers, every passing expression upon her 
 features, had now become to him a source of 
 the deepest interest. He was well aware that
 
 LOVE VERSUS Ceeed. 117 
 
 the diflference in religion was a barrier which 
 possibly might never be surmounted, but 
 Warrender had a way of looking straight 
 beyond present obstacles, to the goal he 
 sought, and had so great faith in the power 
 of love, that he believed it must sooner or 
 later sweep all before it. 
 
 Once let him be certain that she cared for 
 him — and if that were so, Helena was too 
 true a woman to deny the fact — it would, he 
 thought, be easy for him to convince her of 
 his reverence for her faith, and his determina- 
 tion that she should never be trammelled in 
 its exercise. 
 
 He hardly took into consideration the fact 
 that her fortune was larger than his own ; he 
 was sufficiently wealthy to be above the im- 
 putation of interested motives. All true, 
 manly love is humble, and yet in its very 
 humility there is a curious pride. 
 ' It was the day before that of Helena's 
 
 I 2
 
 118 Z^KO. 
 
 departure. Warrender rode over from Branches 
 in the morning bringing a book for which 
 she had asked him the day before. She had 
 been chill and distant in her manner to him 
 the previous evening, a sudden change from 
 her former sweetness, which, while she had 
 been softly playing some old-fashioned melodies 
 in the hall after tea, had encouraged him to 
 utter some ardent words. She had left him 
 hurriedly. Was she angry ? When they met 
 again at dinner he felt almost certain that 
 she had been crying. She looked sad, but not 
 angry, and had sat very silent all the evening, 
 negativing the proposal that coffee should be 
 taken out on the terrace, an opportunity for 
 unburthening his heart upon which he had 
 counted. He had spent a miserable night, 
 full of vague fears and tremors. Had he 
 then mistaken her ? and did she feel for him 
 nothing more than a sisterly affection ? He re- 
 solved that on the morrow he would put an end
 
 Love vebsus Creed. 119 
 
 to doubt. It was his habit to come thus, on 
 no errand in particuhxr, and equally the custom 
 that he should be invited to stay for luncheon, 
 or perhaps the whole day. Upon these occa- 
 sions he was shown into the library, where 
 Helena usually spent her mornings, but to-day 
 the servant said she was walking on the 
 terrace, and thither he went, hoping that he 
 mig;ht find her alone. Father Clifford, how- 
 ever, was with her, and Warrender saw, when 
 still at the distance of some paces, that he 
 had interrupted a serious conversation. The 
 priest was speaking impressively, his gestures 
 were animated, his gaze fixed and earnest, while 
 Helena listened with foce downcast and sorrow- 
 ful. She started and coloured when, at the 
 sound of footsteps, she looked up and saw 
 Warrender approaching, and could only off'er 
 her hand in silent greeting. Father Clifibrd 
 smiled with his usual benignity and adroitly 
 led the conversation by asking some questions
 
 120 Z^RO. 
 
 about a local matter in which Warrender had 
 taken active part, and the discussion of which 
 called attention from Helena. " I suppose, 
 Mr. Warrender," he said suavely, " that when 
 we return to Hallingford in the winter, we 
 shall find you in the full swing of your 
 county duties, sitting on the bench, riding 
 to hounds, and all that sort of thing — 
 emulating Sir John, in fact ? It will be a 
 change — perhaps not quite an agreeable one 
 at first — from the roving life you have led 
 of late years." 
 
 '• It is not quite certain that I shall be at 
 Branches in the winter, " rejDlied Warrender, 
 pointedly turning to Helena. 
 
 She looked up hurriedly and inquiringly. 
 '* Are you going — back to Mexico ? " she asked, 
 with a little falter in her voice. 
 
 "I don't know. Perhaps. What would you 
 advise ? " he answered recklessly. 
 
 Their eyes met. In hers there was an
 
 Love versus Ckeed. 121 
 
 expression of mingled pain and dread, while his 
 betrayed deeper feeling than he had intended to 
 show. Her glance fell beneath his look, but she 
 made no effort to reply. Father Clifford broke 
 the rather awkward silence by observing — 
 
 '* We at the Abbey are hardly impartial judges, 
 Mr. Warren der. It is a matter of moment to us 
 whether Branches is or is not inhabited. We 
 are very dependent upon such a neighbour as 
 yourself, and Miss Kilsyth will feel your loss all 
 the more because she has not lived here long 
 enough at a time to make many intimate friends. 
 On the other hand, I quite see what attractions 
 the buried cities in Mexico must have for you. 
 Your work is an important one, though 
 I don't know that it is sufficiently so to exclude 
 every other aim in life. By the way, did you 
 see a paragraph in this week's Athenwum 
 referring to your present discoveries ? " 
 
 Warrender answered at random. The priest's 
 placid obtuseness, which might be supposed to
 
 122 Zero. 
 
 mask a deeper motive, irritated his already jarred 
 nerves. He longed to hear Helena speak — 
 longed to be alone with her — to question her 
 upon the change in her demeanour, which he 
 saw so plainly. He burned with anxiety and 
 impatience. It seemed marvellous that he had 
 restrained himself for so long. He must speak 
 — must know the best or worst. For weeks 
 they had been sailing on smooth seas, and she 
 at least had been unconscious of any impending 
 crisis. Now a storm had arisen, the crisis was 
 come, and possibly her mind had for the first 
 time awakened to a sense of her position. 
 Perhaps the priest had been warning her of 
 danger ; urging her to dismiss his suit ; and 
 already a struggle was raging in her bosom. 
 His pulses thrilled at the thought. In this case 
 he had little to fear. If she loved him — ah, if 
 only she loved him I how soon he would beat 
 down her scruples and gather her into his arms. 
 Let the die be cast at once. If she did not love
 
 Love versus Creed. 123 
 
 him, then better that he should go away and try 
 to forget her, or at least bury the hope of making 
 her his own with the many sweet impossibilities 
 of life. 
 
 These thoughts passed through his mind as 
 they paced the terrace. It was a glorious day ; 
 the blue unflecked ; no suggestion of coming 
 autumn in the air ; the roses in their second 
 bloom, and the flower beds a blaze of colour. 
 Helena stopped to cut some of the late Marshal 
 Niel roses. Warrender noticed that before she 
 did so she placed a letter in her reticule. She 
 sighed as she did so. " I hope that you have 
 good news of your mother," said Warrender 
 abruptly. 
 
 Again the expression of pain deepened in 
 Helena's eyes. " My mother is very well," she 
 answered in a low voice. " I heard from her 
 this morning." Then she added, trying to re- 
 sume her usual manner, "Mr. Warrender, 1 
 hope you haven't forgotten that we are going
 
 124 Z^RO. 
 
 away to-morrow. Have you given McDermott 
 proper instructions as to the cuttings you want 
 planted out ? Shall we go round to the garden 
 and pay him a last visit ? The houses are worth 
 looking at now\ I am always sorry," she 
 continued without a break, '' when the time 
 conies for saying good-bye to Hallingford, 
 especially so this year. It is harder to leave a 
 place one is fond of in the summer than in the 
 winter." 
 
 Warren der assented eagerly. Father Clifford 
 glanced at Helena as if to learn her pleasure. 
 To George's disappointment she said nervously, 
 " You will come, will you not '? " 
 
 He turned and walked by her side ; but 
 after the tour of inspection, during which they 
 all three chatted with forced unconcern, he 
 lingered behind, watching the gardener, while 
 the latter filled a basket with grapes and peaches. 
 Helena, followed by Warrender, moved on to 
 a bed of carnations, where she added a bunch
 
 Love versus Creed. 125 
 
 of the variegated fragrant blossoms to a nosegay 
 of hot-house flowers which she had already 
 gathered. 
 
 " We are going for a long drive this after- 
 noon/' she said in an explanatory tone — " to 
 the convent at Assheton ; and the sisters are so 
 fond of flowers." 
 
 " Miss Kilsyth," said Warrender, looking at 
 her with a meaning which she could not 
 mistake. ^' I have something to say to you 
 • — a question to ask you upon which much 
 depends for me. May I not speak to you 
 alone ? " 
 
 Helena turned very pale and hent closer over 
 her carnations, but did not speak for a moment 
 or two. " I don't know," she said hesitatnigly. 
 " I — I am very much engaged to day — and — 
 to-morrow — " 
 
 " Helena," he exclaimed passionately, "it is 
 not like you, who are so noble, so tender-hearted, 
 to play with a man's happiness ! "
 
 126 Zero. 
 
 Her eyes met his now straightly — full of 
 indignant appeal. 
 
 " Oh, forgive me," he mm-murecl. " But you 
 are unlike yourself this morning, and I am in 
 great suspense." 
 
 " You know," she began agitatedly, " I would 
 not hurt a living creature if I could help it, and 
 how much more — " She checked herself, then 
 added hurriedly, " I would rather bear any 
 suffering myself. If you will wait till to- 
 morrow." She went on more quietly. " We 
 don't go away till the afternoon ; and, in the 
 morning, if you wish it " 
 
 " I wdsh only wdiat you wish. But not 
 to-day ? Ah, Helena, does that mean that I 
 must not hope ? " 
 
 She shook her head. Her lips parted as 
 though she would have spoken impulsively. 
 When something seemed to arrest the rising 
 words. He saw that she was deeply moved ; 
 the tears gathered in her eyes. Had they been
 
 Love versus Creed. 127 
 
 alone ; had he dared to take her in his arms and 
 force from her the confession of her love, the wall 
 between them might have been broken down for 
 ever. But Father Clifford, by whom the little 
 scene had not been unnoticed, was advancing 
 towards them. Warrender's eyes piteously 
 pleaded. Helena's hands were trembling. The 
 bunch of carnations fell to the ground ; as 
 Warrender restored them, he separated one, a 
 pure wdiite blossom, and j^laced it last in the 
 basket. '' Will you let me keep this ? " he said 
 very humbly. " Won't you give it to me — as a 
 sign that you are not angry with me." 
 
 She gave it to him silently, then turned aw^ay 
 and joined the priest. 
 
 " My daughter," he whispered tenderly, 
 " remember your mother's counsel, remember 
 the example of no])le w^omen, who have looked 
 upon the joys of youth and love only as a gift 
 which they might offer to God. Be brave, your 
 reward will be great."
 
 128 Zero. 
 
 *' To-morrow, Father," murmured Helena with 
 a stifled sob, " I will try to show myself worthy." 
 
 When they reached the terrace again 
 Warrender took his leave. 
 
 '' I am sorry," said Father Cliff"ord politely, 
 " that Sir John is not at home. He does not 
 return till late this evening." 
 
 Warrender held Helena's hand within his 
 own for a moment. He marvelled afterwards 
 at its exceeding coldness. " Good-bye," he said, 
 " till to-morrow."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN THE YEW TREE WALK. 
 
 Helena went for her drive. She took her 
 flowers and fruit to the nuns ; she visited some 
 sick people in the hospital ; she played with the 
 orphans whom the sisters tended, and distri- 
 buted among them books and toys. But her 
 head felt strange and light : she seemed to be 
 treading upon air, and moving and speaking in 
 a dream. All the time she was not for one 
 second free from the haunting sense of 
 Warrender's presence ; wherever she looked 
 she saw his beseeching eyes. 
 
 Helena shuddered at the thought of the pain 
 she was causing as though it were a wound 
 inflicted upon herself. Her only strength lay
 
 180 Zeiio. 
 
 in a kind of spiritual exaltation which possessed 
 her. God required of her a sacrifice, and it 
 should be rendered, not grudgingly and re- 
 piningly, but with the unswerving faith of 
 the martyrs of old. 
 
 It is in the hour of supreme trial that the 
 influences of childhood and early training press 
 thickly, shaping end and action. So now the 
 discipline of Helena's young life bore fruit — the 
 repression of her natural yearnings and their 
 direction into the channel of religion, the senti- 
 ment of almost superstitious reverence for an 
 unseen monitor into which her love for her 
 mother had been changed, her enthusiasm for 
 high motive and disinterested endeavour, all 
 combined and prompted but one decision. 
 
 Yet, though this was firmly fixed, though she 
 would not admit the possibility of union with 
 Warrender, there lingered in her breast a faint 
 hope that the sacrifice might not be exacted 
 to the uttermost. The horizon of the future
 
 In the Yew Teee Walk. 131 
 
 appears so vast to the young. It is so im- 
 possible for a woman entirely to cut herself 
 adrift in thought from the man she loves. As 
 well attempt to annihilate a part of her own 
 nature ; and the fLincy would not be banished 
 that, perhaps years hence, Warrender might 
 become a Catholic, not for love of her, but from 
 deep conviction, and that then they might be 
 happy. 
 
 But the very suggestion brought self-accusa- 
 tion. There must be no paltering with present 
 duty. The renunciation must be complete ; no 
 looking backwards or forwards; no bargaining 
 with Fate for future reward. 
 
 She was very silent during the drive home. 
 All the way Father Clifford indirectly exhorted, 
 appealed. Without laying special stress upon 
 her own case, his conversation tended to but one 
 object. He painted the glory of self-abnegation ; 
 the grandeur of that quiet heroism which re- 
 nounces earthly joy for the righteousness' sake. 
 
 VOL. L K
 
 132 Zero. 
 
 He played upon the young girl's nature, 
 striking only those chords which would pro- 
 duce the harmony he wished. Her mind was a 
 responsive instrument to this master hand. 
 Father Clifford was no cold-blooded director 
 shorn of human sympathies. Had he been only 
 the mouthpiece of his Church his influence over 
 Helena might perhaps hare fallen short of its 
 mark. He, too, had fought, bled, and 
 triumphed. His voice trilled with feeling, but 
 it also inspired passionless resolve. He was an 
 enthusiast for his faith, and his words stirred her 
 to such a pitch of spiritual fervour that there 
 seemed but one compelling duty. Her mother's 
 letter, which had arrived that morning, strength- 
 ened her fanaticism, and was perhaps the most 
 powerful weapon that could have been raised 
 against Warrender. 
 
 Mrs. Kilsyth, alarmed by Helena's frequent 
 mention of her new friend, suspecting that Sir 
 John encouraged the intimacy, not knowing her
 
 In the Yew Tree AA^alk. 133 
 
 daughter, and dreading the possible results of a 
 Protestant alliance, had written in a fervid 
 strain to Helena, warning her of the danger of 
 allowing her heart to be gained by one of 
 another creed, pointing out the obligations laid 
 upon her as the representative of a Catholic 
 family, adjuring her to place no further barrier 
 in the way of that reunion between mother and 
 daughter so earnestly desired, now so near at 
 hand. The letter had been penned in a flight of 
 enthusiasm, brought on more immediately by an 
 hour's prostration in the Chapel of Ste. Devote, 
 and indirectly by a run of bad luck at roulette, 
 and resentment after a fit of coldness on the part 
 of Madame Fano. 
 
 Poor Helena, blind and mistaken, yet leaning 
 with child-like trust upon the props her f^mcy 
 had created I Were not faith and self-denial the 
 very watchwords of her belief ? Her confessor, 
 her mother, the traditions in which she had l)een 
 reared, and which had unconsciously moulded 
 
 K 2
 
 134 Zero. 
 
 her character, all commanded that she should 
 put away the love that had grown so simply and 
 miolitily within her. 
 
 Warrender passed the hours in a state of 
 mental tumult of which he had never before 
 had any experience. He dined alone for the 
 first time for several days, and afterwards 
 smoked his cigar out of doors, shuddering in- 
 wardly at the prospect of a solitary evening and 
 a wakeful night. Under other circumstances he 
 w^ould have gone to the Abbey. The intimacy 
 had now become so great that formal invita- 
 tions were hardly ever sent to Branches, Sir 
 John declaring that he might take for granted 
 the fact that they were always delighted to 
 see him. There was a short cut through the 
 Chase which considerably shortened the distance 
 and let him into the grounds by a wicket 
 gate, so that he could gain the terrace easily,
 
 In the Yew Tree Walk. 135 
 
 and informally join the small party usnally 
 assembled tliere. Sir John was always glad 
 of a little variation from his nightly game 
 of chess with Father Clifford, and liked linger- 
 ing in the open air, talking over horses, dogs, 
 and country matters with a congenial companion, 
 while Helena's music floated softly out through 
 the open window. What happy hours they had 
 been ! Warrender thought thus with a sigh and 
 a flutter of hope, bitterly regreting his rash 
 words of that morning. But for his impetu- 
 osity he might have stolen another hour with 
 his beloved. 
 
 In the face of her implied prohibition this 
 was impossible. Some satisfaction might, how- 
 ever, be gained from a visit to the haunts 
 which had become sacred to him for her sake. 
 Exercise was a relief ; and before many minutes 
 lie had reached the outskirts of the Chase. 
 There was a straight path through it, fenced 
 by iron railings, and here he lingered, enjoying
 
 136 Z^RO. 
 
 tlie fragrance of leaf and flower, and soothed 
 by the solitude and eeriness of the place. 
 Leaving the wood, he crossed a part of the 
 park and, after skirting a belt of shubbery, 
 found himself in the grounds below the terrace. 
 There was a bright moon shining, which lit up 
 the front of the house and silvered the feathery 
 clumps of pampas grass on the lawn. The 
 night was still, and for that time of year unusu- 
 ally warm. Faint odours blended together ; 
 the air was like a bath of j)erfume. The 
 shadows seemed strange and unearthly. Scarcely 
 a leaf stirred. The whole scene was one of 
 luxurious calm. 
 
 No sound came from the drawino'-room, 
 though the windows were wide open, letting a 
 flood of soft light stream upon the gravel. 
 To one side Warrender saw the outline of the 
 cloisters and of a solemn -looking archway, and 
 the old-fashioned garden against its sombre 
 background of yews. Suddenly he remembered
 
 In the Yew Teee Walk. 137 
 
 Helena's words, spoken the first time tliey had 
 met in the yew tree avenue, "I sit here some- 
 times on moonlight nights. . . . You can't 
 think how beautiful it is then, such vivid 
 contrasts of deep shadow and silvery light." 
 
 Upon such an evening as this, in such a spot, 
 would it not be difficult to resist the pleadings 
 of love ? Was there not a probability that, 
 like himself, Helena had gone forth to court 
 the stillness of night % Instinct drew him 
 towards the avenue. He felt like a thief 
 stealing about the grounds, and was half 
 ashamed of the impulse which had brought him 
 hither. His feet fell almost noiselessly upon 
 the turf. AVhen he reached the pavilion he told 
 himself that Fate had directed his steps. Here 
 was the opportunity for which he had longed. 
 Through a rift in the foliage the moon shed her 
 rays full upon the shrine which Helena 
 decorated daily. At the feet of the placid- 
 faced image lay Helena's votive offering of
 
 138 Z^RO. 
 
 flowers — pure white carnations, such as that 
 one she had given him in the morning — and 
 before the shrine a white fio-ure knelt. It was 
 Helena. Her profile was towards him, the 
 eyes upraised, the lips parted, her golden hair 
 lying loose upon her neck. She was praying 
 in low, tremulous tones. He could not distin- 
 guish any words, but he fancied once that a 
 sob choked her utterance. In a moment he 
 was beside the platform upon which she 
 kneeled. 
 
 " Helena ! " 
 
 She rose to her feet, not in nervous haste 
 or confusion, but calmly as though a summons 
 which she expected had come, and stood 
 looking down upon him from the greater 
 height of her position. A heavenly radiance 
 encircled her form. She seemed to him, in 
 her white robes and with her pure, pale face, 
 a young priestess, whose soul had been raised 
 to a spiritual region remote from his grosser
 
 In the Yew Teee Walk. 139 
 
 longings. In truth, slie felt creeping over her 
 the sort of numbness which accompanies intense 
 resolve. Her passion was all spent, exhausted 
 in the wild supplications that had poured from 
 her lips, when upon her return from the 
 drive she had prostrated herself in the chapel 
 — that ancient spot, sanctified by many 
 memories, where other hearts had weaned 
 themselves from love and life. She had eaten 
 nothing, and in her mood of exaltation was 
 scarcely conscious of bodily need or mental 
 pain. Warrender's appearance did not surprise 
 her. No occurrence could now have struck her 
 as out of the ordinary course. She was glad 
 that he had come. To-night she was strong. 
 To-morrow reaction would probably have set in. 
 Of this she was dimly aware, and wished to guard 
 herself against any possibility of recantation. 
 
 Her beauty and dignity awed him. Ho 
 hardly dared to speak ; but a little quivering 
 movement about her lips appealed to him, and
 
 140 Zero. 
 
 seemed to bring her to his human level. Words 
 came fast and brokenly. 
 
 " 1 am wrong to have come here to-night 
 after what you said this morning. But you 
 would forgive me if you understood the state 
 of susj)ense I have been in — if you knew how 
 I love you. It has come upon me so much 
 more strongly of late, perhaps because of your 
 going away, or because of a change in you, I 
 don't know how to account for that, or whether 
 it ought to make me fear or hope most. 
 Perhaps the knowledge of my feeling has 
 come to you suddenly, and you see only draw- 
 backs and difficulties, or perhaps you wish to 
 rebuke my presumption and are unwilling to 
 cause me pain. However that may be, I love 
 you with my whole heart, and even if it is 
 presumption the love is too strong in me to be 
 fought against or put clown. Why should 
 there be any question of putting it down ? 
 I know that I could make you happy if only
 
 In the Yew Tree Walk. 141 
 
 you cared for me ; everything depends upon 
 that. I have loved you ever since you were 
 a little girl, when I saw you first, lying in the 
 wood yonder and sobbing as if your heart were 
 broken. I wanted to comfort you then, and 
 to make your life less lonely . . . and 
 ever since I have fancied that there was a 
 sort of bond between- us, something which drew 
 us together, and made it impossible to believe 
 that our lives could be lived quite separate 
 
 from each other " 
 
 He paused, and looked at her with eager 
 anxiety, waiting for her to say some word. 
 But she stood still and silent, like one in a 
 dream. 
 
 " Of course, there are difficulties — discrepancies," 
 he went on with gathering agitation. " You are 
 richer than I am, and you are exj)ected to make 
 a marriage by which you will gain even greater 
 power and influence than are yours l)y right. I 
 can't offer you position, or wealth, or anything
 
 142 Zero. 
 
 worth your acceptance from a worclly point of 
 view. Then there's the difference in religion — 
 which to you I know woukl be the strongest bar. 
 But does it matter ? Do any of these things 
 matter so long as there's love, — that overleaps, 
 breaks down all obstacles ? If there's no love on 
 your side I am pleading to no purpose, and there's 
 an end put to everything. But even if it were 
 so, I should still have the feelino; that in a kind 
 of way you belonged to me — whether I married 
 another woman or not. You would live in my 
 heart as the little girl I longed so to comfort 
 and to cherish." 
 
 Helena drew a deep breath, and her eyes 
 opened wide, the lids quivering, as though she 
 were awakening to a sense of burden and of 
 sorrowful necessity for speech or action. She 
 looked at him for a moment with solemn sadness, 
 in which there was no shadow of doubt, then 
 withdrew her gaze, speaking hesitatingly and 
 without emotion, as if she feared to be borne
 
 In the Yew Tree Walk. 143 
 
 further than she wished, were she to give her 
 thoughts rein. 
 
 " You must think of me always as I was then ; 
 for you will remember how ignorant I was, and 
 will perhaps forgive my blindness now, and the 
 pain I am causing you. You'll remember the 
 strong feeling I had then about my religion and 
 my mother, and you will not wonder that 
 those influences bind me now so strongly as to 
 make what you wish an impossibility, even if — " 
 She was going to say " even if I loved you," 
 but the prevarication died upon liel* lips. 
 
 " Oh, do not tell me that it is impossible till 
 you have heard me out," he urged, passionately. 
 '' I recollect your saying, even as long ago as 
 that, that you would marry no one but a 
 Catholic. But religion is more than the jiro- 
 fession of a particular creed. Dogmas are only 
 like garments that can be put on or off at will. 
 They don't touch the real heart and soul under- 
 neath. Goodness, spirituality, love, must always
 
 144 Zeeo. 
 
 be the same, no matter in what sort of church 
 they are taught. But a man who would change 
 the creed he had been bred in for the sake of 
 winning the woman he loved, w^ould be a mean- 
 spirited, time-serving creature. What right 
 would he have to be believed in ? Where 
 would there be any test for his sincerity of 
 motive ? That is what makes religion. Oh, 
 believe me, if you can love me and will trust 
 me, you will feel this as I do. If you only 
 love me," he went on with deep earnestness, 
 " I will try to convince you that religion is not 
 a Molech, nor God an inhuman tyrant to be 
 propitiated by the sacrifice of all our dearest 
 wishes. Nature cannot be bound, and love is 
 a law of nature ; and it is not within our control 
 to say who we shall or shall not love. You 
 are no soulless automaton to be moved this 
 way or that by the direction of your priest. 
 You are a true and noble woman, made to be 
 the crown and blessing of the man you love.
 
 In the Yew Tree Walk. 145 
 
 Helena, look at me, and if — oh, say if it is possible 
 for you to love me. Look at me, Helena." 
 
 But she kept her eyes bent on the ground. 
 "It is of no use," she said, drearily. " We only 
 give each other pain. You know that it hurts 
 me to make you unhappy. And you have been 
 so good to me always ! I can't bear it." . . . 
 Her voice broke, and she clasped her hands 
 tightly together. '' If I could have foreseen, I 
 would not have allowed you to be my friend. 
 It would have been better if we had never met 
 — if I had never had your sympathy." 
 
 " Oh, do not say that," he cried. " You too 
 have felt that something drew us together. You 
 have wanted me. . , . Oh, I hioiv that you 
 would never have reason to repent, if you would 
 only trust me for always. I would respect your 
 faith even in a greater degree than my own. 
 I would never utter one word which could cause 
 division. You should be free as air. Any 
 conditions might be made."
 
 146 Zero. 
 
 " Oil, no, no ! " slie exclaimed, her voice rising 
 clear again from the extreme tension under 
 which her powers were straining. " Nothing 
 could make such a WTono^ rioht. How could 
 there be any oneness, any true happiness in a 
 marriage like that ? Let us part now, and — 
 and think of each other tenderly — as friends- — 
 and try to sjoare each other pain. It is all 
 difficult. Life is very sad. I don't think we are 
 meant to have any lasting happiness except 
 what comes from doins^ what one believes to be 
 right. The right is not easy to see. And when 
 there are conflicting claims, we can but pray 
 and trust to those wiser for o;uidance. But when 
 it is clearly seen, as I see it now, the only 
 duty is to cling to it. Do not urge me any 
 more. Talking will not make any difference 
 except to make us more unhap]:>y. I can only 
 give one answer — What you wish is impossible." 
 
 " It shall not be impossible — if you love me," 
 said ^Yarrender, insistently. " That is the real
 
 In the Yew Tree Walk. 147 
 
 question — not any other. Say that you do not 
 love me, and I will leave you at once and vex 
 you no more." 
 
 Helena gazed at him with eyes full of despair- 
 ing appeal. '' Go then," she said. " Leave me. 
 Perhaps some day w^e may be friends again, 
 till then, good-bye.'' She held out her hands 
 to him, and let them lie clasped in his for a 
 moment, and her eyes clung to his face. Then, 
 when with a passionate gesture he seemed about 
 to plead once more, she loosed her hand and 
 turned abruptly away from him. " Good-bye," 
 she repeated, as without another word or look 
 she glided swiftly down the avenue towards 
 the house. 
 
 * * iC « 4> 
 
 He did not go to the Abbey on the following 
 morning, nor did he write to her, or make any 
 further appeal. It was all over. Upon con- 
 sidering the interview, and dispassionately 
 weighing her speech and manner, he convinced 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 148 Z^RO. 
 
 himself that the emotion she had shown was 
 due entirely to regret at having caused him pain, 
 and at having unknowingly misled him. Her 
 last words, in which she had bidden him leave 
 her, were, he told himself, tantamount to an 
 admission that she did not love him. " I 
 deceived myself," he thought a little bitterly, 
 '•though God knows it was not through vanity. 
 Her sweetness and kindness meant only friend- 
 ship. If vshe loved me she is too brave and 
 true not to have acknowledged it. If she had 
 loved me she would have treated me less like 
 a brother."
 
 CHAPTER YIIL 
 
 THE HOTEL DES ANGES. 
 
 Dinner had commenced when Warren der 
 entered the salle a manger at the Hotel des 
 Anges, and made his way to where General 
 Featherstone and his wife were sitting, and 
 where a place had been kept vacant for him.. 
 
 A table dliote at Monaco presents a still 
 more remarkable variety of the liuman species 
 than is to be seen in any otlier of the Eiviera 
 watering-places. Food for speculation and in- 
 terest was here not wanting. Warrender s eyes 
 sought Madame Fano but found her not, thougli 
 the sight of two unappropriated chairs near tlie 
 head of the table kept him in a state of ex])ecta- 
 tion till the meal was concluded. 
 
 L 2
 
 150 Zero. 
 
 The scene was one of glitter, gas, and noise, 
 inspiring sadness as well as amusement. In- 
 voluntarily Warrender thought of Browning's 
 lines : 
 
 " . . . . till in due time, one by one, 
 Some with lives that came to nothing, some with deeds as 
 
 well undone, 
 Death stepped tacitly and took them where they never 
 
 see the sun." 
 
 Opposite him was an English girl, with sad 
 prominent eyes, thin cheeks, and bright hectic 
 flush, so unconscious, and yet so unmistakably 
 doomed. Beside her, a fair American, with 
 that look of softness, brilliance, and artificiality, 
 so characteristic of her nation as represented 
 by her sex. She wore a fantastic arrangement 
 of crimson plush upon her shoulders, and price- 
 less diamonds at her neck, in her ears, and on 
 her round, white wrists. Lower down, a woman 
 in a black dress, cut after the pattern of Eegent 
 Street, with a bunch of tea-roses at her throat.
 
 The Hotel des Anges. 151 
 
 Her deep-set eyes, bistre-sliaded, the melan- 
 choly expression of her rather coarsely cut lips, 
 her free false laugh, as she made herself 
 agreeable to the elderly, dissipated Jooking 
 (gentleman who filled her glass with cham- 
 pagne, told their own sorrowful story, and 
 renewed in Warrender the sense of pity and 
 repulsion. 
 
 He turned with faint relief to another of 
 these living vignettes — a portly man with a 
 large white collar, and a magnificent chain 
 meandering over an ample expanse of waist- 
 coat, who sat upon the other side of the 
 consumptive English girl. His fringe of white 
 hair, l^eard, and whiskers, stood out like a 
 nimbus from his red fleshy fiice and bald head. 
 He had a look of " got up " honesty, of 
 leering frankness and assumed suavity, inex- 
 pressibly disagreeable. But, at least, h(^ was 
 not a woman ! 
 
 " These dear little l)irds, tliese innoc ent
 
 152 Zi^RO. 
 
 little birds," lie was saying in unctuous tones. 
 " It goes to my heart to eat tliem. Cruelty 
 to animal creation ! The martyrdom of 
 Nature ! In my youth I lived, from prin- 
 ciple, upon water biscuits and farinaceous food. 
 But who acts up to conviction at Monte 
 Carlo ? When I find an honest man here I 
 regard him as a gem, a phenomenon. As for 
 the ladies — " He shruofo:ed his shoulders ex- 
 
 CO 
 
 pressively. *' Now, sir," addressing a flashy, 
 bejewelled Englishman of the " 'Arry " type, 
 "you are a gentleman of varied observation. 
 What is your opinion of the relative tendency 
 towards oamblino- of the two sexes ? " 
 
 "Oh, I back the ladies." And "'Arry" 
 leered unpleasantly in the direction of the 
 American, who returned the glance with a 
 cold stare. " I mean it as a compliment. 
 They gamble with themselves. Now, marriage, 
 you know — isn't a woman staking her life ? " 
 
 "Ah," chuckled the fat gentleman, "it's
 
 The Hutel des Anges. 153 
 
 said that marriages are made in heaven. But 
 you can't insure against Zero coming up some- 
 times. Zero is the devil's chance. Gar f on, 
 Ijortez Vautre chose. I say, bring it back. 
 What's the Greek — I mean the French — for 
 sparrows ? I never exercise my brain when 
 I'm eating : it's bad for the digestion ; that 
 is one argument for marriage. One might 
 make one's wife do all the hard w^ork." 
 
 " A convenient combination of matter and 
 mind," observed " 'Arry." 
 
 The white-haired gentleman leaned forw^ard 
 and spoke to AVarrender in German. 
 
 '' I am English," coldly replied the latter. 
 
 " Ah, pardon me. The conformation of your 
 head, the great width at the base of the fore- 
 head, a sign, by the way, of superior intellect, 
 suggests the German origin. You have not 
 been long at Monte Carlo ; the place is hardly 
 full yet. Next week, there will be another 
 table, and you will see people eight deep
 
 154 Zero. 
 
 pitcliing money over each other's heads. Are 
 you interested in roulette, sir ? I myself have 
 had thirty years' experience of gaming-tables 
 and have worked out a system. It's a won- 
 derful game. Chess is a child to it, the mystery 
 of the number nine has never been satisfactorily 
 explored. I have devoted my life to its study. 
 I got as far as beinoj aljle to tell the winniiig^ 
 number seven times running, when I said to 
 myself, ' You can go no further.' But a friend 
 of mine has gone further. lie is a Pole. The 
 secret lies in the mystery of the nines. We 
 shall work it together, and we shall share the 
 profits ; of course we could break the bank, and 
 clean the whole things out. But we ain't such 
 fools as that. We shall content ourselves with 
 making our £20,000 a year. It's nothing but 
 a question of system, my dear sir. People who 
 lose are those who play recklessly. The dear 
 wife says, 'Oh, I think rouge will turn up.' 
 The husband stakes, and his louis are swept
 
 The Hotel des Anges. 155 
 
 away, whereas if he had calculated his cliances, 
 he w^ould have gone on noiry 
 
 " D-d-don't listen to him," confidentially 
 stuttered a little red-whiskered man upon 
 Waxrender's right. " He's a s-s-swindler. 
 Says he'll sell his Fj-s-system for five hundred 
 francs. You must look out here, or you'll be 
 cheated. D-d-don't you dine in the restaurant. 
 You'll be charged t-t-two francs for a mutton- 
 chop. My name is Bland, C-C-captain Bland. 
 I'm with a party. Let us go to the Casino 
 together. Let us all go in a b-b-body. Do 
 you get tired of travelling ? I do, you know. 
 I've got C-c- cook's tickets, you know. People 
 say they aren't a saving ; but just you 
 c-c-calculate the number of miles and the 
 fares, and you'll see. I'm just stopping here 
 to look at the g-g-ambling. Eo alette is too 
 scientific. T rente et quarante — that's the thing, 
 you know. There's a lady here — she lives with 
 a c-c-count, and she plays all day. At night
 
 156 Zero. 
 
 she is generally a little squiffy ; but when she 
 is squiffy, she always wins. You follow her 
 lead and you'll win too." 
 
 Captain Bland beamed with benevolent smiles 
 under the ha23py conviction that he had armed 
 a helpless fellow-traveller against the assaults 
 of a set of thieves ; and turning to his party, 
 whom Warrender perceived to be Americans, 
 repeated emphatically, " Let us go in a b-b-body. 
 They can't do us much harm if we go in a 
 l)-b-body." 
 
 " We are unfortunately placed this evening," 
 remarked General Featherstoue with apologetic 
 stiffness. ''The people in the hotel usually 
 sit at the other table ; but we have been 
 spending a few days at San Eemo, and came 
 back to find our seats occupied. I wanted 
 to dine quietly in our salon, but my wife 
 likes variety, and, I really believe, prefers 
 this set to the other." 
 
 Mrs. Featherstoue, leaninir across her
 
 The Hotel des Anges. 157 
 
 husband, had a good deal to say upon the 
 subject. Presently the meal came to an end, 
 and a move was made to the reading-room. 
 Three-quarters of an hour hiter, just as Mrs. 
 Featherstone had begun to adjust her wraps, 
 the door of the reading-room opened, and 
 Mrs. Kilsyth and Madame Fano entered. The 
 former looked flushed and agitated, but 
 strikingly handsome, with a scarf of black 
 lace becomingly shrouding her silvery hair. 
 Madame Fano wore her bonnet, and carried 
 a mantle of crimson plush upon her arm. 
 She approached Mrs. Featherstone. '' May I 
 walk with you to the Casino ? My mother 
 is not goino; down." A chorus of exclama- 
 tions greeted the announcement. 
 
 '' It is true," said Mrs. Kilsyth in a tone 
 of dejection. " I am cleaned out. Happily 
 the new year begins to-morrow. My luck is 
 gone. The fount is dried up : silver has no 
 effect ; a louis is useless ; it requires dirty,
 
 158 Zero. 
 
 crumpled notes to set the stream running, 
 and, alas ! there are none forthcoming. I am 
 going to stay here and play ^Yhist. Mr. 
 Braunstein will be my partner. We shall 
 play for that excellent thing which you 
 cannot see, but which you can feel, which is 
 without value to some, of inestimable worth 
 to others — thrown into a gutter, and sold 
 for the jewels of Golconda. They call it 
 love." 
 
 AVarrender was standino: in the backoTOund. 
 Mrs. Featherstone motioned him by a look 
 to her side, ere she addressed Madame Fano. 
 
 ''We shall be delighted to take care of 
 you. But ma}^ I introduce to you a friend of 
 mine, and a friend, too, if I mistake not, of 
 vour sister ? Mr. "Warrender, jMadame Fano." 
 
 Varuna bowed. Then her eyes, meeting 
 those of Warrender, shot a startled gleam, and 
 the colour rose vividly to her elieek. She 
 held out her hand.
 
 The Hotel des Anges. 159 
 
 " Of course, Mr. Warrender, your name is 
 familiar to me. I am very glad to make 
 your acquaintance. I did not know who you 
 were this afternoon. You broudit me luck : 
 
 o 
 
 and I have not j^roperly expressed my 
 gratitude." 
 
 " On the contrary, I was fortunate in 
 merely enabling you to profit by a hajDpy 
 inspiration. But you did not continue 
 playing ? " 
 
 " The tables were too crowded. And I 
 have my own code of signals which tells 
 me when to go on and when to stop. Thir- 
 teen is not usually a favourable number to 
 me.'' 
 
 '' You are superstitious then, madame ? " 
 
 " No, not in the common acceptation of 
 the word. But I believe that the unseen 
 universe, like the j)hysical, is governed by 
 fixed laws, only it requires a sixth sense to 
 recognise them."
 
 160 Zero. 
 
 '' You consider that the chances of roulette 
 are regulated by the Higher Powers ? " 
 
 Madame Fano slightly elevated her eye- 
 brows. '^Ah ! you speak ironically. What 
 are the Higher Powers ? We don't know. 
 But we know there are systems and laws." 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Featlierstone, "my 
 husband will certainly not exercise his 
 musical sense with any satisfaction this 
 evening unless we start off at once. He is 
 particularly anxious to hear Borghini j)lay 
 his solo on the violoncello in the first part 
 of the programme." 
 
 The night was clear and balmy — here in 
 the dimness of road and shrubbery, full of 
 tender shadow^s and soft whisperings of leaves 
 and insects. The air kissed wooingly, and 
 was laden with a strange fragrance, such as 
 might be exhaled by some deep-hearted 
 exotic flower. It was a night that stirred 
 the soul to sweet, fantastic tumult, and in
 
 The Hotel des Anges. 161 
 
 which the pulses throbbed in yearning, half 
 spiritual, half earthly. 
 
 Now the party emerged from a shady belt 
 of garden into the great place. At one 
 end rose the Casino, its domed roof outlined 
 against a moonlit sky, with carriages passing 
 to and fro before the portico, and misty 
 figures ascending and descending the broad 
 flight of steps. Innumerable gas lamps shone 
 like stars in the shadowy space, illumi- 
 nating dusky parterre, marble balustrades, 
 and fountains in play, while here and there, 
 deepening the surrounding obscurity, the 
 ghastly rays of an electric globe impartt^d 
 a touch of unear tidiness to the scene. Still- 
 ness and wild solitude blended curiously with 
 the fret and fever of human life. The grim 
 heights, majestis and time-worn, which 
 towered in the background, looked sullen 
 sentinels of this pleasure-ground of vice 
 and frivolity. Nature, serene and chaste,
 
 162 Zero. 
 
 seemed to rebuke silently the meretricious 
 devices of Art. Far to the south stretched 
 the sea, 23allid and moon-tipped ; and in the 
 foreground, relieved by the white gleam of 
 marble terraces, rose dull groves of euca- 
 lyptus and mimosa, and clumps of feathery 
 palms.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WHY DO YOU PLAY? 
 
 Both Warrencler and Madame Fano paused 
 involuntarily. 
 
 "Is it not Thomas Hardy," she said, " who 
 calls this place, ' a vast cosmopolitan playground, 
 like a conservatory with the sky for its dome ' ? 
 and another novelist says that it is ' the moral 
 sewer of Europe/ Oh, but one does see and 
 hear sickening sights and sounds ! I never 
 believed thoroughly in human degradation till 
 I beheld it here." 
 
 "Yet," exclaimed Warrender impulsively, 
 '*you remain, and you play. Oh. why " 
 
 He paused, amazed at his own temerity. 
 She moved on without speaking, and for some 
 
 VOL. I M
 
 164 Zero. 
 
 moments he fancied lie had offended her. At 
 last she said abruptly, and with more energy 
 than she had yet shown : 
 
 " You might as well ask me why I live — 
 why I have got the sort of temperament which 
 makes gambling a necessity to me." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Warrender, "the riddle is 
 not so hard as it seems." 
 
 "No," she replied, "I read it by a light of 
 my own. I saw in some book the other day a 
 comparison between human beings and stones 
 set rolling down a hill by an act of deter- 
 mination over which the stone had certainly 
 no control. We don't come into the world 
 of our own accord ; we don't choose which 
 particular vices or virtues we shall inherit 
 from our ancestors. I didn't choose to be fond 
 of play. I am the result of a far reaching chain 
 of causes and effects, and for me to be different, 
 the whole world would have had to be different." 
 " That is a depressing theory. I don't like it.'*
 
 Why do You Play ^ 165 
 
 "Yes it is depressing. I don't like it 
 either; but I feel its truth." 
 
 Then he continued, "There are living forces 
 with which we come daily into contact. Even 
 if humanity were composed of irresponsible 
 atoms there would be play for design in its 
 grouping. Madame Fano, are you one of 
 those feverish persons who make doubts out 
 of certainties, and certainties out of doubts ? 
 Isn't all life a great why ? We know not 
 whence we come or whither we go : and if 
 we did, the knowledge would not affect our 
 present condition. Of what use is it to question 
 that restless, longing, probing inner / which 
 laughs at itself, and pities itself? It strains 
 after pure heights that the body cannot reach, 
 and beholds with eyes which we cannot blind- 
 fold, the pitiful contrasts and incongruities, 
 the grim horrors, the grotesque mockeries, the 
 bitterness, the sweetness, and the patlios, that 
 make life so tangled a skein ? It will never 
 
 M 2
 
 166 Z^RO. 
 
 give me a satisfying reply ; yet the very 
 realisation that there is this part of me, as 
 real and yet as ethereal as the scent of a 
 flower, which loves, joys, suffers, nay, even 
 sins, lifts me above the brute level ; and 
 the exquisite happiness it brings me, con- 
 soles me also for the pain I endure because 
 of it." 
 
 He was looking at her earnestly. The lights 
 from the Casino flashed upon her face. The 
 lips seemed trembling, and parted in a flickering 
 smile. 
 
 " I might remind you of Voltaire's com- 
 parison between the immortality of the soul 
 and the song of a nightingale. But I am not 
 one of his disciples. And here we are at the 
 scene of contamination." 
 
 As she spoke a carriage drew up at the 
 entrance and deposited its occupants, a fresh 
 muscular young English nobleman, his hand- 
 some wife, and the distinguished-looking mas-
 
 Why do You Play? 167 
 
 culine attendant who is sometimes considered 
 a necessity by the woman of society. 
 
 The lady paused a moment to address 
 Madame Fano. As she ascended the flight 
 of steps, Varuna drew back and lingered in 
 the place. 
 
 " That trio," she said, " comes here every year. 
 You should go to Lady Arniston, Mr. Warren- 
 der, and ask her why she gambles. She has 
 no need of money, and yet I have seen her 
 clutch her winnings as greedily as the veriest 
 hag in the Casino. She professes unbounded 
 devotion to her husband — and also to her friend. 
 She has charmino^ children, everything: in the 
 world to make her happy. I have no doubt 
 that she will chatter complacently about the 
 vice at Monte Carlo — the vice which she en- 
 courages by her presence and example — and the 
 misery which she would not alleviate if slie 
 could. Life would be without zest were there 
 no tragedies. I know a great many Avomen
 
 168 Zero. 
 
 like her. There's your • friend Mrs. Feather- 
 stone, who finds it desirable to pick up the 
 Monte Carlo jargon which is talked glibly in 
 some circles. None of them have any sym- 
 pathy with the unfortunates, who, driven to 
 seek distraction from wretchedness, or urged 
 by a worse necessity, come here year after year 
 — slaves, madwomen — in their sane moments, 
 loathing the chains they have not power to 
 break. Don't you know that there's a craving 
 for excitement as keen as that of the dipso- 
 maniac for alcohol ? Don't ask me again why I 
 remain here. And now let us go in, and you 
 shall make your own observations." 
 
 They entered, and mingled with the motley 
 throng pacing the vestibule, and breathing the 
 heavy odours of stale scent and cigarette smoke. 
 The rooms were even more thronged than in 
 the afternoon. Lord Bretland approached as 
 they stood watching the players at trente et 
 quarante, and spoke to Madame Fano with
 
 Why do You Play? 169 
 
 an air of interest and deierential homage, 
 Avhicli surprised Warrender, and was in marked 
 contrast to his usual listless manner, 
 
 '^ I did what you wished and saw your 
 pensioner off by the rapide from Nice this 
 morning. She is, now at least, out of temp- 
 tation's reach. You may congratulate yourself 
 upon having rescued a fellow -creature from 
 something worse than suicide. But Madame 
 Fano," he added, turning to Warrender, " is 
 one of those persons who do good by stealth 
 and call it evil." 
 
 '' It is you rather who have cause for self- 
 congratulation," replied she. " Without your 
 aid to-day, I should have been powerless. 
 Thank you. How are the tables going?'' She 
 spoke abruptly, and as if she would have 
 avoided the subject. 
 
 Lord Bretland eotered upon a technical 
 account of the proceedings, which was but half 
 intellifii1)le to Warrender. At its conclusion.
 
 170 Z±RO. 
 
 Madame Fano lianded the latter a little rouleau 
 of gold. " Please put it down for me wherever 
 you choose." 
 
 He protested that he was ignorant of the 
 game, and knew not how the chances were 
 running. 
 
 " That is of no consequence. Stake at 
 haphazard on either red or black." 
 
 '* At least let me bank with you, and I shall 
 have the satisfaction of halving your losses." 
 
 " No," she replied coldly. " I never bank 
 with any one." 
 
 He watched two or three rounds, then laid 
 the stake on black. It was doubled ; she 
 motioned to him to let it remain. The same 
 result followed again and again ; after the 
 fourth time, he gathered in, and gave her a 
 mass of glitterino: coin. 
 
 " Go on," she said. Her eyes were sparkling, 
 and she smiled at him in a way which set his 
 nerves tingling. He was so excited that his
 
 Why do You Play? 171 
 
 fingers trembled as lie gathered up the gold. 
 There flashed through his mind the recollection 
 of Lord Bretland's words. Was she then the 
 victim of a vile enchantment, which he perhaps 
 might be destined to break ? Nay, were they 
 not both under a spell ? There was something 
 horrible in the clink of the gold, the relentless 
 swaying of the rakes, the impassive tones of 
 the croupiers. Again that clream-like feeling 
 overcame him. All the time he was winning 
 largely. At the first reverse, she stopped 
 him. 
 
 '' That will do. See how prudent I am this 
 evening. It is only when I stake myself 
 that I lose, and become desperate, and go on 
 doubling. Now I shall play no more. Pre- 
 sently, 1 want to talk to you about my sister 
 Helena. " 
 
 She was observing him closely, and noticed 
 that, as she uttered the name, he seemed to 
 130 awakened to new and painful consciousness.
 
 172 Zero. 
 
 His lip quivered, and there was a slight 
 nervous contraction of his heavy upper eyelid. 
 
 '' I know more about you than you perhaps 
 imagine" she said very softly. "I have the 
 sixth sense, and I don't think that my instinct 
 erred when it singled you out this after- 
 noon. And you have been winning. It 
 is only those in sympathy with me, who win 
 for me. You may, if you choose, be my 
 friend." 
 
 It was impossible to smile at the superstitious 
 credulity which her words betrayed. There 
 was in her manner a simplicity, an almost 
 childish appeal, which affected him curiously. 
 "I could desire no higher distinction," he 
 exclaimed with earnestness. 
 
 She shook her head very sadly. 
 
 At this moment General Featherstone inter- 
 rupted them. " Madame Fano, I know you are 
 fond of music. Adam's Overture to Gimlda 
 is to be performed presently ; it is worth
 
 Why do You Play? 173 
 
 hearing. My love," turning to his wife, " will 
 you not come ? " 
 
 *^ Oh, my dear Edward," cried Mrs., Feather- 
 stone, " how often must I tell you that I have 
 really no time for listening to music at Monte 
 Carlo ? One hears plenty of it in London. 
 Give me two hundred francs, darling, and meet 
 us at the restaurant in half-an-hour." 
 
 General Featherstone obediently furnished 
 the required sum, and departed alone, Madame 
 Fano, having excused herself from accompany- 
 ing him on the plea that the heat had given 
 her a headache. 
 
 " Isn't it a mercy that my husband considers 
 himself a musical genius I " murmured Mrs. 
 Featherstone. " He would be bored to death 
 if he could not go to the concerts and crib 
 other people's ideas for his own compositions. 
 Now, Lord Bretland, there are quantities of 
 people here who have histories written on their 
 faces. I am told that Cora Pearl is in the
 
 174 Zero. 
 
 room. Point lier out to me. And who is that" 
 pale-faced, striking-looking woman in black lace, 
 with the ^wonderful eyes, and the diamond star 
 fastening her bonnet ? I am sure that I have 
 seen her photograph in the shop windows. 
 She is the sort of person who makes one 
 think of Mary Stuart, Cleopatra, and all the 
 rest of them, don't you know ? A dethroned 
 queen, for whose sake men would still dare 
 and die ! There is something about her, which, 
 if I were a man, would comj^letely turn my 
 head. It is not only her beauty, but a sort 
 of recklessness, melancholy mystery — I don't 
 know what. Tell me her name." 
 
 "That, Mrs. Featherstone— " Lord Bretland 
 put up his eyeglass and critically examined 
 the lady indicated. " That is the famous 
 Nadine Princess Titchakoff, the most intriouino: 
 woman in Europe ; still one of the most beau- 
 tiful ; certainly one of the most fascinating ; 
 and perhaps, without exception, the most
 
 Why do You Play? 175 
 
 wretched. Of course you have seen her pho- 
 tograph, and of course you must have heard 
 of her in England. A queer story about her 
 once got into the society papers. But since 
 then she has made herself even more notorious. 
 Her house was the rendezvous of the Nihilists. 
 Prince Titchakoff was arrested and sent to 
 Siberia, and scandal whispers that she only 
 escaped sharing his exile through her influence 
 in political quarters. She arrived here two 
 days ago. A certain Grand Duke is in at- 
 tendance. It is said that the best part of 
 her life is spent in a morphine stujDor. She 
 lives only when the sun begins to wane. 
 Unfortunate lady ! Morphine and Monte 
 Carlo, conspiracy and dynamite ! This is 
 what these dramatic creatures comes to. Ah, 
 Mrs. Featherstone, let me give you one word 
 of advice. Don't cultivate the more subtle 
 forms of emotion. They are blighting in their 
 effects."
 
 176 Z^Ro. 
 
 Mrs. Featherstone was eagerly raking iu 
 her winnings, and did not appear to have 
 heard the conckision of this softly uttered 
 tirade. Yaruna, who had been conversing 
 with a heavy moustached Eussian — a man 
 easily recognised among the motley crowd at 
 Monte Carlo — turned wearily to Warrender. 
 
 '' Will you take me somewhere for a breath 
 of cooler air ? "
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 IN THE GARDENS OF THE CASINO. 
 
 They walked on to the terrace. The soft 
 wind from the sea blew caressingly upon 
 Varuna's face as she leaned upon the balus- 
 trade. 
 
 " Tell me now about Helena." 
 
 Warrender hesitated, overpowered by repug- 
 nance to associate the sacred remembrance of 
 this girl^ who seemed to him now fjxr away 
 as one of Heaven's angels, with the varied im- 
 pressions and pungent, bewildering sensations 
 which his brief intercourse with her sister had 
 wrought in his being. Varuna appeared to 
 divine his mood. 
 
 " I understand : you arc unwilling to describe
 
 178 ZtRO. 
 
 Helena by commonplaces ; and to clo so in any 
 other terms would seem — inappropriate. It 
 is so difficult for a man to speak of a woman 
 who interests him deeply to a relative of hers, 
 with whom he is hardly acquainted." 
 
 ''I do feel this difficulty," answered 
 Warrender, constrained to frankness by her 
 searching gaze. 
 
 " And especially," continued Varuna, " when 
 the questioner and her surroundings are out of 
 harmony with the subject of the conversation. 
 But, since you know my sister intimately, you 
 must be aware that she has an enthusiastic 
 attachment to her mother and to me." 
 
 " It would be quite impossible not to admire 
 Miss Kilsyth's character," said "Warrender, 
 speaking with effort : '' her nature is full of 
 the purest womanly sentiment." 
 
 *'Yet," said Varuna, "from what I remember 
 of Sir John Kilsyth, there could have been 
 but little in him to draw this forth. I may
 
 In the Gardens of the Casino. 179 
 
 be prejudiced. He disliked us intensely — my 
 motlier and me — though, to do him justice, I 
 believe that he never tried to set Helena 
 against us, but simply ignored our existence. 
 A narrow-minded fox-hunting squire, to whom 
 the higher world of thought and imagination 
 was a closed book. Was it not so ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Warrender, thoughtfully. 
 " Their natures were quite unsympathetic, and 
 I fancy that Miss Kilsyth's confessor, though 
 I believe him to be a sincere and well-meaning 
 man, acted as a sort of buffer to keep them 
 apart. Your sister's life has been barren of 
 affection. It is not surprising that she should 
 have lavished her warmest feelings upon her 
 religion and upon a mother and sister whom 
 she could only love from a distance." 
 
 " There is something bitter in your tone," 
 said Varuna questioningly. '' Her religion ! Yes, 
 my sister has a great deal of spiritual fervour ; 
 she has lived among English Protestants, and 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 180 Zero. 
 
 has always considered herself cruelly ill-used 
 in having been separated from my mother, 
 whom as a fervent Catholic she regards also 
 as a martyr. You are thinking that her 
 enthusiasm has been wasted in a dream, and 
 that soon she will be cruelly awakened from 
 her illusions. But my mother has a singular 
 power of winning and retaining affection, and 
 Helena may not be disappointed. Of course 
 you know that she is coming to live with us 
 here." 
 
 ''To live with you! At Monte Carlo!" 
 exclaimed Warrender. 
 
 *'At Monte Carlo, in our villa yonder. She 
 will lead our life, unless indeed she be so 
 independent of will and clear of intellect as 
 to choose her ow^n path. She will breathe the 
 atmosphere of the Casino which you already find 
 so corrupt ; she will be introduced to our 
 friends — if we have any friends. She will be 
 taught to play roulette. It is possible that in
 
 Tn the Gardens of the Casino. 181 
 
 her nature too may lie the seeds of that fatal 
 passion which has descended from parent to 
 child. Mr. Warrender, we seem always to get 
 back to the same point. There is no use in 
 trying to contend against inherited propensity." 
 
 "Oh no, no ! " he said impulsively, and 
 with real sorrow in his voice. *' Don't speak 
 in this way. Madame Fano, you have got some 
 morbid idea in your mind w^hich I don't 
 follow. I wish that I could. I wdsh that I 
 could uproot it." 
 
 " That would be impossible. I will try to 
 make you understand my bent. You see my 
 mother, you see me. You don't know the 
 circumstances of our lives, and these I cannot 
 tell you ; but I can take you further back. 
 My great-grandfather was a Frenchman. He 
 first played away his patrimony, then staked 
 his honour, and at last — havino; nothing]: left 
 — an hour before he was taken to the 
 guillotine, bartered in a jest his chance of 
 
 N 2
 
 182 Zi^RO. 
 
 heaven. My grandfather, a child then, was 
 
 smuggled away to South America. He married 
 
 there, and came back. The seeds of gambling 
 
 were in him. It is not many years since he 
 
 might have been seen in the lowest Paris 
 
 cafes working out imaginary systems with 
 
 straws and peas, and wearing the word 
 
 ' revenge ' written on his cap. Well, what 
 
 can one expect ? Nature cannot be defied. 
 
 Mr. Warrender, I would have sj)ared my sister 
 
 Helena this ordeal, had it been in my power. 
 
 I did make an effort — I offered to winter in 
 
 Eome in order that she mioiit be saved from 
 
 the contaminating influences of this place. 
 
 But it was of no use ; events — everything — 
 
 worked against the plan. And now I don't even 
 
 wish to go. When a thing is fated, it must 
 
 be. To struggle is only waste of energy.'' 
 
 " I think you exaggerate the danger ; Miss 
 Kilsyth's temperament is more self-contained 
 than you imagine."
 
 In the Gardens of the Casino. 183 
 
 " Possibly." 
 
 " But wliy of no use ? " asked Warrender 
 eagerly, reverting to her former words. 
 
 " This year, which begins to-morrow, will 
 be the most critical in my life. It would 
 be defying destiny were I to attempt to pass 
 it anywhere but in Monaco. Happiness, peace, 
 nay, existence itself, for me depend upon the 
 chances of the gaming-table. You smile at 
 me. But all the ridicule in the world 
 wouldn't alter the conviction which has grown 
 in me with the years. There are times when 
 one seems to have within one the power of 
 a prophet or a seer. Often when I am 
 standing at the roulette table, the feeling 
 comes over me — a sort of darkness and terror, 
 and then bright vision. It is as though I 
 had lived it all before, and it were coming 
 again surely and swiftly." She paused and 
 drew in her breath with a little gasp : then 
 laughed softly. " How strange it is my telling
 
 184 Zero. 
 
 you all this — but often a stranger makes the 
 best confessor." 
 
 " At least," he said, " you may trust me ! " 
 She laughed again. " Oh ! such confidences 
 are not sacred. If you repeated them, the worst 
 people could say of me would be that I am a 
 little mad ; and probably they say that already. 
 Do you see my hand ? The moon is so bright 
 that you might almost read its lines. A long 
 time ago in Venice my fate was partially fore- 
 told. You know that the Venetians are adepts in 
 palmistry. Several of my sibyl's predictions have 
 been already fulfilled ; why not the rest ? But my 
 fifround for belief is firmer than that. Character 
 makes fate ; the sixth sense gives insight into 
 character. Mine is the true gambler's hand ; 
 my life the stake with which I play. After this 
 year I will never enter a gaming room again." 
 
 " Madame Fano, you perplex me strangely," 
 said Warrender, almost forgetting Helena in the 
 interest which her impulsive words excited.
 
 In the Gardens of the Casino. 185 
 
 ^'How?" 
 
 He paused before replying. " Your nature is 
 so noble. Though my knowledge of you can 
 hardly be measured by hours, I have seen 
 enough, in trivial incidents — words, gestures — 
 to assure me that you were created for high 
 purposes. And surely it is beneath you to 
 be influenced seriously by the prophecies of a 
 so-called soothsayer ! " 
 
 " Ah, so far our minds may march to- 
 gether, but there we diverge and become 
 inhabitants of different spheres. Let us leave 
 the subject. Do you remain long at Monte 
 Carlo?" 
 
 " A few weeks perhaps. Possibly only a few 
 days. Amusement is a very indefinite object, 
 and it is my only one at present." 
 
 '* I had fancied from my sister Helena's 
 letters, in which she has mentioned you occa- 
 sionally, that your objects in life were very 
 definite."
 
 186 Z±m. 
 
 " I had one a short time ago upon which my 
 career turned. I wished to marr}^ your sister. 
 Madame Fano. you compel candour." 
 
 *' I am glad of that — in this case at least. If 
 even mere acquaintances could sometimes stand 
 towards each other, * soul to soul, as hand to 
 hand/ the world might be a better and happier 
 place. Now will you admit that sympathy is 
 beyond what can be seen and touched and 
 reasoned upon ? I sympathise with you, Mr. 
 Warrender, though I have no right to do so, 
 for I have never loved." 
 
 She uttered the words, with her eyes turned 
 seaward, sadly, calmly, as though she were 
 merely stating a not supremely interesting 
 fact in her history. 
 
 " And my sister Helena did not love you ? " 
 she added slowly. 
 
 " No. At all events she refused to become 
 my wife. " 
 
 *' Perhaps at her confessor's command. You
 
 In the Gardens of the Casino. 187 
 
 are a Protestant, she is a Catholic, and she 
 is wealthy." 
 
 " That has been my deep regret. Had we 
 stood upon the same level her heart might 
 have had freer phay. For I was misguided 
 enough to fancy that she cared for me, and 
 that if there were any conflict in her mind, 
 love would prove victorious. I was entirely 
 mistaken. Her rejection was so cold and 
 passionless that I might have been suing at 
 the feet of one of the saints in her oratory." 
 
 '*And you accepted the refusal without 
 argument or entreaty ? " 
 
 " A man does not entreat for love. It is 
 the irresistible impulse towards each other of 
 two souls — a union in which there is neither 
 conscious giving nor receiving." 
 
 " I thought that only poets analysed love. 
 And you are not a poet ; you are a man of 
 science. So then, it is true that love trans- 
 forms every man into a poet — while the fever
 
 188 Zero. 
 
 lasts. Love is a fever, is it not — and most 
 dangerous when caught after first youth." 
 
 Varuna spoke dreamily. Her voice seemed 
 to go sighing to the night as she bent forward 
 with face upturned and melancholy eyes gazing 
 at the stars. He watched her, his mind rocked 
 upon uncertainty, in a vague manner feeling 
 himself at the mercy of some strange wind or 
 current which might bear him into unknown 
 seas. She looked at him suddenly : their eyes 
 met. 
 
 " A fever," he repeated absently. " Yes, 
 perhaps." 
 
 " I have always observed," said Varuna, 
 turning to him with her enigmatic smile, " that 
 men in love take the greatest pains to impress 
 upon one that love is a kind of spiritual essence 
 of the most refined quality, unknowable except 
 from experience, yet the most positive, perfect, 
 and glorious thing in or out of the world, 
 while all the time their manner unconsciously
 
 In the Gardens of the Casino. 189 
 
 conveys that it is, after all, a most perishable 
 article, of the earth earthy, and singularly 
 quick to evaporate." 
 
 " You offered me your sympathy a few 
 moments ago," said "Warrender, piqued. " Now 
 you withdraw it, and make me a butt for 
 cynicism." 
 
 "Oh! am I cynical? I did not mean to be 
 so. My experience of men in love has been 
 unfortunate, I suppose. I must not, however, 
 let you think me quite world-worn. I have 
 a few illusions, a few faiths left. One is a 
 faint religous sentiment — I am a Catholic, you 
 know, though I don't often enter the con- 
 fessional, and am not, like my mother, in the 
 habit of offering up candles to invoke a bles- 
 sing upon my play. This would prompt me to 
 discountenance a marriage between you and my 
 sister ; but, on the other hand, though I scofl*, 
 I have a lurking belief in love : and then, has 
 not instinct pointed you out to me as a friend ?
 
 190 Zero. 
 
 A great French musician once assured me that 
 there were but three things in the world worth 
 living for — ' V amour, Vamitie, et le travail.' 
 Love I know not. Friendship I understand as 
 a grateful possibility. And work — ah ! that 
 talisman to guard one ao:ainst oneself can never 
 be possessed by me. But trust in my will to 
 be of service to you. And I have a kind of 
 right to be interested in your happiness." She 
 spoke in a diflferent tone, and her voice softened 
 inexpressibly. 
 
 " The strongest right " he began. 
 
 " Oh no. You don't quite understand me. I 
 did not mean in the conventional sense. In that 
 I have none. But instinct establishes a kind of 
 claim. Sympathy, however, presupposes com- 
 munity of experience. To feel another's sorrow 
 one must have suffered in like manner." 
 
 " Then you, madame — have you been so 
 fortunate as not to know suflfering ? " 
 
 "Oh, I have been wretched, most miserable
 
 In the Gaedens of the Casino. 191 
 
 at times. But not in the way you have 
 suffered of late. You know I said that I had 
 never loved. If, as I suspect, Helena loves you, 
 and has been coerced in the matter by her priest, 
 you shall know the truth ; and I will help you 
 to be happy as far as lies in my power. 
 Come, let us join the others now." 
 
 She moved on ; while he, bewiklered by the 
 rapid variations in her manner, was almost glad 
 to be spared the necessity for replying. 
 
 They found Mrs. Featherstone, her husband, 
 Lord Bretland and some others, who were to join 
 the New Year's Eve party, sipping iced drinks 
 outside the restaurant, and professing readiness 
 to return to the hotel.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 ENTER COLONEL CAZALETTE. 
 
 The clock had struck half-past eleven when 
 they entered Mrs. Featherst one's drawing-room. 
 The room was decorated with flowers, the table 
 laid, and Mrs. Kilsyth and Mr. Braunstein, 
 assisted by a waiter, were engaged in the con- 
 coction of punch. Mrs. Kilsyth asked eagerly 
 for news of the evening's proceedings. 
 
 *' A run on red," she cried, in her odd, 
 excitable manner, " and I was not there ! Alas ! 
 alas ! my doll is stuffed with sawdust. I'll get 
 me to a nunnery — oh these difficulties of life 
 are hard to support ! Well," she added, making 
 a little grimace at her daughter, '' this naughty 
 child who w^as obliged to stay at home has won
 
 Enter Colonel Cazalette. 193 
 
 a great deal of love and no money. I hope that 
 the stern mamma has been more fortunate." 
 ' Madame Fano, the play of whose features 
 was becoming to Warrender a source of the 
 deepest interest, smiled much as an indulgent 
 parent might smile upon an unreasonable 
 daughter, whose vagaries might be met with 
 amused toleration but were at the same time a 
 source of sorrow and perplexity. She placed 
 before her mother a little case containinof a 
 rouleau of gold. 
 
 " There is my New Year's ]3resent. You see 
 that I wish to make amends for my harshness 
 though I ought to say that it is Mr. Warrender 
 who deserves your thanks, for I owe my hick 
 to him." 
 
 Mrs. Kilsyth fingered the coins with the 
 enjoyment of a child to whom a new plaything 
 has been presented. '' Now, for a few^ hours at 
 least," she exclaimed, "I am independent of my 
 bankers. Money, as Bulwer says — General
 
 194 Zero. 
 
 Featherstone, I am quite aware that accuracy 
 in quotation is not my strong point ; but, like 
 your wife, I have a mind above small details — 
 ' Money is jDower, love also ; for even gratitude 
 can be bought by money.' That was a man who 
 understood life and its requirements. And now 
 let us stir the punch." 
 
 Several other guests had dropped in, and the 
 room resounded with conversation and laughter. 
 
 " De ponch is ready ! " cried the German 
 gentleman, who had been assiduously flourishing 
 the ladle. '' It wants but one thing, and dat 
 i? drinking." 
 
 Madame Fano had moved apart and stood by 
 the open window, her thoughtful eyes gazing 
 into the moonlit garden. 
 
 The minute-hand pointed towards midnight. 
 
 "I see him; he is coming!" cried Mr. 
 Braunstein. "He is a beautiful leetle New 
 Year ! He is small and thin and lofely. Leetle 
 New Year, I drink your health ! and I ask you
 
 Enter Colonel Cazalette. 195 
 
 to give us all the best of good things — health, 
 wealth and happiness ! " 
 
 A faint chime sounded in the distance, and 
 echoed through the salon. There was a mo- 
 mentary pause. Then glass clinked prettily 
 against glass. Every face round the table smiled, 
 yet underlying the surface brightness there was 
 upon each a shade of pensiveness. Mrs. 
 Feather stone turned from Lord Bretland to 
 whisper softly in her husband's ear with a 
 sweetness which seemed to declare that an effete 
 civilisation had not robbed her heart of its 
 bloom. General Featherstone, standing erect 
 at the head of the table, gave forth the toast 
 with an air of old-fashioned solemnity, and in 
 a few appropriate words — '^ To the New Year, 
 and may he bring to all who welcome him here, 
 health, happiness and prosperity." 
 
 No one observed while the toast was being 
 drunk, and the youngest born of Time ushered 
 into his kingdom, that Warrender and JMadame 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 196 Z^RO. 
 
 Fano, half shrouded by the window drapery, 
 stood together lending no voice to the invoca- 
 cation. 
 
 There was silence between them. It w^as she 
 who first broke it. " We are outcasts. The 
 New Year has passed by us, and we have made 
 no effort to gain his favour. Mr. Warrender 
 I won't offer you the conventional greetings. I 
 won't venture to prophesy that you will win the 
 woman you love. My blessing might be ill- 
 omened, and carry only bitterness and 
 misfortune. " 
 
 " The assurance of your goodwill, Madame 
 Fano, is worth more than prophecies. You said 
 a little while ago that I had brought you luck 
 to-day. At least, you will not think my words 
 meaningless if I say from my heart that I hope 
 this critical year may bring you happiness." 
 
 ^'Happiness," she repeated. "Not riches, not 
 prosperity, but the one impossible thing in all 
 the world — for me. It is a question of
 
 Enter Colonel Cazalette. 197 
 
 temperament, Mr. Warrender. Only tranquil 
 people are liappy, and my disposition is one 
 of unrest." 
 
 She moved towards the laughing circle. The 
 light of the chandelier fell upon her as she stood 
 sheathed in her crimson mantle, with the grave, 
 troubled look ageing and hardening her face. 
 
 " Varuna," cried Mrs. Kilsyth, " neither you 
 nor Mr. Warrender have drunk to the New Year. 
 How can you expect to be fortunate in your 
 future undertakings ? Come, the punch is 
 excellent. Mr. Braunstein and I deserve to 
 be complimented upon our skill." 
 
 Madame Fano folded her arms and shook her 
 head. 
 
 " Too late, mother. Mrs. Featherstone, I am 
 not an amiable guest, but you will forgive me 
 if I leave you ; my head still aches from the 
 heat of the Casino." 
 
 There was a universal remonstrance. "Not 
 yet, Madame Fano," said General Featherstone, 
 
 0*2
 
 198 Z^RO. 
 
 striking some familiar chords upon the piano. 
 " My wife has a few sentimental regrets on the 
 score of her native land. Let us drink to the 
 health of absent friends, and you will lead us 
 in the solo of, ' Auld Lang Syne.' " 
 
 " But I should not do so with any fervour. 
 Sentiment is a quality which I don't possess. I 
 have no native land, no pleasing associations 
 with the past, no absent friends to regret." 
 
 As the words passed her lips Warrender 
 observed that she lifted her eyes suddenly, and 
 started, growing visably paler. An exclamation 
 half rose, and was checked. Following her look 
 he perceived the figure of a stranger in the 
 doorway, a tall man of foreign aspect, with 
 delicate aquiline nose, clear sallow face, close- 
 cropped Vandyke beard, and full, slightly pro- 
 minent grey eyes, which surveyed the group 
 with a smiling, benignant expression. 
 
 " Colonel Cazalette ! " ejaculated Mrs. 
 Kilsyth, in a tone low, but sufficiently
 
 Enter Colonel Cazalette. 199 
 
 audible to startle Warrender. She moved 
 abruptly from the table ; and, almost as if she 
 wished for the moment to avoid recognition, 
 took up her position slightly behind the 
 Englishman. He noticed that she appeared 
 discomposed, and placed a chair for her in 
 the embrasure of the window. Her hands 
 trembled. She appeared conscious that she 
 was betraying an unwarrantable excitement. 
 
 " I have a weak heart," she murmured ; 
 " any sudden arrival always upsets me. Mr. 
 Warrender," she went on, with that sudden 
 droop of her mouth and composing of her 
 features which he had before noticed, while she 
 spoke in an even rapid tone, her eyes fixed all 
 the time upon Colonel Cazalette. " I have not 
 as yet been able to ask you any questions. I 
 have heard of you from my daughter Helena. 
 You and Helena are interested in each other ! " 
 
 " I am interested in Miss Kilsyth," corrected 
 Warrender.
 
 200 Z^RO. 
 
 '' And she in you. Oh yes, I assure you she 
 mentioned you frequently ; but a friendship of 
 that kind never outlasts the marriage of either 
 of the persons concerned. Now tell me, Mr. 
 Warrender, is there any likelihood of my 
 daughter's marriage ? " 
 
 "None that I know of, Mrs. Kilsyth. At 
 present it seems most improbable." 
 
 '' You are sure of that ? How you relieve me ! 
 I dreaded the Protestant influence and — She has 
 perhaps said to you that she would only marry 
 a Catholic ? " 
 
 " Miss Kilsyth has certainly expressed that 
 determination," said George stiffly. 
 
 " Ah, the Cardinal will rejoice. Cardinal 
 
 you perhaps know him. He is here — a great friend 
 of Colonel Cazalette and of my own." Her tone 
 changed suddenly. " I thought Colonel Cazalette 
 was at Paris," she said, almost fiercely. " Lord 
 Bretland told me that he was not to be here for a 
 week yet. But I am very glad " — with a furtive
 
 Enter Colonel Cazalette. 201 
 
 glance at Warrender — "very glad indeed. Do 
 you know Colonel Cazalette ? He is a delightful 
 person ! an old friend of ours, and so zealous — 
 the most perfect combination of the world and 
 the Church — not that he is in the Church — oh. 
 no, of course not ; but so devout — and sucli an 
 admirable photographer." She repeated the last 
 sentence with an intensity which strengthened 
 Warrender s doubts as to her sanity — " such 
 an admirable photographer ! " 
 
 Meanwhile the new comer had advanced, 
 bowing with the sweetest courtesy and self- 
 possession. " Ah, Madame Fano, I am grieved 
 to hear that cruel statement uttered by you. 
 But I am here to prove myself a present, and not 
 an absent friend. Mrs. Featherstone, accept my 
 apologies for this intrusion. I arrived only an 
 hour ago, and have ventured to claim the pri- 
 vileges of our last year's acquaintanceship in 
 Paris that I might offer you my congratulations 
 and best wishes for the new year."
 
 202 Z^RO. 
 
 " I must say," exclaimed Mrs. Featherstone, 
 " delighted as I am to see you, Colonel Cazalette, 
 that your words are more soothing to the nerves 
 than your actions. There is something very 
 uncanny and Mephistopheles-like in this sudden 
 midnight apparition. Are we all acting in a 
 melodrama, and have we been going through an 
 appropriate New Year's Eve prologue ? First 
 of all, Mr. Warrender drops down from the 
 clouds. Secondly, Madame Fano, w^ith his 
 assistance, makes an extraordinary coup. 
 Thirdly, at the close of the first act, enter 
 Colonel Cazalette : the hero of the piece. Here 
 we are. The principal personages occupy the 
 stage : a becomingly diversified chorus ranges 
 itself in the rear. Lord Bretland, you and I 
 are the nonentities, whose part in the drama is 
 to fill in gaps and furnish cues. Festive scene : 
 a faint suggestion of tragedy in the background. 
 Strike up, Edward. The chorus advances." 
 She placed herself in a theatrical attitude.
 
 Enter Colonel Cazalette. 203 
 
 Lord Bretland followed suit. Mr. Braunstein 
 ladled out several glasses of punch, and with 
 comic gravity presented one to each of the 
 chorus. Madame Fano's stately greeting to 
 Colonel Cazalette was drowned by the ringing 
 notes of the drinking-song in Traviata, which, 
 led by Mrs. Featherstone, pealed through the 
 salon. 
 
 But the night had changed. A wind had 
 risen with apparent suddenness, and, sweeping 
 chilly through the open window, extinguished 
 one of the candles upon the supper-table. The 
 slight occurrence seemed to heated imaginations 
 ominous. Mrs. Kilsyth shuddered, and Mr. 
 Braunstein stepped back and closed the window. 
 The operatic music swelled louder. An element 
 of affectation and artificial mirth replaced the 
 former sweet, subdued gaiety. Shadows, moon- 
 light, vague sentiment, tender memories of the 
 dying year — all had vanished. The spirit of the 
 scene had assumed another shape, and it was
 
 204 Z:^RO. 
 
 curious to reflect that Colonel Cazalette, with 
 his saint-like profile and courtly bearing, was the 
 magician to whose entrance the transformation 
 was clue. Varuna also a]3peared to have caught 
 the infection of the hour. Her welcome to 
 Cazalette had struck Warrender as cold and 
 constrained. Her air had been haughty and 
 listless. Now she took up her part in the scene, 
 and sang and acted the duet with Cazalette after 
 a fashion which would not have disgraced a 
 professional singer. Presently she turned 
 towards her mother, who still held herself in 
 the background, and with charming cordiality 
 indicated Cazalette's presence. 
 
 Mrs. Kilsyth rose, held out her hand, and 
 made two or three wandering remarks with a 
 forced sprightliness which was but a poor imita- 
 tion of her former vivacity. Her manner might 
 have passed currency with any less interested 
 observers than Varuna and AVarrender. As it 
 was she looked uneasy, and there passed through
 
 Enter Colonel Caz alette. 205 
 
 his mind a startled sense of something amiss. 
 Cazalette with perfect tact, and with an air of 
 tender protectiveness that was intended to 
 appeal vicariously to Yaruna, drew Mrs. Kilsyth 
 slightly aside and discoursed upon agreeable 
 nothings till she had apparently quite recovered 
 her composure. The rest of the party had 
 gathered round the piano. Again Warrender 
 and Madame Fano stood apart. 
 
 ''My mother is not quite herself to-night," 
 remarked the latter in a disturbed tone. " We 
 have not seen Colonel Cazalette for some years ; 
 and he is connected with an event which shook 
 my mother's nerves sadly. I mean the death 
 of my husband." 
 
 As she spoke the last sentence without a sigh 
 or falter, Varuna turned her thoughtful gaze 
 full upon AVarrender as though she wished him 
 to learn from it the secret of her lonely, 
 troubled life.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 NEW year's greetings. 
 
 Warrender slept badly that night. 
 
 The partitions in the Eiviera hotels are thin, 
 and he fancied that there came from the room 
 next that which he occupied a sound as of 
 suppressed weeping. The thought disturbed 
 him, and, after his first troubled doze, banished 
 slumber. When silence fell upon that part of 
 the house he was still restless, and full of 
 strange excitement. 
 
 It seemed to him that since three o'clock that 
 afternoon he had experienced sensations which 
 might give piquancy to a lifetime. He was 
 not prone to self-analysis. His tendencies lay 
 towards action rather than introsjDection ; but
 
 New Year's Greetings. 207 
 
 to-night liis very nature seemed unliingecl, and 
 woncleT at the rapid transformation from listless 
 despondency to vivid interest, which had taken 
 place in his being, forced him into a groove of 
 thought foreign to his character. AVhy the 
 change ? He knew not. Helena, the pivot 
 upon which a few weeks since existence had 
 appeared to turn, was not now more near to him 
 than when — pale, still, and without sign of 
 strong emotion — she had bidden him leave her. 
 They were parted for ever. She had never 
 loved him. Probably now she bestowed upon 
 him no tenderer thought than a passing regret 
 for the pain she had caused him. No, she 
 had never loved him. In his fit of re- 
 action, after the blind confidence which had 
 so misinterpreted her sweet friendliness and shy 
 consciousness of a peculiar link between them, 
 he had so dwelt upon this idea that it had 
 become a conviction. Yet Madame Fano's 
 insinuation of priestly coercion, though by no
 
 208 Z±m. 
 
 means a new suggestion, took fresh shape in 
 his mind, and opened the door to torturing hopes 
 and bewildering fears. He stood again on the 
 borderland of pain and rapture. His memory 
 was a chaos of confused impressions, in which 
 past and present contradicted each other, and un- 
 derlying all w^as the feeling that some subtle and 
 extraordinary transformation had taken place in 
 himself. He seemed to be gazing at Helena 
 with regretful eyes across a gulf which ardent 
 longing hardly bridged. He had changed. But 
 how, and why ? 
 
 And she was coming to Monte Carlo. In a 
 short time, if he remained, he must be again 
 thrown closely into her society. Would it not 
 be the truest wisdom to accept his fate, and to 
 make a supreme effort to stifle vain regrets in 
 fresh and absorbing occupation ? The horizon of 
 life was not bounded by love, nor was he a 
 puling boy to be crushed by a first disappoint- 
 ment. Granted that Helena Kilsyth was the
 
 New Year's Greetings. 209 
 
 one woman in the world whom he would ever 
 call wife, the pursuit of science and exploration 
 still possessed charms, and at least friendship 
 remained to him for consolation. 
 
 The thought of friendship evoked Madame 
 Fano's image, if, indeed, during the long night 
 watches, it could be said to have ever faded 
 into indistinctness. There was in her attitude 
 towards him something of appeal which touched 
 all that was most chivalrous in his nature. 
 Apart from her irresistible fascination, she had 
 the claim of being Helena's sister ; the claim 
 of a woman helpless and dumbly seeking to be 
 rescued from herself ; that of a victim to an 
 inherited morbid tendency for which she could 
 hardly be held responsible. 
 
 His imagination dwelt upon Varuna's super- 
 stitious belief that the new-born year would 
 for weal or woe decide her destiny, and upon 
 Mrs. Peatherstone's laughing suggestion of a 
 play in which each of them was to act a more
 
 210 Z^RO. 
 
 or less important part. Cazalette, too, stirred 
 his curiosity. Setting aside his presumable 
 connection with the fate of Mrs. Kilsyth and 
 her daughter, there was something in the very 
 appearance of the man — in his mediaeval face ; 
 in his sweet suavity — tinged also by mystery 
 and reserve ; in the subtle sense of intellect 
 and influence with wdiich he impressed the most 
 casual observer — that made him seem a deter- 
 mining power in the faintly outlined drama 
 which now thrilled Warrender's fancy. 
 
 No, he would not go — not yet. He would 
 remain at least till Helena's arrival. 
 
 Thus the dark hours passed on slowly. 
 Daylight found him sleepless and weary. He 
 threw the Venetians wide open. The sun was 
 risiijg upon the first day of the new year. 
 Mists were rolling away, and distant peaks 
 flushing a tender rose. Every breath smelt 
 sweetly. A myriad dew-drops sparkled on 
 every tree and shrub. The hills seemed to
 
 New Year's Greetings. 211 
 
 have barely awakened from sleep — tlieir crest 
 clear, but the shadows as of dreamland still 
 lingering upon the olive groves. Monaco lay 
 shrouded in a transparent veil of vapour. A 
 breeze ruffled the Mediterranean, and to the 
 west every wavelet was tipped with gold. 
 
 Warrender rose and dressed. Only drowsy 
 servants, and men going forth on early errands, 
 with holiday garments not yet donned, passed 
 him as he made his way along the corridor and 
 throuoii the hotel garden. He w^andered into 
 the grounds of the Casino and stood again upon 
 the terrace where Madame Fano had made her 
 strange confession the night before — "/ have 
 never loved.'' He seemed to hear the words as 
 she had uttered them, calm, distinct, and 
 mournful. Spoken l)y another woman they 
 might have borne no deep significance. From 
 her lips they revealed a mental desert of drcnry 
 hopelessness wdiich made him shudder. It was 
 pitiful to reflect that her pulses had never 
 
 VOL. 1. P
 
 212 Zero. 
 
 throbbed to any sweeter or diviner agitation 
 than the feverish excitement of gambling ; that 
 her holiest instincts and purest aspirations 
 should be smothered by this growth of baleful 
 thought which could surely only flourish in the 
 corrupt atmosphere she now breathed. 
 
 There was in Warrender's nature a certain 
 old-world simplicity and impulse towards 
 knightliness somewhat out of harmony with 
 the age in which he lived. For him, woman- 
 hood had a peculiar sanctity ; and love, truth, 
 and purity were definite realities, often obscured 
 by modern shams, but still existing. It was 
 his theory that civilisation had tended to debase 
 rather than to elevate the weaker sex. All his 
 chivalry rose in defence or justification of the 
 falsity and frivolity with which women are 
 usually charged. Men and society were in 
 fault, not they, who under ideal conditions 
 should be neither more nor less than wives, 
 mothers, and saints. To reform the world he
 
 New Year's Greetings. 213 
 
 would have begun by reforming women. At 
 present, the object of his yearning solicitude, 
 Madame Fano, seemed the one woman to be — 
 not reformed — but restored to her better self. 
 
 The gardens were deserted save for a honne, 
 a group of black-eyed, fantastically dressed 
 children — French babies ; good heavens ! how 
 out of place would the clear-browed, frank-faced 
 English boy or girl appear amid these surround- 
 ings ! — and a sallow, haggard-eyed gambler of 
 the night before, who sat upon one, of the 
 benches in an attitude of dejection, and gave 
 the impression that he was reflecting upon 
 the most convenient mode of committing 
 suicide. 
 
 The sun was now considerably above the 
 horizon. The mountains had lost the ethereal 
 hues of early morning, and the sea was a 
 sheet of silver. Warrender strolled round by 
 the terraces, his senses drinking in the beauty 
 and fragrance on all sides of him, and presently 
 
 P 2
 
 214 Z^RO. 
 
 began to skirt the sea, walking along the 
 Condamine road and finally ascending the 
 steep hill which leads to the fortress of 
 Monaco. 
 
 He lingered in the quiet streets of the old 
 town, delighting in the contrast they presented 
 to the glittering cjuarter he had quitted. Now 
 he paused at the point of the promontory and 
 took a view of the narrow thoroughfare he had 
 traversed. His mind was still unconsciously 
 occupied by Madame Fano, and it was with 
 hardly a start of surprise that he beheld the lady 
 herself advancing from the opposite direction. 
 
 She did not see him. Her eyes were cast 
 down, her thoughts evidently preoccupied ; she 
 walked with a slow, undulating gait, which in 
 the crowded Casino he had had no opportunity 
 of admiring. In her hands she carried a basket 
 and a bouquet of flowers. When within a few 
 yards of him, she stopped at the closed door of 
 a baker's shop, where the brown twisted loaves
 
 New Year's Greetings. 215 
 
 hung on nails on the wall, knocked, and after 
 a moment entered. 
 
 He waited in the hope of seeing her emerge, 
 but several minutes elapsed and there was no 
 sign of her reappearance. He turned, half 
 angry with himself for his curiosit}^ *' Why 
 should T play the detective in this fashion ? " 
 he mumured, and walked resolutely away, past a 
 little thicket of umbrella jDines, whence zig-zag 
 paths led downward from terrace to terrace, 
 each planted with flowering shrubs and beautiful 
 with the luxuriance of semi-tropical vegetation. 
 Here natural situation enhanced all that labour 
 could accomplish : palms waved their feathery 
 plumes, and the bright crimson of geraniums, 
 the blue-green of aloes, and pink of mesembry- 
 anthemum stood out vividly against an intensely 
 Idue sea. Two or three gnarled olive trees 
 and stone-pines, and an occasional glimpse ot 
 rough rockwork overgrown with weeds, gave 
 wildness to the scene and added to the sense
 
 216 Zi^RO. 
 
 of solitude. Far away were the promontory 
 of Antibes and the distant range of the 
 Esterels ; and on the sea, white sails like gulls 
 were already scudding. 
 
 Warrender seated himself upon a semicircular 
 bench turned from the road, and, with a 
 curious feeling of distance and transference 
 of interest, bent his thoughts towards an 
 expedition he was planning in the future for 
 the purpose of studying the flora and fauna 
 of the Southern Archipelago. 
 
 He had not been meditating long when the 
 faint rustle of a dress upon the gravel near 
 brought him back to Monte Carlo. Madame 
 Fano was standing close beside him. She 
 looked surprised, but did not hold out her 
 hand as he rose and approached her. 
 
 " So you have found out these gardens 
 already,'' she said with a smile. "They are 
 a favourite resort of mine, and are far more 
 beautiful than anything at the Casino. I know
 
 New Year's Greetings. 217 
 
 every turn, almost every plant. But you 
 Lave not chosen your seat well. If you like, I 
 will show you my especial nook. It is on a 
 lower terrace and quite screened from the road." 
 
 She led the way down a rudely cut flight 
 of steps on to a narrow level, descending by 
 a steep wall straight to the sea, its only 
 parapet a hedge of mingled aloes and geraniums. 
 At one end a kind of grotto had been scooped 
 in the rock ; a tiny stream trickled through 
 it and watered banks of moss and fern. Here 
 was a bench upon which Madame Fano seated 
 herself. The cliff against which Warrender 
 leaned formed a shelterimy backo^round. At 
 its base were beds of violets in full bloom 
 scenting the air. 
 
 " One might imagine oneself a long way 
 from Monte Carlo," said Warrender. "But 
 I did not expect that you would have risen 
 so early, Madame Fano, after your fatigue of 
 last night."
 
 218 Zero. 
 
 " Oh, after a wakeful nigbt, nothing refreshes 
 one so much as a stroll before the dew has 
 dried up. We must have left the hotel almost 
 together, Mr. Warrender. But I came by the 
 higher road, and I went into the church by 
 the ravine to offer up a new year's prayer 
 for my little girl." 
 
 " I saw you a few minutes ago in the 
 street yonder." 
 
 " At the hunchback baker's, who is quite 
 an interesting person in his way. I must 
 introduce you to him at some future time. I 
 have a w^eakness for the bread of the country, 
 and very often carry home one of the brown 
 sour twists ; and there is a little lame boy 
 there w^hom it would not do to forget on 
 New Year's day." 
 
 " Madame Fano, I begin to see that Lord 
 Bretland was quite right in what he said of 
 you yesterday evening. You make a jest of 
 benevolence, yet you practise it largely."
 
 New Year's Greetings. 219 
 
 She flushed slightly. " No, I do not jest 
 at benevolence ; it is too rare — that is, when 
 it is purely unselfish. My visit to the lame 
 boy does not deserve the name. I am very 
 fond of children. This is a pleasant spot," 
 she added, as though wishing to change the 
 subject. " One can be as lonely as one pleases 
 here. So few of the crowd from Monte Carlo 
 visit these gardens. I often come to this seat 
 wdth my book, or with no companion but my 
 thoughts, and spend hours trying to reconcile 
 facts and fancies." 
 
 " Successfully ? " 
 
 " Need you ask ? Life is a strange problem, 
 Mr. Warrender. That remark is not original, 
 is it ? It has been made once or tw^ice before ; 
 but the truth of it always stands out just as 
 forcibly as ever. One sees such a mass of 
 incongruous elements which cannot by art or 
 nature be made to blend or harmonise. Talk 
 of free will! There's no such thino-. One
 
 220 Z^RO. 
 
 fancies sometimes that it would be so easy to 
 wrench oneself away from what is hurtful or 
 degrading or even simply disagreeable, and 
 lead just the kind of life which would develop 
 one's few good qualities ; but that is exactly 
 what is impossible." 
 
 "Oh, no, Madame Fano," said Warrender 
 earnestly. " It can never be impossible to 
 separate oneself from what is hurtful" 
 
 " Yes,' it is quite impossible. I know of 
 what you are thinking. As I lay awake last 
 night I thought of your question to me, 
 why I stayed here and played. I wondered 
 what had made me talk to you as un- 
 reservedly as I did. I don't remember ever 
 having spoken in the same way to any one 
 before." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Warrender impetuously, 
 "you had a fancy that I might help you. I 
 beg your pardon," he added. " That was a 
 presumptuous sort of thing to say."
 
 New Yeae's Greetings. 221 
 
 There was no rebuke in her look ; rather, a 
 faint gleam of satisfaction. 
 
 *'I am glad that you said it. If there 
 were any presumptuousness it would lie in 
 my having had such a fancy. Yet it was 
 just what I did feel. I am very candid, but 
 there is an answering candour about you, Mr. 
 Warrender, which makes me think that it 
 would be quite possible to apply to you if I 
 were in need." 
 
 " I wish that you would act upon that 
 feeling ; and you would see " He paused. 
 
 "See what?" 
 
 " I don't suppose that I could really help 
 you, but at least my best fiiculties would be 
 strained in the attempt." 
 
 She was silent for a moment, then she said 
 deliberately : '' But I am not in need — not, 
 that is, in any definite sense." 
 
 *' There is an indefinite kind of want wliich 
 is harder to bear than material trouble — the
 
 222 Zero. 
 
 need of sympathy and fellowship ; of faith in 
 oneself and in the goodness of others ; of 
 an object upon which to concentrate one's 
 thouo'lits and interests." 
 
 o 
 
 "You think that I have all these wants — 
 that I am unhappy ? " 
 
 *^I have no right to judge, but your words 
 and looks make me fancy so." 
 
 She stooped and gathered a little bunch 
 of violets, with which she played while she 
 answered him. 
 
 "But I have an object in life — several. 
 In the first place, I am of use to my mother. 
 Nothing w^ould induce her to leave Monte 
 Carlo ; and I am at least able to restrain her 
 from some extravagances. Then, to a certain 
 extent, I have inherited her temperament. I 
 am more self-controlled, more calculating, less 
 warm-hearted, but in essentials we are alike. 
 I have a passion for play. It's the same sort 
 of ftiscination as that which danger has for
 
 New Year's Greetings. 223 
 
 some natures. You could not understand the 
 fever of excitement whicli took possession of 
 me last night when you were winning. I 
 don't know what made me stop you. But a 
 feeling came over me all in a moment — of 
 shame, hatred, and horror — horror of tlie 
 future." 
 
 She had been looking away from him, and 
 now, with a startled glance that seemed to 
 behold a phantom in his solicitude, met his 
 eyes, which were fastened upon her face in 
 sad inquiry. She laughed nervously. 
 
 " My talk is very melodramatic — quite in 
 keeping with the moral atmosphere of Monte 
 Carlo." 
 
 *' Oh pray go on — if you will trust me. 
 Any trouble or dread of that kind is best 
 spoken of." 
 
 " It is not an unreasonable dread, as you 
 would admit if you knew the wliole history of 
 my family, and understood me as well as I
 
 224 Zero. 
 
 understand myself. Oh, no ; I am wrong to 
 say that. I do not understand myself. I think 
 self-analysis is my bane. If I could only live 
 in the present, if I hadn't a dreary and per- 
 petual sense of dissatisfaction with my life, I 
 might perhaps escape from the horror which 
 haunts me. I try to keep the spectre at bay, 
 but it looks out at me from my own face and 
 from the faces of my friends. I see myself as 
 I may be years hence — one of those horrible 
 hags whom you may have noticed at the tables 
 — a more pitiable object than they — with the 
 curse of insanity upon me." 
 
 She rose abruptly and moved to the edge of 
 the terrace, where she stood with pale cheeks, 
 lips compressed, and brooding eyes fixed sea- 
 ward. He followed her, his face, too, white 
 from repressed excitement. 
 
 " You must not say that ! " he exclaimed 
 agitatedly. " It is not true. You must not ; 
 it hurts me to hear you."
 
 New Year's Greetings. 225 
 
 She turned towards him, and the eyes of 
 each seemed to be searching into the soul of 
 the other. 
 
 " I see that you are in earnest ! " she said. 
 "You must love Helena very dearly to feel so 
 deep an interest in her half-sister — a woman 
 whom you have only known for a few hours." 
 
 Her words thrilled Warren der painfully. He 
 would have found it impossible to analyse the 
 sensation, had he tried to do so, but was quite 
 aware that it was a disagreeable one. An eager 
 disclaimer rose involuntarily to his lips, and 
 was checked by embarrassing consciousness. 
 Madame Fano seemed to guess at the cause of 
 his confusion, and said with a smile which was 
 also tinged with melancholy : 
 
 " The obvious answer to that remark would 
 be, I suppose, that I am a person who must 
 under any circumstances inspire interest. But 
 do not, I beseech you, talk to me witli that 
 conventional sort of gallantry which your sex
 
 226 Zi^RO. 
 
 practises so largely. There are so many men 
 ready to swear away their lives at my feet — 
 absolutely not one whom I can call friend. My 
 sister's lover might fill a place which my own 
 lover could never fill. Your frankness last night 
 about your feeling for Helena seems to place 
 our relations towards each other upon such a 
 safe footing ; and notwithstanding all you may 
 have heard about me here, it is quite true that 
 I find great comfort in that certainty." 
 
 This speech, in which there w\as without doubt 
 no underlying emotion, grated curiously upon 
 Warrender. He answered hastily : *' You spoke 
 just now of the objects which you had in life. 
 It was absurd in me to fancy for a moment that 
 I could help you. I am weak too — if you are 
 weak — and tossed by every wave of feeling. 
 My position is more lonely than yours, and 1 
 stand at a disadvantage — a great one for a man. 
 I don't know much about society or the world 
 — your world — or in what direction lies the
 
 New Year's Greetings. 227 
 
 special need for sympathy, of the people who 
 live in it. I am adrift, with all my experience 
 to learn — and no friends. You have — acquaint- 
 ances shall we say — who at least wish to devote 
 themselves to you. You have your mother 
 — and your child." 
 
 " Is my experience of Jife greater than 
 yours ? Yes, perhaps, of the evil of it, the 
 sort of evil that belongs to an unwholesome 
 moral atmosphere, and comes from gas, glitter, 
 strained emotions — everything that is false 
 and artificial. I long sometimes to rush away 
 and try to get into bracing air. That kind 
 of knowledge only saddens and embitters. 
 Don't let us compare our lives, Mr. AVarrender. 
 It is quite enough that they are both unsatis- 
 factory : mine from within ; yours from with- 
 out. But you will not be unhappy for long. 
 Even if you never get what you long for, 
 you have within yourself a stronghold against 
 badness and sorrow. The past and future 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 228 Zero. 
 
 are not horrors at which you dare not 
 glance. '^ 
 
 Her voice broke slightly. He saw her eyes 
 grow larger and softer with unshed tears. His 
 heart rose in struggling entreaty and protest. 
 At that moment a step sounded upon the 
 rocky stair. Both looked round. The shadow 
 thrown upon the cliff revealed the intruder 
 before he himself became visible. It was 
 Cazalette. 
 
 Madame Fano moved a few steps uncertainly, 
 as if in doubt whether to advance or retreat. 
 The softness died from her face. She flung 
 away the bunch of violets with which she had 
 been nervously toying, as though in the action 
 she would have thrown off" the mood which had 
 prompted her self-betraying words. Once more 
 she became the stately woman of the world, 
 cold, weary, inscrutable. 
 
 Cazalette stepped forward, his suave impassive 
 countenance giving no indication of surprise or
 
 New Year's Geeetings. 229 
 
 consciousness that lie had disturbed a private 
 conversation. 
 
 He bowed over the hand Madame Fano offered 
 him ; and in a few well-chosen words made 
 something more than the conventional speech 
 of New Year's congratulation. Varuna coldly 
 uttered her thanks and returned the greeting. 
 
 " It is five years to-day, madame," continued 
 Cazalette, '' since u23on this very spot I had the 
 honour of wishing you happiness, prosperity, and 
 — farewell. I did not expect the good fortune 
 of seeing you here this morning." 
 
 "For that you must thank Mr. Warrender," 
 replied Varuna^ — " if it be a question of thanks. 
 I was going home, when I saw him, as I passed, 
 seated upon the most uncomfortable bench in the 
 gardens. He looked as though he wanted to 
 enjoy his thoughts in solitude ; it was an act of 
 charity to show him where he might do so 
 happily. Now, having earned his gratitude, I 
 will ask you, Colonel Cazalette, to call me a 
 
 Q 2
 
 230 Zero 
 
 carriage if you can see one passing, for 
 I don't feel equal to the long walk in the 
 heat." 
 
 " Willingly," said Cazalettc. '' ^,l\\ AYarrender, 
 shall I disturb your meditations if, after a short 
 stroll round the castle, I come back and smoke 
 a cigarette in your company ? In my American 
 wanderings I met one or two men who knew 
 you well ; and I was much interested in what I 
 heard of your discoveries. It won't bore you, 
 will it, to have a little chat presently ? " 
 
 Warrender felt an unreasonable desire to 
 excuse himself, but good breeding and a sense 
 of guilt forbade the inclination ; and he assured 
 Colonel Cazalette of the pleasure which he 
 should derive from his company. 
 
 " You are wise to drive home," said Cazalette 
 turning to Madame Fano. " I have already 
 seen Mrs. Kilsyth, who begged me, if I met 
 you, to give you a reminder that there is to 
 be an excursion this afternoon ; in which," he
 
 New Year's Greetings. 231 
 
 added, " I have been honoured by an invitation 
 to accompany you." 
 
 '' Ah ! " said Varuna ; " that recalls to my 
 mind a note for you, Mr. Warrender, which I 
 have in my j^^^'^ket, and which was to have 
 been given to the concierge this morning. It 
 is only to ask if you will join us in our 
 expedition. We are going to make gipsy tea 
 at Cape Martin. The Casino is closed to-day, 
 and we are people without an occupation.'^ 
 
 Warrender accej^ted the invitation with an 
 eagerness which he regretted wdien he per- 
 ceived the curious expression w^hich flitted 
 across Cazalette's face. 
 
 " Good-bye then for the present," said Varuna. 
 "You will join us in our salon at three 
 o'clock ^ "
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 QUART POT TEA. 
 
 Madame Fano was alone in lier salon when 
 Warrender was announced. The room was 
 charming, and had an air of occupation and 
 long residence not common to the ordinary 
 hotel sitting-rooms. He made some remark to 
 this effect. 
 
 " Yes, we brought a few things with us, 
 and have contrived to give it a homelike 
 look," she answered. " The drains at our viHa 
 are being overhauled, but I hope that we 
 shall be settled there again before my sister 
 arrives.^' 
 
 " "When do you expect Miss Kilsyth ? " 
 asked Warrender.
 
 Quart Pot Tea. 233 
 
 "It is not quite certain. I think in about 
 ten days or a fortnight. Thus, Mr. Warrender/' 
 she added with an effort at playfulness, 
 " if Cannes or Nice have any attractions for 
 you, I advise you to visit them at once and 
 return here later." 
 
 " No," he replied. " In that case, I should 
 remain here for the next fortnight and then 
 go to Cannes or Nice." 
 
 " I think you are wrong," she said gently. 
 *' But there is time enough for you to change 
 your mind." 
 
 " You play and sing ? " he said, abruptly in- 
 dicating the open piano. " Of course — I heard 
 you last night." 
 
 " Yes, but very seldom. My mother sings 
 charmingly, even still, and has been practising 
 this morning. But I can't be contented with a 
 thing done in amateur fashion ; and to do 
 anything else means consecrating one's life to 
 what perhaps is not worth it. I always want
 
 234 Zero. 
 
 the full taste of everything. I am afraid that 
 I have no capacity of getting interested in 
 a study or pursuit. And I cannot give ex- 
 pression to the thoughts struggling within me 
 in music. I only lose myself, in that way, 
 when I am listening to the violin or to an 
 organ." 
 
 "You draw or paint, perhaps ?" 
 
 *' No ; I tried once — but it doesn't satisfy me." 
 
 "Then you read?" 
 
 " What a catechism ! And I am obliged to 
 make the humiliating confession that books have 
 not a great charm for me. When I was a girl I 
 used to be very fond of reading, but as soon as I 
 began to live myself, the taste left me. Science 
 and positive facts seemed too immense to grapple 
 with. A human heartbreak is of more conse- 
 quence than tlie sun's component parts. You 
 don't think so ; well, it appears so to me. I'd 
 rather be helped by the honestly told experience 
 of one human soul, than by all the facts and
 
 Quart Pot Tea. 2:^5 
 
 theories in the universe, and all the books that 
 were ever written." 
 
 She moved to the window and stood, drawing 
 on her long gloves, gazing out upon the western 
 sky. She wore a closely fitting mantle bordered 
 with sable. A little fur cap set upon her abun- 
 dant hair, and a cluster of tea roses fastened at 
 her throat, gave her a coquettish air quite at 
 variance with her morning's aspect. 
 
 " The day has become overcast," she said. " It 
 is almost a relief after the overpowering glare. 
 I sometimes wish for the subdued tones and 
 grey skies which I remember in England. One 
 wearies of this vivid Riviera colouring." 
 
 " You have not been in England for a long 
 time ? " 
 
 '' Not since my stepfather's death eleven years 
 ago. I was only seventeen when I left it. 
 There, Mr. Warrender, I have told you a secret 
 which most women would guard jealously. That 
 is a simple sum in addition, and the product
 
 236 Z]^RO. 
 
 will give you my age. But there are social 
 philosophers who maintain that a woman is in 
 the zenith of her charms at thirty." 
 
 " At any rate," said Mrs. Kilsyth, entering, 
 '' no woman ever gets beyond that age as long 
 as she has a shred of good looks remaining. 
 Haven't you observed that every frisky matron 
 one meets was married at sixteen ? Don't you 
 admire our flowers, Mr. AVarrender ? Two of 
 these bouquets arrived from Paris this morning." 
 
 " And this one ? " asked Warren der, pointing 
 to a magnificent floral trophy that completely 
 covered the small table which supported it. 
 
 " Oh, that ! From Nice, I imagine. It was 
 Colonel Cazalette's New Year's gift to me. 
 Those full-blow^n camellias are very appropriate 
 to my mature charms. Now there's a sentiment 
 about his little offering to Yaruna which suggests 
 quite a different idea." 
 
 She stretched her hand towards a quaintly- 
 shaped vase of old Yenetian glass, in which
 
 Quart Pot Tea. 237 
 
 were loosely placed a mass of yellow roses 
 drooping upon tlieir stems ; then, rebuked by 
 her daughter's glance, rattled on : 
 
 '' Come ; I hear the bells of Mrs. Feather- 
 stone's ponies jingling. There is the inevitable 
 Lord Bretland pursuing his system of education. 
 General Featherstone, tacked on to our' new 
 drawing-room prima-donna, Miss Violet Eoch- 
 ford, and provided with a motif, is happily 
 bent upon self- improvement also. Now we are 
 going to be truly arcadian — music and senti- 
 ment ; tea under the pines ; wild flowers, 
 singing birds, and all the rest of it ; only, 
 unfortunately, there are no birds hereabouts, 
 they've substituted Cupids instead." 
 
 Mrs. Kilsyth was in her most light-hearted 
 vein. When Colonel Cazalette a23peared she 
 welcomed him with cordiality, greeting him in 
 an informal way, which suggested that they had 
 met before that day, and thanking him prettily 
 for his attention. There remained no trace of
 
 238 Z^RO. 
 
 the confusion, almost alarm, which she had 
 exhibited upon his arrival the night before. If 
 there had been any doubt in the mind of either 
 as to their attitude towards each other, they 
 had evidently arrived at an understanding, and 
 the only signs of anxiety which Mrs. Kilsyth 
 displayed were an occasional furtive glance 
 directed towards his face, and a nervous start 
 which she now and then gave when he addressed 
 her suddenly. 
 
 Conversation flowed freely as the open landau 
 in which these four w^ere seated, bowled swiftly 
 along the pretty sea-girt road towards ]\Ientone. 
 Its burden was sustained chiefly by Cazalette, 
 who discoursed with the fluency of a travelled, 
 well educated man bent upon making himself 
 agreeable. Mrs. Kilsyth's questions were 
 numerous, and her chatter might have been 
 likened to that of an elderly, cultivated parrot ; 
 she seemed uneasy when a moment's silence fell 
 upon the group. Madame Fano spoke little,
 
 Quart Pot Tea. 239 
 
 and it must be owned that Warrender appeared 
 at first to no great advantage, yet even Ke, 
 stimulated by the elder man's tact in drawing 
 forth his resources, and by a faint gleam of 
 animation upon Varuna's face when he pointedly 
 addressed her, made amends towards the close 
 of the drive for his taciturnity at its 
 commencement. 
 
 It was perhaps natural that Warrender's 
 mind should have already begun to exercise 
 itself in speculations concerning Cazalette's 
 motives, antecedents, and possible interest in 
 Madame Fano. Cazalette's manner to her was at 
 once distant and deferential, and he addressed 
 her but seldom. Yet Warrender fancied that 
 he detected in sundry looks and gestures the 
 evidence of a warm regard. 
 
 No prejudice could declare Cazalette to be 
 an adventurer in the vulgar sense of the term. 
 His whole bearino; was that of a ojentleman far 
 removed from vicious or Bohemian proclivities.
 
 240 Zero. 
 
 He trod upon undebateable ground. His care- 
 less allusions to affairs and to persons of note, 
 living and deceased, showed familiarity with tlie 
 politics and social life of a somewhat earlier 
 date. He belonged to the world, yet seemed 
 apart from it. He did not play, yet had 
 apparently frequented the various gaming places 
 in Europe. Of his poverty he spoke without 
 affectation. His manner had something of the 
 cynicism and sadness of a recluse, and was faintly 
 tinged by sacerdotalism ; one involuntarily con- 
 nected him with the Catholic Church. Of art he 
 showed considerable knowledge ; he seemed well 
 read, and his speech was at times almost poetic. 
 
 As the carriage turned into the olive-shaded 
 road which led to the cape, Warrender pulled 
 his thoughts together and rebuked himself for 
 having indulged in romantic conjecture. 
 
 " What a fool I am," he muttered, *' to imagine 
 the first well-mannered foreigner I meet, a 
 Jesuit in disguise."
 
 Quart Pot Tea. 241 
 
 It was at tliis point that he exerted himself 
 to join in the conversation, and succeeded 
 so far as to banish, for the present, sinister 
 insinuations. 
 
 A spirit of harmony seemed now to have crept 
 over the quartette. Mrs. Kilsyth's eyes no 
 longer wandered uneasily from Cazalette to her 
 daughter, and Madame Fano leaned back against 
 the cushions, her former erect attitude replaced 
 by one pliant and unconstrained, her face, if 
 pensive, full of sweetness. Warrender's vague 
 distrust and painful expectation of harrowing 
 discovery had melted into a dream-like sense of 
 well-being. But for that subtle elementwhich 
 Mrs. Featherstone had described as a suo:2:estion 
 of tragedy in the background, the drive would 
 have been to him a commonplace incident, and 
 his companions charming worldings unswayed by 
 any more complex influences than the jiastime 
 of the hour, and the ordinary interests of that 
 butterfly society of which they formed part.
 
 242 Zero. 
 
 The carriage drew up at the end of the 
 point. Here breakers were roaring against 
 a fringe of jagged white rocks which ter- 
 minated the cape. Foam dashed over the low 
 undergrowth of lentiscus and m}Ttle. The sea 
 stretched grey and hazy to the horizon, and a 
 veiled sun shed a track of misty brightness 
 across the bay. Monte Carlo lay like a jewel 
 in the curve, the craggy heights behind it, and 
 the tower of La Turbie defined clearly against 
 the sky. To the east. Men tone and the pro- 
 montories of Italy lay slumberous. There was 
 brooding and faint melancboly in the air. 
 From the sea shore a rocky path led to a forest 
 of pines, wind-swept into fantastic shapes, 
 where the atmosphere was pungent with a 
 resinous odour, and the rosemary grcAv high. 
 Here, in a sheltered nook, the rest of the party 
 had already arranged themselves. A hamper 
 half unpacked lay upon the grass, and Mrs. 
 Featherstone, clad in a becoming tailor-made
 
 Quart Pot Tea. 243 
 
 costume, was on her knees coaxing a refractory 
 wood fire into a blaze. 
 
 "Now," slie exclaimed, rising, with her 
 pretty face all rosy after her exertions, "just 
 by way of contrast and as a sort of tribute 
 to those lanky gum-trees you all admire so 
 much, I'm going to relapse for a short time 
 into my original condition of barbarism. I 
 can't make a damper, Mr. Warrender, for I 
 don't suppose there is a sheet of bark handy ; 
 but for once in your lives you shall all drink 
 quart pot tea. The taste is, like other things, 
 indigenous to the soil, so I shall not expect 
 you to be enthusiastic in your appreciation. 
 Lord Bretland, you are out of office for the 
 present, but you may make yourself useful if 
 you please. Where are the implements ? " 
 
 Lord Bretland rummaged in the hamper and 
 produced a bright tin can, which he held at 
 arms-length. 
 
 " I am instructed to inform the company 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 244 Z:^RO. 
 
 that this is a — hilly'' he observed in his 
 melancholy drawl. 
 
 " No, indeed ! " energetically cried Mrs. Fea- 
 therstone ; " no such thing. It is merely a 
 vulgar Birmingham imitation. A hilly should 
 be smoked black ; it should be saturated with 
 rank tea, battered, dented, and generally dis- 
 reputable, with an odour of grass-tree tops, 
 bandicoots, and black fellows, mingled with 
 the delicate aroma of store tobacco. Well " — 
 mournfully — *' one can't have everything in 
 this world. Fill it with w^ater and put it 
 on the fire." 
 
 Lord Bretland obeyed, then brought forth 
 two utensils resembling half-quartern measures, 
 and a dozen tin mugs strung together by 
 the handles. 
 
 '* And these," he continued in the same 
 tone, " are quart pots and pannikins, com- 
 monly used by the stockmen and aboriginals 
 in Australia: while this" — exhibitino- a brown
 
 QuAET Pot Tea. 245 
 
 caky substance which looked like burnt toffee 
 — " is the nearest approach procurable in Monte 
 Carlo to what Mrs. Featherstone calls ration 
 sugaVy a commodity practically unknown in 
 this hemisphere." 
 
 " I can't compliment you upon being a very 
 efficient assistant," retorted that lady with a 
 little grimace. " Evidently your sphere lies 
 yonder — in the gilded haunts of civilisation. 
 My word ! Lord Bretland — to fall back upon 
 the phraseology of my youth — Fd like to see 
 you bushed in a mallec scrub. There ! I will 
 have nothing more to do with you. Come, 
 Mr. Warrender, it isn't the first time you and 
 I have stood together by a camp fire. Be 
 ready to throw in the tea and sugar and to 
 stir up with a bit of stick as soon as the 
 water boils." 
 
 Warrender, lending himself to the liumour of 
 the moment, did as he was bidden ; and all 
 stood round, intently gazing, while the operation 
 
 R 2
 
 246 Z^RO. 
 
 was conducted with a solemnity befitting the 
 incantations of a witch. The flame mounted, 
 the fir cones crackled ; the critical instant 
 arrived. Warrender added first the tea, then 
 the sugar, while Mrs. Featherstone stirred 
 vigorously with a crooked stick ; finally the 
 decoction was delivered to Lord Bretland, who 
 with great gravity poured it from one quart pot 
 to another till commanded by Mrs. Featherstone 
 to desist. The beverage was then declared 
 ready for drinking and handed round in panni- 
 kins. Each guest .drank, made a wry face, and 
 called variously for sherry and seltzer, and cream. 
 
 " Oh, I say, Mrs. F-f-f-featherstone," stuttered 
 Captain Bland, who had attached himself to 
 the party, "isn't this all ch-ch-chaff'? You 
 don't mean that you d-d-drInk that stuflf in 
 Australia "? " 
 
 '* Never anything else," rejoined she imper- 
 turbably. " It is supposed to have an efi'ect 
 upon the brain, Captain Bland. That's what
 
 Quart Pot Tea. 247 
 
 makes all us Australians so sharp. Now, you 
 may have some egg sandwiches, if you like, to 
 take the taste out of your mouth." 
 
 The gipsy tea was on the whole a success. 
 Mrs. Featherstone had at all events the knack 
 of putting every one on good terms with himself 
 or herself, and if she was audacious, it was a 
 pleasant audacity. Some one started singing 
 catches, and the voices sounded sweetly among 
 the pines and mingled with the monotonous 
 swash of the sea. Then Mr. Braunstein, appeal- 
 ing to Miss Rochford, suggested a German part- 
 song, which was followed by the " Lorelei" with 
 Heine's words. 
 
 " Ah," murmured Mrs. Kilsyth, " I prefer the 
 Hans Breitmann version of ' Die Miidchen mit 
 nodings on.' It harmonises better with the 
 company and the quart pot tea." 
 
 Like all such impromptu concerts, this one 
 descended by slow gradations to the music-hall 
 level.
 
 248 Z±m, 
 
 There is a fascination in shrieking upon a 
 foreign shore a comic breakdown or ''Eule 
 Britannia" which the typical cockney cannot 
 resist, certainly not Captain Bland, whose an- 
 nouncement in a piping falsetto, that Britons 
 " never, never, ne-ever would be slaves," was 
 effusively echoed by the more patriotic and 
 less highly cultivated of the little assemblage. 
 
 " There's a good deal of freedom about that 
 chorus," observed Mrs. Kilsyth to Colonel 
 Cazalette. He had stationed himself beside her, 
 though his eyes were fixed upon Yaruna and 
 Warren der, who were standing together a little 
 distance apart from the rest. " Could any set 
 of people but the English make themselves so 
 supremely ridiculous ? ' Eule Britannia ' always 
 reminds me of a cock crowino; down a nio-htin- 
 gale. No ; Captain Bland, don't ask me to join 
 you. I'm not a Briton — I'm only a woman." 
 
 *' Only a ivomanj' murmured Mr. Braunstein 
 in a tone of deep meaning.
 
 Quart Pot Tea. 249 
 
 " All nationalities are alike to me/' contiDuecl 
 Mrs. Kilsyth. " I'm above prejudices. I'd even 
 go so far as to hail a chimpanzee as man 
 and brother. I hate your 'nice little, tight 
 little island ' cant ; the self-laudation and hypo- 
 crisy ; the straight walk along the narrow road, 
 elbows out, and no grace for a sinner, the break- 
 fast at nine, the luncheon at one, the dinner at 
 seven — ugh I .Am I hurting any one's sensi- 
 bilities ? Isn't that Mrs. Livingstone, with the 
 association of wool workers from the Nationale 
 at Mentone, rounding the point ? To your tents, 
 oh, Israel ; the Philistines are upon us ! " 
 
 " Come this way," whispered Colonel Cazalette 
 with gentle imperativeness. *' I want to talk to 
 you." 
 
 The appearance of Mrs. Livingstone and her 
 cohort was the signal for a general dispersion. 
 In such case the laws of natural attraction 
 decide the pairing of a company of both sexes. 
 Warrender and Varuna, forsaking the great pine
 
 250 Z^RO. 
 
 grove, bent their steps towards the wind-swept 
 cape. It was a rough way, and their hands 
 frequently touched as lie guided her over the 
 shingle. At last, she seated herself upon a 
 granite boulder, below which the water lay in 
 miniature pools, and tangled masses of seaweed 
 had gathered in mounds of shiny greenish 
 brown. The wind blew in, salt and exhila- 
 rating but touched with chill. It stirred 
 Yaruna's furs and loosened the bunch of roses 
 at her throat ; they fell and were borne by the 
 breeze over the rocks. Warrender would have 
 rescued them, but she interposed : 
 
 *' Never mind; they have done their duty, 
 and I have more at home." After a pause she 
 asked, without looking towards her companion, 
 '' What do you think of Colonel Cazalette 1 " 
 
 Warrender hesitated. "It is a difficult ques- 
 tion. He is the sort of man about whom it 
 would be impossible to form an opinion after a 
 few hours' acquaintance."
 
 Quart Pot Tea. 251 
 
 '' I don't agree with you. He has a distinct 
 individuality. The only people worth thinking 
 about are those who affect one definitely at 
 first sight." 
 
 " He certainly does that." 
 
 ^' And he impressed you last night — 
 disagreeably ? " 
 
 " Since you insist upon frankness, my first 
 feeling w^as that I should be sorry to trust 
 him." 
 
 " You were right," she replied gravely. 
 ''Don't trust him." 
 
 ''Yet you seem to have known Colonel 
 Cazalette intimately, Madame Fano." 
 
 " I saw a great deal of him ^ve or six years 
 ago. He had a strong influence over my 
 mother and was a sort of lay confessor to her 
 when she was in one of her transition states 
 of belief I am not speaking heartlessly, Mr. 
 Warrender. You must sec that my mother is 
 impulsive, changeable — and lovable as a child.
 
 252 Zi^RO. 
 
 As regards myself, Colonel Cazalette is associated 
 in my memory with painful . events. Now," 
 she said in a different tone, "you will tell me 
 something more about my sister Helena. Is it a 
 pleasure to you, or the reverse, talking of her ? " 
 
 Warrender winced at the question. *' I am 
 glad to talk of her, Madame Fano, if you 
 are interested — but " 
 
 *'Yes, I think that I understand. I have 
 fancied that the mention of her name jarred- 
 upon you. If I seem wanting in perception 
 you must recollect that I am reading an un- 
 familiar language. I am sure that you are too 
 sincere and direct to shrink because of self-love 
 or wounded vanity. It seems to me that a true 
 man, having once loved a woman, must, what- 
 ever happens, hold her in tender remembrance. 
 You would be surprised if you could know 
 how much I have been thinking of you and 
 Helena this afternoon." 
 
 " You are deeply attached to your sister 1 "
 
 Quart Pot Tea. 253 
 
 " That is perhaps putting it too strongly. I 
 know so little of her. She was a child when I 
 left England — a thin, quiet little thing with long 
 fair hair, earnest eyes, a solemn way with her, 
 and a most extraordinary faculty for adoration. 
 She was just the sort of child whom as a woman 
 one would expect to sacrifice herself for a creed, 
 an idea, a sentiment. I can't imagine her an 
 ordinary flesh-and-blood girl of the period. 
 There's a tone in her letters not of the earth, 
 earthy. I dare say that she is weak ; all 
 creatures of beliefs are so. Am I right ? '* 
 
 " I had no reason to think her weak," replied 
 Warrender, a little bitterly ; "at all events, 
 she did not believe in me. What should you 
 like to know about her, Madame Fano ? She 
 is tall and slender now, with a sort of girlish 
 stateliness that is rather difficult to describe. 
 She has deep dark eyes, and is not much given 
 to laughter. I used to think that her views of 
 life were too serious, and that she thoui^ht too
 
 254 Z^RO. 
 
 much of others. But before long you will be 
 able to judge for yourself." 
 
 " I have never known what it is to have a 
 woman friend," said Varuna as though excusing 
 her interest ; " and Helena is my half-sister 
 — except my mother and my little girl, nearer 
 to me than any one in the world. Hers will 
 be a new influence in my life, perhaps a happy 
 one. If, as her letters seem to say, she believes 
 in me, loves me, thinks only good of me, there 
 would be a motive for sacrifice — for endeavour 
 " She paused. Warrender did not imme- 
 diately reply. " You think me very self- 
 absorbed ? " said Varuna, looking at him 
 directly. ^' You are right ; egoism is the curse 
 of a nature like mine. My interest in Helena 
 merely takes the form of speculation as to how 
 she will aflfect me." 
 
 " No," said Warrender nervously. " I haven't 
 thought much of such things ; but it seems to 
 me that finely strung natures must always be
 
 QcjART Pot Tea. 255 
 
 more or less egoistic. It is a question of nerves, 
 and of the capability of receiving vivid im- 
 pressions. But why do you speak so drearily ? 
 You have surely the strongest motive to effort 
 in life — your child.'' 
 
 Madame Fano's face was darkened by an 
 expression of deep sadness, but a moment later 
 there passed over her features a curious gleam 
 of tenderness softening their fixity. 
 
 ** That in which one's existence is bound 
 is not merely a motive," she answered in a low 
 voice. " Had you a fancy that I did not care 
 for my little girl ? Well, perhaps my manner 
 justified the thought. Mr. Warrender, I have 
 sometimes wished, prayed that my child might 
 die. The maimed speech, the cramped intelli- 
 gence, the dumb eyes, are living reproaches to 
 me for a wrong unconsciously committed — 
 reminders of an injury which I can never 
 forget or forgive. What right have people " — 
 her voice vibrated with passionate earnestness —
 
 256 Zero. 
 
 " to weiorht other lives witli all that is bad in 
 themselves — and worse — worse ? I can't explain 
 myself, and it is impossible for you to 
 understand." 
 
 "I do understand." His eyes bright with 
 indignant pity met hers. '^ The suffering which 
 is brought upon the innocent is the saddest 
 problem in life." 
 
 " It can t be altered or made better. There's 
 a sort of poison in such sorrow," she said. 
 
 " No, it can't be altered, or healed quite, on 
 this side of the grave." 
 
 '' But you think," she said eagerly, '' that 
 there might be a way of escaping from the 
 hopelessness — the dreariness ? " 
 
 '' For you ? " he asked simply. '' Oh yes, 
 yes. You are so young still, Madame Fano — 
 too young to be crushed, too good and true 
 to become hard and cynical. Give up this false, 
 artificial life, and go and live with your child. 
 You don't know what there may be for you in
 
 Quart Pot Tea. 257 
 
 the future. There will be peace ; there may be 
 love." 
 
 Varuna's face showed no hardness or indiffer- 
 ence now. She seemed to hang upon his words 
 as though they were prophetic. Her eyes were 
 clear and dilated ; her lips trembled. She 
 was quite silent for a minute ; then she said 
 falteringly : 
 
 " But you don't know. You have not real- 
 ised. My little girl is almost an idiot. She 
 is deaf and dumb. They said — they said that 
 it w^as because I had been unhappy. I had 
 suffered — I can't speak of it. Don't ask 
 me any questions. You see that hope is 
 taken from me." 
 
 There was a painful pause ; and then — 
 
 " You said," urged AVarrender gently, " that 
 after this year you would play no more." 
 
 " I mean to give it up," she answered, '* if 
 the passion is not too strong for me. I don't 
 know if I can live without excitement of some
 
 258 Z^RO. 
 
 kind. I was quite in earnest about my 
 superstitious belief that this year will decide 
 my fate. And now you make me almost hope 
 that there may be brightness in store for me. 
 Mr. Warrender, you must not judge me by 
 the standard you would apply to a gently 
 brought up English girl. I have lived my 
 life. I am disillusioned, and the taste of ashes 
 is between my lips. Every woman who is 
 without the true sense of happiness craves 
 for a means of escape from the vapid flatness 
 of existence. Some women find it in dress, 
 gaiety, and flirtation. These have no charms 
 for me, and surely do not demoralise less than 
 roulette. And I have justified gambling to 
 myself. You know that I was poor, and that 
 my mother's income only lasts during her life. 
 I wished to win money so that I might be 
 independent, and thus provide for my little 
 girl's future. I have won nearly enough — 
 not quite. Come," she added, rising, "we
 
 Quart Pot Tea. 259 
 
 have talked a long time. Let us join the 
 rest." 
 
 " You are not displeased with me," said 
 Warrender, in a beseeching tone. ** I know 
 that I have no right to speak to you in this 
 way." 
 
 " Yes ; you have a certain right," she re- 
 plied with an air of forced playfulness. "You 
 are going some day to marry my sister. 
 That is a reason why we should be frank 
 with each other." 
 
 The red mounted to Warrender's brow. 
 
 " I had rather," he said slowly, " that you 
 would leave your sister out of the question, 
 and give me the right on different grounds." 
 
 "How?" she asked. 
 
 *' It would be the greatest pleasure to me 
 to feel that you trusted me, and that I might 
 consider myself your friend apart from the 
 possibility of any nearer bond." 
 
 " I do trust you. Concerning my friendship, 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 260 ZiiRO. 
 
 I think that, with an impulsiveness which is 
 not usual with me, I offered it to you the 
 first evening we met. As for the other 
 possibility, we will talk of it no more — till 
 Helena comes."
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 TRANSITION. 
 
 " If thy heart, waking in the depths of night, 
 
 Quivers and sinks 
 As on thy lips thou feelst a breath, 
 
 A breath of flame, 
 Know that unseen beside thee 
 
 'Tis I that breathe." 
 
 This conversation on the beach at Cape 
 Martin seemed to establish a crisis in the 
 relations of Warrender and Madame Fano. The 
 slight mutual embarrassment, impulsive aj)peal 
 on her part and earnestness of response on his, 
 marking their first approaches to intimacy, 
 were merged now in an unconstrained inter- 
 course, that allowed much to be taken for 
 granted, and in which it was difficult to draw 
 
 s 2
 
 262 Z^RO. 
 
 the line between what was actually said and 
 what was tacitly understood. 
 
 Both were deeply conscious of the influence 
 each exercised over the other, yet neither quite 
 ventured to analyse it. That dreamy sense of 
 difiusiveness and mental communion ; the vague 
 longings and unrest, half sweet, half sad ; the 
 involuntary turning of mind to mind, and the 
 constant desire to share a hundred poetic fancies 
 which haunted the imagination of botlr — ^all 
 these indications of dawning regard were 
 recognised by Varuna, and, if framed in thought, 
 were attributed to the newly-forged chain of 
 sympathy that connected herself, Helena and 
 the new-comer. It is sometimes hard to 
 separate cause and efi'ect ; and in this case 
 Varuna was at a loss to discover whether her 
 increased interest in Helena had been inspired 
 by the meeting with Warrender, or whether the 
 latter had gained importance in her eyes through 
 his relations with her half-sister.
 
 Transition. 263 
 
 She found herself frequently marvelling at 
 Helena's rejection of this man, who seemed to 
 her, of all she had ever met, the one to whom 
 a woman might in greatest security confide 
 herself An almost fierce desire seized her to 
 plead his cause, to tear away the spider-webs 
 of religious prejudice, which she felt convinced 
 fettered Helena's will. She longed that he 
 should be happy. Life was so troubled, the 
 desires of men so low, their fancies so brief, 
 it seemed cruel that the fervour of this heart 
 should spend itself and be wasted. Her own 
 heart throbbed in pity. Poor Varuna ! Love 
 had hitherto only exhibited himself to her in 
 shapes which had provoked her scorn, and had 
 almost made her exult in the suffering she 
 inflicted. She had fancied that this insensibility 
 arose from her own shallowness and falsity ; 
 now it came upon her like a revelation that she 
 alone had been true, and that it was the truth 
 in Warrender's soul, meeting hers, which forced
 
 .264 Zero. 
 
 her into such passionate sympathy with his 
 deeper feelings. She had never before been 
 brought into contact with this large-souled , 
 simple, chivalrous type. Here was no posing 
 for effect, no encouragement of morbid senti- 
 ment, no paltry vanity lowering god-like 
 love to its own earthly level. Warrender's 
 mien expressed a quiet sadness w^hich touched 
 Varuna more deeply than the most despairing 
 exhibition of melancholy. 
 
 " Why should I be sorry ? " she asked herself 
 in her more cynical moods. " If he were my 
 lover, I should be as impatient of his love as 
 I am of their sighs and reproaches." 
 
 But he w^as not her lover, nor ever could 
 be, seeing that he loved her half-sister. This 
 fact she impressed upon her mind with un- 
 necessary force, possibly from the secret con- 
 viction that in it lay her sense of safety, and 
 the justification of her impulsive reliance upon 
 him.
 
 Teansition. 265 
 
 It may have been as Varuna asserted, that 
 she possessed an instinct transcending the 
 limitations of ordinary human intelligence, and 
 enabling her to catch dim glimpses of shadows 
 thrown by the future. Certain it was, that 
 Warren der's appearance upon the eve of that 
 year which had been foretold to her as fateful, 
 the link between him and Helena, and the 
 strange coincidence of the latter's expected 
 arrival at Monte Carlo, stirred her imagina- 
 tion, chimed with her superstitious fancies, 
 and predisposed her to connect him with the 
 threads of her destiny. Her mental attitude 
 towards him was of a kind which she could 
 not have conceived it jiossible that she should 
 assume towards any man. She, in whom a 
 wretched marriage seemed to have dried up 
 every fount of feeling, who had scoffed at 
 herself as hard and mercenar}^, and to whom 
 coldness had been as a shield, alike against 
 insult and honestly proffered love, now re-
 
 266 Z^RO. 
 
 sembled a half- awakened girl, in her impulsive 
 confidences, her strange fits of dreaminess, her 
 unhesitating trust in him, and the fearlessness 
 with which she accepted this new element in 
 her life, wondering only w^hy, since friendship 
 was so sweet, so much eloquence should be ex- 
 pended upon the intoxicating delights of love. 
 Another welcome change in her temperament 
 she attributed to his influence. She had hinted 
 to him of morbid terrors, mental horrors, a sense 
 of isolation, which made her at times fancy her- 
 self an automaton, wound up to smile and act, 
 wdiile the real disembodied spirit looked on as it 
 were in loathing of this travesty of life. These 
 feelings, which frequently overpowered her in 
 such a manner as almost to justify her dread of 
 losing self-control, and to wdiich the only altera- 
 tive seemed to lie in the excitement of play, had, 
 since the new year began, almost entirely left 
 her. The sense of a burden lifted was inex- 
 pressibly sweet : it w^as a foretaste of what
 
 Transition. 267 
 
 existence might be to the pure, untroubled, loved 
 — to such a woman as Helena. At night when 
 she awoke, dreading the cold perspiration and 
 ghastly shrinking from unseen presences, which 
 had made the darkness a torment, she was 
 surprised to find herself composed and trustful, 
 as though a mother's hand clasped hers. She 
 would turn upon her pillow to meet in fancy 
 the gaze of Warrender's eyes, and then close 
 her ow^n again, her whole being pervaded by 
 a conviction of safety and peace. 
 
 Warrender was undergoing a somewhat similar 
 phase of experience. From his soul also a 
 trouble had been lifted ; for him, too, life now 
 held a new and absorbing interest. He would 
 have been shocked and revolted by the sugges- 
 tion that his love for Helena w^as in process of 
 transference to her sister : yet certain it was that 
 the largest share of his thoughts was given to 
 Varuna. What man could withstand the fas- 
 cination of her variable manner, the homage
 
 268 Z^RO. 
 
 conveyed by her reliance upon his opinions, the 
 frank submission of one so beautiful, so complex, 
 and to others so unapproachable. There was a 
 grand simplicity in Varuna's subservience, an 
 unconsciousness and innocence, at total variance 
 with the character she had acquired. No 
 coquette could have played the part without 
 loss of dignity, but her frankness compelled the 
 most absolute respect, and even Mrs. Feather- 
 stone's banter w^as silenced by the grave direct- 
 ness of Madame Fano's reply, when challenged 
 as the heroine of that Monte Carlo drama upon 
 which the pretty Australian still laughingly 
 insisted. 
 
 " I see no indications of a drama at present, 
 Mrs. Featherstone. Your imagination must 
 supply the harrowing complications and violent 
 emotions which one connects with the idea of 
 tragedy. Cast your play without me. I am 
 too indifferent to act the heroine." 
 
 '' Then," observed Mrs. Featherstone, " I shall
 
 Transition. 269 
 
 certainly practise indifference, since it succeeds 
 so well. There is nothing I adore more than 
 beinof talked about ! But for that, several things 
 are necessary. One must be tall, and one must 
 have a manner which piques curiosity." 
 
 Colonel Cazalette turned to Madame Fano. 
 They were loitering in the vestibule of the 
 Casino, waiting for the rest of the party. 
 
 " Do you observe," he asked in a low tone, 
 " that I make an effort to cultivate indif- 
 ference ? " 
 
 " You succeed very well," she replied. 
 
 " I am a good actor. But you know me 
 well enough not to need assuring that I neither 
 change nor forget. For me, a passion once felt 
 is the passion of a lifetime." 
 
 " I can hardly imagine that you are sincere," 
 she answered pointedly. ** You seem to amuse 
 yourself very well." 
 
 As she spoke, her eyes turned significantly 
 towards a dark-eyed, slightly-rouged, and
 
 270 Zero. 
 
 extremely well-dressed woman — evidently one 
 of the fallen angels to whom Monte Carlo is a 
 pleasant abode ; and who, with her unfurled 
 crimson fan coquettishly shielding the lower 
 part of her face, was leaning against a pillar, 
 her audacious gaze fixed upon Cazalette. 
 
 He flushed slightly and drew Madame Fano 
 aside to a settee placed under the shelter of 
 a stand of ferns. 
 
 " Sit here, and be merciful. You are right, 
 and your rebuke gives me more pleasure than 
 pain, for it tells me that you are not absolutely 
 indifi'erent. But you are a woman of the world, 
 and know -" 
 
 " Oh yes, I know, I know," she interrupted. 
 " I knew all this long ago. Do not suppose 
 that I made the allusion because of any deep 
 interest in you. Only, it is not worth while 
 trying to make me think you diff"erent to what 
 you are. You might perhaps impose upon 
 one more innocent. I am hardened and world-
 
 Tkansitiois-. 271 
 
 worn. I can hardly believe in goodness, when 
 I see it." 
 
 " Do you ever see it ? " 
 
 Varuna did not answer. 
 
 " Whatever my faults," he exclaimed passion- 
 ately, *' you must at least be aware that I have 
 never loved — never can love any woman but 
 
 you." 
 
 " The old story, and it is five years since 
 you last repeated it. I thought that after so 
 long a time it would have been forgotten." 
 
 " That story will never be forgotten while I 
 have breath. Say that you believe this." 
 
 " It does not matter what I think." 
 
 " No ; it does not matter. I have given up 
 hope, and you cannot accuse me of having 
 troubled you, since my return, by any obtrusive 
 display of my feelings. I accepted my fate on 
 New Year s morning in the gardens at Monaco. 
 Your heart belongs to this Englishman. I saw 
 then that you were conquered — you — the
 
 272 Zero. 
 
 edelweiss, the most inaccessible of women, to 
 love . whom meant despair and ruin." 
 
 " You are utterly mistaken ! " she exclaimed 
 vehemently, though in a voice hardly above a 
 whisper. " There is nothing of that kind be- 
 tween Mr. Warrender and me. He wishes to 
 marry my sister.'' 
 
 A peculiar smile curved Cazalette's lips. " He 
 
 \ 
 will not marry your sister." 
 
 At that moment Lord Bretland appeared. " A 
 thousand apologies, Madame Fano. You have 
 been waiting for your tickets. Here are the 
 wraps. Mrs. Kilsyth has had one of her inspir- 
 ations, happily while I was at hand to act as 
 agent and stake the napoleons. The number 
 came up and we all are considerably elated. 
 Warrender, I hear, has been winning heavily 
 for you. When is his luck going to turn ? It 
 is simply marvellous." 
 
 " His luck will last just as long as Madame 
 Fano's indifference," said Mrs. Featherstone, who
 
 Transition. 273 
 
 had overheard the last remark. " That is the 
 philosophy of gambling and of life." 
 
 Thus the threads of destiny crossed and 
 recrossed, and life proceeded merrily in the 
 little principality. 
 
 Helena's jom^ney had been delayed. Three 
 weeks had gone by and the Monte Carlo season 
 was at its height. Yachts with pennons flying 
 lay at anchor in the harbour. The terraces and 
 gambling-rooms were crowded with fashionable 
 English. Celebrities of all nations jostled each 
 other in the vestibule. Patti warbled in the 
 theatre. Two or three scions of royalty drove 
 over daily from Nice ; and the demi-monde 
 overflowed the Hotel de Paris, At the Hotel 
 des Anges every corner was occupied. General 
 Featherstone had departed with his violin and 
 his scores to complete his oj)era in the com- 
 parative seclusion of San Eemo, and his pretty 
 wife was still exploring the mysteries of civil- 
 isation under the superintendence of Lord
 
 274 Zero. 
 
 Bretland, and the immediate guidance of several 
 lately-arrived London admirers. 
 
 Cazalette remained in liis first quarters, but 
 he was a constant visitor at the Villa Kilsyth. 
 He avoided Varuna, but daily his ascendency 
 over Mrs. Kilsyth became more marked. That 
 lady was not in her usual spirits. She looked 
 worn and ill at ease. Her eyes wandered ner- 
 vously, her lips were rarely closed ; and the 
 inconsequence of her speech, and her fits of 
 alternate excitement and depression, suggested 
 indulgence in morphia or in stimulant of another 
 kind. She went regularly to mass, talked of 
 dreams, auguries, indulged in a thousand super- 
 stitions, ofi'ered up an unlimited number of 
 candles, and extended the mortification of her 
 gambling instincts to abstinence on Fridays 
 as well as on saints' days. 
 
 The most marked change was visible in 
 Varuna. Her face had softened ; a tremulous 
 sensibility showed itself on her lips and in her
 
 Transition. 275 
 
 eyes. Her manner was more gracious, more 
 unconstrained, at times it was almost joyous. 
 She took delight in the beauty around her. 
 Nature seemed to speak to her with a caressing 
 voice. Life presented more healthy interests. 
 It was as though a hideous spectre had been 
 removed from her gaze. She lent herself with 
 animation, too, to the various plans for amuse- 
 ment — drives, fetes, and excursions — organised 
 by the new English visitors, for as the season 
 went on, acquaintances gathered thickly round 
 them. 
 
 Madame Fano was at this time one of the 
 most conspicuous figures at Monte Carlo. A 
 Eussian magnate was at her feet, and she was 
 surrounded by a throng of admirers. To stake 
 her coins at roulette was an eagerly coveted 
 privilege. This critical year had at all events 
 commenced favourably. Fortune smiled upon 
 her play. The superstitious followed her lead ; 
 report magnified her winnings ; and even the 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 276 Zero. 
 
 impassive countenances of the croupiers relaxed 
 when she appeared at the tables. The dark, 
 stern-faced Englishman who was to be seen 
 constantly at her side, became an object of 
 comment. His good fortune was identified with 
 her favours. Outsiders, with a whimsical belief 
 in the superstition which had become attached 
 to her name, waited with curiosity till the 
 critical moment should arrive when luck should 
 turn and the Vampire's thirst be appeased. A 
 tragedy was confidently predicted by the ghouls 
 who scent disaster from afar. Warrender's in- 
 fatuation was much discussed, and Madame 
 Fano's apparent unconsciousness of the sinister 
 expectations which she excited, was only adduced 
 as a proof of her insensibility. 
 
 Cazalette held aloof, never playing at the 
 tables, taking no active part in the drama, but 
 watching Varuna closely. Not less was his 
 attention bestowed upon Warrender, whose 
 society he now assiduously cultivated. The
 
 Transition. 277 
 
 latter began to repent his first feeling of 
 a,Yersion. Apparently to no one could the 
 term adventurer be less justly applied than to 
 Cazalette. With the dignitaries of Church and 
 State, English and foreign, he seemed equally 
 at home. His circle of acquaintance was large 
 and ranged the social scale. A charm Id g ex- 
 actress had taken a villa near Villefranche, and 
 considered her informal entertainments failures 
 without his presence. The Princess Titchakoff 
 — who oecuj^ied a most luxurious suite of rooms 
 at the Grand Hotel, and divided the honours of 
 notoriety in Monaco with the prima donna, 
 Madame Fano, a London professional beauty, 
 and a female Communist lately returned from 
 New Caledonia — patronised and petted him, 
 and, it was said, sought to lure him into the 
 vortex of political intrigue. To be the friend 
 of Nadine was perhaps a doubtful distinction. 
 Yes ! but to be the associate of Pere Hyacinthe, 
 who was Iccturinoj at Nice, of Mouseigneur, the
 
 278 Z^RO. 
 
 Cardinal who under the Papal benediction liad 
 established himself for health's sake at Mentone, 
 and of an English statesman, driven to seek 
 distraction and repose on the Riviera, was a 
 surer seal of respectability. 
 
 The faint suggestion of rivalship in their re- 
 lations with Madame Fano had completely faded 
 from Warrender's mind. Had he analysed his 
 feelings, this vague jealousy might have been a 
 revelation, but in a conversation at Cape Martin 
 she herself had removed the impression before 
 it had had time to assume definite shape. 
 
 Notwithstanding the gaieties that made calls 
 upon their time, there were many hours in 
 which AVarrender and Madame Fano found 
 themselves companions. She seemed to seek 
 rather than to avoid these opportunities, and 
 told him with the sweetest frankness that his 
 society did her good. Strange to say, as their 
 intimacy increased, their talk flowed in more 
 impersonal channels. It was not without motive
 
 Transition. 279 
 
 that he thus directed it. Eefereiice to himself 
 usually led to the subject of Helena, and from 
 this, without knowing why, he shrank with 
 inexpressible repugnance. He winced at the 
 sound of her name upon Yaruna's lips, and 
 dreaded her appearance mid surroundings which 
 in the case of her sister did not shock his sen- 
 sibilities. For one of the strongest proofs of 
 Yaruna's witchery lay in her power to sway the 
 mood of the moment, in the minds of those with 
 whom she came in contact, and of identifying, as 
 it were, all outward incongruities with her own 
 charming personality ; so that though Warrender 
 yearned to rescue her from influences which he 
 felt to be contaminating, and associations incom- 
 patable with his ideal of purest womanhood, she 
 yet inspired him with the firmest belief in her 
 capacity for all that is most high and noble. 
 
 END OF VOL, I.
 
 7:
 
 UNIVERSrTY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
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